“I hope you got your passports, and vaccine shots.” – K’naan

“Le seul véritable voyage, le seul bain de Jouvence, ce ne serait pas d’aller vers de nouveaux paysages, mais d’avoir d’autres yeux, de voir l’univers avec les yeux d’un autre, de cent autres, de voir les cent univers que chacun d’eux voit, que chacun d’eux est.” -Marcel Proust

No one seems to care about Africa until they actually get on an airplane and take a look around for themselves. I know that’s probably a bit of an over-generalization, but I find that I only reap interested reactions to Africa from people who have actually gone. If it’s anyone else, I make it a point to avoid boring them with Band Camp Stories, lest their eyes glaze over and their brains wander to a different and clearly more entertaining place. Of course I’m speaking from experience, because I used to do the exact same thing.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, I am finding amusement each time I interact with the odd person who “rediscovers” that I lived on the continent; this specifically occurs once they have taken a trip and have checked out a bit of the countryside. New returnees suddenly ask me again where I lived, as if they weren’t even listening the first time I told them. They are suddenly eager to share their new experiences with anyone who will listen.

It’s not my intention to pen some abstract tourist promotion that probably won’t inspire the uninitiated to visit a place that holds limited appeal- but that’s probably how this little treatise sounds. I can’t help it. Besides, I know that this type of sentiment spans beyond experiencing Africa.  I’m sure that you have all at one time stumbled upon a place and have thought, “What took me so long to get here?”  Your mind and heart get opened in a way that you never would have imagined possible.

The thing that’s different about Africa is that it exposes you to a fundamental level of human compassion that has been oddly misplaced in our world of cubicles and hyperactivity. As you bear witness to this authentic depiction of fraternity, you are simultaneously consumed by the realization that you really do know nothing. What you now see in the international bad news headlines is oblique misrepresentation, but you have a hard time putting in words why you know this to be the case. It’s a complex yet extremely compelling sort of dichotomy, and I think it’s the primary reason why interest in such a massive continent is so easily kindled.

So now that I’m spit back into America, I find that I maintain a mysterious tie to a place that only held court in my life for a few years. I have lived in a fair amount of diverse environments, but none have managed to wield the same influence over the undercurrent of my heart and head like Africa has. Maybe it’s on account of the very real magic that exists over there. I don’t know.

All I know is that if you allow it to happen, Africa will get under your skin and remain there like an invisible tattoo. It will drift into your dreams and into conversations that you strike up with other travelers who are in the know. The music, the people, the chaos, and the simplicity- experiencing it all really does change you for the better. Maybe none of this makes sense to anyone else, but I’m willing to bet that a few people will read this and get exactly where I’m coming from.

But first you have to go.