They say Africa gets under your skin. I'm still figuring out if that's bad like a splinter or good like a perfume. I think it's a bit of both. Africa is raw. It’s huge and heavy and real. It reminds you that you're human. It strips away the comforts and leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed. But it makes you feel stronger because of this.
I've slept in a tent, back against the red earth, for 18 of the past 21 nights. I've been a rider on an overland tour that's taken me from Johannesburg, South Africa to Arusha, Tanzania. There are 14 others, mainly British and I'm the solo American. I hear “Yay Obama” a lot. In Buenos Aires I would go to bed at 5am but now I greet the sun from the other side. Tent packed and fed by 6am - I have twice eaten cereal under the stars. The drives are long and the showers cold, we are dirty and smelly and bruised. But we are smiling. I've been kissed with freckles by the sun.
A hippo visited our campsite the first night. He casually chomped on grass for two hours while we watched in fear and awe. This is not a zoo, there are no fences or guards, you are part of the food chain. One day we had to stop in the middle of the highway to let an elephant cross the road. An elephant. This land is wild.
In Botswana the currency is called pula - rain and the coins are called thembe - raindrops. Rain is a precious as money. I've had my fair share of it these days, setting up tents while soaked to the skin – wet and muddy but laughing.
Africa is intense and each day reveals something new. The wild animals remind you that you're fragile. The smiles remind you of what you have. And the night stars remind you that you're not alone.
