(no subject)
The more I read about the countries I will be visiting in Africa, the more excited I've become about this opportunity to travel. Having been colonized by different countries- Senegal by the French, South Africa by the Dutch, and Liberia by Americans- this will be an intense look at the affects of colonization & globalization. The policies and tactics of each colonizer has had far reaching implications for each country's inhabitants and native peoples.
I have become the most anxious, but also the most excited, about visiting Liberia. True, the country is currently more stable than it has been after almost a quarter of a century of violent civil wars. I don't think it's really the electricity or the running water that's the major issue in my mind. I can't help but feel a little bit jarred about going somewhere where stability is still so novel. I try to imagine living in a place where most of the elders are gone (as they are in Liberia; many having starved during the first civil war of the 80s). I try to imagine living in a place where most of the documentation of earlier times has been destroyed. What does it mean to "be nostalgic" in a place like that?
In the book I am currently reading about Liberia, the journalist talks about his travels there in 2000. The book was published in 2005. But by Liberian standards, it's already outdated as the government has again changed since then. Now, the country boasts Africa's first, democratically elected, female president. It will be immensely humbling to be amongst people who are not far distanced from their memories of war & who continue to struggle through poverty to redefine their country.
Coming from the US, where relatively little changes occur from president to president (whether they be democrats or republicans)- I expect to come back not only having a greater sense of Africa and what it means to be African, but also with a renewed vision of what it means to be American. It's strange to see so much change on your own horizon. I can not imagine coming back from this trip without being changed in both subtle and profound ways. And I can't help but think about returning, and redefining what "home" means to me in more ways than one.
I have become the most anxious, but also the most excited, about visiting Liberia. True, the country is currently more stable than it has been after almost a quarter of a century of violent civil wars. I don't think it's really the electricity or the running water that's the major issue in my mind. I can't help but feel a little bit jarred about going somewhere where stability is still so novel. I try to imagine living in a place where most of the elders are gone (as they are in Liberia; many having starved during the first civil war of the 80s). I try to imagine living in a place where most of the documentation of earlier times has been destroyed. What does it mean to "be nostalgic" in a place like that?
In the book I am currently reading about Liberia, the journalist talks about his travels there in 2000. The book was published in 2005. But by Liberian standards, it's already outdated as the government has again changed since then. Now, the country boasts Africa's first, democratically elected, female president. It will be immensely humbling to be amongst people who are not far distanced from their memories of war & who continue to struggle through poverty to redefine their country.
Coming from the US, where relatively little changes occur from president to president (whether they be democrats or republicans)- I expect to come back not only having a greater sense of Africa and what it means to be African, but also with a renewed vision of what it means to be American. It's strange to see so much change on your own horizon. I can not imagine coming back from this trip without being changed in both subtle and profound ways. And I can't help but think about returning, and redefining what "home" means to me in more ways than one.