I'm Going to Africa: Part 1

Ever had one of these?
I think I’ve always had a thing for Africa. I remember hearing stories about a missionary couple in Sierra Leone during chapel at St. Peters. I remember writing a report on Kenya in the sixth grade. But the true love affair started around eighth grade when I read a book called Kafir Boy. And from then on, South Africa had a piece of my heart.

I’d gobble up anything I could about South Africa…the history, the fight against apartheid, the music…(Remember when we went to hear Ladysmith Black Mambazo in the Eaton Chapel at Beloit, Jacks?) And always quietly hoped that someday, I’d have the opportunity to go there.

Fast forward, to about seven years ago when one of my first big projects at work was managing our participation in the World Summit on Sustainable Development held in Johannesburg, South Africa. I knew I probably wouldn’t get to travel with the team—I was the lowest girl on the totem pole and someone would have to stay in Detroit. I also knew that seeing South Africa through the lens of a group of corporate executives probably wasn’t exactly how I wanted to experience it (no offense guys!). But the project was a big success and that felt good. And I trusted that somehow, when the time was right, I’d get to go to Africa too.

Nkosi Sikelei
The South Africa bug bit again several years later. I was at the Detroit Festival of the Arts and Vusi Mahlasela was performing on a tiny little stage. I knew his music from the film Amandla! And the tears just rolled down my face as I listened. On the last day of the festival, Hugh Masekela was performing—you probably know him from Paul Simon’s Graceland album. It was an extremely hot and humid day, and no one wanted to go the concert with me…so I traipsed there on my own and had the time of my life in the front row dancing and singing along to Nkosi Sikelei.

You’ve gotta love little festivals in little cities like Detroit, because at the end of the show, I squeezed through a gate along the side of the stage and stood with about ten other people to meet Mr. Masekela. He actually lived for a time in Detroit during his exile from South Africa during apartheid, but I digress. Anyway, we hugged and he signed my Amandla! Cd…I’ll have to look up what he wrote exactly, something like ‘Live. Love. Change.’ I think it was the first and only time I thought about getting a tattoo.

Linen on the Lawn
Later that summer, a group I was involved in called Detroit Synergy decided to hold a fundraiser for the Belle Isle Botanical Society with wine tasting to commemorate the 100th Anniversary of the Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory, which coincided with the 10th Anniversary of democracy in South Africa. And my friend Jill…well, we weren’t actually friends yet, but were about to become friends as we took on the task of finding someone in Southeastern Michigan who could come to the event and raise a glass to South Africa.

Let the googling begin! And we discovered a gentleman named Bob Vassen, an adjunct professor at Michigan State University, who was South African and friends with Ahmed Kathrada, one of the long-serving political prisoners with Nelson Mandela at Robben Island, who would later become one of President Mandela’s key advisors. Bob helped edit several books of correspondence that Mr. Kathrada sent while imprisoned.

An email, a few phone calls and a google-map later, Bob and his lovely wife Ursula agreed to join us at Linen on the Lawn. They were such a wonderful additional to this gorgeous evening on Belle Isle. And became sweet friends for a time. Bob is a tremendous story teller and I remember fondly meeting him for a coffee when I was in East Lansing for a work meeting and just taking in his tales...oh, how I wish I’d written that stuff down. And when in 2006, he invited me to an event where Mr. Kathrada would speak and share stories. (Remember, Alli?)