The United States of an African

Originally posted September 2018.

Labor day is the unofficial last hoorah of Summer and the commencement of fall. Is it me or did fall arrive way earlier than prior years? Once August started approaching, it’s like the whole of America decided that summer was over. Even Starbucks jumped the gun and released their pumpkin spice lattes early. Granted I’m definitely over summer and already daydreaming of the Christmas season. I have online shopping carts filled with boots and jackets to replace the clothes I’ve donated.

Over labor day weekend, my friend and I went on a spontaneous trip to Port Austin. Neither of us had plans, and I had previously briefly mentioned checking out Turnip Rock and so we thought, why not. It’s about a two and half hour drive North of where we live, on the tip of the thumb of Michigan, on the coast of Lake Huron, one of the great lakes. 

Unfortunately at the time we got to Port Austin, the winds were too high for a kayak trip to Turnip Rock, so we ended up on the Broken Rocks trail towards the less majestic Flat Rock. 

Driving up, we slowly left the suburbs of metro Detroit and ventured into rural Michigan. Fields of corn saturated the drive and it made me realize that fall really is upon us. A sense of anxiety and excitement took over as my grip on the steering wheel tightened. I’m glad my friend was asleep half of the time. I could silently reflect on my summer and project my autumn. It’s a season of change, transition and harvest. 

Back home in Nigeria, the villages are a quiet and peaceful break away from the city. At least my village Kono is. For Detroiters, going up north is like visiting the village. I definitely needed this break away from home, away from the noise in my head. Being out in the water definitely cleared my thoughts. My mind wasn’t occupied by my usual dealings of being a single and unemployed woman in her late twenties. Instead I was focused on the grey skies, the warm breeze, the monarch butterfly flying beside me as I kayaked towards flat rock, the lonely seagull drifting in the distance, the team of geese landing in the water, the two jet skiers creating choppy waters for me to navigate through, the smell of barbecue smoke from the shores, the distant sound of children. Every now and then I was disturbed by my friend lagging behind. But she’s good company. It was her first time kayaking. 

Water itself is so peaceful and cleansing. While we were on flat rock, I decided to take a dip in the lake and it was blissful, calming and rejuvenating. Even as the waves kept pulling me in – I had difficulties getting back on the rock – I was happy.

A lot of transition is going to take place this fall, and I pray for God’s strength as I put my trust in Him.