Categories
Black Lives Matter Inspiration Uncategorized

World Footprints Stands with Black Lives Matter

Is it possible to heal amid soul-crushing events?

From the violations of the Constitutional rights of peaceful Black Lives Matter protesters, to the unlawful killings of black citizens–George Floyd, Armaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor (and many more before them), to the global pandemic that is taking lives and undermining the economic security of millions of people, and now Americans facing further threats to freedoms and civil liberties not seen in generations, recent events are begging the question: how are we supposed to heal?

As travel journalists, we wonder how we can do what actor Jamie Foxx asked: to do our part and use our platform to inspire hope and bring about a necessary change during these tumultuous times.

We’ve been grappling to come up with a viable answer.

As lawyers, we are social justice advocates, so our platform is already predisposed to social consciousness as we bridge into travel journalism here on World Footprints.

We are also products of multicultural families, so we naturally come by the mindset of a global community. That mindset is foundational to our belief that travel is an antidote to divisiveness (let’s remove the euphemism—it’s racism).

We’ve both known the pain of racism. We’ve felt the burn of anger from unjust and egregious treatment like we’re witnessing today. This is not anything new, but it still makes us sick and incredibly sad.

We know that the majority of people are decent.

Despite our sentiments, however, we know not to charge a group of people with the sins of a few.

We know this because of our travel experiences. If you’ve been familiar with our World Footprints platform for any amount of time, you know that we shine a light on the transformative power of travel.

We share this through many avenues, from TEDx stages to our award-winning World Footprints podcast, to articles and videos depicting how travel fosters transformation both personally and professionally. But the most powerful transformation that travel offers is the ability to change misconceptions about other people and places. Travel helps us connect to our common humanity.

As African-American travelers, we are privileged to travel to destinations we once only dreamed about. We are honored to immerse ourselves into other cultures, to witness foreign traditions, to walk in the footsteps of history. But, as people of color, we travel with intention.

We don’t care about being served drinks under a palm tree on a pretty beach. We care about the people who are hosting us and how we can learn and grow from them and vice versa.

We care about inspiring our listeners and readers to travel with open minds and positive intentions. We care about experiencing and demonstrating how we are connected through our humanity.

Beautiful flower

We cannot initiate the change we want to see with silence.

World Footprints is a socially conscious travel platform that was founded on the philosophy of Ubuntu: I AM because WE ARE. This is a reflection of our common humanity and it’s a value that we have recognized and shared from our inception.

So when we travel, we seek to understand our history by uncovering the story behind the surface—the backstory. Because we are black people, we also experience different narratives like the lasting effects of colonization, socio-economic disparities, and systemic racism in some of the world’s most beautiful and pristine places. We have shared those stories and continue to do so.

While other travelers are driven by pretty beaches, good food, luxury hotels, and the ‘gram, we have been focusing on the backstory. We have memorialized the dark history of destinations, including within the United States, and as a result, those podcasts have won coveted awards.

Since our inception, we have raised awareness about important social issues from the preservation of wildlife and national treasures to human trafficking to sustainable travel.

World Footprints has always encouraged the concept of “ground-truthing” to help others find their own truth about other cultures and destinations amidst the clutter and preconceptions created by social media, family, friends, and media.

We have sought answers to questions that would help connect us across cultures and foster a global citizen mindset.

During this dark time in history, we must ask how or if travel can calm the storm and redress inequities.

  • Can travel help build communities that have worked independently of each other?
  • How can we stretch issues like sustainable tourism to uplift disenfranchised communities?
  • How should tourism move from superficialities like Dark Tourism and Ghetto Tourism to something more meaningful?

The answers are closer than we think.

The ability to find answers starts with recognizing our humanity and drowning out the silence of complicity. Being silent in the face of egregious actions and human rights abuses will kill us.

As such, we wondered how we could reconcile our message about travel against the backdrop of these current atrocities. How can we help people imagine a better future?

Amid despair about how we can be of service to others, we heard a reporter talking about a man who approached him on the street and declared, “I’m human.”

The reporter was puzzled, and he responded, “huh?” The man said again, “I’m human. I’m not black. I’m not white. I’m HUMAN!”

And the light bulb went off for us. We knew then what we should do.

We must continue talking about the same things we’ve always spoken about—our common humanity.

We’ve seen the collective spirit of our humanity come together when Black Lives Matter protestors of all ethnicities have peacefully marched together across the world!

