I was born on the West coast of Africa in a small town called Swakopmund in a sandy country called Namibia. I grew up in South Africa. I have spent the last year working in Benin, West Africa. This continent is my home. Though I have yet to see all of it, I love it, and, unless it's my Heavenly Father's will, I will never permanently leave.
My accent suggests that I'm American and my complexion that I'm European. I have difficulty convincing people that I am, in fact, of this fierce land.
On my left leg I have a birthmark in the shape of Africa, and on my left arm another I like to call Madagascar. I can line them up alongside one another to resemble the area that occupies the center of most world-maps.
"Is that a tattoo?" I am frequently asked. "No," I proudly respond.
"But is it more than a birthmark?" I think to myself.
