Upon Reflection

My whole trip turned out to be a study of people. I am especially interested in aspects of different cultures like religion and spirituality, relationships between men and women, the raising of children, relationships with nature and cultural celebrations. I was drawn to villages and fascinated by tribes. I found poverty confronting and challenging and I felt personally insulted by the amount of homophobia driven by ignorance and fear.

I spent days-on-end questioning class difference, suffering, education, racism, corrupt politics and the global economy especially the negative effects of international aid.

Apart from small breaks from people whilst on safari in the Kruger National park and climbing the sand dunes of Sossusvlei, I spent most days engrossed by people, asking them questions, observing how they live, intruding into their spaces. I believe that this is reflected in my writing.

But as much as I was fascinated by the people I met, moved by their stories and swept up in their hardships I also found myself frustrated with them, angered and upset by them, sometimes even revolted.

There are some things I saw in Africa that I would never be at peace with: The way women are treated, the way animals are treated and the way the natural environment is treated.

Of course there are exceptions, and of course each country, each tribe and each individual is different. But generally speaking I witnessed cruelty and dismissiveness toward the suffering of all three that I believe is inexcusable.

This trip tested my patience and my tolerance and I failed both tests.

There is however some things that I saw in Africa that I hope will stay with me forever: The richness of culture and language shared and celebrated through music, dance, spirituality and story. A tendency for Africans to meet, eat and socialise outdoors. A resilience and strength in people that still smile and laugh and love when they are acutely aware of how little they have and how hard they work for the small amount that they do have. I found peace in the notion that most of the Africans I met live in the moment and the day. They wait patiently for things, they take their time talking, asking questions, watching and contemplating life. In poorer areas and villages they focus on the meals of that day, the work that needs to be done that day. They always make time to talk to people, to laugh with family, to see what is going on around them.

When Art had said to me “I never see black but I always feel white” it wasn’t just about colour and race, it was about being acutely self-aware and aware of the differences between my own world and theirs. 

I always felt removed, caught between my life at home; the world as I knew it and between my adventure in Africa, and the insights it shared with me. I was constantly challenged and confronted by the simple, yet still highly intricate existence of people who were at once the same as me and yet totally different.

Mostly I hope that the kindness of the many Africans I met stays with me forever:

From Sammy and Elaine in the poor village in Ghana; Hojo Achianse, who brought me gifts, cooked my food and gave me the name Abra-Kuma. To Assane in Benin who made me tea gave me jewellery and brought me to the Voodoo doctor. To Daniel in Namibia who took us to the north and housed us in his safari park, to the Megameno family who gave me a bed for a night and shared their daughter’s birthday cake. To Chuck and Rudy and their friends in J’Burg who welcomed me as a friend and made one of the most dangerous cities in the world feel like home. To Mattiyus and Daniel who took me dancing and Didli and the other Hamer people who let us take part in their ceremony and everyone in between who kept me safe, alive, shared their culture with me, welcomed me into their homes and opened up to me.

And of course David and Chris and even Michael and Alex; fellow travellers who I shared in the excitement and the adventure with me.

…………….

On the flight back I made a serendipitous connection. I left to fly out to Africa on a Tuesday in early February. In Ghana I was named Abra-Kuma because I was born on a Tuesday and now I was about to land down in Sydney on a Tuesday morning in June. I thought how Abra-Kuma means ‘little Tuesday’ and I thought that there is nothing little about Tuesdays for me!

When the flight attendant told us to prepare for landing I was so nervous that my palms were sweating and my stomach was twisting in knots. I hadn’t slept a wink on that flight.

I put it down to two things. The first, I was excited to see my girlfriend. It had only been four months, but I felt like I was walking into a first date.

The second thing I was nervous about was losing Africa. I was scared that the hustle and bustle of Sydney, my friends, family, work, all of that would wipe away everything I had been through. I wanted to hold onto it. Africa had drained and exhausted me and I hadn’t had time to process it yet. But I still cherished it. I was proud of what I had achieved and the experiences I had thrown myself into. And I had gotten used to the sense of freedom an itinerary-less holiday had. I didn’t want time and distance to take any of that away from me. It was hard to say goodbye.

I was the last person to get off the plane and instead of walking out to the arrivals lounge I hid in the toilets trying to collect my emotions and prepare to move on.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth and reapplied my deodorant. I was trying to cleanse myself trying to tell myself that I was ready to be back home.

When I saw my girlfriend waiting for me my heart jumped into my throat. We gave each other a short hug and I could see that she was as nervous as I was.

I watched the busy streets fly by and the familiar landscapes of cafes I frequent and signs I have always read and I asked her if we could go and get a real cup of espresso coffee with soy milk from a place that is famous for their coffee art – if I was going to be back in Sydney I may as well really be back in Sydney.

We didn’t say much to each other on the way to the coffee shop, or the way home, but I reached out and grabbed her hand and it calmed almost all of my nerves.