By Tom Gardner
I was in need of some Dutch courage. As the super-strength lager trickled down my throat, I pressed the record button on my phone and looked nervously around me. The bar in downtown Bangui was doing a roaring trade, despite the heavy rain thrumming on its tin roof. People were swigging from plastic bottles plastered with the brand name Africa ti L’Or – “Africa is gold” in Sango, the lingua franca of the Central African Republic (CAR). My trepidation stemmed from the fact that the bar was owned by Russian mercenaries.

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