What an interesting time I'm having! I'm still in London, and tonight I expected to fly back to my beloved Africa, take the bus tomorrow to Tzaneen and by early evening be re-united with my monkeys, my friends, my dogs and my HOME! I LONG to see my garden shed in the bush, LONG to sleep in my own bed with Candy and Snooze tucked up next to me; sit with friends under the tree in my garden, the sun warm on my face; dogs sprawled everywhere, oozing contentment. And although I believe I will have all those experiences again, what I don't know is... when. And the reason I don't know, is because my application for a three year visa has been rejected, because I was found with half an ounce of black (cannabis resin, for the uninitiated) in my handbag at Stanstead airport, in October of '97.. Almost eleven years ago! So of course I've appealed, and I'm now awaiting the decision of the Director General of Home Affaires in Pretoria, and if anyone out there knows him.....

I am at a loss to understand how the discovery of half an ounce of black in a handbag, almost ELEVEN years ago, could get a girl into so much trouble! I am refused entry into South Africa until such time as my appeal has been heard, and that will take ninety days; if they refuse me a visa again, I will be unable to enter SA again...

Now, if we consider this situation with any degree of common sense, we're looking at an elderly woman , approaching her 65th birthday, who would like to spend her remaining years taking care of Vervet Monkeys in Africa. I mean, I'm hardly the Mafia am I? I'm not dealing in arms to Iraq or bombs to Basra; I contribute to the economy, take nothing from the country financially, and care for the environment. And the most wonderful thing to emerge from this time of uncertainty, is my certainty that I WILL get back. How could I not? Africa is my home, my heart, spirit and soul are in Africa; my passion for Her greater than any other I have ever known; She is in my blood and in my bones, She forms the very fabric of my being; my commitment to Her is absolute.

I want to see the moon, full and proud in the velvet black of night, watch stars shimmering silver through the sentry of trees that surround and protect me, and all that I hold most dear.

I live in Africa, no matter where my physical body may be: She is with me always, as are everything and everyone that I love in that far off land, and that knowledge brings me peace. But the pain of separation can still render me inarticulate with grief when I find myself overwhelmed with longing to be physically where I belong. But peace is a far more frequent presence in my life than pain. How fortunate am I? To expect to ever find myself free of pain is unrealistic; but it no longer consumes me, is no longer that which defines me; and when I do experience it, it is appropriate that I should, in that particular situation at that particular time. And I can live with that.

I'm trying so hard to be brave, but to be totally honest, being away from Africa is a fucking nightmare; one from which I hope to awaken from in the very near future. I miss my babies so much.

I hope my next blog will contain the news I'm hoping for; wish me luck.

Love to you all, x