I remember my heart before the trip. I longed for Africa.. I wanted to be there and serve and learn more than I had wanted anything.. It was almost tangible.. I could taste my desire to be there.
The summer before, I was able to study abroad in Tours, France and travel through much of Western Europe over the course of three months. I remember this distinct moment one night in Nice; we had just taken the train from Paris and it was dark but lively as we set out to explore the town. There was live music and the culture was drastically different from the streets of Paris, just a train ride away.
The farther South you go in France, the more immigrants from Africa you'll find and the culture has been influenced accordingly. From music to cuisine - it's fantastic. We kept walking in the direction we figured the beach must be and passed groups of teens playing music and dancing in the street when we finally came to a set of concrete stairs leading down to the smooth-rocked beach. White/grey rocks led to smooth white sand. We took off our shoes.
Tip-toeing toward the waters edge, looking out across the black Mediterranean Sea, I cautiously waited for a wave to make its way to my feet. Cold water rushed between my toes and around my ankles. I had one thought..
Africa. Right on the other side of this water. Africa. It waits. It calls for me. I have to be there..
One year later, I answered that call (just a little farther South..) I spent some amazing time in Swaziland and will never forget my first Africa experience. I loved, loved, loved it!
I have been thinking about Africa a lot recently and know that I need to go back.. It's just a matter of when and for what purpose. I have a heart for that blessed land (ya i know.. sounds corny.. but I said it!).
Africa, Africa, Africa. I remember you.
