Hong Kong it is...

Hong Kong skyline outside my window.
Went to bed irritated because I have fallen behind in classes.
To be expected.
Not fun playing catch up.
Sensory overload.
A rainy day making me think of Seattle meets NYC.
The first image I see on a billboard is Dijmon Honsou.
I smile.
"Andre, you didn't tell us that you were EVERYWHERE! You and your damn CK's"
A friend jokes. That is such an Andre pose someone echoes.
Good times.
Hong Kong...never ever imagined, but I knew.
Every country is familiar, in some way.
What happens when one is not exactly a Stranger in a Strangeland.
I don't know.
Diplomatic Briefing, now.
These are cool.
Beijing tomorrow.
Jamie says "Welcome to Hong Kong" walking to fill her water bottle.
Lawd hammercy.
And last but certainly not least, THANK YOU DENNIS CHIN for sending me a Hong Kong list of things to do!!! Appreciate it!


I live for this pic! You better get it DH. Can't wait til it's my time, kiddo.

Ciao,
a

Gooooooddddddd mmmmoorrrrnnninnnngggg, VIETNAM!!!

The time is now 1.15a and we left Vietnam two days ago. I am sitting in the Union making an attempt to study for my Global Studies test, adding info to my address book, and composing my thoughts on a raggedy sheet of paper. I smell like Carol’s Daughter skin products from my hair to my feet. I have had 2 Red Bull’s – hey, I know they’re bad…but I am in college and I fought to drink these to stay awake. Thoughts are racing through my mind, seriously. The phrase “I don’t need a gun to blow my mind,” sticks out so much. Hmmm…guns. I am not a fan. I shot 5 bullets out of an AK47 in Nam’ (Vietnam). Vietnam stirred up mixed feelings. I thought about the folks I know of and people who have family that were in Nam. I think about my perception of wars, guns, manhood, drafting, child soldiers, combat, armed forces, etc. My 1st day in port I went to the Cu Chi Tunnels. Wow. This blew my mind – see I didn’t even need a gun. The Cu Chi tunnels are about an hour outside of Ho Chi Minh City formerly known as Saigon. During the Vietnam War the Vietnamese built tunnels to maneuver. Tiny ass tunnels. And the part that threw me for a loop is that they expanded the tunnels for tourism purposes and they were still tiny.

My mind seems to operate in matrices so when I look at the tunnels I was taken back, mentally, to the actual moments of combat. The Vietnamese were resourceful and created some insane traps. Everything that was used against them they turned into a weapon or for their advantage. For example, tires were used for sandals. They’d take the rubber and make it into soundproof sandals. Tunnels could be miles long and so many feet deep. A person could stay in them for days. They cooked their meals early so the steam looked like mist. I can’t even begin to describe the conflicting feelings of being there. And believe it or not but all 180 lean lbs, and 5’11 feet squeezed into a hole that was about the length of a size 10 man’s shoe, and 12 in width. Firing the guns were at the end of the Cu Chi tunnels tour. I was petrified to shoot because they were so loud. And to know that people have been killed and still get killed by these powerful machines got to me. I was outside in hot Vietnam and barely broke a sweat, however, as soon as I get an AK47 in my hands I sweating like a MAD man! I could feel the sweat drip from my back to my butt. The guns were stationary and there was a person to monitor but it still –finish my sentence – BLEW MY MIND! Yep. Afterwards, I was still a bit shook up but not as bad. I thought about the people I know and loved that died because of gun whether they took their life or someone else. Liberating? Oddly enough, very liberating. I am not even going to try and make sense of it. What a day that was.

There were a few things that I had to do while in Vietnam. I absolutely HAD to go to the Cu Chi Tunnels and also the Mekong Delta River. I literally dreamt about these two. Don’t ask me why, I just did. The MDR was a lot of fun. I went with Nancy. Nancy is fun to travel with because she’s down for whatever may happen while expeditioning with Andre. She doesn’t complain and has a great sense of humor. And if you didn’t/don’t know…Ho Chi Minh City has the MOST motorbikes in the world!!! I am not sure if that’s a fact, but it’s more than I have ever seen in my life. I was in disbelief. The streets are flooded with folks on their bikes and motorbikes. Families of 4 - parents and 2 children occupy them, old ladies, teenage girls, business men…everybody. SAS warned us not to ride them…but they’re so cheap and fun. So what did Nancy and I do? You got it…caught motorbikes to Mekong Delta. It was a little of 2 hrs to get there. Don’t worry, I accepted full responsibility and was ready for whatever may have happened. That’s the only thing I did that wasn’t recommended. But the route was so scenic. The way there I saw what I pictured the countryside of Vietnam to look like. There were cattle grazing in the green lands. It was like sitting in the middle of the Discovery Channel. I don’t know about you but I used to be all into tv. I am talking about trying to look all the way in the corners and edges thinking I was missing something. Thus, this felt like I was just plucked right in the middle. Seeing the women in the rice fields with their rice hats on picking rice and seeing children wave to me as we flew by on the bike…unbelievable. Songs like “Clocks” by Coldplay, “Pimpin’ All Over The World” by Ludacris, and “See The World” by The Kooks will never be the same. It was a soundtrack. But the song that broke me down on the way back from Mekong is “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley. Every word I feel was written for me. Because I have always felt crazy – what? Seriously though. I am not even lying. I thought about all of the things I have been through in my life and how I was on the opposite of the world. I even burnt my leg on the motor while getting off. It reminded me of when I got stung by a bee for the 1st time in S. Africa and didn’t know how to react because it wasn’t as bad as I imagined. It hurt, yeah. But I was waiting for the pain. There is something to be said about that. So after getting burnt, Nancy said “I got some cocoa butter…chapstick.” I laughed and put it on. It was really minor. And it was funny because I told her that I don’t mind because it’s a souvenir. I can say “Oh this old thing…I got it back in Nam.” All about the war wounds, baby. CHEAH! But back to the situation at hand – Crazy. I urge your to listen to it. I love it. The lyrics are as followed:

