The Graveyard of Good Intentions

Last night before sunset I went riding on Petit Bandit for the first time since I arrived back. We took the well worn and well loved route around the perimeter of the archaeological site of Djenné Djeno. Petit Bandit suddenly shuddered and jumped, then he started to limp. I dismounted and checked his hooves. One was cut and bleeding. I looked around and realized he had stepped on a small piece of rusty metal, clearly broken off from one of the peculiar bits of metal debris which have been littering the site for the last couple of years in quite some quantity.  I had been asking myself what these metal devices might be, disturbing the otherwise untouched and lovely countryside. I decided to investigate. What I discovered was an astonishing tale of deception,  incompetence and inexcusable gullibility.