Yamo: My Ray of African Sunshine
I’ve been in Africa for a few days now and I’m not going to lie, it’s been kind of tough. Okay, super tough. Like sometimes I just want to ugly cry and bang my head on a wall.
I have asked myself a lot of questions this week, like: Why did you come to malaria-infested, sweating hot, West Africa when you could have stayed in Seattle and be sipping on a soy latté right now? Why did you spend so much money to NOT have electricity? Are you trying to torture yourself? Why didn’t you go to Europe where they have cheese and plumbing? Why do you even like to travel, dearest self? I didn’t come up with a lot of satisfactory answers, but I have made a new friend. What gets me through the day, every day, is this guy. This is Yamo. He is 11. And he is my little ray of African sunshine.
He teaches me French and Susu and I have taught him a bit of English.