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The UN says "yes", Anna says "no".

I stopped being in control a long time ago. I gave up my health, my friendships, my finances; my dreams and told God that he could take everything. Senegal would have to be on his terms, because I had no idea where to even start. Day by day; step by step, I found myself overwhelmed by barriers that I had never encountered before, yet each time as I prayed: each time as they fell, I found myself empowered by the confidence that I can live a life that far surpasses my own limitations.   One night, I needed a taxi. Thies Airport is 40km from Dakar and my flight arrived at two in the morning. I was returning from ten days in the UK following my aunt’s funeral, malaria tests, and visits to my best friend in intensive care. Anticipating the blizzard of taxi drivers awaiting me: swarming in Wolof whilst attempting to devour my money, I felt overwhelmed. I prayed. During the plane journey, I discovered that the man on my right lived a few streets away from me. As a Wolof speaker, he ...
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Standing Naked

As turbulence rasps and rattles around our plane, I lengthen each breath; loosen my shoulders, and allow myself to completely relax. Peace often feels like a choice. Unclenching my fists, I choose for the acid to drain from my stomach; I choose to stop striving. When life feels out of control, the only option that I have is to stop struggling and just be held. The last ten days have been coated with chaos. Returning home for my aunt’s funeral brought the grating relief that I had spent six weeks aching for. However, I never expected that three days before I was due to fly; on my birthday, my closest childhood friend would also suffer a brain haemorrhage. Something inside me shattered. I clawed my way onto the plane, with two impossible realities leaving me leaden. Allowing myself to emotionally crash in the UK, I discovered that as well as bringing home nits and a live cockroach, many of the symptoms of my exhaustion correlated with malaria. My GP sent me straight to “Acciden...
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Bubbles of Sky

My heart hammering to the racing crescendo of jet engines thrusting our little vessel into the yawning blue, our aircraft suddenly shrivels. Once proud and haughty; it pawed at the runway; clamouring for its release. Yet within moments, the gaping sheet of sky strips it of all significance. A meaningless bubble; it weaves meekly through battleship clouds. The aircraft’s fragile transformation reflects my own mental transition over the passing weeks, and the pervading sense of peace that has started swirling through my mind with increasing intensity. I frequently stop myself; surprised, and ferret around for a spike of anxiety to bring me back to normality. Yet somehow, the gnawing fear feels distant: a shadow of its former self. The acceptance that I have never been less in control of my life; my day-to-day agenda; my food, family, socialising, health; relationships: brings with it a lethargic tranquillity. Any attempt to try to control the next four months of my life in Dakar ...
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