There was no Yeoville today. There was no Rasta House, whistling men, smelly and dirty streets, endless walking and there was defiantly none of those unfulfilled appointments.
Today was a day of, what I would like to refer to as, damage control. The day where I attempted to pull out the remaining stops that I had previously left behind.
It was like I was standing outside in the rain trying to catch a few drops of rain in a glass to quench an uncomfortable thirst. (Please don’t think too much into this analogy.Just imagine an arid region where there are no taps or other readily available sources of water and then suddenly and finally, it begins to rain) So surprisingly, I was able to gather a drinkable amount. Although this thirst is not entirely quenched, my body can survive another day.
Progress is slow, however there is progress and there is the strong possibility that there will be no need for a plan B or C or D. I would be kidding myself though to establish myself as a journalist an not have have provisions for changes and let-downs. It is these provisions that will allow me to produce good work even in the most unfavourable of circumstances.
This in-depth journey had been filled with both fun an difficult experiences. The fun ones have been really fun and well, the difficult ones have been really trying. But that is how it goes and it does not matter when the break-through happens, I have learned during this journey that even the final two minutes are gold and I must make the very best of them. So in these last four days make the very best of what has been a roller-coaster ride with Yeoville, who is still my lover.
In the words of my mentor, who reminded me of my reality, “this isn’t the final stretch, this is just the start” in my journey to becoming a good journalist.