Visions of Africa: Three Journeys, One Dream
OPINION
By Zion Banks
My mother (shown right with me and my brother) dreamed of Africa but died before she could behold the sacred place she called her beloved motherland. She passed her dream to my brother and me, and in 2018 we fulfilled it with an 11-day trip to Cairo and other cities along the Nile. While most people I know have never set foot on the African continent even once, that trip to Egypt turned out to be the first of three visits I've now made – two thisyear. In June, I volunteered in Ghana and visited Morocco earlier this month. 
Though all three nations are at home on the same vast continent, my experience in each was as distinct and different as the lush Seychelles are from the wide-open plains of the Serengeti, where lions and elephants still roam.
Egypt: A Shadow of Former Glory
In 2018, my husband and I joined my brother and my now sister-in-law on a trip to Egypt, land of ancient mosques, pyramids, and hieroglyphs. This nation of nearly 120 million people is home to Cairo, a city of 10 million people alone. Our guide, speaking in Arabic-sounding English, told us the city is roughly the size of St. Louis. I hadn't expected that kind of density, and I certainly hadn't expected what came with that many people packed into such a small space.
I witnessed a level of poverty and despair I wasn't prepared for: aggressive street merchants selling head wraps and small purses at the foot of the majestic pyramids, hungry children begging for food and money, buses and tourist accommodations in alarming state of disrepair. Danger always felt close at hand. Armed guards were our constant companions, and for good reason. While we were there, a van of Vietnamese tourists was bombed near the pyramids. Everyone in the van died.
Once we were safely back in the U.S., we thanked God we'd experienced the pyramids of Giza and visited King Tutankhamun's tomb. Privately, we vowed never to return. We checked the box for my mother and closed the door. It was time to move on to other dreams.
Morocco: A Revelation
Or so I thought. Earlier this month, Morocco snatched that door back open, and the memories of Egypt came flooding to the forefront of my mind. I could see glimpses of Egypt everywhere across Morocco, the last stop on a Mediterranean cruise. Both nations sit in North Africa and share predominantly Arab populations The people are similar in appearance, stature, and temperament. But that's where the similarities end.
Where Egypt felt flat and gray, Morocco pulsed with vibrant color and bustling commerce. It was a bright orange with ornate, colorful mosques and overflowing fruit markets. Yes, Morocco stood in stark contrast to Egypt's unadorned mosques and bombed-out buildings. I later learned why: in the 1920s, Cairo was the cultural and cinematic capital of the Arab world. Think Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments and the golden age of Egyptian cinema. That glory gave way to ruin after successive wars with Israel and, later, the Arab Spring, leaving the once-glorious nation grappling with unemployment, poverty, and hunger.
Even the camel rides told the story. In Egypt, the camels moved in a slow, lethargic trudge around a littered field outside the pyramids. In Morocco, our camels trotted along the Mediterranean coast, while sunbathers and beachgoers cheeered and waved. See respective images bottom right. 
I left Morocco with conflicting emotions. First, I was excited to return to this gorgeous nation and learn more about the historic culture. But I was also sad. I held a quiet grief for Egypt, and for my mother, who never got to see either version of it.
Ghana: Coming Home
I found warmth in Ghana, by contrast, filled with my mom’s presence.
Each year, Governors State University partners with Global Health Brigades to build sanitation systems in a small community outside Accra, in West Africa. This year, I was delighted to join the team of 20 Americans. In that tiny rural community, I felt my mother's spirit, and the presence of ancestors whose names I’ll never know. While in Ghana, the group visited the famous Door of No Return, (shown left) the last thing the enslaved saw before they were shipped into a life of bondage as part of the transatlantic slave trade. For me, my mother's spirit was wamest as our group followed the same path enslaved people once walked to the Donkor Nsuo River, the site of the last bath before their transatlantic crossing. The experience, both humbling and transformative, left me longing to know more about where I come from and the lives of those who came before me. 
Of the three nations, Ghana is where I felt closest to my mother. I understood, finally, what the legendary Maurice White meant when he sang of the children of Africa, the land of sun, where children dance to a distant drum.
My mother dreamed of Africa and her sacred, rhythmic drum. I don't know if the continent I found is the one she imagined. But I know she’d be tickled that I keep going back, connecting with her spirit each time.
Zion Banks is Director of Communications and Public Information Officert Governors State University. She lost her mother, Barbara Johnson, to breast cancer in 2002. Read more about Zion's pilgrimage to Ghana at gsunews.govst.edu/reflection-mission-ghana-finding-myself