5 Lessons Traveling and Working in Africa Taught Me About Being a White American

This post is inspired by this very insightful essay—and to clarify, since Africa is not a country, I have traveled/worked in Nigeria, Burkina Faso, Mali, Mauritius, Kenya, Zambia, and now Malawi. Most of my experience is from West Africa, and I’m married to a Nigerian, which maybe counts for something ;) However, I’m still learning about the amazing diversity of people, culture, experiences, and challenges that Africa faces, so I welcome comments on the thoughts below by any of my African friends and family members. I am primarily addressing my fellow white Americans here.

1. We Americans are incredibly ignorant about the history and geography of a part of the world that has direct linkages with our own. Those of you educated in the U.S.: how many of you have heard of the Songhai empire? The Mossi empire? Or the Yoruba, or Mali empires (etc; you get the point)? I certainly hadn’t until I started working in, and researching, West Africa, although I took ‘World History’ in high school. As far as I can tell, ‘World History’ was essentially European history, with a few pages on China, India, and Egypt, respectively. Yet 13% of our population in the U.S. has ancestral ties to West Africa. Why aren’t we learning about the impressive political, social, religious, agronomic, and cultural systems that developed in West Africa in some cases before Western Europe was fully out of the dark ages? (Southern Africa has similar historical kingdoms; I just learned about the Maravi empire which controlled Malawi, Mozambique and eastern Zambia from the 1400’s until the 1600’s). I am angry and frustrated about this lack of education, because by emphasizing European accomplishments and ignoring or erasing African ones, we subtly perpetuate the myth of white superiority in the U.S.
2. Americans owe a great cultural debt to Africa. After spending some time in West Africa, it quickly became clear to me that, as much as the American slavery system tried to stamp out African culture in the New World, that effort was not successful. West African influences have infiltrated, and vastly improved, our cuisine, our music, and our culture in the U.S. in myriad ways, through African-American traditions. Classic Cajun dishes (jambalaya, gumbo) are essentially West African jollof rice and okra stew, respectively. Nearly every genre of music which has originated in the U.S. (jazz, blues, rock and roll, funk, hip hop, etc.) draws on African rhythms and musical conventions. And, if you have ever seen either a classic or contemporary West African dance performance, you know that Miley Cyrus did not invent twerking.
3. Countries with Black people in charge work just fine, thank you. Of course African countries, like any other countries, have their issues and challenges. But I think it is fantastic for a white person raised in a racist culture—which, yes, is anyone who grew up in the U.S. unless you were in a commune totally shielded from media or the public—to experience a society in which you are the minority and all of the doctors, lawyers, scientists, political leaders, corporate executives, etc. look different from you. This has given me as a white American a tiny taste of what it might be like to navigate the U.S. as a minority. It has also helped me to defeat the subconscious stereotypes that worm their way into our minds in a racist society about what a professional ‘should’ look like, or who ‘can’ or cannot do a certain job.
4. Speaking of which, racial dynamics in the U.S. are seriously messed up, still. To be clear, what I mean is that racism is alive and well in the U.S. (case in point: Ferguson), and that it continues to harm our society and distort relationships between Black and White Americans. This is not to say that progress has not been made and that there aren’t wonderful examples of people collaborating and enjoying friendships across racial boundaries. But working and traveling in African countries that haven’t experienced the racial dynamics we have just emphasizes to me how much this made-up notion of ‘race’ and how it determines whom is more worthy of respect, attention, assistance, and compassion has cast a sickly pall over our country. This has caused me great distress, but also helped me to see a glimpse of what a non-racist society might look like, and for that I thank my experiences in Africa.
5. We have a lot to learn from Africans. Despite the West’s favored portrayals of Africa as a continent full of poor people sitting in the dirt waiting for white people to come help them, the truth is that this is a dynamic, vibrant, ingenious continent that can teach us a thing or two. For example, the U.S. is not ‘number one’ when it comes to women in congress/parliament—Rwanda is. Also, Africa has had two female heads of state—Joyce Banda of Malawi and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf of Liberia (how many have we had? Oh…yeah…that’s right)—yet we are supposed to advise Africans on gender issues! Not to deny the serious issues many African women face, but maybe we should at least approach these interactions with a little more humility. I also think that African societies are hands-down better than we are at caring for families with young children and the elderly. From my observations, Africans are getting solar electricity to the poor at a much faster rate than we are (you can buy a solar panel in the market in Mali, ready to hook up to your radio/fridge/T.V. Can you do that in the U.S.?). Africans invented a mobile phone banking system (m-pesa, from Kenya) that is admired around the world. The best way for us to interact with Africans—as with any human being—is with respect, friendship, and partnership. I’m not claiming that I’ve been perfect at overcoming my own cultural biases and prejudices, and I still have a lot to learn, but when I’ve tried to embody these values I’ve found it incredibly rewarding. It keeps me coming back to Africa.