N’Djamena–> Abeche–> Moundou –> Bongor

Traveling overland is one of the best ways to understand a country. Doing so with people that are from the area you are traveling is even better. I got to do exactly this, first taking a UN flight to Moundou (through Abeche) and then driving back to N’Djamena through the town of Bongor (along the western border heading north from Moundou).

Security severely limits travel not only to Chad, but within the country and in the region. The only non-Chadians traveling are not doing so for leisure, but to check on various humanitarian projects going on within the country. Roads exist but are not always paved and are impassible during rainy season. In fact, rebel incursions from the north can predictably be expected only during certain times of year due to natural flooding that occurs from May-August. Lack of infrastructure is one of the defining, and unfortunate, things about Chad.

The work I do in Chad is tied to Security Cooperation, which encompasses a span of activities from human rights to professionalization efforts. One of these many programs is an HIV/AIDS prevention and treatment program for the Chadian military. The US, through a third party implementor, funds and supports 21 different health units embedded within the Chadian military to combat HIV/AIDS, TB and other associated diseases. After a complete shutdown of traveling due to COVID and security concerns, we took our first trip to the south of Chad in 6 years. Flights within Chad consist of privately chartered aircraft and UN sponsored flights. I took a World Food Program (WPF) sponsored flight from N’Djamena, stopping off in Abeche and landing in Moundou for two nights. ‘

The Chadians I work with are all from the Southern part of Chad. Schools are better, it is greener, and according to them “the air is fresher.” I would say this is true, though walking around the town and driving through some of the smaller villages, I honestly couldn’t tell much of a difference between N’Djamena and Moundou. It is cleaner, and the air possibly fresher, but similar concrete buildings, mud huts with metal roofs and dirt roads. Most of the buildings that existed in the town had not been improved since the 1940s when Chad was still a French colony and I could not help but look around town and feel a twinge of sorrow at the poverty, the difficulty of life that is just a simple fact in this part of the world.

The ‘CF’ still visible on this building is a marker of the French colonial past that still very much echo’s through the country. Still to this day if an individual does not speak or understand French, it is a clear indicator that person is not educated and cannot read or write as the school systems are entirely in French. Even the currency, the Central African Franc (CFA), is not printed in Africa, but in France, who still has its fingers of control on its former French colonies.

There is nothing glamorous about being poor. Nothing glamorous about living in a place that has dirt floors, no running water or electricity. About having every day be a struggle in a way that most members of the western world, even the poorest, have no comprehensive of. Nothing compares. Yet despite this, the village lifestyle is often preferred to that of the hustle of the city. Life is simple. It surrounds around family, and doing work that allows your family to eat. Relationships are everything and there is a communal understanding that does not exist in other parts of the world. 

While we were out on mission, one of the guards fell from the back of the truck; he was rushed to the hospital, lucky that we had someone on our team that was medically trained. The fall was his error – turns out he was drinking on the job and had quite literally toppled over in his drunkenness. Although we did fire the entire security team, everyone, including my colleagues from the embassy contributed to pay for his medical bills. In a country that is defined by scarcity, I can only imagine the overall cost – certainly not something a low ranking soldier could afford. This is the type of communal spirit that takes longer to see. To see past the poverty, the struggle of everyday life that is the beauty of a country like Chad.

Markets are some of the best ways to do this. They are the heartbeat of industry and society. Products sold are fairly simple, typically anything remotely manufactured comes from China. Areas are divided from peanuts to produce to furniture. It is an art – to maintain pristinely-clean furniture sat outside on dust covered walkways. When looking at buying fresh produce, it is not uncommon for Chadians to sample before they buy, simply taking directly from the pile. Women often run many of the produce stands with infants strapped to their back, breastfeeding as deemed necessary.

Out of the few local artisan products available, knifes are by far my favorite cultural item. Certain styles belay the region they are made in. The knifes pictured above are the southern style, typically used for farming much like a sickle..

Food is the next, and almost always the most classic way to get into a culture. Chadians eat largely with their hands in large sharing circles. The most typical meal is a type of sauce either made with meat (usually beef or goat) or a vegetable sauce called daraba leine using fresh okra or yabis using dry okra. Camel, goat or fish are other favorites paired with a baguette, as remnants of its colonial past show in interesting ways throughout the culture. Chadians are usually religious about washing their hands before and after the meal, typically having a pot of water with soap brought around – and this is crucial as gastro and waterborne illnesses run rampant due lack of sanitation and communal eating.

