Africa

Johannesburg, March 27th, 1985

The jet lag is overwhelming but the journey has just begun. Our hostess Sheila, a tall beautiful blonde with a precise accent, greeted us with hugs and giggles. Her reunion with Patty, my travel companion, is clearly cause for celebration – Patty will be the maid of honor at Sheila’s wedding.
I’ve forgotten the itinerary for our trip even though Patty and Sheila went over it at least three times in the car to the compound. Sheila lives in what is called “a communal living space” with five others. They have scheduled dinners and explicit chore lists.
Johannesburg reminds me of California with its open air spaces and much greenery. Wrong side of the road driving and headlines screaming blood murder quickly wipes away that perception. There’s a pool and a tennis court, a maid, a gardener, and a driver/helper. Sheila’s wedding is going to be a grand affair.

Africa

Nairobi Airport, March 27th, 1985

A chilly good morning to you, my precious journal. We arrived in pitch black darkness as the day prepared to open. We walked briefly through the morgue-like airport on our stopover but chose to re-board immediately and wait for our flight to Johannesberg to take off. A young African soldier dressed in fatigues, machine gun at his side, walked right by us. There was death in his eyes but life in his walk. Another face I wanted to know more about on my travels but never would.