The African Woman
Captivated, I quickly grabbed my iPad to capture this image while sitting in traffic at a round about in the Capital of Nairobi, Kenya. What seemed to be everyday life in most African countries would no doubt, be a culture shock to some Westerners. Surprisingly, it was not the case for me. Contrastingly, I envision having a previous experienced encounter. It was like Deja vu; a kindred connection. I was mesmerized by this woman and her baggage, I saw beauty in her strength. Somehow, I sympathized as though I was familiar with her strength, beauty and baggage.
Initially upon arrival I was a bit nervous and excited. The thought of returning to a land my ancestors had been stolen from hundreds of years ago was overwhelming. Also contemplating that I would not be received or even seen as an African added to my overwhelmed state, so much mixed emotions is all I could feel. This is the fear of millions of African slave decedents across the world. The fear of not being able to identify or connect with the natives or the land.
Sadly, most of my life I've had the sense of not belonging, never feeling at home even in my own home. I've always had the feeling that I belonged somewhere else. I would convince myself that it was just my imagination. One day the feeling of not belonging came to a halt in 2014 the moment I exited the plane and stepped foot on the "Mother Land" in Nairobi, Kenya. It was an unmistakable air of euphoric calm that came over me within seconds of breathing the air of my ancestors. It was as if my ancestors arrived along with me on an overdue journey back home. Hundreds of years later, the connection with the land remained in-tact. I was familiar with the feeling of self-belonging, and I felt at home for the first time in my entire life.
On another continent, thousands of miles away from family and friends and yet I did not feel alone. During my second trip to Africa, I participated in an event hosted by a close friend of mine in Conakry, Guinea and instantly again I felt right at home. There is always a sense of peace that resonates deep in my soul that surpasses all understanding. A peace that is not settle in my spirit when I'm in the States. A country where I was born and raised to parents who migrated from the Caribbean island of Haiti. Although some parts of Africa are not up to the so-call standards of westernized countries, or what I may be used to, I was not disappointed. In fact, I can see myself relocating and building a life, career, meeting a special someone and raising children there.
Media has played a major role in why African decedents of slavery all over the world have not or will not visit Africa. Africa has been emphasized to be an under-developed and underprivileged third world country that needs westernized dollars, pounds, euro's, etc. to feed the children. All the "Feed the Children" commercials and campaigns are what people think of when they think of Africa, despite the beauty, culture and wealth Africa has to offer. I know I can't turn back the hands of time. I accept that God does not make mistakes, but sometimes I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if my ancestors wasn't captured and sold to slavery. I wonder about what country in Africa I was from, which tribe did I come from, what would my name be, how much different my life would be, did I come from a respected, wealthy or humble tribe. To be in a country and to know the history of how you got there and to be reminded of it daily because of the color of one’s skin is difficult to deal with; somedays more than others. A piece of confidence is lost sometimes unknowingly. What I loved about Kenya and Guinea was that I forgot I was black and for a moment I felt human.