This is a classic ‘working mans’ breakfast. Before dipping in, butter was poured on top of the dishes. A dried bone spice called kawal is also often paired with the dish.

Portable food is not a thing. Refrigeration is rare and electricity is not consistent. A common way to transport your food is to purchase a goat or other live animal and take it with you. When its meal time, slaughtering an animal and eating it then and there is the method used most commonly. One perk of Chad is everything is truly fresh and as organic as they come, but without the pesticides comes all the other things that are typically killed by them. Local eating is not for the faint of heart, as is nothing in or about this rarely traveled country.

The Road from Moundou to N’Djamena (the part that was paved)

Into Africa

Before moving to Chad, it had been 12 years since I set foot on the continent of Africa. My first trip was a whirlwind voyage to South Africa for the world cup followed by a volunteering trip to Rwanda. I have always had a fascination with the continent and saw myself as someone that would never make a career out of the military, but would instead join the Peace Corps, UN or an NGO.

Now, 12 years later, I am surrounded by those exact same people. People who thought working in the Democratic Republic of Congo with refugees would be fun. Or who have lived in the likes of Mosul, Iraq or the border between Chad and Libya because that was where the work was. These people are often paid nothing and hop around fascinating corners of the world doing work that is impossibly difficult and never ending.

While in Rwanda, I kept a journal that I have quite literally taken everywhere I go. For 12 years I have told myself that I will crack it open and share the contents. Now, having moved back to the continent after traveling other parts of the world, I am ready to open this pandora box and reflect on how much Rwanda as a country has grown, and how I have changed with it.

Posing with local school kids on a trip out to see the local schools

Rwanda’s government is notorious for being a ‘benevolent dictatorship’. The longtime ruler, Paul Kagame, has yet to release his grip on power but has maintained darling status in the international community. This is largely due to his effort to bring the country from its war-torn status following its 1994 genocide to a near middle income country. Lead by his vision 2020, this was done by draconian rules which are heavily enforced by militarized police and fines. One such example is his effort to take ethnicity out of daily conversation, creating a “Rwandan” identity; it is literally illegal to discuss another persons ethnicity. All businesses must have fruit trees planted in front of their offices; a measure intended to combat hunger. All children attending school need to have a shaved head as well as uniforms; girls manicured hair is, and still continues to be, an obvious distinguisher of wealth.

Every aspect of Rwandan society was completely torn after the genocide. Neighbors turned on neighbors, killing whole families and maiming people with indiscriminate violence. Orphanages were set-up, large portions of the educated population were slaughtered; to come back as a country from this level of violence is no small feat. One of the many things the government did following the genocide was set up tribunals, called the gacaca process. Meaning “peace, unity and reconciliation,” these tribunals were organized at the village level and allowed victims to confront, and hopefully forgive, or at least receive a sense of justice, from their perpetrators. The gacaca system focused less on putting members who committed crimes in jail and more on repentance and confrontation for their crimes.

At the top of Virunga mountain crater near Lake Kivu. Located on the border between Rwanda and the DRC

When I went to Rwanda it was 2010 and these measures were still very much an ongoing part of the healing process. There was no wifi, no consistent power (even in the capital, Kigali), and few paved roads. Every night the city went into blackout to preserve the power; construction was seen everywhere. People didn’t have electricity in their homes but charged their devices at every public institution. You may not have running water, but you have a cell phone – and that holds true for nearly every part of Africa. As my host family said “this country is the land of contradictions. We have cable and internet but not running water. Everyone has cell phones but can’t feed their families.”

Much of my writing at the time surrounded around being a single, white female traveling in a place that was essentially the opposite. Certain aspects stood out to me as categorically contradictive – such as the playing of American rap videos on public transport. This I wish I had a picture of: videos of practically naked, oversexualized women on a bus full of of people that barely showed skin at all. Black American culture was, and still is idealized. I was able to have the freedom that I do not have now – living and being attached to the American Embassy. Things such as riding on the back of local motos, getting packed into public transport and traveling to remote parts of the country on backpacker style excursion.

