INTRODUCTION
“What do you really want to do”, he asked and I thought pensively… I want to go to the desert, thinking of Sting’s Desert Rose. Seeing images of camels and the wind blowing through my hair in the romantic arid landscape. Six months down the line I was about to find out that just because a city is in the desert, it doesn’t hold any of the imagery Khalil Gibran’s books speak of so fondly!
Earlier that year…
With all my hours of practical completed, I now only had to conquer my practical and theory exams, and then I’ll have the title of “Fitness Instructor”! I thought the practical exam would be much more passable than theory as the latter was precise, and the former was open to interpretation… When I was faced with an examiner who was clearly a remnant of post Richard Simmons, I realised my perception was drastically misinformed as it was much easier to remember what I had learnt on paper, than to perform a cutting edge fitness routine for the “queen” of aerobics!
In the midst of studying, getting all my practical done, doing my compulsory first aid course, and going cold turkey off prescription meds, my mother arrived home from work in Joburg in a complete and utter state of rage and terror. “The son’s of bitches threw a rock through my windscreen – at 120kms/hr!” Shit! I was glad she was okay but this is South Africa and such atrocities are bound to happen at some point. A few weeks later I was given the news that my old flame and obsession for the past 13 years had been shot and killed outside his shop! How the fuck did that happen!!! Well we live in South Africa, his shop had been held up before – 3 times to be precise – he carries a firearm with him – he probably had a shit load of bad karma – and we LIVE IN SOUTH AFRICA – bad shit is bound to happen!
So that was the deciding factor then. “Go abroad my child”, while you still have the chance. So I applied for a position as a fitness instructor, in Abu Dhabi, which is in the desert, so technically I’d be living my dream… Time to get a tan!

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