bryanjazz

The sun was shining, breezes were blowing, and the waves were crashing on the shore. I walked toward the water, away from my friends, stepping into full consciousness that this was the moment I had created for myself. Looking out across the water, I allowed all the thoughts and feelings to rise to the surface: the realization of who I was, based on my history and actions…based on my heritage. Long ago my own ancestors were taken from these very shores, on a journey not of their choosing, to a new world of struggle and suffering, of endurance and triumph over adversity. And I had chosen to return, several generations later, a son coming home to the land of his ancestors.
Elmina Castle

Traveling to Africa has been a desire of mine for several years. I’ve known for some time that I must go and “see for myself” the land and the people about which so much has…and has not…been written. I wanted my own sensory experience of it, slashing through all of the media images, literary references and cultural stereotypes of the continent. I frequently retell the experience of seeing my first African film when I was much younger. The film opened up with a wide shot of a sprawling African metropolis, with cars hurriedly rushing by crowds of pedestrians and tall buildings, on their way to take care of the business of the day. It was a simple and beautiful, establishing shot. Yet for a few seconds I was startled by the image. It was not that I didn’t know, intellectually, that there were big cities in Africa; it was that I had never seen them in film. The few images I had actually seen were largely of the African countryside, and interior shots of African political officials in the news (when Africa makes the news). It was a revealing moment for me, one of those that helped to formulate my desire to supplement my intellectual understanding with tangible experience.

Baobab Tree (dry season)My choice of where (and when) to go on this vast continent of thousands of cultures was influenced by my own experience studying African spirituality (specifically of the Dagara people of Burkina Faso) and by the fact that a good friend had spent the majority of the past few years in Ghana. Since Ghana is bordered by Burkina Faso to the north, it felt as though my ancestors were clearly indicating in which region I should begin my exploration.

Upon exiting the airport in Accra (Ghana’s capital), I found dozens upon dozens of beautiful black faces waiting to greet loved ones returning home, holding signs looking for people they didn't know, or looking for a way to help out a traveler and perhaps make some money. Overall, the air was full of the anticipation of meetings, from first encounters to reunions years overdue. Personally, I felt like I was meeting them all, as well as the land and the air and the sky. It truly was like being a kid entering a toy store, each person and each experience I encountered like an aisle of exciting new toys to discover. I was looking forward to playing.

Accra Accra is a major metropolis, with huge buildings, construction projects, busy thoroughfares and…traffic. Lots of traffic. I’m convinced there version of gridlock ranks up there with those of U.S. cities. Like any major city, it has a variety of neighborhoods, business districts and commerce. Like many tourist destinations, there are several hotels, tourist areas, and vendors with arts and crafts for sale. At first glance, one can mistakenly assume it’s similar to any other Western tourist spot. But time revealed some differences. For example, I was surprised, pleasantly, to find that there were no American fast food franchises. And no Western chain stores. Aside from a few local chains, most merchants were independent entrepreneurs. This made shopping a cultural/social experience. Through making purchases, and encountering the barter system, I realized that in addition to the purchase/sale element of the transaction, there is a whole level of relationship that exists between salesman and customer that is open to as small or large an exploration and development as the two may take it. Indeed, it was through interacting with the people, of course, that I began to realize some of the major differences.

Ghana has the reputation of being one of the friendliest countries in West Africa. And my experiences did not challenge that perception. There is a genuine warmth and openness to foreigners (of any hue) that Ghanaians display, that makes one feel more than welcome, but wanted. Over the course of my two-month stay, I realized the true depth of that desire for foreigners, from their potential investment in and development of the country, to Ghanaians’ passionate desire to connect with and learn more about other people, countries and cultures. I don’t think I’ve encountered a people who smile more easily at a friendly “Hello!” or who are more willing to offer assistance to strangers. On more than one occasion I stopped a Ghanaian on the street to ask for assistance, and not only I was offered information, but the person stopped and engaged me in a conversation. (I wondered how this might contrast with the experience of a recently arrived African lost in the middle of lower Manhattan on a busy avenue.)

That friendliness, indeed, framed my experiences there as an African-American gay man. It certainly inspired, for starters, a greater confidence in me regarding approaching men there in general, and especially in contexts where the majority of the men were same-gender-loving. And I must proclaim that West African men are simply beautiful; the fact that they were literally everywhere I turned my head was at times overwhelming. What also became interesting, however, was how my experience of the men in West Africa brought sharply into focus my own culture’s constructions of masculinity and conceptions of intimacy…across conceived boundaries of sexuality. Many have heard of the fact that it is common for two men to hold hands while walking down the street there. What I experienced was that this handholding is an expression of a true openness to intimacy – genuine connection to another human being – that is more easily offered and accessed between men in West Africa than I have found to be true in America. It made me think about how many barriers and walls -- fears -- we walk around with all the time here in the States; about the masks we wear. And to hang out in a space where men generally do not display machismo as their main expression of masculinity was very refreshing.