You know you have assimilated when:

  1. You respond to Muzungo, teacher or hissing as proper ways to address you
  2. You no longer cling to the back of a moto when it zips in and out of traffic (in the wrong direction)
  3. You refer to other white people as muzungos (a Bantu word meaning ‘wonderer’)
  4. You stop wondering if you are getting tanner and just accept the fact that there is an un-washable film of dirt on your feet

I volunteered with the Global Volunteer Network in their Gender Based Violence (GBV) program. I didn’t think I would change the world in two weeks, but I wanted to get an idea of the work that I thought I wanted to do. It never ceases to amaze me what women all around the world do to support each other. This group of ladies were no different. The program was set-up to help women establish small businesses to generate income and allow them to support their families after leaving their abusive spouses. Domestic violence is still very much an issue in many parts of Africa (and even somewhat socially acceptable). Without family or other assistance, women are often left with no options. It also where I learned about the concept of micro-loans. Small loans provided by private individuals to small, typically women or minority owned businesses. Loan recipients payback the loan in small increments as their business grows. It is an awesome system that provides sustainability while encouraging local economies and entrepreneurship where there may be limited opportunity.

Hanging with the local orphanage

I also shared some of my time with the local orphanage. Even as a self-described “non-kid person,” I will never forget the innocence and love with which the children interacted with me. In every town and every village, not just at the orphanage, children would follow me, try to hold my hand, fascinated with my skin and hair. They braided my hair, wrote me letters, fell asleep in my arms and piecemealed conversations in English. As much as I genuinely enjoyed these interacts, ‘volunteering’ at these institutions has since taken on a new light. Since 2010, UNICEF has conducted multiple studies that concluded that most children in these orphanages (and others around the world) are not actually orphans, but are dropped off by a surviving relative for the day. Guaranteed to have a meal and the possibility for sponsorship for school or adoption, these types of volunteer programs have drastically changed with informed research and time. With the advent of ‘poverty porn’, the use of images of impoverished children and families to guilt modern world into donations, the understanding of how the western world can help others in less developed places has evolved over time.

The more I dive into the continent, its history, its complex issues, the less I feel certain of any single fact. Africa has always represented the type of culture shock and adventure that I crave when traveling to far and distant places. As I dive deeper into understanding the complexities that is this diverse part of the world, I only find myself with more questions than answers. To understand more, I must go farther…into Africa.

Why N’Djamena is one of the most expensive places in the world

and yet, it is also one of the poorest.

This dichotomy is difficult to process. Frozen berries, when you can find them, are available at one store and cost 10,000 CFA = $16. Peanut butter, protein powder, are nowhere to be found. Anything processed, or packaged that was not raised on a small farm is flown in from France. Chad lacks any sort of infrastructure in the form of roads, railways or air transport to get goods and services in and out of the country. As a result, it is extremely expensive to get anything modern or manufactured into the country. They rely mostly on their old colonial power for connections outside their borders – and that connection is strong.

But the real issue, the thing that is not talked about when we talk about extreme poverty – is corruption. Corruption is so rampant that head of the state-owned oil company Société des Hydrocarbures or SHT (Chad has the 3rd largest oil reserve in Africa) has publicly stated that half of his gas and fuel deliveries get diverted to shadow networks. On Thursday June 23, 2022, the Deputy Director General of the SHT was dismissed for a scandal of embezzling upwards of $120 billion CFA or conversion to dollars can get tricky with exchange rates but it comes to something close to a few billion dollars. To put this amount in context, the countries GDP as a whole was $10B in 2021. In what is being dubbed as “SHT GATE” the exposure of such a case is having ripple effects, not just taking down the network of corruption, but potential lasting effects for the transition.

We (the international community) often talk about how (corrupt) Chadians are able to continue their lifestyle while looking outside their compound gate at the poverty** that ensues. How can you not look around and say, “I need to do something about this”? Realistically though, we could say the same thing to ourselves. I do not do much different in my own country or in this one. You get stuck into your work. Your circle of friends. After a while, you start to harden to the poverty you see. Ignoring it. Sticking within your own bubble of comfort because the issue is so overwhelming that it is impossible to know where to start.

The average western person would have trouble processing the lifestyle realities of living in a place like Chad, a hot arid climate, with limited infrastructure and corrupt governments. Power outages occur every day. If you require electricity, you also require a back-up energy source, a generator or solar (which is a thing here despite lack of development otherwise…pretty awesome). International aide organizations, the UN and national embassies all have different policies on how they take care of their people in what they consider to be ‘hardship’ locations. If you are not allowed to take your family, the UN, for example, pays for a ticket back home every 8 weeks. The US on the other hand might get one ticket a year (if you are lucky). International aide organizations typically attract Europeans with requirements for long vacations. A reset is recommended every quarter if you and your organization can afford it.

Context. Expectations. Attitude. Perspective. They are everything when trying to understand the complexities that are a place like Chad. Yet the eternal question remains. There is a collective desire amongst the international world to help the people of Chad, but will they help themselves first?

