Disarming

Several weeks ago we were driving home from the market when we saw a gathering of soldiers in Freedom Square. Intrigued we hopped out of our car and cautiously moved closer. We were welcomed,  “come, come, take pictures, take pictures”. It was a public display of the arms gathered from three counties during the most recent disarmament campaign:  [old] guns, grenades, and other assorted weapons were being loaded into three lorries. We came, we took pictures.

Since this disarmament I have seen less guns - more spears – but less guns. I have been told these guns will be stored in a safe place, will not be sold back to the common-folk at a premium, and will (despite my big dreams) likely not be repurposed into furniture or public art installments.  Yet, I will not be talked out of hoping for modern Sudanese version of swords-into-plowshares (assault rifles into something lovely), and hoping that the gun I saw slung over that un-uniformed guy's shoulder the other day was one he had tucked away and not something he bought recently (at a premium).