BUT, after having heard you speak at the Sydney Writers Festival, I was disappointed to become disappointed mid-read. For the brilliant spark of desperate humanity I sensed at the Festival didn’t seem to connect in the book. Yes, adventurous and a bit brave; yes, contributing overwhelmingly through medical practice; yes, unique and deeply difficult experience and yet .. for all my expectation of humanity finding and connecting with humanity, I just didn’t see it. I was shocked when you wrote of how infrequently you visited the local workers compound. I searched unrequitedly for your mention of a ‘friend’ or of efforts to reach out in broken, infantile Arabic. I couldn’t see it.

I even discussed my disappointment with my darling flatmate. Perplexed. I sensed such..intense and profound ‘yes-ness’ when you were talking about connecting people by reducing distance; and not to see it reflected in your articulate and moving book through a personal connection with the people raised my judgement of your authenticity. Thankfully I was wrong (and told my flatmate so) after reading page 270 when it became clear that there was a lot more going on for you than I had understood. And again a number of times throughout the rest of the book. I stand in judgement of being judgemental

I loved my short stints in Tchad and Djibouti and am learning French so I can go back in different capacities to that crazy, lost world of Africa. I love it and it draws me – but as does any adventure I think. And as I drag myself through another 12 months of feeding the corporate money hungry machine of a firm I work for, I cling to your words (which brought me a near religious experience “Pushed by the sharp thrill of being somewhere new and rare and exciting, pushed toward that feeling where anything can happen. Pulled because I wanted to understand.”

With thanks and a more energised spirit James, I regard you as a distant comrade.

Wendy