Africa, to Me

"In the highlands you woke up in the morning and thought: Here I am, where I ought to be." -Karen Blixen, Out of Africa

The last cab driver I had was a Tanzanian named Onesmo. The soothing sound of his Swahili was enough to transport me, and as we sped through New York City's Central Park in the early morning hours near the sprawling green of the Great Lawn, I lowered my window, let my eyelids fall, and for about a minute and a half the birch became baobab, the Labradors leopards, and I was on safari again. If I don't touch down on African soil at least once a year, I panic. It has cost me a lot in vaccines and at the photo shop, plus a shattered laptop, and a nasty clash with customs over a pair of impala horns (which I found, darnit!), but I ...