Sitting on a carpet, I’m overwhelmed with a feeling of foreboding. A Kalashnikov rifle is pointed at me by a masked man smoking a cigarette. Behind him, three armed fighters chatter anxiously, casting looks in my direction. The far-off spurts of gunfire light up the night sky. I’m in a remote village in Afghanistan waiting for an interview that might or might not happen.
I chide myself, not for the first time, for coming here alone. If this tip-off proves false, I’m at the mercy of these men. The thought crosses my mind that I could grab the AK47 and…. then what? I’ve never held one of those guns, let alone shoot with it.
Which is why, a few weeks later, I find myself at a shooting range in South Africa Despite the tip-off being correct, I am making good on a promise to myself that if I got out of that village alive, I would take control of my safety and no longer leave it to fate - or the
