The good, the bad and the ugali
Sitting at Malawi’s Kamuzu international airport in this year’s already singeing summer has me bored, constipated and wishing I was somewhere else. I’ve been dropped off an hour and half early and am finding it difficult to breathe. This has nothing to do with my premature arrival, but with a rather wild weekend in Nairobi a few days prior that will remain a story for another day. I’m on my way back home though, which is good.
The reason I’ve whipped my laptop out is really a mixture of envy, nostalgia and arrogance.
I’ve just been watching someone whom I think to be a Malawian on his way out of his country for the very first time.
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