We’ve seen it when a group of black men surrounded a white police officer who became separated from his troop to protect him.

We’ve seen the power of our humanity when a group of white women formed a human chain in front of black protestors to protect them from law enforcement.

We’ve seen humanity in action when a first-generation Indian-American man opened his home to dozens of protestors who were fleeing from police brutality.

We’ve seen police officers around the country take a knee with protestors to recognize the wrongs of racism and systemic injustice. Some have even offered a hug of comfort—amid this coronavirus pandemic.

These have been beautiful moments. And they remind us about how dangerous it is to use a broad brush to generalize about any group of people.

We cannot remain silent and we won’t. We must be the change we want to see.

We stand in unity with all of our brothers and sisters of every hue who are fighting on the side of hope and justice. We appreciate your courage, strength, and humanity.

We take a knee with you to protest the legacy of racism, inequality, and injustice that continues to plague our world.

We say to the political and situational opportunists: stop behaving senselessly and selfishly to the detriment of the health, welfare, and safety of courageous and honorable people who want to bring unity and healing to us all.

World Footprints has and will continue to be about building bridges to people all over the world, appealing to hope, unity, and our common humanity. While we come in different colors with different points of view, we are of one race—the human race.

Hope endures

 

Categories
Inspiration

Travel Memories that Sustain Us in the Meantime: Submit Your Story

Our lives have changed dramatically thanks to COVID-19. We’ve been confined to our four corners with limited freedoms to go outside for anything. Some of us have even had to seek permissions from authorities to leave our homes.

These restrictions, while necessary, have been hard to endure especially for those of us who travel for a living. But who among us has not though about the first thing we’ll do or go when the restrictions are lifted?

Through the storm of this pandemic we wanted to serve you by creating a space where our hopes and dreams could be nourished in the meantime.

We may not be able to physically travel but we can still revisit our travel memories and find enjoyment and solace in those. That is why we are seeking your travel stories for upcoming podcast episodes. Stories connect us and traveling feeds the soul so we can enjoy a respite from current events and experience a nourishing journey as we travel vicariously through stories. God knows that we need this right now.

So, please help us to serve you and others by sharing your travel story.  In your own voice please share one of the stories below:

  1. What is the most salient travel memory you have right now? What meaning does this memory hold in your life? Was this memory shared with someone else who added something special to the moment? What longing do you have that would breath life into you?

OR

  1. When did the travel bug bite you? Where were you and what did you feel? What there someone else with you? What do you remember most about that time? How does this memory serve you today?

To submit your story:

OR

  • Schedule a Zoom call with us so that we can record your story. Use https://calendly.com/world-footprints/travel-stories.   Zoom invite will be sent after a recording date/time has been scheduled.  We will not be on camera so you won’t have to be concerned with making eye contact with us as you read your story.

Please include your Full name because we will list you in the show notes (unless you specifically ask us not to). If you have a website or social media link please send that as well. First names will be used within the podcast.

Tell us a little about you and include the best way we can contact you.

We will likely do more after these first two but for this first round up we will collect submissions over the next two weeks.

Submissions will close on Sunday, June 14: 8PM EST 

Note: By submitting a voice memo or written submission, you’re giving World Footprints LLC permission to use your image, words and voice on World Footprints platforms. You are also giving permission for us to lightly edit your submission where needed.

Recording Tips:  Talk through your microphone or phone as if you were speaking to a friend. Create a little distance between your mouth and whatever microphone you’re using so that you can avoid popping your “Ps” or hissing your “S”. Listen to your recording and make sure you don’t exceed 3 minutes. Then sit back and enjoy your journey through a wonderful memory.

Thank you in advance for sharing your story and for allowing World Footprints to be of service.

Categories
Inspiration Uncategorized

Porto Torres: A case for slow travel

Sardegna, Italy. An idyllic and rugged island in the middle of the Mediterranean. The mountain ranges at the heart of the island are surrounded by a coastline spotted with small cities and fishing towns, all wrapped in sparkling blue sea. It was finally my time to experience this oasis I had dreamed of for so long. 

I had been traveling for six months. Fueled primarily by airport food, I dashed around the globe on a mission to do everything I possibly could. My world became a blur of sightseeing and catch-ups with friends as I checked off one bucket list activity after another. ​I had no idea all these life-affirming events could empty my reserves and leave me so exhausted, and eventually I was craving a temporary lull to recover before resuming this unrelenting pace of life. 