**Just to give an example of just how difficult and rampant poverty is, amongst the throng of people on the streets include many disable people missing limbs – an unfortunate legacy of polio or other life mishaps. These people are quite often crawling to get from point A to point B. Crawling. Makeshift wheelchairs exist that are powered by wheeling with your hands (quite an ingenious no energy method) but there are more people that need them than exist. Truly, it is difficult to see.

What does it mean to be Chadian?

Few countries in Africa have anything close to a national identity as we would understand it in a western sense. It is better to understand Chad less as a location with defined borders and unifying culture and more in terms of circles of familial connection that feed into a web of power. Large generalities can be understood by dividing the population into north and south, herder and farmer, Christian and Muslim. Yet with these differences, connection occurs in certain areas, and conflict in others. The north tend to rely more on herding, be Muslim and nomadic. They tend to carry a weapon, and embody the warrior spirit that gave Chad its name in the Sahel. In the south, the people tend to be more Christian, less nomadic and rely on subsistence farming.

Plaza de la nation is the most iconic location for N’Djamena. Military parades and national days are always centered around this representation of the Chadian capital.

Multiple wives are common and accepted as the lifestyle of wealthy men. Not only as a Muslim practice, but in many traditional religions before outsiders introduced any major religion. Chadians typically have two last names, similar to the Spanish, but follow only the father and the grandfathers lineage. There are over 120 different dialects in Chad. The capital of N’Djamena largely operates off French, but mainly in the places that cater to expats and the 1%. Arabic is widely spoken, but the dialect itself is a great representation of the merge of cultures that have converged on this area of the world. Nomadic words are often intertwined with French ones depending on the topic. For example, words like democracy and government are spoken in French, whereas familial terms, such as brother and sister might have a more local word. Language and the ability to communicate often divides the groups of people who interact – without French it is unlikely that a Chadian will have any connection to the world outside its traditional familial upbringing.

Leaving the capital has few paved roads and even fewer rock formations

I work side by side with Chadians, but only a specific set of the population: the highly educated. Those that have been abroad, speak multiple languages and are able to bridge the gap in understanding between our western ideals and their unique way of thinking. If you break away from this small segment of the population, you see a group of people largely uneducated, surviving in the same way that they have for thousands of years. It is hard to truly conceptualize the stark differences in reality that exist for westerners, the 1% and everyone else. Life runs in a continuous circle of family and survival. Yet, that life is not seen as difficult by many Chadians. There is a sort of ideal about living in the country that life is simpler, and therefore happier – away from the hustle and bustle of N’Djamena.

A herder and his son

Chad is a part of the Sahel, a strip of land that cross-cuts a subsection of Africa from east to west. Historically, the Sahel served as a trade route connecting the Arab kingdoms in the middle east to African trading partners. Great kingdoms grew out of this timeframe in places like Timbuktu, and Gao. Through these trade routes, similarities formed in nomadic Islamic traditions. As colonial conquest faded and corrupt governments took ahold of this arid subsection, extremist ideology spread. The Sahel is known today largely for its insecurity both in the physical sense with violent extremism, and in the humanitarian sense with rising food and climate change challenges.

Chad is of course prone to these same insecurities, particularly in the humanitarian sense, ranking as one of the most impoverished places on earth. With extremism on the rise in the region and Islam as a core component of the population, you would think that Chad would experience some of the same problems as its neighbors. Yet, despite being surrounded by six unstable countries, there seems to be a collective disdain for Islamic extremism. The previous president of Chad, Idriss Deby, served for 30 years cultivating his reputation as a regional security leader. Political debates aside, he created – and strongly enforced – a culture of secularism in the government. Creating a military culture within the government, this military culture had a unifying sense against extremism. For now, Chad seems to have avoided the temptation of using religion instead as a rallying cry against corrupt and secular leaning government institutions creating a fascinating sense of community surrounded in a very militarized culture.

Two colleagues putting on a traditional headdress. You will see many Chadians wrap a piece of cloth around their head and face serving two purposes: protection from the sun for their heads and protection from dust to cover their mouths

So how do you answer the question – what does it mean to be Chadian? Is to be Chadian even a concept? A Chadian is both a warrior and a farmer. A Chadian is a father, mother, son and daughter. A Chadian is religious, if not spiritual, still strongly embedded in family and tribal traditions. Family is everything. A Chadian is at their very core, a survivor, in a complex world of challenges living the most simplest of existences. A Chadian is still working through its identity as a concept under defined borders. A concept I intend to continue to explore.

