Okwada (wednesday) – 1.10.01

“Osram mfiti preko ntware man”
(It takes the moon some time to go round the nation)

He stared into the darkness, marveling at its ability to hide definition. His pupils larger to smaller trying to decern some shape; a star, the moon, the ocean, anything that would tell him he was still on the planet earth.
The complete lack of any sort of line served as a hard reminder of what had dominated his thoughts recently. What were the “lines” that defined him? What made him “American”? What made him “Christian”? What made him anything at all?
He shifted his gaze from the dark and forboding plane window to the first page of a yet to be written in journel. The empty white page stared back at him. What lines would fill this book after this journey reached conclusion. The lines are less a boundary and more a creation. He was preparing himself. He was preparing to create and define the lines that would lay out the story of a young man undefining, redefining and understanding himself.With another glance out of the opaque pane of glass into an uncertain future, he let his pen fall to the page. The words that followed defined his life not as “The American” but as “The African”.

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