Africa on my mind and in my blood

 As I sit and reflect upon my trip abroad  I think back to our last flight in South Africa. My mind goes to  a conversation I over heard between an Afrikan stewardess and a white American woman passenger. Talking to the stewardess, the American said to another white passenger who I presume from their conversation was visiting South Africa for the first time, “Be careful, Africa gets in your blood.” At the time I was confused by her statement. Though I wasn’t fully aware of her intentions, I took offense to her comment. I interpreted her words as having a negative connotation, as the metaphor she used associated Africa and in my mind black’s, with a disease. However, after having experienced two weeks in Africa and being among African people, I interpret the woman’s comment with new meaning. Being back in the United States, away from the people and places I encountered over the past two weeks, I feel Africa has gotten into my blood. I understand Africa not as an invasive disease that has entered my blood stream, but as a contagious energy filled with responsibility to people, not just Africans but to humanity. 

At the Orphanage in Soweto-A Moment for learning....

When we first arrived at the orphanage, as we prepared to get off the bus, I noticed there was a feeling of unease as we pulled up to the dirt clay trailers with the hundreds of children playing outside. Entering into a place where the majority of the children played day in and day out in the red clay dust of Soweto, I zipped my jacket to my chin as we got off the bus. This was the part of the trip I looked forward to the most. As I stepped off the bus, I was ready to give all of my energy and spend my time with a group of beautiful black children, some of whose names I could remember, and others I could not. When my first little sister came up to me I struggled to learn to enunciate the proper way to say her name. Having to ask the children to repeat their names more than three times, a point at which they were so frustrated they simply told me to call them by their English names, exposes why  scholars who study Africa MUST learn the language of the people they study. With every “What is your name?’ “Say it again?” I felt my American-ness surface as the dissimilarity between my African little brothers and sisters. Naming is a huge part of African and African American culture. but how can I even begin to connect with people when I cannot call them by their name? The fact that I, was there to help but lacked the linguistic understanding to communicate directly with the children became a real concern for me. At the same time, this absence of language also provided an opportunity for me to witness all the other ways our bodies and spirits may communicate when language is a barrier. We played, danced and sang songs, and it was this moment as a community that really inspired me to see the potential of humanity. Of what can happen when people are self-less and take the time with one another, for one another to simply spend time. 

Standing up : violence against women education for all boys school

One thing I really appreciated about the first all boys school that we went to was the amount of literature promoting standing against violence and sex abuse toward women. In each classroom we went into, I was happy to find a sign that read "Stop Rape." I think this really emphasizes the global importance of standing up for women's rights.

Hands down the best day

We started our trip visiting two schools and an orphanage. Hands down the best day!

Nelson Mandela Cell

Robben island

Paying respects to all the political prisoners of apartheid. 

Chobe Botswana

In Botswana for a day. We travelled to another safari lodge and took a tour on the river. So blessed .