We ended our trip in Zanzibar. I found this from some writing I did while in Stone Town.
I am still in Africa as I write this. I can hear the Indian Ocean and the birds that come along with it. My skin is the color that it was meant to be and my mind is struggling to sort the data after having seen so many different terrains and ways of life. My writing is shifting between “I” and “we”. I have been on the road with two women for about 17 days now so it feels natural to honor the bond that we have formed during this time. It is no accident that this trip was a journey with women; two moms to say the least (I do not have kids and lost my mother at the ripe age of 18) We needed each other. After hard travel days, language barriers, and raw living it was so natural and necessary to have one another and provide a safe space for each other to laugh, complain, cry, bleed and process. Any chance I could get when drinking some wine and reflecting, I wanted to be sure these women knew how appreciated they were. Again, growing up with a strong, woke, white woman as my mother, it seemed organic to have two white women along with me on this journey. I grew up not really thinking any of that mattered and still do to this day but my blackness has also made me mindful of my roots; all of them.