Malaria !

rmotor motor

(This is a rough translation from my diary)

Saturday, 21 st September.

Still sick or not? It's four day's after my visit to the excellent hospital in the capital of Malawi, Lilongwe. Four day's ago I took Fansidar to cure the malaria. I'm lying in my tent on the Lilongwe Golf Club with my eyes open. No more goose-flesh. The headache is less painful.. But I'm still unbelievable dizzy. I managed to have two superb meals at the restaurant. So I went to bed with peace because I feel a lot better now. In the middle of the night I wake up: for the second time a nightmare.

I'm walking at night through the streets of Noordwijk, a city in the Netherlands, close to the sea. It's a bright new part of the town with streets and lanes, empty, sunny and new. A group of bulls are thundering through a few streets ahead of me. Bulls with skins like sheep do have. Large parts fall off. Fat, burning skin is falling off.
A few streets behind me, I see them again with a group of people, running together with the bulls and so forming one burning group. I can avoid them easily by walking down a side road. I'm without fear. This happens another one or two times. But suddenly the burning fat skin of the bulls are covering me all over. No escape possible. But I'm still not in panic. Everything goes too fast, without to realize a thing.

At this moment I wake up, without fever, notice that I don't have an end and think out one in a split second:

Suddenly everything is quiet, I'm covered with the fat sheep skin and somebody stands in front of me with my passport in his hand. Also dripping with fat. We're both astonished.

When I wake up further, I think this end is quite weak and in a flash I think of another ending.

Just before I'm splashed between the burning bulls, I turn to the writer of this nightmare I'm in and ask: "what's the moral of this story ?" His answer is: "believe in God, don't panic, in times of difficulties he will reach his hand to you and save you (pull into heaven)."

I wanted to think of a third solution but unfortunately I couldn't find a better one. I feel better now this Sunday.


Funny, sometimes I was thinking how I would finish my last page of my diary. Around 230 pages in approximately 8 months. that's one page a day in average. This turned out as not too difficult. More pure fun. Just writing about the daily things. Realizing, overthinking, what happened the day before. It's just nice to read back those daily events together with the pictures I took. To smell and hear Africa again. This diary is already very valuable to me.


Psychiatrists are invited to send me their opinion of this dream :)

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