African Hospitality

Jan 25, 2012

I looked outside the oval window, and the clouds were gone. Instead I saw land, and lots of it. Spans of wilderness. I was exhausted. With the timezone swapping, I had no idea how long I'd been in this seat. I did know however,that my butt hurt, and that I was suffering from restless leg syndrome. The automated voice came as a relief. It said to prepare for landing...in three different languages! International travel, always so intriguing.

So I braced myself for the worse, and as always, said a little prayer. And five min later, the Lord had answered my prayer. We were safe...on ground...at Addis Ababa. We all clapped for the pilots who had diligently done their job.Then it got me thinking... about Customs. Traditions. One's culture. What is it that makes us us? I am African; how do I show it?

As soon as I boarded off the plane, the hot air kissed me, and I knew at once that I had to change out of my winter clothes. I walked to the ladies' restroom, which wasn't much bigger than 5 cubicles put together. The line almost reaching Timbuktu; I had to improvise. So I opened my carry-on, took out a dress, and looked for a nook where I could fit to handle my business. Alas, there were women everywhere. With veils around their faces. Oh God, wasn't I about to be judged...for stripping in a public space? And the longer I stood the hotter I got. To grab the bull by the horns or not to? Another heat wave grabbed me, and I knew I couldn't be the bull anymore.

With my dress in hand, I stood besides the sink, and began removing my clothes as fast as I could. I didn't doubt that astonishment filled the room, because I could feel it. But I knew better than looking up lest there was a medusa waiting to turn me into stone.Surely this must have been unacceptable to these conservative ladies, but I couldn't stop now. Suddenly I felt darkness closing in, and you can believe I got  ready to uppercut somebody. But that's when I realized that I wasn't so far off from the door, and the ladies were shielding me from outside where an ambitious onlooker could have easily hit the jackpot. These women were merely trying to protect my integrity. And also fix my dress for me.

This is what we call African Hospitality! Complete strangers who take you as their own...despite the differences. I had forgotten about that. And even unusual acts like clapping on an aircraft for a job well done had hardly jilted my memory. I needed unknown women to treat me like their own daughters to remember that I was part of a people rich in culture, caring and loving and highly regardful for one another. African Hospitality is feeling at home amongst strangers, feeling loved by everyone. African Hospitality is being accepted regardless of your skin color, religion or affiliation. African Hospitality in short, is Africa, and her children epitomized.

Consider this your invitation to the Continent of Africa.

PS. pics coming up soon

Yours truly,

Dr Tedga