My Journey to Africa Begins

Africa used to call me. She used to invite me to sit at the steps of her kingdoms and sleep safe in the comfort of her arms with her children.

Yes, she used to call me incessantly. I drove myself mad in my attempts to answer her call believing that Africa was the gateway to wholeness in self.

It seems I had become one of those Black Americans. But before you place me in the sterotypical box of Black Americans who are pro-black and want nothing more than to embrace the Motherland and their roots, let me tell you--I never claimed Africa.

I shunned the racial label "African American" because my roots are in South Carolina. That is where they start and that is what I claim. But I found that the more I disassociated myself with the continent, the more I yearned to create a connection. What I understand is that I cannot claim a connection that existed over 250 years ago to a place that I have never visited.

My task was then to build a new bridge to Africa, one that I could claim personally. I set out by applying to various volunteer programs that spanned from a few months to two years. I received rejection after no response and became discontent with America. Instead I went to Eastern Europe--three countries over ten days and found the international world lacked the luster I had imagined in my mind...

New York became my next move. This city, so alive so fast and crowded with its bright lights, angry drivers and relaxing green parks was what I wanted. I wanted to live in this vibrant busy city. As I made my decision, I got my acceptance as a teaching fellow to the Senegalese-American Bilingual School (SABS). This was my opportunity to teach English and video to school children in the capital city of Dakar.

At first my answer was no, why would I want to leave this crazy city or America, for a 10-month assignment in Dakar that would set me back financially? Long ago were the days when I had dreamt of traveling to the continent to find acceptance from her people, which is what I had wanted all along. No, I just wanted to be accepted to an entry-level communications position in the city.

But even as I shook my head in firm rejection of this position, there were whispers of concerning questions. What had happened to the passion? When would this chance come again? If I didn't take it, would I always be wondering what if?

Here was my chance to explore the education profession and become an international journalist, something I claimed I wanted. Should I really turn this down?

It was a hard decision to make; the very heavy airplane ticket price made it even harder as did the fact that I had only had my Blackberry Curve for a few months, and I'd have to deactivate my plan.

The more I thought about it, the more clarity and peace I got about going. It had to be the way to go. It was as if everything had been building to this decision...my years of French, my interest in education and the doors at CBS that opened for freelancing, and so I am going...

Mach'Allah. (May God maintain it).