Three tours?
Man, I stopped counting at my fifth Final Farewell Party.
I did PAAN, then some time with a local Lebo, had my first FFP, went with PAAN again, had my second FFP, went with Aero, had my third FFP, came back with PAAN, had my fourth FFP, went with some Brit outfit whose name escapes me, went back to PAAN, had my fifth FFP, came back with that Brit outfit again and then just got the f*ck out of Dodge after that! Three tours is just warming up!
I was visiting one of my former colleagues who flat-out told me that I must be at least a half-ball out of level to even think about going back to that hell-hole but what can I say? It's like the Boy Scouts for perverts, the Foreign Legion without having to eat cheese or speak French, life without having to pretend to care about all the lame stuff that makes up so-called 'normal life,' changing lightbulbs and paying bills and having to pick stuff up and put it away instead of having Sunday, Saturday, Friday,
Patience, Prudence, Charity, Blessing or Mohammed, even, come along after you to sort out all those mundane details.
Here some cop pulls you over, it means business rather than 'Ah! How is family?' and so-on and so forth. I have to remember not to hand over €50 along with my licence. Of course on the other hand, there are no bars on the windows, no curtains on my transportation and what sounds like firecrackers in the middle of the night is just that.