I started writing after I left home in Ontario for Southern Africa. My journey began in Namibia, paused in South Africa, and ended in Botswana, where I spent nearly two years living and working in a small and charming tented safari camp nestled on the banks of the Linyanti swamps. This was a place where birds jumped in the cereal bowls, squirrels and geckos fell from the ceilings (sometimes onto your head while you were sleeping), scorpions scurried out of your exercise mat, and George the elephant took a nap in front of the kitchen while guests waited impatiently for brunch. “Maybe you can go to the kitchen later,” he would tell you with a slow blink of billowing eyelashes. It was a funny sort of life that I will always be grateful for in a way that escapes explanation.
I have called Toronto home for nearly 4 years now; longer than I was away. Dusty trails have turned to busy sidewalks, and I am still trying to choose the right words.