I have been very fortunate in my life. I have been to Africa a couple of times, not just for vacation or a safari, but also, I was allowed to work there for a few months. Africa! When I say the word, you can hear the love I feel. It’s the same tone of voice that I use when I say “Hi, honey.”
Africa! Where to begin? And why do I love it so much? Oh, how it puzzled me and how it bothered me at first, when the darkskinned people wanted to look into my blue eyes. When they touched my hair, but then I understood. I felt the same way. I wanted to touch and feel as well. I wanted to get to know them, too.
Africa changed me as a person. I hope it made me better, but even if it didn’t, it did something that I cannot explain. The same thing happened in India. It’s like I try to preserve a bit of African vibrancy in my everyday life.
Africa quickly brings you back down to earth. Life there is not about consumption, performance, and success. For many, it is about survival. You are surrounded by people who carry drinking water or firewood for miles to feed their families.
Here in the US, you often get the impression that you can only be happy if you own the fastest car, the biggest house, or the latest cell phone. Larger cities are especially trendy. There, you can pair handmade cheese from Nepal and wine from Uruguay—pressed in a counter-clockwise direction—with truffle chocolate from Switzerland or Austria.
In Africa, nothing was as delicious as the chicken straight from the fire.
In Africa, death is omnipresent. Every single day. For the poor, certainly, people die of malaria, AIDS, or even right at birth. But the more wealthy are also aware of life’s transience. An accident, a robbery, an encounter with wild animals—it can all end in an instant. Everyone in Africa knows that. Yet, strangely enough, people aren’t as gloomy as we are here in the United States of America. They live in the here and now. Not in a meditative, esoteric sense like in India, but rather with a pragmatic acceptance. They prefer to celebrate today, because they don’t know what tomorrow brings. Alcoholism is admittedly a problem. But only someone who has been there knows just how wonderful an ice-cold beer tastes after a long day on a dusty road, which doesn’t even make sense, because I don’t like the taste of beer. Alcoholism is a problem here in the US too, but we don’t talk much about it.
I was scared at first. Being out there alone in the bush—with an elephant prowling around our vehicle, knowing that if it suddenly turned nasty, we wouldn’t stand a chance. But over time, I got used to it and I accepted the inevitable. Whether I wake up tomorrow is not in my hands. Even though we like to kid ourselves otherwise, that simply isn’t the case. And once you accept the fact, it is incredibly liberating, not in a spirit of resignation, it’s more of an enrichment. That is how precious every single day is—days we so often spend complaining.
To answer today’s writing prompt. When I want to travel in my mind back to Africa, as I just did while writing this post, I listen to a very popular song, and I think about the orange Fanta, which tasted so sweet:
…
And I calm down. Traveling along with this song makes me happy!
“I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke up that I was not happy” – Ernest Hemingway
I forgot about that. Thank you for reminding me. Hemingway was spot on.
Saying ‘Africa!’ in the same voice you’d use for ‘Hi, honey’ — that one line tells me everything about what the place did to you. The chicken straight from the fire and the impossibly sweet orange Fanta are the kind of sensory anchors that outlast every photo. We’ve watched travel quietly rearrange how our family measures a ‘good day’ too, though never as profoundly as you describe. That pragmatic living-in-the-now is a souvenir worth guarding. Thank you for taking us there.
What a sweet comment. Thank you. You got me. 🙂 Traveling changes us and in my case, because it was a dramatic change. The farm girl was forces to adjust her thinking to the world and it did wonders. Thank you for reading and for taking your time to write to me.
Thank you very much for you touching post,Bridget, which also makes me feel again with this continent!
I so glad you liked it, Martina. Thank you.
:):)
I have never been to Africa, and at this point I probably will never get there. But it’s fun to travel with others through the power of their words.
I hope you get to travel a bit and if you can’t fly to the places you always wanted to visit, then travel with us, the story tellers. I travel every night, sometimes it’s not far, yesterday a book took me to Philadelphia, other nights I cross the globe. 🙂
Such a refreshing contrast
It’s a charming contrast.
An enriching experience for sure
So true. Most places that we visit enrich us, even if not all goes as planned. 🙂
Great post! I’ve never been to Africa, so this was fascinating. And cool video!
Thank you so much, Mary. I am glad you liked my post and traveled with me for a few minutes.
Memories . . . feelings . . . we all possess our own which we may not even be able to explain to ourselves and which others certainly would not understand . . . not the way we do . . . but > that is what makes them special, they are part of us . . . enjoy yours about Africa . . . lovely to read . . .
Thank you, Eha. It’s always a special treat to see your name popping up in my comment section. Africa is special. It’s a continent that you will take with you in your heart and it will stick with you for the rest of your life.
What a wonderful post, Bridget. Interesting, uplifting, and so very honest, in a realistic way. I, too, have found it enlightening to experience other cultures and people less fortunate than us. We all need a bit of reality in our lives to remind us of our obligations to others!
Learning about other cultures and getting to know people from all over the world has enriched my life. Perhaps that’s why “Losing it All” wasn’t so devastating.
So many people on this planet have so much less, yet they seem to be happier. It has always puzzled me.