Someone once told me that the guitar was the white man's intrument and that drums belonged to the black man. I'm not sure if they were stating their opinion or elaborating on some learned musical fact, but this much I do know, drums remind me of Africa, and I am in love with Africa. Anytime I hear a song with a good beat I can't help but want to sway and move and dance along. Often times it feels like the beat is coming from somewhere deep inside me, coursing through my blood, rather than originating from my ipod or radio speakers. It's not hard for me to imagine that a love of the instrument is part of my genetic make up, I am African American afterall. Freshman year they called me gazelle. I have to admit I would probably feel right at home loping along in the tall grasses of the savannna. The rythm of the drums counjures up images of my ancestors dancing around the villiage fire in preperation for war, rain or celebration. It makes me both happy and yet simultaneously sad as I begin to miss so poniently a place that I have never been.
It is hard for those who don't feel the African pull to understand my fierce desire to go to Africa. "It's dangerous!" they tell me. "Aren't you scared?", they ask. "It's dangerous here.", I want to tell them, or "How can you be afraid to go home?". Am I foolish? Naieve? Perhaps. It's much different than the United States I know, but for me Africa is synonomous with words like mystery, exotic, vibrant, excitement. My study of the people and cultures that fill the vast continent have only reinforced my desire to visit a place thats very name seems to pulse with life, richness and energy. I've dreamed many times about my journey "home" and what it will be like. In my mind I see myself getting off the airplane and seeing Africa with my own eyes for the first time; breathing the air for the first time. It will powerful and amazing, like being reborn. Like I never lived or loved or existed before. I don't know how I know it will be like that, I just do.
The coolest thing about my love for the continent and people that I do not know, is the fact that this love is shared with many of my close friends. Suzanne, Zarah, Jen, and Kendal all share my passion for the country and the people. We are currently in the beginning planning stages of our adventure, picking our travel dates and our destinations. We are also making contact with various development projects in the countries we plan to travel in so we can do some volunteer work with them in addition to meeting Jen's family and spending time with them. I can barely contain my joy at the prospect of spending two months there next summer. I have begun telling everyone and anyone that will listen my exciting news even though so many of the details still need to be finalized. We have opted to spend some quality time in just a few countries (two or three at the most) rather than try to do it all this first time. Kendal promises that we will come back. I laugh because I can't garuntee that I will want to leave once I get there.
I recently finished reading The Blue Sweater and Under The Tuscan Sun. Both books cronicle the adventures of their american authors while living abroad (Africa and Italy respectively). It is interesting to how these accomplished women, dared to follow their hearts and their dreams, even though it ment spending months and years away from their families and even risking their life savings on the purchase of a residence in a foregin country when they didn't even speak the language fluently. I secretly wonder if I have the courage and tenacity to do something like that. I'm glad that I will have friends with me when I go. It is always easier to do hard things when you have a support team. Kacie Gene calls it my committee. They are the sounding board for all my crazy ideas. Luckily they have passed off on my Africa plan and are sending me on my way with their blessing.
