I wish I could bottle the scent that comes with an African morning. Its signature is faintly smoky, but at the same time there’s an earthen base layer that has probably existed since time immemorial. It is almost as if the flora battles with the engine exhaust and breakfast fires in a friendly competition that helps a town to stretch its arms once the sun breaks over the horizon. The early hours, they’re tinted a hue of 1970s yellow, and the sun fingers through palms and other mid-sized foliage to add a visual accompaniment to the morning’s distinctive perfume.

These unassuming events of beauty comprise some of the best reasons that I can think of for coming over here for a visit—but there is another aspect that I find just as compelling. I am talking of course about the human element, and the many aspects that make me both smile and grit my teeth as soon as I step foot outside of the airport.

First, the gritting of the teeth: Africans seems to be masters at pushing their luck just up until the point where safe passage turns into misfortune. The motorways are a perfect example of this chaotic ballet, but sometimes the players perform heart-stopping arabesques that are poorly executed and they wind up tangled on the side of the road. You hear horror stories and even witness fantastic wrecks as you travel through a country, but even as you encounter these heart-stopping events, you understand why they happen. In the name of getting things done, there’s a certain amount of dice rolling that must be attempted, and you too will find yourself brashly overtaking a sputtering truck as you find yourselves on an endlessly curving road. It’s white knuckled adventure at its finest.

And now, the smiling: The idea that a person can be self-reliant is kind of a ridiculous notion over here. Most everyone lives like an uncrowned piece in a fast-moving game of checkers, and people know they have little control over comforts like infrastructure, healthcare and reliable supply chains. This sounds pretty terrible, but the flip side is that it teaches everyone to rely on the community. There is none of the bullshit “I can do it myself” mentality, because if you tried to live this way, you’d never get anything done. I can’t tell you how many times I have ventured out with less than a confident sense for how to do something, only to ask a single person and then be surrounded by a collection of folks who are willing to get me exactly what I am looking for. No strings attached. It’s just how things are done.

I love coming to Africa because here you are taught to be a humble person. To smile more. To be patient. To ask people their names and even go so far as to ask about their families.  Sure, doing all of this might be self-serving—especially when you consider that these folks are the ones who may one day get you out of a jam—but more importantly, the simple act of being a part of the daily exchange is a big step towards living a life that is incredibly rich.

I don’t know why I am constantly rediscovering that basic human interaction is the key component to making me feel like a whole and balanced person. Africa never fails to knock me down a few pegs—to remind me that I need to slow down and really take stock of the more simple things. The beauty and fragrance of an early morning, to name one example. Coming here makes me grateful to be walking this planet, and in moments like these I can’t imagine that there was every a time where I was feeling down about anything at all.

For those who have travelled and lived in these parts, you already know what I am trying to express by sketching out this handful of paragraphs. They are the things that keep us coming back—even plunking down $1700 of our hard- earned savings for a plane ticket and one week’s chance to get our feet dirty just one more time.

I’m off my soapbox now. There is still much of the morning that I’d like to get out and witness before it all becomes far away once again. I’m an incredibly lucky girl.