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.

Would the world be different if more of us had traveled to Iran?

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You know what struck me watching the post-election events unfold in Iran this week? How something as seemingly simple as the act of traveling can make SUCH a difference when it comes to intercultural understanding. Thank goodness we in the United States now have a president who’s thoughtful and respectful of other folks in the world… but there are still some who still see the world as “us” versus “them.” I just wonder what our country’s – and the world’s – relationships would be like if more of us traveled to “their” nation, saw how “they” lived, understood how “they” thought.

And that reminded me of a thought-provoking and in hindsight, truly prescient new book I just picked up from acclaimed travel writer (and of course, PBS television star) Rick Steves. In Travel as a Political Act, Steves explains that there’s far more travel than “good-value hotels, great art and tasty cuisine.” While he writes about travels throughout Europe (the main focus of his travel business), El Salvador, and Morocco, it’s his “Mission: Understand Iran” chapter that speaks most to me now. Last spring, Steves and his crew traveled to Iran for filming, a real rarity for Western  and especially American crews. And his latest book incorporates this trip, as well as many other fascinating ones over the years.

I got a chance to hear Steves live last November at one of his weekend Travel Festivals in scenic Edmonds, Wash. He spoke to a more-than-packed house that clung to his every word as he showed the hour-long film, then thoughtfully answered questions about his 12-day filming trip. The timing was extra-powerful, as the conference fell soon after the historic election of now-President Barack Obama. For those of us who believe in giving peace a chance, Steves’ mission in Iran sounded in lockstep with our new Commander in Chief’s philosophy of approaching folks with open minds and respect rather than tired old stereotypes and automatic distrust. If you haven’t seen “Rick Steves’ Iran: Yesterday and Today,” it’s SO worth checking out—especially in light of what’s happening in Iran right now. And not surprisingly, media outlets like PRI’s The World radio show have been seeking him out lately, hungry for perspective on what life’s REALLY like in Iran these days. It makes for fascinating listening. His life’s a testament to what he writes: “thoughtful travel comes with powerful lessons.”

I love what he writes in the Iran chapter: “I’m convinced that people-to-people travel experiences can be a powerful force for peace. People traveling to the Soviet Union helped us get through the Cold War without things turning hot. Travel to Vietnam has helped heal wounds left in the aftermath of that war. And, as the USA and Iran continue their dangerous flirtation with an avoidable war, travel there can help build understanding between our nations.”

On the back cover of Travel as a Political Act, Steves says, “We can’t understand our world without experiencing it.” Amen to that.

I’m curious, though. How has traveling abroad rearranged your OWN “cultural furniture,” as Steves calls it? How do those experiences make you rethink assumptions you held about other people, other countries? I’d love to know, and I’ll bet the rest of you would, too.