With little care as to where on the island I would go, I found a perfect apartment located in a place called Porto Torres. I sent off the rental fee and excitedly picked up a copy of Insight Guides Sardinia ​to learn about the place I would call home for the next two and a half months.

“It makes no difference from which side you approach Porto Torres, it is an unattractive little town dominated by vast oil refineries,” read the book. Uh oh. 

Porto Torres Neighbor
Porto Torres Neighbor. Photo: Torrance McCartney

So perhaps I wasn’t going to the most charming town, but it was still Italy—I could continue to learn Italian and see the rest of the paradisiacal island. 

Unfortunately, upon arrival in Porto Torres, lack of charm seemed to be the least of my worries. I was greeted by ragged and litter-ladened streets. They weaved amongst buildings that were quite literally falling apart—not in the quaint and rustic way you hope to see in Europe, but in a way that makes you feel unsafe. The narrow sidewalks were an obstacle course of dog poop and protruding bricks, both tripping hazards in their own way. 

Having traveled earlier in the year to Venice, Florence, and Cinque Terre, I felt confident that my beginner Italian could at least get me a coffee. I quickly learned that the larger cities had morphed themselves into English-friendly hotspots for tourists. Sardegnians, on the other hand, stared at me blankly as the realization slowly dawned on me that my few memorized words were pointless. They were speaking to me in Sardo, the local language of the island, with dialects so varying that some Sardegnians can’t even understand each other. I found myself sitting at a wobbly table looking at a sad cup of steamed soy milk, questioning my life choices. So improving my Italian might be out of the question, but I could still see the rest of the island! 

Street in Porto Torres. Photo:  Torrance McCartney
Street in Porto Torres. Photo: Torrance McCartney

With a belly full of homemade coffee and a train ticket bought online, I set out on a day trip to the other side of the island to see passing scenery in quiet contemplation. I was feeling buoyant with a revived sense of hope. That is until fifteen minutes later when all trains in my desired direction were canceled, and I was refused a refund and sent trudging home $80 lighter. I sat crying in my perfect apartment, feeling stranded and utterly alone in this foreign land. 

Had I not been traveling slow, I would have left Porto Torres after a week, sad and disappointed. Looking back at that sorrowful lump in a puddle of tears, I smile fondly knowing what she couldn’t—that soon she would be dancing in the middle of the night, her soul drenched in wine, her heart bursting with Sardegnian magic. 

At first, my world revolved around one cafe, my apartment, and the ocean. On cold days I rolled off my bed and read in the warmth of the sunbeams on the floor. Every other day I could be found on a routine stroll to the seaside. 

Walking through town, noticing the fascinating contradiction of modern industry and ancient archaeological sites, I started to learn of the rich and tumultuous history. Originally named Turris Libisonis, Porto Torres was settled by Julius Caesar in 46BC. Over the last 2,000 years, it has been built and rebuilt on top of itself, leaving remnants from each era.

On the outskirts, the disheveled main streets give way to the sea-worn rocky cliffs that are the home of Chiesa San Gavino a Mare (a little Roman church tucked into the rock face that drops steeply into the ocean), Spiaggia Balai (a small picturesque Mediterranean beach of white sand and speckled blue ocean) and Parco Robert Baden-Powell (a park that hugs the coastline, horizon on one side, lush Italian greenery on the other). 

Weeks passed and just when I became accustomed to my solitude, as if passing some test of time, things inexplicably began to shift. There was a rhythm to the people and the town and as my heart began to beat in time with them, they accepted me as an honorary local. The familiar faces incorporated me into their daily routines, even if our interactions were limited to a handshake and an exchange of any two words we could find in common. They would listen patiently to my clumsy attempts at Italian, a mark of pride on their faces as my confidence and ability grew. 

Some even became dear friends who took me to explore the surrounding areas—the breathtaking turquoise waters of La Pelosa, Sardinia’s most beautiful beach; the nightlife in the utilitarian, inland town of Sassari; and the island of Asinara, formerly a prison, now inhabited by wild albino donkeys. We drank Aperol spritzes on the medieval city walls in Alghero, walking the cobble streets lit by lanterns strung across tall buildings like fireflies. We meandered the steep, winding streets of Castelsardo, so quiet in the off-season that the only life we passed were street cats upturning their bellies for passing love. 

