Epilogue

Abstract

Nearly two years have passed since I left Luanda. I write the last words of this long odyssey my the little adobe house overlooking Lake Titicaca and the Royal Cordillera of the Andes, which I had so often dreamed of in Luanda and feared I might never see again. My hillside is flowering, even at this great altitude. Sometimes, as in Angola, there is no water, sometimes no electricity. Sometimes I am even awakened at dawn by the crackle of machine-gun fire, and reach automatically for a non-existent radio. But it is only the Bolivian navy, practising on the shores of the lake. There is peace here.