5 Thousand miles away from my ship home, 5 thousand miles away from my country of birth I find myself in a tuk tuk in Tamatave, Madagascar. Alone on the back seat, zooming around bicycles and speeding past rickshaws with the occasional off road moment. the police call and we stop. White person noted, bribe paid behind the tuk tuk so that I am none the wiser. A man in a shirt and chinos stands by the side of the road and gives a nod. We stop and he joins me on the back seat. He acknowledges me with a dip of the hat, unsure what language this stranger may speak. I greet him in Malagasy and he happily and quickly responds. A lady this time, beautifully dressed with high heels and a little handbag swinging from her upturned wrist . We stop. We greet. We dart in and out of traffic.
The man picks up the conversation with an air of confusion and many questions;
Do you live here? Are you with Peace corps? Where do you come from?
England, you come from England? Brexit! He exclaimed with a knowing smile.
And suddenly I don’t feel 5 thousand miles away.