Traveling to Africa opened a whole new world for me. My parents were convinced I’d lost my mind. To be truthful, there were a few places, I knew if my mother could see me she’d make me come home. But standing on the continent of my childhood imagination continues to inspire me after all these years.
How many movies can you name that take place in Africa? Go on. Try. Here are a few.
Tarzan Casablanca African Queen The Wind and the Lion Invictus Hotel Rwanda Blood Diamond The Power of One
Lion King Black Panther Tears of the Sun Out of Africa
Mandela Gorillas in the Mist Zulu I Dreamed of Africa
Born Free King Solomon’s Mine Congo Sahara
The Snows of Kilimanjaro
There are many more I didn’t list. I’ve seen all but one or two of these. Several I’ve seen dozens of time and others just once. Some are difficult to watch. Others tug at the heart strings while several make us laugh and dream of romance. And this is why I love Africa.
If you read my first blog on Africa you’ll remember we landed in Johannesburg, South Africa. That trip was incredibly tiring. We were met at the airport by someone who had been put in charge of us. The luggage carousel with weapon charts took me by surprise. I thought of my children at home in Missouri. Would I ever see them again? Had I bitten off more than I could chew?
We took off into the darkness, our driver speeding like a bat out of hell. Oh, and no seat-belts. AND headlights were headed right for us! I grabbed my husband’s hand and nearly broke his fingers. I could make out the confused and painful look on his face. He recoiled and rubbed his hand.
“What?” he asked. “This was a British colony. They drive on the wrong side of the road.”
I straightened and flipped my hair back with a nonchalant flair. “I know that. Geeze.”
I may have needed a change of underwear by the time we arrived at our lovely hotel for the evening. Our escort informed us he’d make sure our luggage left behind would be safe. We couldn’t take much into the next two countries.
My biggest problem that night was I hadn’t planned for time zone crazy. There was a nine-hour difference and I just couldn’t sleep. That took me about three days to adjust. Now when I jump time zones I have Dramamine or Tylenol PM to make me sleep on the plane or when I get to the hotel that first night or two. The next day we would fly to Zimbabwe. Our adventure had kicked into gear. After calling home to say we’d made it, talked to my children and was reassured by my parents that things were running smoothly, I thought I could handle anything.
Then there was that whole Zimbabwe thing. Tell you about that next time. In the meantime watch some African movies, look at the map of the continent, listen to some amazing music from there and dream of romance…not crocodiles. Oh! Just a head’s up. My book Black Mamba can be pre-ordered for .99. You might want to take a chance on me and get it. Maybe a few for friends at that price. It will go up in price soon after launch on November 13th.