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It is this feeling that both excites me and renders me slightly apprehensive – there's something about leaving a piece of yourself behind and coming back to those you love somehow less complete. Or, paradoxically, more complete. I have long been fascinated by how people live, particularly in other parts of the world, but I've been told that nothing really prepares you for your first visit to a developing continent like Africa. The poverty. The disease. The morbidity. The happiness. A trip to Malaysia last year provided me with my first real experience in the developing world, but the newly-industrialized country remains quite different from many of the areas I'll be visiting in Kenya and Tanzania over the next few weeks.
Drawn to the lore of Kunta Kinte, Kizzy and Chicken George, Alex Haley's Roots has been my favourite book since a young age. From the opening chapters of the book, I became intrigued with Africa, but never really thought I'd ever end up going there. Now, a flight to Amsterdam, followed by one to Nairobi, is all that stands between my breathing the air of what many consider to be the cradle of civilization. And I do not hesitate to believe that the journey will mean far more than travel to a far-off continent.
I hope you'll join me.
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