What it means to be in Africa

Sometimes I get lost in thought and think: I am in Africa. I am in Africa. But then, what does it mean to be in Africa? I think sometimes I expected it always to be the tall swaying grasses and the beating drums, the large cats racing and chasing, traditional singing and dancing – the type of magic that would feel like Africa. It feels like there should have been some climactic intro for me, like: wow! Here is Africa! Instead I find myself sitting here and reminding myself of the awe I should hold, being here in what has become regular and normal.

But here is what it means to be in Africa. It means that someone who lives in a solid house with tv, solar panel, and plush furniture and can buy their son new shoes and mayonnaise for their potatoes can live next door to a family of 22 that only eats once per day. It means that a 16 y.o. girl who is in grade 7 comes home from school to excitedly show me that her test results for HIV came back negative. It means that the dust flies everywhere everyday, yet every morning yards are swept and houses or huts are cleaned with a personal pride. It means people live here just as people live everywhere, making do with what they have, dreaming of a little bit more, but happy, and finding occasion to laugh. It doesn’t necessarily feel magical to be in Africa, that Hollywood feeling. In fact, it feels a bit normal. Life, is life. People here live. Yes, there are mud and thatch huts, and at night I can hear the drums and the singing around the cooking fires. Everyday I meet and talk with people who are starving, who are HIV+, who do everything by hand, who have never seen a camera before. But people grow the food they need to eat, they make arrangements for the transport to town when they need it, they get creative when they don’t possess or have access to things they require. Life, is life, and maybe here in Africa that is magic enough.