The Myth of Africa

I open the window shade and see bright red land staring up at me: my first view of Africa. A thrill runs through me as I spot cities and dried rivers. The land stretches off in each direction for as far as I can see. I can see dunes that way and hills nearby. Though nearby could be kilometers away. We seem to fly over the Sahara for hours and I imagine what the people down there might be like. Probably like me, but not as cramped.I think about class, and talking about the myth of Africa. From up here all I can think of are the myths. Deserts for days, red sand, camels and mystery, or perhaps savanna and grasses, big game and wonder, or even jungle and trees, monkeys and monsters. Is there a "real Africa"? In an hour I will find out. The sun is setting and the sky is red streaked with yellow and blue. Black clouds form treetop silhouettes. Night falls and all I see is another plane blinking on the horizon. Then one star. The ground beneath me is black, we aren't near the cities yet. Who is down there? Probably someone like me, but warmer. This plane is freezing and I can't wait to get to the heat. The city comes into view quickly and turbulence hits as we begin our descent. Please don't fail me plane. I need to get to Africa! The landing is surprisingly smooth and I feel warm air seep into the cabin as they open the doors. I step off the plane onto the tarmac and am immediately covered in humid, sticky sweat. Ah, home!