Have black Americans REALLY traveled until they’ve visited Africa?

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Over the years, I’ve visited nearly 30 countries in North America, South America, the Caribbean, the Middle East and Europe (where I’ve traveled so many times I’ve completely lost count).

But I’ve never been to Africa. And as an African-American, that sounds pretty pathetic.

Places on the continent are always on my mental “to-do” list, West African countries like Senegal and North African ones like Egypt and Morocco. But I haven’t made it there yet.

I started thinking about this during President Barack Obama’s recent trip to Ghana. Sure, he was there to send a message to the African world about the United States’ ongoing support—albeit with conditions that included self-responsibility—but what impressed me most about this native son’s return to his father’s home continent was the fact he took his wife Michelle, daughters Sasha and Malia, and First Mom-in-Law Marian along on the trip.

While we know the Obamas have visited Africa before—going to Kenya to meet the president’s relatives—this trip had to have especially important significance for First Lady Michelle, her mom and even the girls, as all are the descendants of both African-American slaves and white slaveowners. Visiting the “Door of No Return,” where mothers, fathers and children were violently and permanently separated from their homeland and shipped across the Atlantic as chattel, must have been mind-blowing. It’s a horribly painful part of American history, but as black folks, it’s ours. And it’s important for us to own it—and in the process, make that reconnection to the continent that often feels far away and foreign to many of us.

Which brings me back to my original point: Can we black Americans really feel well-traveled if we’ve never set foot on African soil? I’m starting to think “NO.”

While unlike President Obama, who knows his ancestral country and village, most of us don’t know specifically from where our foreparents hailed. We generally assume it was someplace in West Africa since that’s where most slaves sent to the New World lived, but can’t claim that direct connection to Senegal or Guinea or The Gambia. Still, many black folks who have traveled to these places describe a sense of feeling “at home” once they arrived, as if those centuries-old mystical links broken during the Middle Passage somehow felt restored.

But I’m curious what you guys think. For those of you who HAVE visited Africa—and I’m talking anywhere on the continent—how did it change you and your outlook on who you are? Did you feel like you had “come home?” And how important was it for you to make that reverse trip across the ocean?

As for me, I think I’m going to start planning that African journey now.

Does ‘traveling while black’ (or brown) help in the nonwhite world?

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"Traveling while black" (or brown) can be a lovely thing in many places in the world. Here, my friends Carol and Karen and I rest on a bench inside the Vatican Museums during a late 2007 trip to Italy.
"Traveling while black" (or brown) can be a lovely thing in many places in the world. Here, my friends (from left) Carol and Karen and I rest on a bench inside the Vatican Museums during a late 2007 trip to Italy.

 

When in Riyadh... here I am, garbed in an "abaya" during a business trip to Saudi Arabia's capital city in late 2007.
When in Riyadh... here I am, garbed in an "abaya" during a business trip to Saudi Arabia's capital city in late 2007.

I’ve had this theory for a long time: While we African-Americans sometimes feel our color can be a pseudo-“liability” here in the States, it certainly can be an asset once we leave our native shores and travel abroad. I was reminded of this last week when President Barack Obama gave his potentially game-changing speech in Egypt.

It was a striking sight to see TV cameras pan across the crowd gathered inside Cairo University to hear him. Most of the faces were some shade of brown, from café au lait to cinnamon to chocolate. From just looking at them, any of ‘em could have been a cousin, aunt or uncle of Obama’s. And while few mainstream news outlets have called it as such, one HUGE reason for our president’s broad worldwide appeal is the fact that he looks like so much of the world.

And since people of color make up a majority of the globe’s population, it makes sense. We know Obama’s also beloved in many parts of Europe, but when Latin Americans and Africans and people in the Middle East see this man, in many ways, they see themselves.

Retired South African Archbishop and 1984 Nobel Peace Prize winner Desmond Tutu articulated a similar thought in an Associated Press article published yesterday. Referring to Obama’s upcoming trip to sub-Saharan Africa next month, he said that Obama’s Kenyan roots and ethnicity will automatically give him a level of credibility with African leaders. (Obama will reportedly visit Ghana, his first stop to this region since being elected U.S. president.)

“They can’t accuse him of being a neocolonialist,” Tutu’s quoted saying during a visit to London. “Complexion helps.” (emphasis mine)

It most certainly does—and often, in very tangible ways.

I remember friend Ricki Stevenson, African-American expatriate and founder of the fabulous Black Paris Tours in France, telling me about this phenomenon years ago. Decades earlier, she and her family had lived in the Middle East, and when traveling through airports there, she’d be greeted, “Hello, my sister,” by local employees.

And as comfortable as I have always felt traveling through Europe, the first time I visited a non-Caribbean overseas country and found myself in a place where more of the folks looked like me than NOT was Saudi Arabia. I traveled there in late 2007 during a business trip for my company, decked out throughout the trip in an abaya borrowed from a former Chicago Sun-Times colleague and later in a more opulent one given as a gift from my company’s country executive.

While in Saudi Arabia, I met a businessman who was a dead ringer for my uncle Ras down in Pine Bluff, Ark. I was greeted as “sister” by a traditionally dressed businessman during one of my escorted office-building stops in the big port city of Jeddah. And if I didn’t open my non-Arabic-speaking mouth—except, of course, to utter general courtesies such as “shukran” (thank you) or “Aasalaamu Aleikum” (hello)—I could do a decent job of “blending in.”

While I’ve NEVER been one to suggest African-Americans limit their travel to places where there are other people of color, it’s nice to visit countries where the folks look like they’d be at home at one of your family reunions.

I’ll bet President Obama would agree.