Also interesting was the fact that, in the West African cultures in which I spent time, average daily life is primarily homosocial. For the most part, men hang out with men, and women with women. Even in bars and clubs, guys often hang out with their friends, and the dances floors are typically full of men dancing with men. At one point I wondered how men and women actually meet. I later understood that many of the meetings between men and women actually occur through relatives and friends. On the other hand, this created a large space for all sorts of male-to-male activities, including what we here in America would label as gay (or at least find it hard to imagine many straight men doing, such as holding hands walking down the street, or dancing suggestively together on the dance floor). Sexual identity boundaries, however, do not easily map onto those we use in the States, and I won’t attempt to fully explain it in a culture I’m still getting to know. (In fact, I’m not sure I could fully explain it in African American culture.) Clearly, in Accra, the primary tourist destination and a Westernized capital city, there is a growing “gay” identity. There are locations and spaces frequented by gay men, and social networks among them.
Shea TreeWhat I will say is that, in a culture where men socialize primarily with men, where masculinity is not delineated by a butch factor, and where men easily share affection physically, the rigid boundaries we use here in America seem that much more artificial and limiting.

We who live in the major metropolitan areas of the United States are quite familiar with racial diversity. Certainly, we are often aware of the challenges such diversity presents, but the mere fact of its existence is something that many in the rest of the world rarely experience. In fact, what was fascinating to experience while in West Africa was the vast amount of diversity existing within one so-called racial group. My own distinctness was highlighted wherever I traveled there, and it was most greatly emphasized in my trip to a rural village outside of the small town of Dano in southern Burkina Faso. It’s just a fact that there have not been too many foreigners (outside of a few missionaries) who have visited this place…and certainly not many light-skinned African American men with locks.

Dano is a wonderful place. It is a town just at the edge of modernization. My understanding is that the town itself only got electricity about 2 or 3 years ago. The main hotel in town has one TV in the main courtyard that, I believe, gets one station. None of the guest rooms have running water. Each room has a curtained off section that serves as bathing area, fully equipped with a large barrel of cold water. (One can request hot (boiled) water if desired.) The bathroom (what we might call an outhouse) is located down the outdoor hallway. This was a sharp contrast to the Western hotels and conveniences I experienced in Accra.

The town has one main road running through it, which contains things like the hotel, the big market (open on Sundays), the bus station, many local watering holes, and several shops and businesses. The side roads contain more businesses, and residential areas. About two miles down one of the winding roads is the village and compound where I spent part of my time in Burkina.

Just as there are some distinctions between city and country folks in the States, I could sense some of the differences between the people who lived in the village and the folks who lived in town. Village life seemed less hectic, and more in tune with the rhythms of the land. City life was a little faster, and driven by the rhythms of commerce. The distinctions there, however, are not as sharp as rural life in the US and New York City. There were still several livestock animals roaming around freely in the city (pigs, cows, chickens…) reminding me that I was not in Washington, D.C. But Dano still has the allure of being the "town" in this remote area of many villages.

The people of Dano are some of the most warm and friendly I have ever encountered. At first they stared and were guarded...my hue and hair sticking out in a culture of dark-skinned folks with very low cuts. Being stared at with an intense curiosity was a little unsettling at first, until I realized that a ventured “Bonjour!” instantly cracked that stare into a wide smile. It was quite easy to engage in conversation, and make friends...if you know French. (My French skills were duly tested on this journey...I will definitely be taking more classes before returning.) My explorations of sexuality there were limited by my linguistic challenges, and, again, the men were so naturally open and affectionate with each other, it was challenging for me to try to “figure things out”. After a while it became freeing to stop trying. The intensity of the sharing, intimacy and quick friendships I formed there opened me up, and I fell in love with the people and the place in my brief 10-day visit.

I did not leave Africa with an idealized notion of it as a romanticized paradise. Anyone who loves Africa can tell you about its challenges, one of the most evident being widespread poverty and glaring inequities in the distribution of wealth. Africa is so many things and one of those things is a major source of wealth…for the rest of the world. From gold, to oil, from diamonds to coffee, many goods are shipped from Africa to the rest of the world, especially Europe and America. Yet so little of the wealth produced seems to come back home to improve the lives of most of the African people. This is a challenge of much of the developing world, the legacy of imperialism (past and present), and what is one of the major challenges of Africa’s future…and future leadership. Of course, this is really a global problem, but so poignant for those who know and love Africa. And, as I experienced my own relative abundance and wealth in comparison, it inspired in me a desire to find ways I could give to Ghana and Burkina Faso. As a son returning, what could I bring back? What could I give to the people who, despite the deeply injuring legacy of colonialism and exploitation, still smiled at foreigners, and who welcomed me home as one of its sons? I look forward to discovering the answers to this.

Many have asked since my return “How was it?” Words like “great”, “fabulous” and “wonderful” while accurate, do not fully convey what was, truly, an experience of a lifetime. (Not the experience, as I do intend to have more.) These few words are only a sampling of all the thoughts and feelings I have – and am still forming – about my two month stay in West Africa. I had an opportunity to spend more time there than most, and was able to take my time experiencing the people and the culture. What I do know is that I have new friends dear to my heart whom I look forward to seeing again; and new people, experiences and countries around West Africa that I look forward to encountering. There are so many brothers in our community who have taken their own journey to a number of countries throughout the continent, with a variety of experiences to share, including several who have spent significant time doing development and social justice work. I encourage those of you who have not been to seek out these brothers and listen to their stories. Further, I encourage you to set your intention to make your own journey there, to “see for yourself.” And to be welcomed.

I returned to those shores, a journey of my own choosing, several generations later, a son coming home to the land of his ancestors. And that land, and its people, welcomed me with a loving, warm embrace.

I can’t wait to return.