I had been in bed for hours trying to sleep.

I heard a car drive right into the courtyard. I heard doors slamming shut and then loud voices. I heard them shouting and threatening Mzungo (the manager) and his wife.

'Give me the keys,' They shouted, again and again. I could hear threats, I could hear insults - some things you don't need to speak dialect to understand.

'Do it,' Mzungo agreed, eventually.

I could hear them rattling the keys, trying to find the right key to each keyhole, and always shouting.

They came down the corridor.

One room at a time.

The man was standing just outside my door.

I lit up my candle, sat up, put on my shoes and waited. Putting on my shoes seemed like an important thing to do.

I waited, God knows how long for, listening to the keys ring, trying to follow the conversation outside.

I remember that a kid was crying.

I heard them get back into the car and drive away. I waited for about a minute, kicked off my shoes and went back to bed.

--

In my mind, the complicated part had always been getting to Mocimboa.

I had never suspected leaving would be so hard.