I have finally decided to listen to the voices in my head which have been mounting over the last couple weeks. There comes a point on long journeys where it becomes clear, via some imaginary body clock, that my time is up. My shelf life in Africa has expired and its time to come home. I have noticed that my tolerance level for daily life here is getting too low and that my motivation and enjoyment of things is decreasing. Living out of a filthy backpack, battling for a decent meal, and carrying a 60 pound load on local transport has taken its toll on this pilgrim’s body and mind. I am also running on stimulation overload. After eight months of mind-blowing experiences, crowned by seeing the gorillas a few weeks back, each new successive experience gets robbed of its rightful glory. I want to be careful not to dilute my previous encounters. I suppose its my way of justifying the exit strategy. Icing on a top heavy cake. Its time to go. Pack it up and move ‘em out.
In a forced moment filled with anxiety and despair, I bought a bus ticket for the 6:30am departure from Kampala to Nairobi, where I would catch my flight to London.
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