The Sunrise Sisterhood by Cathy Bramley EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Authors: Cathy Bramley
- Language: English
- Genre: Women’s Divorce Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
JUNE 2022
I checked the front pocket of my rucksack for my passport. It was there.
Just as it had been the last five times I’d looked. The taxi I’d booked to take
me to the airport on the other side of Kampala was due any minute. My
throat was tight with the anxiety which had been building over the last
forty-eight hours.
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Was I doing the right thing? I thought I was. But it didn’t stop the
niggling voice in my head telling me I was running away. Back to the place
I’d run from.
I’d initially come to Africa to travel, to do some volunteering, to escape
from a life that had felt pointless, and from my parents, specifically my
father, who made me feel as if nothing I did was ever good enough. Within
days of arriving here at the Hope Foundation charity project in Uganda, I
felt sure I’d found the place I was supposed to be. Here I felt valued; I had a
role to play and, for the first time, my life had purpose.
Before long, the emotional baggage I’d brought with me became
irrelevant in a country where life felt raw and vivid – bigger than anything
I’d experienced. The red dirt roads, chaotic traffic and crowded towns were
islands in a vast ocean of green plains inhabited by animals I’d only seen in
zoos. Scorching dry heat was counterbalanced by torrential rain, and,
despite the poverty, I’d encountered friendship, community and pure
happiness. Uganda was a country of contrasts and, for a young woman who
wasn’t quite sure who she wanted to be, it was the perfect place to be while
she figured it out.
Five years on and apparently I still hadn’t figured it out.
My case was sitting in the doorway, stuffed with as many mementoes
from my time here as I could fit in it. Even so, I was leaving a lot behind . I
cast one last look around the house and walked outside onto the porch,
where I could avoid seeing all Jesse’s pairs of flip-flops piled up by the
door, and the knick-knacks we’d accumulated over the years to make this
tin-roofed house feel like a home: the wood carvings, wall hangings and the
children’s art I’d been given and couldn’t bring myself to throw out.
I kept my eyes on the entrance to the camp, willing the taxi to hurry up.
My palms were clammy and my stomach was fluttery with nerves.
My plans to return home to the UK had been made so quickly that I kept
expecting to wake up and find it was a dream. That what had happened at
the party two nights ago wasn’t real and that any minute now everything
would be back to normal.
But then I’d catch Jesse’s eye and my stomach would plummet all over
again. My carefully curated, simple life managing the volunteers who came
here to work at the Hope Foundation was over.
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