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Mark Moxon's Travel Writing

Ghana: The Struggle into Ghana

I sometimes wonder if this travelogue is in danger of turning into nothing more than a detailed examination of being ill in exotic locations, because for the last couple of weeks, that's all it's felt like. At least in India I was granted a couple of weeks' respite between illnesses, but in West Africa things have degraded after a promising start, what with the Lariam, the homesickness and various bouts of intestinal hockey. In my defence, a good travelogue must report the trip faithfully, but feel free to skip this one if you're sick and tired of the sick and tired.

Trying Hard to Smile

By 5am they were a lot worse. I woke up feeling terrible, and ten minutes later I just knew I was going to be sick. It wasn't long before I was bringing up nothing but acrid yellow bile, and wondering what I'd done to deserve yet another bout of illness so soon after the last one. If you'd tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a flight ticket home, I'd have grabbed it faster than you could say 'Bleearghh!'