Bewitched

by Courtney Brown

Like Dr. Livingston,
I bumped into humanness in Africa,
or it bumped into me.
Rough and raw,
it seized me.
My heart and mind,
even now are in its grip.

I touched so many,
in the crush of life,
embraced so many hearts.
How can I say it, but
that I was dead before Africa
invaded my soul, and
awoke in me the seed of my humanity.

The young black girls winked at me
on the streets.
"Watamu," I called them, "The sweet ones."
The little boy beggars
reaching into my pockets for the "gifts"
that they knew must be theirs, their "zawadi."
The old men, the wise elders,
treating me with undeserved respect.
"The teacher," they called me, "Mwalimu."
The mothers, they cooked for me,
sharing their food,
their homes.
And when I taught their children at school,
so many seemed to need me.
Indeed, to treasure me.

Africa!
What parasite did the mosquitoes
inject into my blood
that brings the ring of African tom toms
to my ears as I wake,
and to my dreams as I sleep?

Hey! I've been bewitched!