Africa – the missing years …

My Local Market
My Local Market

From Portugal I left my overland journey for over two years in West Africa. Two years of self preparation for life I tag it these days. I lived a simple local life. I worked in a local job that allowed me to pass on my knowledge and skills to others Daughter of Leprosy Ladyin the area. Call it sustainable.

Over the two plus years I met many people. Some wonderful, some average, and some as corrupt as theyAlpha Male Drill Monkey come. I got sick, and I nearly died. Then I got sick again.

I traveled to remote areas that most people will not see. I battled with racism directed at me. And social inequality, again direct at me. All the time in the west people fought to relieve such stigma’s they were often accused of.

That said. living in West Africa was much akin to living in the “Wild Wild West”. People can and do have lives there that are truly  detached from the rest of the world.

And that is one of the beauties of Africa. People take package tours to Namibia, South Africa and Kenya – and yes they have been to Fishing boats at portAfrica. Those the “brave” the over sections of Africa will often be found on “overland tours” or 4×4 adventure trails. The reality is few people head to the darker regions of the continent. Those that do, are often backed with hefty salaries, security and or political backing.  You’d be surprised to see how little of Africa they actually get to see. Yet, to listen to them you’d think they were in the bush all the time.

There was little opportunity to access good internet where I traveled and lived. In fact if it worked, then quite often there would be no electricity. Or fuel to run a generator. In turn I wrote into my original hand Girls washing my clotheswritten journal. And so the content remains.

I am still searching for a place called home. And truly don’t have the time to transfer it to an online version. During my time in Africa I could not even upload a single full resolution photograph. At least not until the end when an expat helped me out. Then on a return to Europe for my overland journey I took a few days to upload everything to storage. What I couldn’t do in two years in Africa, I could do in two days in Europe.

Then again in Africa I could give my clothes to hand wash in exchange for mere cents. In Europe I spent four days Africa salary to have half a load washed. And yes, your clothes smell different in Africa. Everything does.

African SunsetI have included my African years in my book. An in-depth look at my life there, and why I went there. I truly don’t know if I will get the time to update this section of the website. It’s hard enough to find the time for the rest fo the website let alone go back. But, if I do, I must surely will update things here.

Now that the photographs are uploaded and safe. Throughout the website you will find my African Old lady in the villagePhotographs appearing more regularly on various pages.

I will also make let people know through my rss and email subscriptions when this category is updated. And, the updates will be delivered to them from the African section here.

In the meantime, feel free to leave comments below or contact me. If enough people would like to see more posts in this category it will for sure encourage to write more about it and post more photographs.

All photographs on this entry are bigger then the normal one’s I put here. As a result if you click on them they will expand quite a bit!

For the The Longest Way Home – This is Africa!

African Sunset
This is Africa!

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2 Replies to “Africa – the missing years …”

  1. The harsh face of realities. I wish all the best for Africa. I do want to read more about your African experience.
    Safe travels dave.
    I hope that you will soon find home :)
    The pics are great

  2. Very interesting what write on Africa, living a local life. Few of us could and even fewer of us might survive it.
    Therefore it is logical that most of us only see Kenya, Namibia or South Africa. We leave our world for something exotic, but which is not close to the real Africa.
    A friend (monk) just came back from work in a refugee camp in Kenya. His stories sound like your post here.

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