I was born in 1958 in Buffalo, New York, near the Canadian border. In the 1960s the image I was given of Africa was a tropical land of persons living in pre-historic conditions. As an African American and the first and only Black person at my school (besides my sister), I was bombarded with these images and made to feel ashamed of my African heritage. One epithet that my classmates liked to call me was “spearchucker.” A couple of guys abbreviated the word to “Chuck,” and often called me that. 
 
 From 1966–68, there was a weekly television series called “Tarzan,” starring Ron Ely. This series only confirmed the primitive images of Africa. Other than the “jungle scenes,” the one episode that sticks with me is from January 1968. Diana Ross and the Supremes played three nuns traveling as missionary nurses from Chicago, trying in vain to convince the village residents to be immunized. As I followed the series, I began to question the accuracy of these images of Africa. At 11 years old, I wanted to know more about this continent. I wanted to find books about it. Unfortunately there was little available, especially where I lived. But as the years progressed, I learned the truth: tropical Africa was not one demographically homogeneous land mass. I began to distinguish between East and West Africa and understand that the latter was the primary source of unwilling immigrants to the U.S., including my ancestors. 
 
 At age 16 I moved near Washington, D.C. and for the first time I met people who had been born in Africa. My neighborhood, though predominantly Black, was diverse, populated by people of African descent from the U.S., the Caribbean and from Africa. I got to know my African neighbors and classmates, and my interest grew. 
 
 Attending a historically Black university, I met many more people from Africa. I learned about the different ethnic groups and the cultural practices and was amazed at how similar some of these practices were to those of Black Americans. I resolved to travel to West Africa whenever finances and time would allow. Meanwhile I regularly read from West Africa magazine and other periodicals that covered the political situation in the various countries on the Continent. I wrote articles in local papers and participated in demonstrations to support the movement to free South Africa. I decided to return to school to pursue a PhD in political science, entering the University of Minnesota in 1990. 
 
 Though my main topic of study was U.S. politics, I also focused on Africa and the Caribbean. I still had not traveled to Africa and had to put those plans on hold while I completed my studies. 
 
 And then finally, in 1998, I made my first trip to Africa. 
 
 I landed in Accra on Friday, 15 May, at 5:30 a.m. 
 
 I descended the steps of the airplane, got on my knees and kissed the ground, something I had been planning on doing for years. The airport employees were amused by my gesture, but I could tell they were also moved. One of them smiled and said to me, “Africa!” Yes, “Africa.” I had finally made it. 
 
 I was euphoric. 
 
 Then I went to Nkrumah Circle to cash my traveler’s checks. 
 
 My “homecoming” euphoria quickly came to a halt as the teller refused to cash my checks. My signature did not look right, she told me, and not even a supervisor’s permission could sway her. She angrily sent me away, telling me to negotiate with another bank. 
 
 Fortunately all was made right later by the warmth and helpfulness I experienced while resolving the problem at a different bank. And so after all those years of wondering about Africa, I suppose the first lesson I learned is that though we are an ocean apart and the people may have different physical features, the human personality is the same, regardless of continent. Some people are harsh; more people are friendly. Just like in the U.S. 
 
 That was the first of my trips to Ghana. I am still discovering the country, the continent and the people that caught my imagination 50 years ago. On this, my ninth trip, I am researching the activities of the African American expatriate community here in Ghana. I hope that the findings will result in a book. Stay tuned. . . !