I'm not who I was

My experience here in south africa has been challenging: witnessing with the disparity I've already discussed, engaging with the issue of race and the associated legacy left by my fellow white people in this nation, the now normal anxiety regarding crime and safety, and the constant sense that I am a guest, an intruder in my host family's home. It's almost as if introverts like myself don't survive here. Darwin's rule, natural selection, has pushed us out of the cycle of reproduction as the conditions are not ripe for my kind in south africa. to travel alone, to retreat into one's head, to not only desire but need solitute to function, is dangerous in this country. Thus I struggle. How do I engage with such suffering everyday, in combination with my own sensitivity, without become an emotional and psychological wreck?

I find myself drinking a lot. mmmmm savvanna hard cider. One night after work...ok then maybe two...to escape from the dissapointment I feel...for my fellow man...and for myself. There's blood on my hands, on all of ours'. We want to think we live in a bubble. We claim that we don't overtyl harm our fellow man.