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions have an echo
In so much space

And when you're out there
Without care,
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much

Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Probably [Possibly (radio version)]

And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice

Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,
[Crazy lyrics on http://www.metrolyrics.com]

Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control

Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me

My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I wanna be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done

But Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Probably

Uh, huh


I just thought I’d share.
And for giggles I loved listening to “Save a Horse (Ride Cowboy)”
by Big and Rich. Love this song.

The actual Mekong Delta was what I imagined. We went to a
A few islands and listened to Traditional Vietnamese music while eating papaya, dragonfruit, pineapple, bananas, grapefruit, and drank rice tea. Unforgettable. Btw, that was the first time I had dragonfruit –DEEEEEEEEE..LISH! It is pretty, too. Loved it. After our face stuffing of fruit we trekked to a small canoe where we paddled…well, we didn’t really paddle, but they let us feel like we did. We went through a smaller part of the river, more like a stream and had on our rice hats, as well. The Vietnamese folks loved my facial hair. How do I know? Because they’d always motion to me them feeling their chins and smiling and sealing it with a thumbs up which is actually pretty fun to see. And to think that I wanted to cut off my facial hair but gave up after Brazil. The whole time I looked like a little kid with my mouth gaped open, I am sure. I couldn’t help it. After that we trekked back to the ship to eat dinner and what was supposed to be a nap turned out to be me waking up the next day. I have been really tired. So I called it a day. I was fortunate to go to Nguyên Đinh Chiêu (Trương Mư) School for the Blind on our last day in Vietnam. A friend didn’t want to go so she gave me her ticket – dopeness! So I got up and ate breakfast and made my way to the bus. The thoughts going through my mind were along the lines of “Okay, Andre…just go, don’t have any expectations. But how can you communicate? Any other time you have body language, but you can’t even use body language because of the lack of vision…” But going was probably one of the best things I’ve done in my life. The school wasn’t far from where the ship was but it took forever because of the morning traffic and the bujillion people on motorbikes. When we made it we had a meeting with the head guy Tâm Nguyen. Our translator, Nguyêt Câm, was the best. You know I had questions for days. The ages were from 5-20 years old and kids from all over Vietnam and it’s surrounding provinces. Surprisingly, it hit me more than I expected because I have been wearing glasses since forever. I think I was 5 years old when I got my 1st pair of glasses and HATED IT! I hated when I got my eyes dilated because things were blurry and I couldn’t watch “In Living Color.” So that took me back and not to mention the fact that people call me Ray Charles when I wear my red Ray Ban sunglasses. Sure, it’s a joke but sub-consciously I think about what it would be like to be blind. Just more surfaced than I ever thought about. So as we get there we go to the kindergarten room and they are singing and I instinctively sat by a couple kids and held their hands. They touched my forearm to my shoulder and laughed and spoke to their teachers. Unfortunately, while sitting with my legs crossed one of kids stepped on my blister from the day before…ouch. So I had to excuse myself. After I got myself bandaged up we went to the older classrooms. This was more interactive. I saw a few kids looking closely at their papers while reading and I figured they were the low vision students. As the rest of the students from SAS walked in they stood and introduced themselves and sang for us. It made me miss my younger siblings and cousins. I do love children. Before I know it I was being asked for my name and where I am from.

