I am a muzungu. A white chic. No doubt about it. But with five hours and fifty bucks, even a muzungu can become an African Queen. I took the plunge in Mombasa, on the Kenyan coast, just a day before leaving the continent. It took me until the 11th hour in Africa to get up the guts, so now I’m a Muzungu African Queen in China. Not a regular scene on the streets of Beijing, that’s for sure. But man, does it make you famous. I make just a moment’s stop to consult the map, buy a drink, or take in [View Full Entry]

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The sea of people surrounding us parted and a single man walked through. “Hello. I am Providence.” Providence indeed. The day was ending, light quickly escaping from the sky as it does here - day turns to night barely bothering to pass through dusk. The bumpy, dusty, windy, hilly and absolutely stunning road that skirts the eastern shore of Lake Kivu had spit us out on a stretch of tarmac seven hours after we started. We stood there, still vibrating just a bit from the ride on the back of UNHCR truck, with no real idea how to get where we [View Full Entry]

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Lake Kivu sits on the border between Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo (the DRC). It is surrounded by deliciously green hills, every last inch of which is cultivated with sorghum, maize, beans, potatoes, tea, bananas, bananas, and more bananas. The soaring mountains of Volcanoes National Park, and their famous inhabitants, the mountain gorillas, watch over the lake from the north. Countless little villages dot the Rwandan shore, perched beside a hellacious dirt road running north to south (and zig zagging along the shore in every other direction imaginable). We had an incredibl [View Full Entry]

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The first thing I noticed was the trash. We’d made our way into the Democratic Republic of Congo - past the cheery Rwandan border guards, the painfully indifferent Congolese border guards, the swarms of motor-bike taxis, and pushy guys who wanted to show us around. But we were determined to do this on our own, and our obstinacy led us right into the filthy center of town. The amount of trash was striking, especially compared from Rwanda, which lies literally just a few steps away. In Rwanda the first, second, and third things you notice are the bright green hills. And [View Full Entry]

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Children have a space of their own here. The winding trio of rooms feels empty except for the ten floor-to-ceiling photos of individual children. Each photo is accompanied by a simple plaque with the child’s name, age, and a few details like favorite foods, best friend, character traits, last words, and cause of death - hacked with machete, smashed against the wall, clubbed with rifle butt, shot. The final room offers just one wall to look at. A wall on which are displayed -- quite simply, as if hung on the fridge or living room wall at home -- snapshots of [View Full Entry]

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For those of you who are counting, you'll know that we have passed the 11 month mark on this journey. Eleven months of long bus rides, washboard roads, trickling showers, overflowing squat toilets, sagging beds, no place to cook, same two pairs of pants and three shirts, and . . . the wonderful luxury of "home". We would be back in the States by now were it not for a handful of phenomenal hosts who opened their comfortable homes, provided endless local cultural insights, and willingly tasted our experimental meals. Without these comfy homes away from home, we would not have [View Full Entry]

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My mom defied her every instinct and flew a million miles around the world to see us in Africa. That’s not exactly fair, of course, because her instincts told her very strongly that she wanted to see us (preferably back in the US, but short of that, she’d settle for Africa). What made her hesitate were her instincts about endless hours of air travel, not to mention the backdrop of harrowing famine and stubborn poverty in East Africa. One thing you must know about my mom is that her heart is so good, and so real, and so connected to others [View Full Entry]

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We took a little detour. It was kind of like going to another universe, but it was actually just over to West Africa. Going from Ethiopia to Ghana is like traveling to the moon. Everything is different. Faces, body types (and geez, let me tell you about the mens' bodies in Ghana!!), food, climate, sites, sounds, smells. All the tangible things are more different than you can imagine. But the intangibles are even more striking. Ethiopia is a proud nation. Proud of its ancient history, of its Christian legacy, of the Solomonic empire, of its architectural intrigue, of the diversity of [View Full Entry]

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So, many of you have asked about the work we are doing on our travels. Well here goes. (Hint: if you are not dazzled with aid policy banter, you might want to skip this entry...or just read the Jonathon's Summary.) Jonathon's Summary: A lot of rich countries are giving big money to these poor countries we're visiting. Managing all this money is creating some big problems as well as some big help. We're trying to learn more about it from the foreign aid workers, local government folks, and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) who are trying to make it all work. We talk [View Full Entry]

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Northern Ethiopia is all about living history -- mostly the ancient living history of Orthodox Christianity. We made a big bus loop through the north visiting all the main hitoric sites. The roads are horrific and the buses are hot, slow, and unreliable, but it is well worth the hassle. Here are some of the key stops. The Islands of Lake Tana Lake Tana is the source of the Blue Nile, and home of the most gargantuan pelicans you've ever seen. The lake is dotted with lush little island peaks, each one with its own ancient monastery. Most have been in [View Full Entry]

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