<div class="floatleft"><div align="center">(http://www.mediafire.com/convkey/cc45/8990emmy5sim49izg.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Jekesai</strong><br/><em>Guide</em><br/> ‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾ </span></div></div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;">From the car with dark tinted windows, I watch the shuttle drop the pair off. Jaclyn seems a bit giddy, Peter his usual lumbering self. They head off in the direction I’d predicted. The children are a half block away, behaving the way children usually do. The three ringleaders were easy enough to find. The mission, separate the two, dance with the blonde woman and rifle her pockets and if possible her purse. Beg the man for treats, pat him down , and grab what you can from him. Run around the corner and dump everything into the back seat of the car. Last one by gets <abbr title="~$5 US">500 Schillings</abbr><br/><br/>My two targets round the corner and I get out of the car to watch from the corner.. I’m wearing a Masaiare dress and turban and sunglasses. The children approach and their targets seem oblivious to any threat.</span></span><br/><br/>‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾<br/><div class="floatright"><div align="center">(http://www.mediafire.com/convkey/132c/qanv0vlare944wbzg.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Jaclyn Rosendahl</strong></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">Entrepreneur<br/><em>About Jaclyn</em> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=289408.msg14241614#msg14241614)<br/> ‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾ </span></span></div></div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “I’m sure if you had tusks someone might get hurt, by accident. Oh look at the children! Let’s watch.”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… steer my bull elephant toward the side as the children come dancing toward us … the children veer slightly … where have I seen that before? … ‘please, flashback!’ … got it … Port-au-Prince, Haiti … roving bands of children beggars …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “Peter, careful, they’re …”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… but they’re upon us … ‘hey pretty lady, wanna dance?’ … seize my arm … try to tug it loose from Peter … reluctant to hit the smaller children, I let go Peter but keep my hand firmly around the purse strap over my shoulder … and hug my purse close between my arm and side … feel hands tug my jacket … my free hand goes to the pocket where my visa is readily available … it’s gone! … whirl and strike at the kids … they fade back … wary of the fighting stance …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “Peter! Guard your pockets! They’ve got my visa!”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… plunge into the crowd around Peter … tearing kids loose … guarding my purse and kicking with both feet … the kids know better … they flee …</em></span></span><br/>