“Hi, what’s your name?”
- My name is Andre
**they snicker**

“You from?”
- I am from U.S.A.
**they laugh more**

That’s about the extent of the English. But I found that much impressive. After they sing their song about a “Peace Bird” I suggest to the group we should sing for them. After the teacher announced that they started cheering like we already sang. I was so geeked. So what song did we sing? Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, of course. They sat in silence soaking it up. I found myself closing my eyes trying to imagine thee voices behind the eyelids. And the applause we got before had nothing on this next one. One little guy was up jumping, I am not lying. We parted ways and went in the hallway to meet up with the other group because they split our groups up. But as we chilled in the hallway which was more like an outdoor terrace, I noticed Quy who tapped me and didn’t say anything. I just sat on the ground and he played with my hands. It reminded me of my little cousin Nylah who would play with my ears as I fell asleep when I was going through chemo. Then before I know it 4 other of Quy’s classmates were out there interacting with my classmates. No language needed, no vision needed, just touch. As I sat, they guy who jumped up and down to show us his version of a standing ovation came over to me and fell on my lap and just stretched out. Not too long after another little guy was playing with my hand and my elbow, and my shoulder, and then my beard. The look on his face when he felt my facial hair was worth a million bucks. He became infatuated and grabbed his friends hand to feel it as well and they spoke to each other. I sat in silence. No thoughts. Just there. In Vietnam. But the best part was when he felt my glasses and realized that my vision wasn’t perfect either. Touching speaks volumes, and to think that so many of us are afraid to. Sure we have our reasons to not be affectionate…people don’t wash their hands, some people have wandering hands…but it’s okay to live a little. Before we headed out for the day I met a few other students and one was making something – I am not sure if it was originally going to be a bracelet – but as we made our way into the room I talked to him and he held my wrist and felt my watch then held my other wrist and felt my 2 bracelets from Brasil. He then took the material he had been working on and wrapped around my wrist to see if it fit. This made me laugh because it made me think of the movie “Ray” when he would feel the women’s wrist to indicate if they were thin/pretty. Though Vinh laughed with me, I am sure he wasn’t thinking about that. He told me his name and asked for mine. I decided I wanted to the bracelet and asked my tour leader to inform his teacher and him. When she did he shook the hell out of my hand and spoke to me as though I would all of a sudden understand Vietnamese. The teacher put the latch on the bracelet and gave it to him to put on my wrist. He was proud. Something about that moment…

I wanted to write something up about Vietnam prior to getting there. But I don’t like forcing myself to write. I don’t feel like I am trying to get some award for this experience. I am writing because it’s truly my way of sharing this with folks that want to do this, consider doing this, care, and for me. I realize that I must release what is inside and not internalize because it’s not healthy and it’s valid. I truly do wonder as I wander. I am just me. My feelings evolve. As much as I have my hang-ups and irritations with Semester at Sea…I am so damn grateful to be here. I am so grateful. This has been a hell of a journey. And though on paper it is more than halfway over. I truly know that this is the beginning. I don’t know what is ahead but I am here, now. I am doing my best to massage the numbness of so many things out that have taken place in my life. I let time run it’s course. I cry when it’s time to cry, I laugh when it’s time to laugh, and I love. These are all my meandering thoughts and a year from now they may be the same or they may be the polar opposite. However, whatever they are…it is what it is. One life to live.

In conclusion, a dear friend of mine sent me this and it brought me tears. It aided in massaging this anger in the middle of my chest from so many things. Obama’s speech had the same impact. And afterall, I am realizing that I am crazy and not crazy – it’s all a part of being human. Welcome, to the human experience:

To you, my friend,
Whose eyes have been opened by the light of knowledge
Whose heart has been burdened by the weight of knowledge
Whose mind has been freed by the power of knowledge
And whose hands shall forever work to share that knowledge,
I know that your journey has been an enlightening one, fraught with discovery and insight. You will return to your native country a changed man, but a man in the truest sense of the word. You will have accomplished something most people only dream of, hope for, pray for...
You will be the man that life has meant for you to be. You will know instinctively the path that your life should take. You’ll always have the burden of history behind you, but you will also have the strength of history behind you. You will have millions of people - past, present and future - standing beside you, supporting you in all your endeavors. And you will have me, a lifetime friend and confidant.
I hope that your journey has been a safe and happy one. I’ve been following your exploits on all your various blogs and posts and loving every minute of your trip. Glad to hear you managed to meet up with your godsister during your trip. That was obviously something that was meant to happen - I don’t believe in coincidence. ;-) Kinda like you and me - meant to happen as it has.
Be well on the rest of your journey. Know that I am always thinking about you and hoping for the best for you. Love ya kid! Have a great time! Chat with you soon!
Louie


****And on that note – I gotta finish studying and pass these classes. Next stop, Hong Kong, Beijing, and Shanghai!****

Ciao lindos/lindas,
a

Oh yeah, and how could I forget this - Brazil Pt. II. Well, for those of you who have been following my blog then you know that I had a situation where I accidentally left half of my clothes in Salvador. For details check the archives. I took another chance in HCMC, Vietnam and got my few jeans that I still have tailored. I couldn't beat the couple of dollars it would cost to make my jeans look like they were poured on. Well, my motorbike driver for the day, Dang, took me to a place and I could have sworn the lady said the jeans would be ready at 6p. But somewhere lost in translation she said 5p. I don't know. To make a long story short, I show up at 6p and she has payed me dust, honey. Shut down and locked. I shook my head in disbelief. Dang actually took me to Mekang Delta so he promised before we went to the MK he would take me there in the morning. We did just that and she scolded me, politely in Vietnamese. I was happy though - I TOOK A CHANCE! And it was worth it. But it would have sucked SO BAD to have not gotten these clothes. My grandma nem must be praying for me...m-hmm, sho nuff right.

