It's been almost two weeks now with no running water. We've been managing, but in this humid heavy heat, it's not so pleasant washing up with a pot and washcloth. I've spent a fair bit of time in some pretty shitty places and don't really mind the inconvenience, but I'm impressed with the crews here. Everyone complains, but heck, when aren't we complaining? Yet these guys just get on with it. I've been on bases where work would have stopped day two. Good on ya lads!
I'm kind of sad, when I think on it, knowing this lifestyle could well come to an end in short order. All the travel, new lands, new friends, adventure, it all gets very addictive. I sit on the roof, book in hand, the soft yellow light of the waning day making everything look exotic, African. The light slowly shifting in hue to pink as night creeps in, with the dark blue purple of water laden skies providing a stunning back drop, flashes of lightning, roosters crowing, teenagers laughing, unmistakeable African rhythms rising up in Christian hymns from the church below, heavy warmth permeating all. My heart cries for I know I will sorely miss Africa. As much as I deny it, as much as I want to believe that all the oil industry pundits are just being pessimistic, I know, this lifestyle is coming to an end. Damn Saudis, driving prices into the ground. I could do this forever. Fuck.
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