Gibi

One day, Will drags me to see Mount Gibi.

Why boys need to spend a Saturday driving to a sad, creepy mountain, I don't know. It isn't tall or even interesting apart from the fact that the mountain is haunted.

But that's another story.

We stop somewhere to ask for directions and villagers all but hide when they hear where we're going.

At last, we ask a rational-looking young man if we're on the right road. And he says, "Yes."

Will asks, "How far from here?" and the villager says, "Three hours."

It's hot and I'm miserable so I'm ready to strangle Will when I remember something clutch about him and about Liberians. So I ask the young man, "Three hours...on foot?"

"Of course."

"But we're not on foot," I say from the Jeep. And the villager nods and says, "Correct."

"My friend, how far is it by car?"

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

Insight: I miss you, old pal.