Listening to - "Woh Ajnabee - The Train" by Mithoon & Shilpa Rao. Love this song! Got it India. Alright, I am gone for real. I must finish my readings.

Cansei De Ser Sexi...

Grand Baie, Mauritius


Song: Music is My Hot, Hot Sex...


Music is my boyfriend

"Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen." - Benjamin Disraeli

::Disclaimer - Please, excuse the titles and order of pictures. Use your inductive reasoning skills and figure which goes with which...it can acutally be fun, yeah??? ...Unfortunately, I can't re-organize them, now. Such is life::

A snapshot.
A mere snapshot.
My meandoring gaze, thoughts, feelings, vision, desire.
Dalit - we embraced and danced...compromised identity lost in translation. Dark skinned and white teeth connected.
Disembarking Malaysia, today.
Halfway through through this journey.
Africa, Amerigo Vespucci, Harriet Tubman, Negritude, Strange Fruit, food, culture, association...all come to mind.

Again, just my lens.
Still learning.
I excuse myself.

*Coldplay - Brothers and Sisters is playing*

Men of Dalit - Chennai, India



When in India, do what the Indian's do - WEAR LUNGI'S! - Chennai, India



We Danced - Chennai, India



Moi - Grand Baie, Mauritus


Sunjen and Me @ Kek Lok Si Temple - Penang, Malaysia



Dean at InterAmericana University - San Juan, Puerto Rico


Kek Lok Si Temple - Penang, Malaysia


Robben Island barbed wire - Robben Island, Cape Town, South Africa



Cell of Nelson Mandela - Robben Island, Cape Town, South Africa



Kek Lok si



A turtle gotta eat, too - Penang, Malaysia


Purple Sunshine - Penang, Malaysia



Their Wings - Chennai, India



Serenity - Cape Town, South Africa


Unforgettable - Chennai, India


Saudades...Nat and Mel - Salvador, Bahia, Brasil


André

Pronounced Muh-lay-see-yuh (Malaysia)...

Random:

While eating lunch at a Malaysian restaurant I heard "Too Little, Too Late" by Jojo blasting from 1 of 2 muslim girls cell phone, only to be followed by "Because of You" by Kelly Clarkson while enjoying my curry naan and freshly squeezed apple juice that tasted like someone took a straw and jabbed it right into an apple. Surreal. Truth be told, I wasn't too surprised about the music - globalization - however, I just didn't have my external harddrive to ask if I could sync the music - let alone, I don't speak Malay. But when has language ever been a barrier?



ps - Penang is sssssoooo chill! Listening to "Kamasutra" by Yogi B. Pretty dope artist from India. Get into it.

Ciao,
A

The truth is miles apart...

Goodness gracious.
I am in an internet cafe, right now.
Penang, Malaysia.
Still processing Chennai, India.
WTF?? I swear to God.
Man, seriously, I...have been trying to compose my thoughts, not even for the sake of writing a blog entry but just for the sake of Andre.
Moreover, this isn't a blog about India.

I am happy to have checked my email for the first time in ages and have a few emails. People have told me that they missed me. It feels good. I have to always make sure that I don't give off the wrong vibe...I AM NOT MISERABLE!

*thinking*

Okay. This reminds me of the times when people think that I have an attitude because I am not talking or being super involved in the conversation. Sometimes I just sit back. I can't explain the space that I am in - I am just in it. The world is every extreme possible. From staying in a Dalit Village in South India to watching a shadow puppet show at University Science Malaysia and hanging out with students from all over Malaysia. I DON'T HAVE WORDS FOR IT! I often hear people talk about that they are doing things they only dreamt about - I have never event dreamt about certain things. The knowledge that I have/had of places such as Malaysia are to the extent of knowing that clothes and shoes are/were made here. Learning and seeing places like District 6 in S. Africa where Blacks, Coloureds,and Malays lived but were forced to move from...I am not only learning about it but trailing the footsteps and connecting the dots. And no matter how much I write, and to what depth...it's a whole different impact to see it...in addition to all the other factors that I talk about. Don't worry, I am not in danger of having an aneurysm from it all.

All in all - I am indeed having a great time. But it's not the good time that one automatically considers as a good time with everyone holding hands and drifting through the world with delightful naivety.

