solstice21

So here I am, glad to be abroad again! I'm staying in a tiny village close to Tarbes called Tillac. It is near the village from whence my French ancestors came to America. (I didn't realize that before I came, which makes the tidbit all the more interesting for me.) I'm staying with an extremely compassionate and generous woman in her gorgeous maison de maître not far from the village centre, where an incredible medieval church still stands. We are surrounded by soft rolling hills and ancient farmland. Fog keeps us peacefully shrouded in the morning until 10:00 or so, then the sun shines warmly until 5:00 in the evening. The colors of winter here are the same as those back home in Tennessee, and the landscape is not terribly different. Still, both are less harsh ... read more

It has been argued by some that the more one goes (i.e. travels, experiences, etc.) the less one knows to be true (or understands). I remember this basic argument from a certain family member when I was young. I have since read it elsewhere. It seems to me the problem here is that in order to reach such a conclusion one must first have traveled and experienced a great deal! One cannot expect to convince the less-traveled not to "voyager" with mere words of warning or advice. I am the sole person in my family to have stepped foot on the Mother Continent of Africa, and I “get” one part of the picture. That is, the more I go and am exposed to new places and peoples, the more I discover how much there is to ... read more

I feel as though I am standing on the edge of something, something big. There is an undercurrent here in this city, one that flows deeply and profoundly as the ancient canals beneath the streets. I have much to learn. I feel closer to Benin, somehow. Violence, love, passion, wealth, drunkeness, poverty, wind and water... My senses are piqued. I am curious, motivated, a little afraid, strong and cautious. I feel heavy, though I live and travel lightly. I am alive once again, full of emotional curiosity, excited to awake each morning and thankful to rest each night. ... read more

How? How can this one place, this one small village, this one spot on the face of such a vast planet change me so profoundly, warm my heart all the way through, teach me so many lessons, inspire within me such a complex combination of happiness and sorrow? Doumè. No, not the village, not the market, not the dirt roads and the isolation and the poverty and the local language. Rather, all of it. All of it bundled into one indescribable experience. Layer upon layer unfolding itself daily, weekly, monthly in my mind. The smiles, the smells, the feel of the sandy dirt between my toes, the sound of women pounding igname pilée in large wooden pestle and mortar bases, the voices of strong women and determined men, the laughing sound that escapes the mouths of ... read more

I was asked this question, "How's Africa?" I wasn't sure how to respond, so I just rambled a bit... Africa is a thousand books that have never been written, a thousand voices which have never been heard, a moving, dancing, singing, writhing, bustling continent with a history so rich we can only scratch its surface. I cannot say how africa "is," for I can only speak of the slice of it that I currently inhabit. Yet, even in this one small space, there is much to say. Even I, dressed in my light skin so many generations removed from the Equatorial existence of my ancestors, feel the weight of Africa on my soul. It is something I both love and am deeply troubled by, a place and an experience I will come to describe to others ... read more