The Long Walk Home

In my right hand, I held my camel Christian Louboutin pumps. My laptop weighed heavily in my left. And in my heart, I carried a new love: Africa.

Plaza near the Presidential complex in Malabo, Equatorial Guinea.

The distance between the Sipopo Convention Center in Malabo, Equatorial Guinea and the hotel was much longer than I estimated, but I continued walking. The sub-Saharan sun beamed brightly. The Atlantic ocean stretched as far as I could see, and I looked closely. Were those ships I saw slipping away from the shore? In the quiet, I thought I heard the faint but pained cries of my ancestors. There were men, women, and even children on board. Packed below in the hull of the ship, shackled on the deck. Headed to a land so far away only the most determined would survive what was merely the start of perhaps, the most unappreciated, forced relocation of a people ever recorded.

On this day, I walked with a special and intentional step. A full-circle moment embraced me. My accoutrements of American success mattered little for I had been humbled by the overwhelming resilience of the Africans who had bravely arrived in North America hundreds of years ago and through the generations acclimated to a culture that seldom contained its sense of superiority.

Sofitel Presidential in Malabo, Equatorial Guinea.

With ingenuity and faith, the descendants of those Africans had maintained a relevance in the country they now identified as home. But back on the continent where it all began, there was a call to come “home.” During the Leon H. Sullivan Summit, the invitation was issued again and again. Home to help it rebuild.

My work as a journalist requires that I ask questions in the pursuit of information. The questions about human rights were posed to Equatorial Guinea’s leaders. Concerns about a disorganized summit were submitted to Sullivan Foundation staff. Delegates weighed in with opinions about this 43 year-old country with the deep pockets filled with new money. And, I answered a few questions of my own.

Most importantly, during my long walk home, I answered one of my own questions.