In the back of the taxi, Rosie squinted through the clouds of dust at the mayhem that was downtown Peshawar, Pakistan. The culture shock of suddenly being thrust into the midst of this nearly took the feet from her. The stench wafting in from an open sewer at side of the road turned her stomach. She closed the window and wiped sweat from her brow. The streets were teeming with people. There seemed to be no traffic laws – cars and trucks barging their way through the gaps between rickety carts pulled by hulking oxen. Tiny rickshaws buzzed like wasps alongside the cars, all honking horns continuously and fighting for space among the potholes. ‘Christ!’ Rosie fanned herself with her notebook. ‘Why is everyone rushing all over the place?’ She tapped Omar on the shoulder. ‘They’re driving like maniacs. What’s with the mad rush? Is there something I should know?’ ‘It’s always like this.’ Omar half turned, flashing a smile. ‘At this time of day, everyone’s hungry, and they’re all frantically dashing home for the evening meal.
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