I needed time to process it all.

I thought blogging while in Africa was going to be fun, except often times I found myself speechless. But now that I am home, I have time think about the last three weeks.

Africa is a place that all people should visit, especially people of color. There are so many similarities between Africans and Black Americans, rightfully so, since we all truly descended from there. I had dinner at the home of both teachers who classes I taught and I truly felt like I was sitting in my great aunts living room in Greenwood MS. Although neither teacher was rich, in fact, they only earn $50 a month as a teacher, their homes were clean and both had very nice China Cabinets in their living rooms.

I have always thought that China Cabinets were just a form of decoration that all the elderly people in my family had to protect the dishes that only the preacher could use. I viewed it the same way I viewed having a plastic cover over nice furniture. Both were a bit ridiculous and China Cabinets especially take up way to much space.  I can remember sitting on a couch covered with plastic as a child in Mississippi staring at a cabinet full of dishes that I was never allowed to touch. As the sweat started to make me stick to the sofa, I vowed first that I would never cover my furniture with plastic and second, I would not have a cabinet for dishes in my living room.

Now some twenty years later I am in Africa, sitting on a plastic covered sofa looking at yet another  China Cabinet. It was then that I realized that both where African traditions. Plastic covered the couches because it kept them clean. When you live in a home with concrete floors and loose dirt from outside easily able to get inside, keeping furniture clean is not always and easy task. And the China Cabinet was where they stored their personal dishes. Neither home I went in had a kitchen.  They did however have a kitchen boy, who collected their dishes and took them to the community kitchen shared by about eight families.

After getting the chance to finally eat from the dishes of a China Cabinet,  I found it fascinating that even though my ancestors situation had changed, their mindset remained. Discovering China Cabinets and plastic covered furniture in Africa helped me realize that even through years of slavery, where blacks were stripped of our true identity—there are still some things that remained.

Although I am hoping one day to discover my true last name, for now the China Cabinet will do :-).
 

 My emotions are overwhelming today.



I loved being the classroom all week, because it was a complete picture hope and promise. Although the children seemed to have so little, they had so many of the things that matter. They seemed happy and were certainly interested in all things education.  Nevertheless, the drive to the safari was too much for me to handle.


I sat in the middle row of our convoy, with five of the most mature college students I have ever met. They all attend Hardin, a Christian University, and I’m sure that has a lot to do with their level headedness. I thought back to the first meeting I was able to attend in the states about this trip. After being told that were going on a safari, my first question was, “Is this mandatory?” To be honest, I’m not sure why I wasn’t interested in going. I’m always one for trying new things and had never been on a safari before, but my gut told me that I should just stay home. However, I went anyway.  


I paid close attention as we drove through the city. I was amazed at how the people reminded me of my own family. The women had the quiet aggressiveness of my mother and grandmother.  The children shared the same glow as my own daughter. The men walked like my father and smiled like my favorite uncle.  I felt connected, proud in a lot of ways, to see complete family units and strong family values among people of color. What I didn’t realize, as I admired the people in the city is that once the pavement ended and we turned onto the dirt road my pride would quickly turn into a deep sadness.


For an entire hour, I witnessed very poor people, working and living on very rich land. There were miles of wheat and rice crops, all of which translated into wealth for someone, but obviously not for those whose own yards they grew in. I began to wonder why Africans were inheritors of one of the riches continents, but yet lived in conditions that didn’t seem fit for any human.


I fought back tears.


As the only African American in my entire party, I didn’t want to cause a scene. So I continued to be a “good sport” while the others waved at the children and snapped pictures. Once we made it to the safari, they marveled at how beautiful the land and animals were.  They seemed emotionally unaffected.  It didn’t make me upset though, I realized that they just didn’t see what I saw. It’s almost like I had a special covering over my eyes. I saw an entire race of people who had been robbed of their inheritance. In the safari, I saw more evidence of Africa’s richness, which made me even more emotional given the current state of the people.

I closed my eyes for a second and tried to connect the dots. I thought about my own life and how there was always a small part of me that felt like royalty. Even when people robbed me of my confidence making me feel worthless, I could not silence the tune in my heart that played a different song.  As I listened closely, I recognized that what I had been hearing all my life was the sound of Africa. The “they” in my original thoughts turned to “we” and I asked two final questions; what was God’s original plan for us? And how had that plan been aborted?

After finally making it back to my room, I attempted to discuss how I was feeling, hoping to get some answers. But after being told “Those people are fine compared to what I saw in Ethiopia,” I realized that maybe I wasn’t the only one confused. I ignored what I thought was ignorant comment, dismissing, however respecting it as probably true for her life, but not for my own, and began to talk only to the Lord.

So as I type with tear filled eyes, I ask once again--hear my cry, oh Lord, don’t turn your face far from me--Now I pray and I wait, not only for my own revelation, but for others as well.


Until Next Time,

Celia “emotionally unprepared for the safari” Anderson

We walked the red carpet today.

Only there were no designer gowns or reporters lined up to land the big interview.  Nor were there paparazzi camera clicks or over the top PR stunts. Instead, there were thousands of children flashing bright smiles wanting only the knowledge that we had traveled so far to give them.

 I have been excited about this trip since learning about the opportunity, but as I moved through the mass of youth my excitement turned quickly into a bit of nervousness. Could I live up to their expectations? Was I prepared for such a huge obligation? I stole a moment, tilted my head to the sky and sang a line from one of my favorite gospel songs--hear my prayer oh, Lord, don’t turn your face far from me.  Then I took a deep breath, and looked back into dancing eyes of the students.

How soon He had answered my prayer.

He had not turned his face, instead he had multiplied it times a thousand. I was safe once again in the arms of the most high. There was no more nervousness; my assignment was bigger than any fear. I smiled a smile of gratitude, threw my shoulders back and like the latest Hollywood celebrity, continued to strut with a loud confidence into my first third grade classroom.

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Not so much about what I will get when I get to Africa, but about leaving my seven year old behind.  Last night we took a drive and talked in detail about what I expect of her while I’m gone.  Just as I was about to explain my usual rule about “listening the first time”, she let out a sigh, and said, “Mommy, I’m seven, don’t you think I know the rules?” My heart smiled and I decided to shut up :-). When we got home, she drew me a picture that had Africa written across the top, three students sitting in desk, and me standing in front of the class—clearly she understands more than I give her credit for.



At this very moment I’m sitting in the Little Rock national Airport, waiting to board a flight a Chicago and then on to Brussels. Although the place is swarming with people and all kinds of noise, I still hear the call—the one that won’t ever let me be comfortable. The one that tells me that status quo is not enough.  A part of me wonders why I was chosen to complete a task such as this. My love for teaching is expanding beyond the confines of the United States into places that I only dreamed of going. 

Not only do I hear the call, I answer. And I do so with integrity, character and righteousness. With great ambitions I’m off to Africa, leaving behind important lessons that I have taught one child, to do the same for hundreds more. 


Let you guys know what I discover soon!


Celia

"Hear my prayer, oh Lord. don't turn your face far from me..."