“ We are part of a global culture whether we are aware of it or not . When that awareness is sparked , that is the beginning of true change within us .”
— CHERIE KEPHART ’ 93
I learned the Bantu language , Bemba , and lived in a remote village building wells and latrines near a river rife with crocodiles on the border of then politically unstable Zaire . I ate fried caterpillars and discovered the importance of toilet paper and clean drinking water . I lived with a Zambian family , a couple and their child , Cadbury , named after the chocolate . The father ’ s name was Fewdays , named by his father upon seeing him born frail and ill . He believed the baby wouldn ’ t survive more than a few days , not uncommon there . But he lived . They kept the name to remind them how precious life is .
The smell of charcoal from cooking in the ground behind the huts , the sight of black mamba snakes slinking through the tall bush and the echo of the village church bell announcing each time a villager died opened my eyes even further .
While my mind and heart opened , illness found me . A Putzi fly infection resulted in maggots in my butt , and a rare form of malaria almost killed me , resulting in my medical evacuation back to the U . S .
Because of my lingering symptoms , I was not allowed to return to Africa , but I longed to keep exploring . Once my health was relatively stable , I traveled to New Zealand . While in Auckland , I checked out the university . Serendipity must have been smiling as I met the head of the Anthropology Department , who happened to be from San Diego and who had attended UCSD . I applied to the Master ’ s Program , not knowing how I would make it all happen .
Six months later , I climbed up several more rungs and arrived in the majestic country called Aotearoa , meaning “ Land of the Long White Cloud .” I completed my master ’ s degree in medical and cultural anthropology and finally returned to San Diego , but with a different compass directing my life . I had an innate understanding and daily sense of adventure , a souvenir I would carry forever . To realize that we are the outsider and to witness what makes someone else live is transformative — even back at home .
But my newest adventure came barreling at me , knocking me off my ladder . At age 32 , I collapsed in my shower , crawled to the phone and called for help . That was the beginning of my arduous journey with a chronic , mysterious illness .
I spent the next seven years searching for answers . I had two goals : find a diagnosis , and try not to die . Plagued with more than 27 symptoms , such as a rapid heart rate – sometimes up to 200 beats per minute , even while resting — I lost my job as a scientific and technical writer and my ability to travel , and my independence was ripped away .
Finally , bedridden , being spoon-fed to stay alive , and hallucinating , I was dying . The worst part : I didn ’ t even know why .
That ’ s when the magic happened .
From world travel to the precipice of death , I had only one more place I could journey : inside myself . I emerged with a new sense of exploration . Travel , globally and , of course , just across the street , is the gift of tasting many different lives in this one short one . Life , death , it ’ s all an exploration . Digging deep , I found a new ladder , one of healing . I smashed the walls of my life , and I began anew . We are part of a global culture whether we are aware of it or not . When that awareness is sparked , that is the beginning of true change within us . But we don ’ t have to physically travel to transform . Proust ’ s words come flowing back to me : “ The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new lands but in seeing with new eyes .”
I get it now .
TRITONMAG . COM 47