By Maimouna Jallow Focus and Network correspondent in São Tomé e Príncipe

I still remember the look on the face of my editor Joseph Warungu as, perched on the edge of the red sofa in his office in Bush House, clasping my sweaty hands, I told him that I was going to São Tomé.

His eyes asked, "Have you gone mad?" - but the eternal diplomat just asked, "Why?"

Over the next four months, as I prepared for my big move, it was a question that friends and colleagues consistently repeated.

I never quite understood quite why they felt I had taken a strange decision.

Embracing self-exile

Can you think of anything better than working on a tiny island where the sun always shines, the people are kind, the food is fantastic and a short drive in almost any direction leads you to a beautiful beach? I certainly cannot!

Now don't get me wrong, the power cuts do get annoying at times, as does the fact that I cannot just pop to a shop at midnight if I run out of candles or chocolates.

10 second questionnaire What would you like to be in another life? A bird. Can there be anything better than gliding over the world? What words will you never be heard saying? No more pounded yam and egusi stew, thanks. What is your biggest nightmare? Getting lost. I have the worst sense of direction known to man. What do you dream about?Living life as though it were a dream – happily. Oh, and having lots of kids!

But believe me – it beats the freezing cold that Londoners call "crisp" in order to make themselves feel better.

Like so many people who leave home for so-called greener pastures, I have embraced self-exile.

This might not be economic migration, but being at 'home' certainly feeds the soul.

I grew up in Togo and though São Tomé is different in many ways, it is the closest to home I have lived in over a decade.

People see it as a cross between the Caribbean and Africa because of its colonial history as a plantation economy.

But for me, it is completely Africa. It smells of home; the fresh fruit and fish; the flowers and sea breeze; the sweat and intoxicating heat.

As for the sounds, well, if the Network Africa rooster does not get me up in the morning, there are always at least three other crowers, a crying baby and an overzealous mechanic in the background competing to do so.

Ray of light

I have a new nickname thanks to George, one of the first people I met here.

When I told him my name, he gave me one of those raised-eyebrow looks that I seem to be attracting lately.

"Your name is what? Mai…ma…mu…What? What does it mean?" he asked.

"Light," I replied.

"Ah, raio de luz," he exclaimed.

It is a name that has stuck. And I must say, I am pretty chuffed. It is not every day you get called "ray of light". Well, it is now.

But enough romanticising – let us get down to business - I did promise to send stories not only from São Tomé but also from Gabon and Equatorial Guinea.

First off, I have to get used to finding out what is happening, before it actually does happen, without the help of a computer.

As they say, what goes around comes around, eh. Ciao-e!

The full version of this article appears in the January - March 2007 edition of BBC Focus on Africa Magazine.

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