This time, the shepherd boys did start the fire. We had smelled the burning for a while, but didn’t think much of it, as this sort of thing happens frequently. When we walked out of the house, we heard crackling and saw the fields backing up to the house consumed by smoke and flames. The wind blew towards the compound, carrying soot and pushing the fire towards the houses (which, thank God, have very little wood because of the tenacious termites). So much smoke was in the air that it filtered the sunlight, creating an eerie orange glow on the ground. For the past six weeks, we’ve had 90-105ºF temperatures, no rain, and a lot of wind. In other words, ideal conditions for a wildfire. The fire covered a great area, but it’s not like Karamoja has city plumbing or a fire department – there’s not much you can do but watch.

When the blaze reached the edge of the compound, everyone (K’jong and American, adults and children) wrenched branches from the trees and began beating the flames. I used to think that dying from smoke inhalation would be relatively painless, like carbon monoxide. Not true. The smoke burned my eyes and throat, so that I couldn’t last more than twenty seconds stints before retreating to less polluted air. No later would we finish putting out one section and move to another than the original would relight. The blaze finally burned itself out, having used all available fuel, though we can still see it raging in the distance. Can seriously see the hand of God in this: the fire hit all four sides of our compound, but was never able to sustain itself within the perimeter. It also seems to be heading away from the villages, which otherwise would certainly burn to the ground (mud and thatch aren’t the most durable materials). Everyone smells like smoke, but is otherwise fine. Our fields are charred black, but next time, there shouldn’t be much else to burn.