The camels and donkeys convoyed out without their humans together every morning into the desert only to come back home every evening before the hyenas came out for hunting. In a sense the domesticated animals represented me, leaving home for an adventure, only coming home when the proverbial jaws of danger were hot on my trail. That was what it was like to be a traveler in Djibouti.  Flies harassed me to the point of rage as I arched my back in disgust after I pet a mangy kitty which turned its body to reveal a bad case of mange and a large open sore. I looked into the kitchen…