africa

I grew up in postcolonial Africa, an Africa that has everything and nothing to do with the stereotypes. That means that I grew up in tropical heat, and could drink fresh mango juice or Coca-Cola to cool down. It means that I learnt about African kings and queens in history but only in primary (elementary) school, Secondary (High) school history was spent sleeping through lectures on the Renaissance, the Industrial Revolution, the First World War. It means that I learned to read from “Peter and Jane” as well as “Mulenga and Jelita” books. It means that the Santa Claus (we called him Father Christmas) who came to our school every year to collect gifts for less fortunate kids was black, but the Jesus on the church wall was always white.

“I don’t run a woman government. I run a government of people. Of course, I am the first democratically elected woman president in Africa, and that raises a lot of expectations. Because I represent the aspirations of women all over Africa, I must succeed for them. I must keep the door open for women’s participation in politics at the highest level. That is both humbling and exciting.”

Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf beat ex-international football star George Weah in a 2005 election for the Liberian presidency. That was the easy part. Now the world waits to see if ‘Ma’ Sirleaf can bring economic success to a country torn by a history of class divisions and civil war.

This summer, I am working with an internship program in South Carolina. My position is Resort Activities which means that I’m getting paid to play water polo and paint faces all summer. On my first day here, I went to Wal-mart to buy the khaki shorts that would be my uniform for the summer. After looking around for a few minutes I decided on pair of short shorts, tried them on and bought them, and I’ve been wearing them almost everyday ever since.

Why am I telling you this? Well, because these are the shortest shorts I have ever worn since the 5th grade. The last time I wore shorts that little I was 10 and everyone was wearing those little denim shorts we called “bum shorts” which my mother did not approve of. I waited until she was out of town and then I asked my Dad to buy them for me. I loved those shorts and wore them all the time. Then puberty hit and my hips filled out and my innocent shorts were no longer considered innocent.