It feels strange, yet oddly familiar being back in West Africa. There are some things which used to be reflexes which I now have to concentrate on. Rinsing the washing up in dilute bleach isn’t a normal part of life in High Wycombe, nor is using filtered water to clean my teeth. But with a little bit of thought, these things come back to mind.
It is wonderful to hear the cicadas again; an African night is one of the most wonderful sounds in the world (as long as you are not close to an all night bar playing Congolese pop music, that is). The musty smell of wet season and the clammy feel of hot humid air are not particularly pleasant, but they do bring back lots of wonderful (and some pretty painful) memories.
It’s good to be here!