I lived in Africa for 25 years and left only because I had three young children when Robert Mugabe came into power in Zimbabwe in 1980. The future for our children was uncertain so we moved to the United States, the country of my birth and of my citizenship. Joan and I were fortunate to have had that option.
Today, over 40 years later, I can smell the African bush when reading about Africa and I long to go back. When leaving there to return to Colorado I always feel some sadness and look forward to coming home mainly because this is where my children and grandchildren are.
If only my children could have lived there longer. If only Joan could have lived to see her wonderful children grow and her beautiful grandchildren. If only my grandchildren could spend time there to see some of the wildness, know the people, and see what the real world is made of.
If only more people could walk in the bush, feel the bite of a tsetse fly, observe the intelligence of an elephant and experience the resilience and determination of the African child who learns to survive by his skill and hard-earned life experience alone. If only more people could stand on an African shore and see dolphins swim through the waves, turtles come ashore to lay their eggs in the sand, or see whales give birth. If only more people could go to sleep to the sounds of the African bush and wake up to the cooing of the doves or cry of the Hadeda Ibis. If they could watch a lion kill and eat its prey or see a leopard drag it's prey high into an acacia tree.
Each of those people would be better, more tolerant, and much happier.
If only African sunrises and sunsets could be bottled.
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| Me standing on top of the Tjlotjo Cliffs, Gona-re-Zhou - 1967 |
