Ramses in Africa
As you can see, Afrika has many names and many stories. Often the biggest plague to the condition of certain parts of the continent is the story told, “History vs. OUR-story.” While all renditions of the world’s richest continent have relevance, sometimes we find that a colonizing group’s propensity to tell the story of another People can compromise the foundation and customs on which great civilizations were built, leaving little to no evidence of their existence in contemporary times, further alienating those People from self-worth, knowing no memory of pivotal contributions to today’s thriving civilization.
As you can tell, I get passionate when it comes to indigenous peoples throughout the world in the land with which they identify themselves. The beauty of this trip was that it was devoid of any geopolitical motives or war-torn areas, or any unrest whatsoever, at least to my amateur eyes. My trip to Malawi and South Afraka was caressed in a beauty I find difficult to describe in words. My girlfriend and I were invited by ex-football player turned economic guru and global ambassador, Jack Brewer. Jack has a number of relationships with several countries, traveling the world, encouraging economic growth and community health through youth sports. He has also built schools in certain countries. He is a mentor and a worthy hero in his own right. (http://brewersports.com/ )
The official purpose of the trip was to give out several hundred soccer balls in Malawi, setup hearing aides to for children who had never before heard in their lives, and visit with the Mandela and Banda (Malawi President) families, also witnessing another futbol match versus Brazil. Each of these things was achieved, and was paradigm shifting in and of themselves; I am very proud to have played a role. However, none of these experiences came close to that first day we spent in the Lilongwe village.
We arrived to the small town just outside Lilongwe. To see the entire village, waiting for us before beginning an enormous futbol match, welcome us with radiant hearts, I could not help but to weep. I cried for the dissonance of 600 years in a matter of minutes. The feelings that flowed through me covered the spectrum of human emotions. I even felt guilty crying as if I had too much privilege in my life to be deserving of tears, but those feelings dissipated as I wept for the overwhelming embrace of a people reunited. When I arose from a soaked seat placed shamefully in the shaded bleachers, I was unanimously offered a place within the hearts of these spiritually advanced people. Their way of life was so humbling and matter-of-fact. It was as if they were incapable of fathoming the dissension We the western world project across the globe. It was as if the tone of their native tongue echoed the theme of one of my favorite Lauryn Hill renditions, “It could all be so simple, but you’d rather make it hard.”