The food in Malaysia is uber good.
I am learning to eat with my right hand - scoop with the finger tips and not lick my fingers. This I learned in India. In addition, I did it while eating lunch.

Oh yeah, so funny, soon as I got off of the ship I was walking off of the dock to the main street where there were cab drivers...and soon as they see me they start calling me brother and asking me where I was from. Did I not just get off the ship? Yeah, it's consistent in every port, thus far. I know this black guy did not get off of the ship. So I have been African, European, Caribbean - everything but American. And of course, I get updated on the US politics "You like Obama? Yes, brotha, I like Obama. We want him." So though, I don't get the paper and don't have internet minutes, I can expect a good convo shortly after my arrival. I just have to give it time.

I have a small afro and a face of facial hair. I more than likely won't shave until I get back to NYC - in May. I thought I'd stay in Miami for a minute...NOPE! It will be nice to visit but I miss home. I can honestly say it. Again, I am not hoping this voyage goes by faster, NO, but I feel it's important to acknowledge how I feel. I miss text messaging, I miss unlimited email, I miss late night phone calls, I miss friends, I miss family, I miss friends that have become family, I miss family that has become friends, I miss crashing people's iceboxes. But I said it once and I will say it again I LOVE THE SPACE I AM IN! It is so real. In fact, it's real to the nth degree. I have traveled and moved around enough to know when I feel a certain way. I remember moving from Kansas City to San Diego when i was 14. It was hard as hell in the beginning. In fact, I never quite got used to it, but I learned to appreciate it and now I truly appreciate it...it's a part of me. Next, when I went to Morehouse College and did everything on my own...hurt like hell, then got cancer, but I pushed through. Feelings never quite went away of wanting to study there but my path is different. I still have tinges of anger, distress, incompleteness, but then again I live in NYC, now. It's like a relationship and how they pan out. You may not be with your first love but that next love will be completely different. I am not a fool. It's some universal theme in life...I can't articulate it, nor figured it out...but it exists.

I love my voyage
I hate my voyage
I am happy
I am pissed
I am pleased
I am unsatisfied
I am irritated
I am irritating
I express.

It's a trade off.

ps - in the picture if you look really closely then you will see that you can finely see through my lens. The rest of the landscape shows that I am but I am a microcosm of a macrocosm. This blog reflects how I see and am experiencing things. Life doesn't come with instructions or explanations. Those are up to us.

Well, I need to try and figure out some things online.

Right now, I am listening to "Mikey Rocks" by The Cool Kids. My roommate gave me this song.

"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow."

— Lin Yutang

Andre

A is for Africa - M is for Mauritius

Zulu, Xhosa, English, American, Capetonian, black, African, Table Mountain, townships, music, dance, Robben Island, Waterfront, Green Point, Green Market Flea Market, Enslavement, Europe, disconnection, apartheid, gay, shade, cool, wind, love, blank, beads, bush, manhood, womanhood, tradition, struggle, sunset, Exclusive Bookstore, Bahamadia, New York City, Midwest, San Diego, California, disbelief, belief, Africana, ignorance, Malawi, ocean, Coloureds, accent(s), exoticism, oppression, scenery, wine, class, negotiation, yearning, truth, validation, coarse, thick, identical, World Cup, 2010, colonization, repetition, amnesty, Castle, Appletizer, Toyi Toyi, fuck it, thoughtful, COMPLEX, identity, co-exist, co-habit, rand, dollar, patience, self-fulfilling prophet(s), braids, influence, Wood fire, import, circumnavigate, smile, hurt, repression, global, spiritual, sexual, financial, sensual, siblings, peace, disdain, antipathy, question, worry, passport, unknown, familiar, food, HIV/AIDS, health, strategic, divide, dependence, rejection, re-build, oblivious, ignored, confused, speechless, frustrated, speechless, awe, spell bound, brilliant, royal, scents, feelings, numb, alone, lonely, free, liberated, restricted, perform, relationship, interaction, gray = black and white, murky, seals, elant, experience, Bronx, Beulah, Pride, (mis)educate, rage, beauty, fierce, future, past, present, liaison, currency…

These are the words that I wrote while free writing immediately after leaving Cape Town. Right now, it is 3/6/08 and the time is 2:07am. I am sitting and thinking – as I listen to the Mauritian National Anthem plays in my ipod. We left Mauritius, now, 2 days ago. I really enjoyed Mauritius.

Cape Town…1st I must mention the young lady that really made my trip special – Ms. Lerato. I met Lerato at her place of work while asking how to get to a bar/club to meet up with friends. She was so got damn funny and we immediately said we’d have to hangout. After using 4 pages of my planner to describe how to get to Bronx nightclub she gave me her cell and told me that she wanted me to go to a concert with her.

