I was on my way home at last, I’d been counting down the days to my return flight since I arrived. The ‘Call of the Wild’ was overexaggerated as far as I was concerned. I just could not wait for that blissful moment of sleeping in my own bed. As it turned out, Africa had different plans for me.
The airport tannoy crackled into life.
“The flight to Nairobi has been delayed.”
There was a groan from all the passengers.
“More information will follow.”
I looked down at my dust-encrusted attire, I really needed a shower; even I could smell how disgusting I was. I just hoped that we would be aboard the turbo prop soon.
“Today’s flight has been cancelled.”
That was it, not much information to go on. I was going to miss my connecting flight back to London. I thought I had had enough to put up with on my fortnight’s stay, but news of this delay pushed me over the edge. I ‘d endured living in mud rondavels, sleeping on a straw mattress, there had been no electricity or hot water, and no Wi-Fi. I went into meltdown and screamed out loud. A hefty slap to my face from an official brought me back to reality. Africa’s a country with an entirely different culture, the same rules don’t apply here. I would do well to remember that. I absolutely hated Africa, it had been a big mistake to come.
Turns out the delay had been caused by a super pride of lions, laying on the one and only runway, and nothing could move them. All of the passengers’ luggage, which had been sitting on the tarmac for hours, was reunited with its owners. I glared at my rucksack in disgust. I wanted nothing to do with it. As soon as I was home I intended to burn it along with its contents. I didn’t even open it.
The rescheduled internal flight arrived in Nairobi and we were all transported to the international departures where we had to go through Customs. This is where my problems really started.
All passengers had identify their our luggage. Mine had been separated from the rest, which I found a bit strange. I was taken to a room and searched. I was totally bewildered as to what was going on.
They had found a snake in my rucksack, and I was being arrested for trying to export it. No matter what I said, nothing changed their minds to what they insisted had happened. African jails are not pleasant, I have to wait for my sentence. It could be anything up to ten years. I really hate Africa.