Moving to N’Djamena

If you read the title of this post and had to google the location of this capital city – fear not – you are not alone. I too had to google the location when I was told that N’Djamena, Chad would be my follow-on assignment following Foreign Area Officer Training.

I am sure many people would have various reactions upon the news that this was going to not only be your home, but your first jump into the Foreign Affairs world. For me, I was excited. What better place to start your journey in Africa than a place few outsiders have experienced, let alone know?

So little is known about Chad that if you were to google “Chad” the search gets confused between – that guy named Chad – and the country. After reading about “Chad” the person, you would see a series of NGO and UN related organizational pages pop up – UNICEF, the World Food program, International Crisis Group, World Health Program, among others. The fact that jumps out at you is that Chad is, and continues to, rank as one the most impoverished places in the world, 187/189 in the Human Development Index (HDI). To make matters worse, a rebel incursion (not uncommon for Chad) attempted to take over the government in April of 2021, killing the President, who had held power (and the country together) for 30 years leaving a transitional military government in charge until elections were set to take place.   

While Chad may not be well known in the anglophone world, it is known in the francophone, or French speaking one. Gaining its independence from France in 1960, Chad is, in many ways, still trying to find its way as a country. Like many countries in Africa, there was no concept of borders or even a national identity in the western sense of the word until 1920 when the French claimed this arid country as a part of Afrique-Équatoriale française. Much could, and has, been written on the impacts of colonialism on Africa. For all the negative that can be argued about this part of history, one thing it did do was expose many African cultures to western languages, concepts of government and ways of life. These ties are still very much evident today. Out of the 120 languages that are spoken in the country, the main unifying language continues to be French, though many also speak Arabic, but may not read or write it, and there is a desire among the aristocratic class to move to English.

There is reading about how Chad is, and then there is actually moving here. Despite having two years to mentally prepare, I still was not ready for what it meant to live in a landlocked, impoverished African country. Frequent power cuts, no road rules, chaotic markets, dirt roads, women and children making a livelihood on the street, buildings that look like they are about to crumble. The few paved roads are swept every day by a sea of women, often with babies strapped to their backs, to keep the desert sand from completely enveloping the city. Everywhere you look you see vendors on the side of the street selling peanuts, an assortment of plastic goods and then just people, everywhere. Road traffic consists of mostly people on foot, followed by moped owners weaving in and out of traffic, with the rest being a mix between bicycles, donkeys, camels and the occasional car. Google, both the search engine and maps, are useless. To know this city you must explore and know its people.

N’Djamena is one of the poorest places in the world and yet one of the most expensive. Any product that is not bought at the local vegetable stand can only be purchased in 1 of 2 stories – for a price. Grapes or berries can occasionally be found, but are $20 for a portion. Cream cheese and American style bacon are not a thing, but who needs that when you can find some pretty amazing camembert and Roquefort cheese. Gala or Castel (think Budweiser) are your beer options, with Heineken for some variety. If you are into wine, you are in luck, there is one store, le cave, which has a pretty amazing selection if you are willing to pay for the Grand Cru. You can hire someone to clean your house, tend to your garden and cook for you all for around $200 a month, but wifi will cost you about the same.

Chad is a contradiction in time. It is ancient, in a way that you might characterize as backwards. Life for the average person is simple and in some ways has not changed in hundreds of years. Subsistence farming is the industry in the south, herding in the North. Literacy rates are minimal, people marry young and have large families. It is a fascinating, diverse place that takes months if not years to unwind – and some outsiders never will.

With a year to explore, I hope to open it up in a way that not many understand. Here’s to the next adventure: Chad.

Cultural Impressions

Have you ever been to South Africa? Talked to a South African? White or Black?

In all my traveling about, I have met several South Africans – none of which have been black. Yet, we are talking about an African nation here where 90% of the population is native to the reign.


In traveling to this particular country, I have never felt so uneasy to be white in my life. If not for the knowledge of the history of oppression the white population had imposed on the native population, than for the extremely high crime rate of the nation. According to a UN study conducted in 2005, South Africa ranked as one of the top countries in the world for rape and murder. This fact is compounded by the widespread epidemic of AIDS and extreme inequality of wealth between the top 10% (who are mostly white) and the impoverished 90% (who are mostly black) – which many would argue is the reason for the extreme culture of violence.

