re you comfortable with the term, 'African-American'?" Mutenyo asked me as I helped her peel potatoes for supper. She always asked me tough questions like that. Last month she wanted to know why I was twenty-seven and still single. Anyway, back to the question at hand.

"I'm okay with it," I said confidently. "but I don't mind being called, Black."

"I'm asking because you don't seem to be interested in Africa that much. All you know is what I tell you and even then, you are not curious enough," she spoke seriously.

Mutenyo and I have been friends since our junior year in college. I had never been close to an African person before her so I did not know what to expect. I discovered we had a lot in common both of us being strong-willed individuals who wanted to excel beyond the boundaries traditionally set for women. She studied political and social sciences with the intention of getting into politics and fighting for women's rights in her country. I was into law and intended to eventually become a judge.

She was right about me not being interested in Africa. I never thought much about it nor did I consider myself an African child. I guess I felt ashamed because all I knew about it was from nature films, the hunger ads with starving children and those awful Tarzan movies. I thought it was a jungle with naked natives running about. Common sense told me that was not the way it was but that is what I still felt about it.

"So what do you want me to do, Mutenyo?" I asked as she cleaned up the peelings. I loved her name and had promised I would name my daughter, whenever I had one, after her.

"How about you and me taking a trip to Kenya? I finally have my visa and can visit home!" She spoke with pure joy emanating from within her. Mutenyo loved her country, her people, her culture. She made up her hair in beautiful, intricate braids and wore traditional, colorful dresses. Whenever she did not braid her hair, she wore scarves on her head. In spite of the love for her country, she still embraced the American culture and its people. She was very open-minded individual who was eager to learn and adapt to new ways.

"I'm very happy for you, but I don't know if I can go." I said, resisting.

"You got some vacation time coming and I know you have some money saved up, Tasha. It's not much more expensive than going to the Bahamas. And we have a great beach at Mombasa if you like that. We can also go on a safari, and you can finally see the motherland and bond with your sisters. Come on, Tasha. Say yes." She pleaded.

"Okay, okay but if I don't have fun, girl, you're in big trouble." I said, giving in.

"Great! It is going to be fun, adventurous and educational. You won't regret it, I swear."

Well, she talked me into it. For the next two weeks, I got my passport renewed, obtained a travel visa and got my shots. I also obtained some brochures on Kenya from a travel agency and found out that it was a wonderful tourist attraction. They had game parks, spectacular mountains and lakes and true enough, a tropical beach. There also were big cities with exquisite hotels that provided luxury accommodations. By the time we were set to leave, my curiosity had peaked to its highest level.

We tried to pack as little as possible, which was a difficult task. Mutenyo had more bags because she was taking some presents to members of her family. I only packed the necessities plus a still and video camera. I did not want to miss anything.

We flew through Europe and had a six-hour layover in Germany. We only wandered about a bit since we were both unfamiliar with Frankfurt or any other European city for that matter, and did not want to get lost. Soon we were on our way south to the motherland.

As soon as we landed in Nairobi and got off the plane, I felt like I belonged. There were black people everywhere. Masses of black people that made me immediately feel at home. For the first time I realized what was meant by, the motherland. This is where we were born before being scattered around the earth. Mutenyo's sister, Betty, picked us up at the airport. At least she used her English name. It had taken me weeks to learn how to correctly pronounce Mutenyo.

"We can go to my sister's house and get some rest first. We can stay there if you want to that way you can save on hotel costs."

"Sure, if they have room and don't mind me." I said. "That would be great."

Betty lived in Nairobi so it only took a few minutes to get to her place. She had a nice house in which she lived with her husband and two children. Mutenyo and I shared one bedroom that had two beds in it. We washed up and took a nap before we woke up to the scent of food cooking.

"This will be a treat." Mutenyo said. "I hope you are famished because they cook a lot of food out here. You and I, we can eat anything but we can't drink the water. Our immune system is weak so even if they can drink the water with no problem, we can catch something. But if we boil it then cool it, we can drink it. It is a complicated system."

"I always thought it was a joke when people said, don't drink the water." I said surprised.

"It's no joke. So we only drink bottled water or pop." She said.

There indeed was a lot of food. Corn meal, rice, cassava, mashed plantains, chicken, beef and greens. Mutenyo told me that everything was fresh. Nothing frozen, no preservatives, no artificial colorings. It tasted great that's for sure. One week of such eating and I could gain a hundred pounds.

After the meal we decided to go out on the night a bit. Nairobi is an international city by all means with people from all parts of the world represented. It felt like New York City. The nightlife was alive with clubs that presented the latest music and dance crazes. There were fine restaurants, theaters and casinos. I was amazed. I never thought of Africa being that way.

The next day I was ready to go see some wildlife. We went to Tsavo National Park close to the Tanzanian border. On the way, we stopped to take pictures of people of the Masaai tribe who dress in traditional attire and execute a dance in which they leap two to three feet in the air. Absolutely fabulous. We had to pay them a small fee before we could photograph them. Apparently they don't dance for free.

In the park, I came eye to eye with animals I had only seen on television. They were huge in real life. The elephants were particularly gigantic. We rode around in specially camouflaged vehicles that the animals were used to and we did not seem to disturb them at all. We saw lions, zebras, giraffes, water buffaloes, leopards, cheetahs, rhinos and a large variety of deer including the amazing gazelles, which leap even higher than the Masaai. I was like a kid trying out new toys. I wanted to see every beast that roamed the savanna. I was giggling and pointing excitedly to everything. Mutenyo, who had already seen most of the wildlife, was calm beside me.

We witnessed a cheetah hunt down and kill a gazelle. Both animals are extremely fast but the cheetah, the fastest animal on land, closed in on the gazelle as though it were walking. The incident was both fascinating and sad. Of course this went on daily. It was the balance of nature that some animals have to hunt down and eat others. Just like humans eat cows and pigs, I suppose.

We returned to Nairobi in the evening. I was exhausted. The next day we headed northwest to Mutenyo's home. We stopped at Lake Naivasha where we watched flamingos for a while. There seemed to be hundreds of thousands of the pink birds. What a spectacular sight.

After that we entered the third world where you could see mud, grass-thatched huts and women carrying pots of water on their heads. People walked around barefoot dressed in tattered clothes. Of course I had seen parts of Alabama where poor Americans lived with no running water and used pit latrines so this was not a shock to me.

What shocked me was the act of polygamy. Some men were married to three to four wives at the same time. I could not believe women could accept to share a man. There really must be a shortage of men, because, personally, I don't see myself sharing my man. That was culture shock.

"How do you feel about it, Mutenyo?" I asked

"I don't condone it. People are realizing that it is unfair to women even though a lot of women feel it is okay to marry a married man. It also is too expensive for a man to maintain four wives and twenty-six children."

"I just think it's degrading to women whether they accept it or not. I mean some women are abused but still stand by their men. It's still wrong you know?" I said

"Of course. I will get a divorce before I stay in a polygamous marriage. That is an archaic tradition that any modern woman should avoid at any cost," Mutenyo said seriously.

We spent the next few days driving around the different parts of the country. It is a beautiful country. Even the skies are bluer if you can believe that. The weather was just perfect, in the upper seventies. We even went to the beach at Mombasa. I could not believe how wonderful Africa was. I plan to visit it at least once every year. It might be expensive but it is worth it. I will try to visit other parts of the continent. There is a calm feeling of belonging you experience when on the motherland. I now deserve to be called an African-American.