The other day I saw a shirt that read 'I need Africa more than Africa needs me'.
It's true.
Africa doesn't need me. The moment I leave, someone else will step into my place. I am not the only yovo, I will not single-handedly change this continent. I will quickly be forgotten, no more than a passing memory. I am replaceable and forgettable.
But Africa is not. In my time here I have quickly grown to love it. It is somewhere that I will hold inside of me till the day I die.
Every time I leave the dock, I am struck by how much I love this country and in turn, ths continent.
The dust blown up by the wind, the palm trees above me. The people, thoses that smile warmly and those that stare with haunted eyes. Children playing in their torn clothes, babies crying and mothers cooking food.
The crowds in the market, everyone one yelling and talking and working. It's an overpowering force of sounds and smells and people. Venders shoving things at you, bartering for the 'best' price. The stacks of fabric that seem to wait to fall. Women getting their hair braided, men sleeping on their motercyles.The honking horn of the fan ice man, the calls of 'Etsi!' from the girls selling bags of water. The stacks of merchendice high upon their heads.
The smell of gas and smoke and dust as the cars and motercycles drive past. Families of five on zimmies and eight people in a five seater cars.
Broken down buildings or maybe half built. Faded paint, crumbling walls. Fofo's cooking, everyone waves. Maybe you just want to buy some bread. The goats are in the street and the cars scare them away. Watch the men pulling in their nets, maybe tonight they'll get to eat.
Africa has changed me and I believe for the better. It touched something deep inside of me and I am not who I once was. My heart has fallen for this beautiful place and I'll never be the same.
And maybe because it changed me, maybe I can help. Maybe I can help make a change for the better.
