Still, at least it was worth it when we got to Zanzibar, wasn’t it? Well, it is certainly a beautiful island, its capital Stone Town a tangle of fairy tales of tiny alleyways and sultan palaces, its northern shores and is an unspoiled Indian Ocean idyll where (at least) it doesn there was no electricity and a fisherman wandered over to you as you ate your mango breakfast to ask him what you wanted him to catch you for lunch. But – without my glasses now, remember – those delightful beaches were deadly, and I soon waded the wrong way and onto a sea urchin, whose tips snapped in my foot and forced that quick give up, even five days later, of our discomfort. accursed attempt on Kilimanjaro, back on the Tanzanian mainland.
After that we returned to Nairobi, where these ladies of the night, absolutely undeterred by Ellie’s presence, tried to approach me at every bar and club we visited. And then – unrelated, I promise – there was the moment when I attempted to assassinate my main pressure.
The antimalarial drug I was taking, Lariam, was apparently well known for its mind-altering effects, but that reads all the fine print on those folded pieces of paper in the box, right? If I had done it, I would have known that the pills âcan cause paranoia, hallucinations, severe anxiety, yada yadaâ¦â). And, of course, one night I became convinced that Ellie was the embodiment of all evil, a walking satanic avatar form indeed, and that she needed to be destroyed.