I have seen RPGs before. They’re funny because they look like toys. A gun is a gun, but an RPG is a stick with a rugby ball on the end and it looks comic unless it’s pointed at you. What I had never seen, however, was the sheer array of weaponry that South Sudan insisted on lining its roads with in the run-up to independence. Not that you can blame them, though. As the bus enters Juba it passes a long stretch of road on which the rectangular shadows of huts are visible, but these shadows are marked in soot and smashed brick.