- Rewind –

The first day off of the ship I went to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners were incarcerated under seriously harsh conditions. I initially didn’t know how to feel. I am an emotionally honest person, often I feel to a fault, so I wanted to make sure that I brought myself completely. Compliments of educators like Tchaiko Kwayana and Maryemma Graham I have been aware of the Apartheid Act - google it, and the impact of Nelson Mandela.

After the 15-20 minute boat ride from the mainland to Robben Island I stood in silence. I couldn’t speak. I first of all was still trying to take in the fact that I was in Africa, period. The fact that the stress and strain of making this happen this past semester showed me that each day of sea sickness, each tinge of loneliness, every annoyed thought of having to write a paper, every moment of being frustrated by financial circumstances all made sense as I stood on the small boat that seated about 15 people, tops. I remember vividly wondering how it must have felt to be Steve Biko or Mandela to unwillingly have to take the same ride to this island that treated them less than human. The entire voyage on Semester at Sea, especially through the Middle Passage, makes me think of how I travel willingly where my ancestors didn’t even know where they were going. But before I go on a tangent I must finish. So as the boat actually pulls into Robben Island which is now a full out tourist affair I just try and brace myself. We all (students and faculty) board buses that have big glass windows and no air conditioning. Right above the top of the bus is the entrance of Robben Island and though it looks like it has been touched up it still gives me the feeling of uneasiness. Not even 200 meters into the prison area, which is actually a small town, we have to pump our breaks to let a small black penguin cross. It was adorable. It was bizarre to see this penguin crossing the street in Africa. It almost sounds like a bad joke…”what did the bus driver that saw the black penguin crossing the street in Africa…?” –drum roll- Exactly, I digress. But after that we begin to get the spiel about the island and its history. Initially, Robben Island is where the folks that suffered from Leprosy would be hauled off. We were shown the quarters in which the inmates had to work mining limestone for 8-12 hours a day (hours aren’t exact). It was so intense to see. Then we finally made it to the quarters in which the inmates and Mandela occupied. First, I must share that there was a moment in which I was fuckin scared as hell. So those who know me know that I am not a scary person but I can be frightened fairly easily. So the acoustics in the prison were fierce. Our guide was incarcerated during the same time as Mandela and as we were leaving one of the rooms, not cell, he slams the door and it rips through the hallways. I am so glad that I didn’t have diarrhea from the food in S. Africa because I wouldn’t have had it just oozing down my leg. Talking about scaring the shit out of someone. But in all honesty, it really startled me. But he didn’t use a lot of force, it was just the way it was built. And he mentioned that he’d hear that all the time – morning, noon, night, ALL THE TIME! Mentally, that will get to someone. And fortunately for me my mind seems to operate in some type of matrix or matrices format so I feel like Raven Simone on the show “That’s so Raven” when she just zones out and envisions things. So in that moment I imagined these prisoners being frustrated, and just living in hurt on so many levels. The guide also mentioned that when letter were written to them that they would get letter, but not the body of it. Yes! The actually body of the letter would be cut out. So it will read like “ Dear Johnny, … Love, Moma.” Where the “…’s” are will cut out. Can you imagine? And when writing letters they’d have to write how “well” they are being treated or the letter wouldn’t make it out. And the main part that really got to me is the fact that this wasn’t LONG AGO! The Apartheid ended like yesterday. I really can’t even form my thoughts on Cape Town and my feelings, yet. I am still in disbelief at things. Shortly after he shared his story with us we had chance to see Manela’s cell. We looked at his garden. I didn’t look; I re-lived. I thought about the fact that he had a red bucket for his using the bathroom. His bed? There wasn’t one. He slept on a mat. I am still going through it as I write, now. I had previously read that the black prisoners had to wear shorts (short pants) and at one point Mandela had the opportunity to wear them but he refused until the rest of the black prisoners did, as well.

FUCK! I can’t even gather my thoughts and it’s frustrating. My friend Jazmine gave me the sweetest S. African house music that gets me on some real chill and reflective type of ish. But as I sit here I can feel the frustration of systematic inequalities, fuckin ignorance, vintage/retro ignorance and racism, sexism, homophobia, fulfilled self-hating prophecies, generational underdevelopments of peoples globally, health taken for granted, unseen and unrecognized beauty. I lie to you not – I can feel my stomach tense. It hurts on so many levels. The song that I am listening to right now is named “Spinnin (Life Keeps On)” by Blackwhole and Mimi. The lyrics…

“Life keeps on turning turning turning, life keeps on pushing pushing pushing pushing…
Life keeps on turning turning turning, life keeps on pushing pushing pushing pushing…
(repeat over and over and over and over)

Just to make things right,
Ohhhhhhhh hhhhooooooooo…

All that I am hoping for is to make things right,
oOOOOOoooooo hhheeeeYYYYYYY”

