Dates are being pushed forward for Sierra Leone; timing issues, funding issues and ‘other’ issues, which come as no surprise due to the socio-political and economic state of that particular country.
Part of me is relieved to push it, part of me is frustrated. I vacillate between acceptance and intense gut-wrenching fear about this trip and to know that I be experiencing these waves for longer than anticipated is almost torturous in itself. I am pretty lucky to have the people I have around supporting me through this. From an agent who offered to bust me out of any jail I may land in, to my dearest friend on the planet having absolutely no problem letting me call him at 3am to express my anxiety, and a close network of awesome people who refuse to allow my fears to take over my rational thought, suffice to say I’m pretty lucky.
Every time I feel solid and confident about this trip, somebody mentions something about some acquaintance getting mugged, murdered, beaten by gangs or sexually assulted in West Africa. An acquaintance who grew up in the Congo said to me, “You couldn’t pay me enough to go back to Sierra Leone.” Inevitably, my mind drifts back to, what the fuck am I thinking!?
Already this trip seems to be an exercise in fear-management.