I stood there underneath a tree, racking my mind, while 60 people sipping fantas blankly stared at me. The men sat on benches, while the women sat on mats on the ground. The women wore an odd mix of traditional dresses with American tee shirts over them. Those women represent what Africa has become, a continent unsatisfied with their own culture, desperately trying to become like America. In there attempts it has become a mixed culture. If only they realized how beautiful their culture is. I cleared my throat and became teaching them about washing their hands. They all smiled and nodded after my translator had finished. One man stood up and asked me how many times Americans wash their hands every day.
I have African fever. I love it here and never want to leave. It's a little overwhelming, seeing poverty up close- just on the other side of our fence. But I've found peace and happiness among the poorest of the poor. I've seen creativity as people work hard to make their lives more meaningful. I've seen joy as children dance to the beating of the drums.