Simple but powerful. The beat is EVERYTHING! She is just singing. I am not even going to apologize for my thought being everywhere…tis what it is. Ya smell me? But it is really blowing my mind how every country the people speak to me in whatever language is the language spoken. That…is phenomenal. As a kid I didn’t know this type of shit would happen. No one talks about how people of African descent/black people/Afro, etc. were in all of these places. I have been Puerto Rican, Brasilero, Black, Coloured, Bahemian, S. African, Mauritian, and even English and Jamaican. The visibility is showing. The agency is eye opening. It’s amazingly complex. The fact that I grew up in Kansas City, Missouri, and San Diego, CA and when I travel people have no idea they just hit me with an “Oi, tudo bem,” or “Como estas?” just shows me that our ancestors were more than slaves. I can attest to the fact that the extent of African American/Diasporic history was reduced to the Mayflower and Stepin Fetchit. Colonization has done a fuckin number on black people around the world. I will never forget when a white guy came up to me at a bar on the Waterfront by Victoria Wharf Mall and says “OH MY GOODNESS, MAN! You look like a Zulu Man but speak English so well.” What in the hell? Now, some would definitely argue that he just got excited to see someone that “looks African” speak English with an American accent. I felt so carnavalized. It was a disappointing moment. This dude was so excited. And I asked him to excuse himself, which he did. Again, another moment of sheer blankness. I just sat out and a lot of thoughts negotiated moments to entertain me about this entire voyage. And as beautiful as Cape Town I have to admit that it may be a minute before I return. Though, I must admit Lerato, Rhea, Lia, Sophia, Alex, Sele, Nick, Victor, Victoria, Mike, and so many other folks showed me such an amazing time, there were just moments my spirit just didn’t feel it. I felt an array of feelings. There was just such a major disconnect. And I will just get some discourse going on that in the near future. I am at a standstill. I was so sad to part with Lerato and the girls because on the last night we went and partied at Moma Zula’s on Long St. Since it was Gay Pride we were going to go to the Red Party but vetoed it when they wanted 80+ rands. We had a blast though, dancing and just building and deconstructing my experiences in Cape Town, my perception and knowledge, sexuality, blackness, feminism, misogyny, she-ness, beauty, Western World, co-existence, fusion, repression, ignorance, boys, hot sex, education, love and love lost, reality, masculinity, traveling, African Diaspora, prospective great friendships, universal conspiracies, pain, progression, cancer, naivety, and the list goes on. After dropping Rhea off we went to Camps Bay Beach to watch the sunrise. Though the sun rose behind our heads over Table Mountain we watched the sky turn cotton candy blue and pink and listen to the tides crash into the sand. I took a power nap right before…because a brotha get sleep-ay! But in those last minutes before deciding to get in the car and drop me off to get ready for disembarkation Lerato walked off wearing my brown pashmina scarf that perfectly blended with with her denim skirt, Rhea and I sat in silence…I listened to my thoughts. I instantly thought about John Mayer’s song “3x5” that a friend introduced me to nearly 2 years ago who I recently spoke to after a disagreement months ago. The song talks about not taking pictures of travels, but about his appreciation for him being in the moment and when time permits he will write about it – if he feels like it. And I echoed his sentiments. I just took it in. Riding back to the ship we couldn’t get radio well, all static, so we sat in silence before Lerato started talking, again. It was great.

Goodness, I will have to write about S. Africa again, later.

Mauritius was great. I had such a great time. Keep in mind, I had NEVER heard of this place prior to looking into Semester at Sea – 7 months ago. We arrived at the time of the pilgrimage for the Hindu God Shiva. People were walking all over the island to Grand Bason to pay homage to the God. On the first day of embarkation I went to Grand Baie beach and was fortunate to meet a couple that owned a shop with an assortment of things from postcards to wraps. My goal is to always get to a spot that sells postcards so I can send them to my great grandma and school Union. So in the process of doing this I wanted to also eat some good ol Mauritian food which I heard was SUPER good. I learned previously that it’s a fusion of Afro/Indo/Chinese food. In the process, a young guy at the store started speaking to me in English after attempting creole and next thing you know a huge discussion was launched about my travels and what it’s like and so much more. I mentioned that I was interested in seeing Shiva at Grand Bason (there is a larger than life Shiva in the South of the island) and before you know it the couple invites me to go with them later that evening. Though I wasn’t scared, I questioned if I should be. I mean wouldn’t you? I sometimes wonder why I am so friendly. But it’s just me. But let me tell you – I am not a push over or fool. So don’t get it twisted. I believe the universe guides me. This is how I got to and around NYC, as well. So I take the Lena and Pietro Monaco upon their offer and agree to meet them at 11pm at the Waterfront near wear the ship is docked. I invited a friend, Liane, who I knew would love to go. But traveling for women can be tougher because things can happen. So I invited her around 10.30pm and she is super excited. She put her white on and look all Indian and stuff like that and stuff, m-hmm. And we wait and I call her from the water taxi phone and Lena is apologizing for running late, I guess CP time is CP around the world, OKAY? lol. Soon enough we see a van pull up across the street but we don’t go to it. Beneath our breath without looking at each other we are like “Don’t go because we don’t know if that’s her, let’s wait til someone gets out and flags us down or something. Hell, they know my name – it’s French. Andre is easy to remember. Shoot.” So after a standing and looking for all of 4 minutes she gets out and I swear you can see her pretty smile from across the street. The only problem is that there was a median and Liane would have to jump it – with a white skirt on – and she’s such a lady that it was not a good idea. But in the same breath she was with me and she knew I didn’t care, and she from DC, DC IN THE HOUSE!!! lol. So she jumps and we get the party started. We get in the van and see that this is a definitely a family affair. I mean we got a 4 row joint and every row is occupied with enough space for Liane and my cakes to sit. I didn’t realize that it was a little girl sitting next to me leaning on her mother asleep so I was all rough sitting down til I realized that was a butt bone. So I was like damn, this is gon be a long awkward ride. But I paid it and got over it, quickly.