Upon landing in Johannesburg, one of the first things I noticed was the bared windows and walled up homes with shards of glass surrounding the living compounds. To say this is unnerving is an understatement. Lucy, a friend I met on my travels, explained that growing up they could not play outside or walk to school because it was too dangerous. Instead, families spend their times on buses or within the walled up compounds of their homes – that is if they are well off enough to have a home.


Picture: Soweto, a shanty town in Johannesburg of roughly .5 million

Regardless of its notorious reputation, I did not experience anything more than uneasiness while walking about Johannesburg or surrounding areas (solo I might add), but I did experience something else that I did not quite expect while making the obligatory trip to the apartheid museum.

Lost and attempting to find my way, I pulled up to a gate guard and naturally asked for directions (locked doors and cracked windows of course). Instead of answering my question he tilted his head and asked where I was from. ‘America’, my response.

He gave me a look  I will never forget.

It was a look of inherent respect, one I had never before received for just stating my nationality. He then promptly put his hand my car, keeping his steady gaze and shook my hand. ‘That way,’ he pointed. And away I drove.

This moment is forever branded in my mind and has yet to be replicated. I don’t know if it was the recent election of President Obama (which I think was a large player), or the large respect for the values of the country. Regardless, that one moment will stand out among the others as one I will never forget.

From Johannesburg to Kigali

I could probably write a book on my two week experience in Rwanda. Not because I changed the world in 2 weeks, but because of the culminating meaning of the trip.

Many people dream about what they want to do when they grow up. For me – I had no freaking clue. I started off in fashion/modeling (dream, not reality) when I was 16, moved to business when I was 17 and signed my life away to the military at 18. Needless to say – I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.


The one thing I have decided, however, is that I want to live a life of service; service to others, in whatever capacity. Make whatever argument you want, to me you have not known true fulfillment until you have the ability to life for others before yourself.

While meandering down this path, I decided to look into life as an aid worker. What better way to see if this was for me than to volunteer in a developing country? Which one to choose? Well, I was going to be in South Africa for the World Cup, so why not tack on a trip to Rwanda!

With its tumultuous past, seemingly quick recovery and uncertain future, to say Rwanda was interesting is an understatement. While I was placed in Kigali, the capital city, my initial impression was pretty much what one would think of an African country.


First, I started off on kind of a bad foot – I missed my initial flight to Kigali from Johannesburg. My fault? Mmmm… note to self – leave at least 2 hours to check in at any African airport. I arrived an hour prior to my flight (having forgotten most of my money, credit cards and dignity in the rental car my friends dropped me off in) and was told by the Airline manager that they could not possibly let me one the flight. Apparently, an hour is cutting it too close. Their loss really since he ended up expensing a 2 night stay in Johannesburg as well as free transport to and from the airport…

So 3 days later, I finally was met by one of the local volunteers, Muvunyi. After pushing the car down a hill to get it started, we made our way down the dirt roads to the compound where volunteers lived in a family style housing.

Crawling into my mosquito-netted bed, I wondered what the next few weeks had in store for me.


Well, what the Hell

Why not go to the FIFA World Cup 2010 in South Africa?

In Feb 2009, this was exactly the thought going through my head. So I applied for the Golden Ticket – and seriously this is how it goes, without the chocolate bars.

You apply for the lottery, maybe you get one, maybe you don’t. I found out that I had, in fact, got a golden ticket when my credit card agency called me for fraudulent charges to my card. Apparently when you live in Texas it is weird to get a charge in Geneva.

Well when I got that call, I figured out that I would go to Africa in a year. Did I have a plan? Nope. But I soon recruited friends to go along with the adventure. Two awesome college friends, Ben and Kayode, also joined for the trek to South Africa, which in and of itself could have a separate couple of pages written on.

Honestly, I would have never traveled to South Africa had it not been for the world cup. It is a rather interesting country with a sorted past – I didn’t quite like being white in a country full of a purely white upper class and purely black lower class. It was ire and made me want to put a huge A (for American) on my forehead.

But turns out, the world cup events were nothing of the sort. It was simply a gathering of people from all around the world bonding together through the name of sport.

And don’t imagine a football game either – it is nothing like that. Is there beer? Yes, but rarely belligerent drunks. Simply, excitement. The feel of being there for one purpose: to root for YOUR country against another. The game takes on a whole new edge just for this fact – that there are thousands people from all around the world all there to cheer eachother on. It was an amazing experience and absolutely not what I expected.

Brazil 2014?

I’ll put my hat in for the lottery and see what happens.