I was filled with a bit of trepidation about coming back to Bamako. I struggle to trust the decision I had made – what if I am prolonging the inevitable? What if I get burned again,what if this is the wrong choice? What if I am missing too many things and my friends will move on without me? What if I can’t do a good job? Even after a weekend f lady gushing and confidence building I still wasn’t sure.
But then I got home (for now). I was picked up by my friend solo and as we wound through the streets of Bamako, I sighed in relief at the familiarity of it all. I still don’t know if coming back was the “right choice” but I do know that come hell or high water I am going to be just fine.