The time was about 1am as we drove about an hour south. The car has Lena’s sister, cousins, son, husband, and friends in the car. The 2 younger ladies looked like they were about 15 and 16 years old. And man were they cool? We get in the car and say hi to everyone and they are just in their own worlds and hit me with a head nod indicating a “what’s up.” I thought it was so endearing. Which by the way, Mauritius is an island which is majority Indian (from India – a brotha gotta be clear) who were brought over and enslaved, as well as Africans. The French colonized, so did the Dutch, and the English, I believe (I would google it but internet cost and this is being typed in Microsoft Word…just open another window and google it). All I know is that it was so interesting, at first, to see Indians speaking French and Creole in a tropical setting. I said to myself “God, I have to commit my life to traveling and learning!” To see the many people trekking from all over the island – North, West, and East – to the South was amazing. They wore white. The people were of all ages. They carried gifts for Shiva and they were different sizes and beautiful. After being knocked in the car Liane and Lena tap me and tell me that we are almost there and I as I stuck my head lower so I could actually see through the front window I was in awe. Shiva was HUGE! It made me think of Statue of Liberty and Christ the Redeemer (Rio, Brazil). Incredible. But the “gotcha hon” is the fact that it was this kind of metallic gold or bronze, thus it really drew you in. It was gi-normous! And water spouted from the top of its head that was imported from The Ganges in India. I don’t practice Hinduism but I was so humbled and I looked around and took it all in. Lena and the fam allowed us to bear witness to their celebration and praises. I learned a lot. Thank you so much Lena and Pietro. All the way towards Shiva, on the path of the pilgrimage, there were rest stops for those participating. And before leaving we had a chance to go to a rest stop for some Chai Tea and Roti with Curry. IT WAS SO GOOD! While headed back to the ship to turn in for the night I didn’t go to sleep this time. I just looked at the miles and miles of green land being blown by the wind. The streets were empty and everyone else was sleep. I thought to myself “I am fuckin traveling the world…this is just the beginning – a snapshot.” No, a tear didn’t roll down my eye or anything – this isn’t a novel. But it hit me hard. I thought about how I am a survivor and how almost 3 years ago I didn’t think I would make it and this time in 2005 I was soooo sick. More to come.

There will be more to come, later. I am not done.
I just have to get to bed. I am not sleepy but I must rest.

Next, we are voyaging to India.

India is a huge country with a LOT of people.

Oh yeah…just had a thought. There will definitely be more about Mauritius to come. I had a great time. I didn’t do anything major. I just had a beautiful time. Mauritius is beautiful. I will never forget how many people, especially these young guys, didn’t believe that I wasn’t Mauritius because my name is Andre. Who’d of thunk it??? Lol. From what I know my father was named Andre after his sister’s boyfriend at the time. Thank you Aunt Elberia! Random as hell.

OH YEAH! Last thing, I promise. There are some songs that I swear are following me as I make footprints across the world and one in particular is “Love Is Gone” by David Guetta - Fred Rister and Joachim Garraud radio edit mix. I heard it first in Salvador at Carnaval and fell in love. I literally feel like I am dancing like a madd man behind the Fatboy Slim or (Fah-chehh Boy Slim-ay – Portuguese accent) everytime the beat dropped. I LIVE FOR THIS TRACK! It’s ssssooo good. I am getting into the fact that other places outside of the States appreciate an amazing and pulsating house and techno track. WORK!! I am listening to it now. This is aiding in my lack of sleepiness. Just get into it for me and let it take you over. *shaking head and singing “Noooooowwwww, that the lovvveee is goonneee” and anticipating the beat dropping…YYYYYYYEEESSSSSS* All I need is a Skol and Natalia and the fam! Live, Love, Laugh

A is for Always Andre