When ghosts come out dancing

As soon as we landed at Rangoon, Burma’s international airport, numbers of taxis slid out of the darkness using only sidelights.  They made a haphazard collection of 1940s and 1950s cars held together in make-do glory because of international sanctions.  The taxi interiors were also tattered and torn.  Among many other things, Burma could no longer import necessary vehicle spares. If something broke down, a mechanical replacement had to be fashioned by hand. In the case of gear changing, this often resulted in excruciating crunching and staccato lurching as homemade cogs struggled to connect.  It was diplomatic not to ask about the brakes. 

There were no street lights and although…