I’ve always heard, believed and personally experienced the idea that traveling is educational. My recent trip was no less enlightening.
Indulge me for a few minutes.
When I first traveled to the continent of Africa in 2011 – to Johannesburg, South Africa, to be exact – I realized that less really is more; that the bush is not the sum of Africa as portrayed on TV; that the people are just as fascinating as the Big Five; and that the fruit there is sweeter than what I consume in America.
When I traveled to Kenya, I learned that Hakuna Matata is more than a “Lion King” song but a preferred way of life, and that cash American dollars can get you out of a sticky situation at a police checkpoint.
And when I ventured to Liberia twice, I lived and breathed the truest sense of hospitality. I actually felt at home there and even found the person I would call son. (I love you, Hakim.)
This past summer, I was approached about going on a six-day cruise with my best friend and her family. It had been five years since I traveled out of the country and for many good reasons: Covid, post-covid, the current federal administration and political and racial tensions.
If I’m honest, I was overwhelmed with angst. But I agreed to take the trip, though so many questions flooded my mind about my personal safety and my mental and physical health. It didn’t help that the cruise would be during hurricane season and there were storms brewing in the Atlantic Ocean as we were about to depart. Urrgh!
I fasted. I prayed. I put my trust in God and then put the pedal to the medal and burned rubber down to Port Canaveral to set sail on the Carnival Vista.
Shortly after boarding, it was announced that our itinerary would change due to the stormy weather. Cool with me because safety first.
Once that anxiety trigger was allayed, all my troubles left as soon as the deejay pumped up the volume for the bon voyage party on the lido deck.
From that moment on, the sense of camaraderie among everyone on board was palpable. Strangers became friends. Lounging areas became neighborhoods. Politeness and kindness were served with the same quickness as Guy’s burgers and rum punch.
People said excuse me if they accidentally bumped into you. They struck up conversations on elevators.
My best friend’s son, who is 25, met other young people from Charlotte – different races and genders – and they became his crew during the entire trip. They ate together, partied together and did who knows what else – together. They have continued their friendship beyond the cruise.
I witnessed an older Black man trying to get his electric wheelchair into his stateroom. There was a young White man walking in front of me who stopped and asked if he could assist.
A young Black kid fist bumped me once as I was walking to the elevator – just because.
Meanwhile, a man I knew from Hamlet, NC, was traveling with his wife for an anniversary cruise on another ship and they were re-routed as well. We kept up with each other on Facebook Messenger. I haven’t spoken to them in person in years yet there we were, checking up on each other because of a similar situation. I mention that they are White only to make my point.
And the point is that the humanity and brotherly love I experienced was exactly the reassurance I needed to believe that the virulent behavior we see in the media is the minority, not the majority of Americans.
I could surmise that it’s because we were all on vacation – vacating from all that consumes us on a regular basis and choosing to live in the moment of relaxation, of serenity, of fun. Vacating from the tensions of the real world that segregate us. Vacating from ideologies that no longer serve us well and choosing instead to treat people based on who they are not what they are. Vacating from the poison of political pressures. Vacating from disinformation. Vacating from hate.
For six days, we were just Americans on the same boat – getting along just fine. We weren’t red or blue, for or against, inferior or superior. No one asked and no one cared.
I wish we could take a lesson from my best friend’s son and extend that same brotherhood beyond the cruise - instead of abandoning ship.
That's my prayer.
