The high whine of the Antonov’s propellers changed pitch as it accelerated along the Djibouti runway, building towards a droning cres cendo that I had not heard outside of decades-old movies.

Male passengers fanned themselves with the Russian-language aircraft safety cards the women fanned their children. Sweat poured freely off my skin and soaked into the torn cloth of my seat cover. The cabin absorbed the heat of the midday African sun like a Dutch oven, thickening the air until it was unbearable to breathe. Modern Puntland, a self-governing region in northeastern Somalia, may or may not be the successor to the Punt of ancient times, but I was soon to discover that it contained none of the gold and ebony that dazzled the Egyptians-save perhaps for the colours of the sand and the skin of the nomadic goat and camel herders who had inhabited it for centuries. To the ancient Egyptians, Punt had been a land of munifi cent treasures and bountiful wealth in present times, it was a land of people who robbed wealth from the rest of the world. The 737s of Dubai, with their meal services and functioning seatbelts, were a distant memory the plane I was in was not even allowed to land in Dubai, and the same probably went for the unkempt, ill-tempered Ukrainian pilot.

The one advantage I had over seasoned reporters is that I wasn't constrained by the insurance costs and tight deadlines that come with working for a major news agency as a result, I was able to spend three months in the fray, and gain a perspective on piracy (and Somalia in general) that no other outsider was granted.I arrived in Somalia in the frayed seat of a 1970s Soviet Antonov propeller plane, heading into the internationally unrecognized region of Puntland on a solo quest to meet some present-day pirates. I was immediately shocked by how few Western journalists were in the country during my first six-week trip, the only other foreigners I encountered were a team of Australian cameramen on my final day in Somalia. Somalia was a great candidate, and when piracy exploded in September 2008 I quit my job and bought a ticket. Every established journalist I spoke to advised me to skip journalism school and make my bones by writing freelance in crazy places. At the time (late 2008), I was working out of my parents' house on a contract basis for a Chicago-based market research firm and trying semi-desperately to break into journalism. Jay Bahadur: The terrifying spectre of the agonizingly dull life that awaited me if I didn't do something with myself. Jeff Glor: What inspired you to write the book?

The pirates of somalia jay bahadur