I don’t know how I feel right now. I feel as if I have nothing left to write about. I feel as if I’m stuck on a constant thought. I know I could sit here and manipulate several of the same sentences to sound different and talk about how beautiful it is here.
I don’t know how I feel right now. I feel as if I have nothing left to write about. I feel as if I’m stuck on a constant thought. I know I could sit here and manipulate several of the same sentences to sound different and talk about how beautiful it is here. I could tell you more about how nice the people are, or I could tell you about how much I love it here. Basically what I’m saying is I could repeat everything that’s been said over and over again in a way that you would feel as if you were reading something different – But I don’t want to do that. I want to actually tell you something different. But what in the world do I tell you? What do you people want to hear? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe many of us here are speaking out about things that you want to hear and not things that we want to tell. So I think I’m going to tell it pretty straight.
I sit here at night, and yes, I admire the stars. I walk the dirt paths for hours on end and I admire the nature. I see the beauty in Africa – The beauty in the people and the beauty in nature. But there’s one thing missing… The beauty of home. Home is where the heart is, that is a given fact for almost anybody. Unless you’ve grown up in a broken home, and possibly even still, I believe you know what I’m talking about. Here in Africa, it’s pretty simple. You do what you have to do to survive. Whether that means begging the tourists to visit your shop or sniffing glue to keep the bad thoughts out, you do it because you know nothing else. In Canada, there’s diversity. As a Canadian we have a choice to go to school for FREE, and own a house big enough to have a choice in which room you wish to relax in. In Canada, we have a choice in what we want to believe in. We can decide for ourselves if God is real without getting looks from everyone around us. If you don’t believe in God here, you believe in the devil – that’s how it’s viewed. And if you believe in the devil, you’re worthless and ignored. Unfortunately, that’s life here. Life seems to be mapped out for you before you’re even born. If your father is a farmer, well so are you. If your mother owns a small shop in Nairobi, it will be yours one day. If you need to go to the bathroom, there’s a small hole in the ground so I hope you’ve got good aim. Basically what I’m saying is, besides nature and happy people, Africa is not the greatest place to be. Africa is a struggle. A struggle enough for me to wish I had a real bathroom, and (God help me) wish I were at school. Not that I don’t love the new experiences I’m having, but I’m almost ready to go home now. I’m exhausted and tired of tents, I want to see my parents and my girlfriend, and I would love a TV right now. It’s even pathetic in my mind, and I’m the one writing it.
I never thought I would reach a breaking point here, but I think I’m close. Maybe I’m not at a “breaking point” but I miss life in Canada. Whoever feels as if they are misfortunate, you must be delusional. Don’t take it wrong though, I was pretty delusional myself only about a month ago. Believe me when I say you’re lucky, fellow Canadians. Be proud, be loud, be mindful. We have it good.