I LOOKED, AND THEN I LOOKED AWAY

Chapter 1 - "Why Africa?"

I stood there, motionless; gazing into the red eyes of a madman and the barrel of his gun. I felt the hate from a few steps away; cold and confused. It was as if he was stealing my soul with his blood-stained stare. I was helpless; raped. Death held me over the edge, eager to let me go. The only thing left for me to salvage was the rest of this cigarette, and possibly, a free ride home in a casket.

“What the hell was I thinking when I decided that it was a good idea to go to Africa anyway?” I sulked to myself. The consequence of my choice seemed far too real at the moment. I could’ve shot myself for my own stupidity.

Why Africa? This question I could never honestly answer. I didn’t know why, or what I was doing in this god-forsaken desert. I used to feel a sense of pride when the question was thrown my way. Whoever asked me was truly puzzled; especially Africans. It was the chance for me to say, “Hey! I’m crazy! I want something crazy out of life.” Now my pride had been sweated out in the sweltering sands of the Kalahari. I wasn’t proud. I was powerless.

My answer was always true; I didn’t know. I was going to Africa, and I didn’t have the slightest clue as to why. Maybe it was a young man’s desire for a real adventure. Maybe I wanted to dip my feet in dangerous waters.

I had spent my entire life living in a small-town on the Canadian prairies. The most adventure I could find there was in drinking tons of booze, getting really high and jumping the midnight train. It didn’t really matter what country I was going to. My hometown was a place that made me question everything. I wanted answers. I had to get out; see the world. What was it like beyond my borders? Would I change if I stepped outside? Who am I? The sort of questions that barrage any young man’s mind after getting out of high-school without a clue of what is what. And rather than working on the farm till the cows came home, I chose Africa. But by now, it made me sick to think about.