Return to the roots

It's a well known fact that once you drink from the Nile there is no escaping it: You will always return. And so I did. After moving away from this land I called my home four and a half years ago, I have returned today.

It's all so very familiar, the queer smell as you get out of the airport, the taxi drivers trying to get you to take their cab, the dad who lets you wait for half an hour... Home sweet home.

The weather is lovely and I begin to feel my muscles relax. Maybe now I'll finally get rid of that backache I've had since my trip to Uganda. I was made for this climate.

As I unpacked I found a little stowaway in my suitcase. The little thing has been 'brassed' according to an ageless university student tradition. The owner of this brassed object needs to do whatever the 'thief' tells him to do. This usually comes down to cooking dinner for the thief or something in that range. I'm not quite sure what I'll ask the owner of this little monkey to do yet. So your suggestions are very welcome.

For now, I think the little thing is having a ball here!