Farming Life Starting in Africa

After the car passed through the US checkpoint, there was an overpass, and on the other side of the bridge was the Mexican checkpoint. They were only asked to show their passports and then have their trunk checked before being let through; it wasn't as strict as Guan Yuming had described.

Once we got here, the atmosphere on the road was noticeably different. On the Mexican side towards the United States, the checkpoint was backed up for nearly 3 kilometers.

People stayed obediently in their cars, and no one dared to get out and wander around. There were also very few vendors selling things around the cars.

After entering Juarez, the city became noticeably more dilapidated.

Guan Yuming also slowed down; vehicles couldn't go too fast here, especially the flimsy little toy they were in.

When driving over rough roads, Rosen's head would involuntarily touch the roof of the car.

This city on the Mexican border looks like a small town in China in the 1990s, or even worse.

Rosen leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the scenery outside the car window.

The walls of the city streets are covered with graffiti, some in English, some in Spanish, and a few with rough-hewn faces, their eyes wide open, staring menacingly at passing vehicles in the sunlight.

Some shops had dusty tires and scrap metal barrels outside their doors. Inside the barrels, something was burning, emitting wisps of black smoke. The smell of burning wafted in through the half-open car windows, mixed with the smell of gasoline and dry earth.

Some women squatted in the shadows by the wall, and when they saw a car passing by, they would stand up and wave, but they did not move their feet toward the middle of the road.

There were also a few policemen pacing around with their hands behind their backs, wearing dark blue uniforms, with holsters and walkie-talkies hanging from their belts. Their eyes were anything but friendly, and they didn't look away until they were no longer visible in the rearview mirror.

Guan Yuming smiled as he saw Rosen staring out the window. "Don't keep staring out. Things rarely happen here; today was an accident."

Just as Rosen agreed with his idea, the car passed under an overpass, and Rosen saw four naked people hanging upside down on the side of the bridge.

Three of them were clearly dead, their stiff bodies covered in lividity. Several birds of unknown species were searching for tender tissue on their bodies to fill their empty shells.

Only the person on the very edge occasionally had his arm twitch, proving that he was still alive and could be saved.

They all had a thick rope tied around their necks, and below the rope was a piece of stiff cardboard with Spanish writing on it, which was obviously a warning without even reading it.

There were also many people watching and recording videos on the roadside.

Rosen looked at Guan Yuming, somewhat speechless, and asked, "Is this normal?"

Guan Yuming remained silent for a moment before saying, "This is Mexico's hero city, and also the most dangerous city in the world."

Rosen looked away, closed the car window, and leaned back. "This feels just as thrilling as Africa!"

Prisoners captured after tribal conflicts in Africa, as well as those captured by rebels, are often impaled on stakes and planted in the ground.

If there were such bridges in those chaotic places in Africa, I believe they would be more willing to hang people on them, at least the visibility would be better, right?

After closing the car window, Guan Yuming reached out and turned up the air conditioning speed, dissipating some of the stuffiness in the car.

"Actually, it's alright. There are different spheres of influence here too."

Rosen suddenly asked, "Who are we talking to this time?"

Guan Yuming stared at both sides of the road because their cars were ordinary and cheap enough that not many people were interested in them.

"Today we're going to meet Joaquin Guzman, the current head of the Columbia Group..."

Guan Yuming explained to Rosen the reason for their trip to Mexico. Guzman's brother, Redding Guzman, who was in charge of smuggling goods, had been murdered in his home in retaliation recently.

Therefore, all recent shipments to the United States have been suspended.

Meanwhile, the Columbia Group's competitor, the Sonora Group, seized the opportunity to grab a lot of business. The two groups are now frantically fighting for territory, which has led to the recent heightened security situation in the city.

A fight between two companies could lead to city chaos? That sounds a bit far-fetched.

Rosen asked curiously, "What exactly does that Columbia Group do locally? Smuggling?"

Guan Yuming sighed, "Their main business is actually drug trafficking. Smuggling is just something they do on the side."

Rosen suddenly found it unsurprising; what is Mexico's specialty? Drug lords, of course.

When Rosen has time, he will come back here to ask them to return the wealth he entrusted to them.

Drug prohibition and resistance against Japan are deeply ingrained in the Chinese people. He was happy to help alleviate the suffering of the Mexican people.

Guan Yuming suddenly turned serious, "Xiao Luo, I'm telling you, don't touch drugs."

Rosen rolled his eyes. Who would touch that stuff for no reason? If he did, this book would have to be abandoned.

He turned his head and glanced at Guan Yuming, his expression very serious. "I'm not interested in that."

Guan Yuming nodded. "I'm not just talking about you actively seeking things out. What I mean is, in America, you need to be wary of any food or water offered to you by strangers."

Rosen looked at him with a puzzled expression, feeling that this old man was probably suffering from the aftereffects of the gunfight he had overheard at the checkpoint.

But he thought it probably wasn't true, since Jackie Chan always played tough guy roles.

Guan Yuming stared at the road ahead. "I know many people who were unknowingly led astray. They just took a piece of candy or a sip of water offered by someone, and when they woke up, they were already heavily indebted to them, or had something tied to their body, or were addicted to something they shouldn't have, and could never wash it off. This place is different from other places. Many people will target you from the moment you don't even know where you are."

After hearing this, Rosen smiled and patted the backpack. "It's okay, I have enough food and drinks in this bag. I don't plan to eat other people's food here. Besides, I've never eaten out in America."

You should know that Rosen's capsule space is filled with hundreds of boxes of various self-heating meals and other supplies, so he could easily walk across the desert without any problem.

Guan Yuming glanced at him sideways, then at the bulging backpack, and immediately realized that his reminder was indeed a bit unnecessary; this person was more cautious than he had imagined.

But then again, what kind of kind person could thrive in a wild place like Africa?

According to Qian Bida, this guy led a few friends and stormed into the rebel stronghold, rescued many people, and even killed the rebel leader.

Although Guan Yuming suspected that Qian Bida was habitually boasting to elevate his nephew's status, there must be some truth to it.