a continuation...
The arms trade in Smugglers Bazaar, in Peshawar, Pakistan, is actually supplied by a non-descript village in an adjoining province. The village, Del Adem Khan, is populated by a clan, the Adem Khel, members of a Pashto (Pashtun aka Pathan aka etc. and so forth), the Afridi. For many centuries the Adem Khel have made custom weapons manufacturing their bread and butter. One need only bring with them a simple illustration from a magazine or book and the gunsmiths of the Adem Khel will furnish a one off in perfect working order, from single shot 22 caliber pen and umbrellaguns on up to 90 caliber recoiless rifles.
The custom arms trade centered in the Philippine municipality of Danao on Cebu Island, in contrast, has a far less storied history. Dating only to WWII and the USAFE-led guerilla campaign against the brutal Japanese Occupation, the trade-while held tightly within tge grips of a few concentrated families, is neither as jealously guarded, nor creatively undertaken as its Pakistani counterpart in Dhel Adem Khel. The most one can reasonably hope to acquire is a spiffy AR15, or more rarely, a 60MM mortar setup with requisite shells.
On Mindanao Muslim insurgents build exotic animals like RPG3s and.50 caliber sniper rifles, thpugh both are merely good for a few rounds before endangering operators and anyone. within the critical radius...the opetative point here being, north of Mindanao the most one may personally use, for self protection, are handguns. Being a foreigner, I rarely trouble myself with carrying north of Cebu Island. Dont get me wrong, Luzon-especially Metro Manila-has endemic violence. However, it is of a much more random nature and more often than not, environmentally related than that which one faces in Mindanao. Therefore, watch your "ps & qs" and one should really run less of a risk than one might face in any urban American neighbourhood.
So it was that I found myself on that New Years Eve busride out of Manila without any meaningful self protection as I made my way 2 hours north to the capital of Southeast Asian vice, Angeles City. Joysa's Aunt Gemma lives Malabacat, a suburb of Angeles proper. So, to simplify my trip, Joysa and I planned to meet in the Angeles Bus Terminal. Perhaps the only thing worse than being in Angeles, is travelling to Angeles. The erstwhile.pimps, often brothers-and even fathers of semi-professional prostitutes begin bugging you even before you take your seat. Virtually every Philippine bus plays bootleg DVDs to distract passengers from the noxious fumes, shockless carriage, and mind numbing trafficjams. As I watched a poorly manufactured copy of "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids," a hopeful bloke.in his laye 20s began foisting off photos of his scantily clad wife ("Sir Joe, this is Princess Diana Integrityanne, she is my wife but we are very poor. Perhaps we may help each other?" tge name "Joe" being applied to all white men).
Despite the lackluster entertainment, I managed to arrive in Angeles just after 7PM. I was glad to see Joysa waiting for me as I stepped into the hustle, bustle, and din of the Angeles Bus Terminal. Even close hugging is not often seen in public in the Philippines. Nevertheless, Joysa nearly jumped into my arms as she showed me how deeply she had missd me. Of coyrse this merely served to make me feel even MORE guilty than I already did...and damn, I felt mad guilty.
Finding the right Jeepney, we climbed aboard, paid our fares, and off we went to Aunt Gemmas and my extremely intetesting New Years Eve...
To be continued...
The arms trade in Smugglers Bazaar, in Peshawar, Pakistan, is actually supplied by a non-descript village in an adjoining province. The village, Del Adem Khan, is populated by a clan, the Adem Khel, members of a Pashto (Pashtun aka Pathan aka etc. and so forth), the Afridi. For many centuries the Adem Khel have made custom weapons manufacturing their bread and butter. One need only bring with them a simple illustration from a magazine or book and the gunsmiths of the Adem Khel will furnish a one off in perfect working order, from single shot 22 caliber pen and umbrellaguns on up to 90 caliber recoiless rifles.
The custom arms trade centered in the Philippine municipality of Danao on Cebu Island, in contrast, has a far less storied history. Dating only to WWII and the USAFE-led guerilla campaign against the brutal Japanese Occupation, the trade-while held tightly within tge grips of a few concentrated families, is neither as jealously guarded, nor creatively undertaken as its Pakistani counterpart in Dhel Adem Khel. The most one can reasonably hope to acquire is a spiffy AR15, or more rarely, a 60MM mortar setup with requisite shells.
On Mindanao Muslim insurgents build exotic animals like RPG3s and.50 caliber sniper rifles, thpugh both are merely good for a few rounds before endangering operators and anyone. within the critical radius...the opetative point here being, north of Mindanao the most one may personally use, for self protection, are handguns. Being a foreigner, I rarely trouble myself with carrying north of Cebu Island. Dont get me wrong, Luzon-especially Metro Manila-has endemic violence. However, it is of a much more random nature and more often than not, environmentally related than that which one faces in Mindanao. Therefore, watch your "ps & qs" and one should really run less of a risk than one might face in any urban American neighbourhood.
So it was that I found myself on that New Years Eve busride out of Manila without any meaningful self protection as I made my way 2 hours north to the capital of Southeast Asian vice, Angeles City. Joysa's Aunt Gemma lives Malabacat, a suburb of Angeles proper. So, to simplify my trip, Joysa and I planned to meet in the Angeles Bus Terminal. Perhaps the only thing worse than being in Angeles, is travelling to Angeles. The erstwhile.pimps, often brothers-and even fathers of semi-professional prostitutes begin bugging you even before you take your seat. Virtually every Philippine bus plays bootleg DVDs to distract passengers from the noxious fumes, shockless carriage, and mind numbing trafficjams. As I watched a poorly manufactured copy of "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids," a hopeful bloke.in his laye 20s began foisting off photos of his scantily clad wife ("Sir Joe, this is Princess Diana Integrityanne, she is my wife but we are very poor. Perhaps we may help each other?" tge name "Joe" being applied to all white men).
Despite the lackluster entertainment, I managed to arrive in Angeles just after 7PM. I was glad to see Joysa waiting for me as I stepped into the hustle, bustle, and din of the Angeles Bus Terminal. Even close hugging is not often seen in public in the Philippines. Nevertheless, Joysa nearly jumped into my arms as she showed me how deeply she had missd me. Of coyrse this merely served to make me feel even MORE guilty than I already did...and damn, I felt mad guilty.
Finding the right Jeepney, we climbed aboard, paid our fares, and off we went to Aunt Gemmas and my extremely intetesting New Years Eve...
To be continued...