Although Connery is as tall as the average height of a grown Maican man, he pulls a small rectangular footstool made up of haphazard nailing of planks on the spot I usually stand when we gather. In my absence, Connery is the defacto leader. 

The row of five men stare back at him, hands by their sides. The morning sun and breeze cool them off. 

“Attention! Commander Pierre Ray”, he points to me and Willow who are red-faced with exhaustion under the burnt ...