Speaking of passing love, I was seduced by an Italian Adonis who spoke as much English as I did Italian. It was he who introduced me to “dolce far niente”, the sweetness of doing nothing. As someone who has comfortably resonated with the pace of North America, I hadn’t realized how pragmatism had become so deeply ingrained in me, everything requiring a goal and timeline. With him, hours passed in a haze of conversation, four-course meals, laughter, endless bottles of wine and slow dancing in the kitchen (on the way to get more wine of course). 

In North America, being too busy to connect with each other is considered a mark of high status. In Sardegna, it is the opposite. The luxury of time is a right of the people. Each day that passed, I felt my forehead smooth and shoulders relax. Everything about this place felt so delicious. 

This expanse of time that seemed to last forever also disappeared in the blink of an eye. Far too soon, my stay came to an end. On my last night, I sat by the Chiesa watching the full moon rise over the fishermen on the rocks below. I had come to Sardegna for a temporary lull but instead, I had discovered a decadent life force ebbing through this ancient land, one that seeped in and took up permanent residency in my bones. With no intention of resuming the unrelenting pace, I left the island, filled up on local wine and homemade pizza, revitalized by the sweetness of doing nothing. 

Author Torrance McCartney enjoying the view
Author Torrance McCartney enjoying the view

 

COVER: Chiesa San Gavio from Spiaggia di Balai taken by Torrance McCartney

Categories
Africa Inspiration International Travel Peace and Diplomacy Uncategorized

Peace in Burundi

“Look, there’s a bullet hole here.” My husband points out a circular indentation in the wall of his childhood home at the Kigobe Mission Station in Bujumbura, Burundi. I run my hand over the warm stone wall of the house, then let my eyes wander around the peaceful yard. Sunlight filters through the leaves of a mango tree and flecks the lawn with bright spots. It’s hard to imagine this place as the middle of a war zone. Yet the traumatic decade of tribal warfare still sits heavily in the minds of locals who were affected. 

In the 1990s, Burundi was a frightening place to be. Along with neighboring Rwanda and Congo, the small East African country was embroiled in a bitter racial conflict that had plagued the people for decades. Militants from the majority Hutu tribe, tired of centuries of subjugation from the minority Tutsi tribe, instigated violence against the Tutsis after Tutsi guerrillas were suspected to have assassinated the democratically-elected Hutu president. Thousands of people from both tribes fled their homes, searching for safety. Ten thousand of the internally displaced persons sought shelter at Kigobe. 

Map of Burundi created by the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported.
Map of Burundi created by the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported.

The ethnic conflict ended in Burundi in 2005, but the effects of the violence are still evident. Hundreds of thousands of people died during the war, and many of those who lived are heavily maimed. The scars on their bodies and faces are a constant reminder of what happens when hatred is allowed to overcome a nation. These marks represent the scars borne inwardly by those who lived through those terrible days. Even after so many years, families who lost homes still struggle to maintain stability, and many never returned home at all. The infrastructure of the country as a whole was also stunted. This has taken a toll on the economy of the nation and affects the financial state of its citizens. For twelve years, the country was unable to develop. Today, Burundi is still working to make up for the years it could not progress, even as it fights issues unrelated to the civil conflict, including the instability that plagues the political landscape of East Africa. 

I leave the bullet-riddled stone house and walk the dusty path through the missions compound toward Ephphatha School for the Deaf, where I’m filling in for a teacher on maternity leave for two weeks. A toddler sitting in a front yard calls out, “Amahoro, Umuzungu!” Hello, white person! I return the Kirundi greeting and the child opens his eyes wide in surprise, then shrieks with laughter. I arrive at the school, where I enter the classroom and greet the class in sign language, smiling at the small children seated at wooden desks. There are both Hutu and Tutsi faces in the classroom, and the children share benches, smiles, and signed communication indiscriminately. This is a generation that has never known the hatred that once existed between the two tribes, a generation that will grow up in a Burundi where both tribes enjoy opportunity and goodwill. 

I hear the sound of rhythmic drumming from the other side of the compound and glance outside. Two or three children with minimal hearing loss run to the window to locate the source of the sound. Curiosity draws the rest of the students. Soon everyone in the classroom is soaking up the quintessentially Burundian drum performance, featuring energetic drummers in traditional garb as they pound out the rhythmic heartbeat of the country. This represents Burundi. Burundi is defined by joy, color, and echoes of the ancient. It is not defined by the ghosts of its past mistakes. Burundi is in the smiles of these dancing drummers. It’s also in the rolling sapphire hills of its interior, the clasped hands of friends, the rich flavor of its coffee. 

If you visit Bujumbura (Burundi’s most populous city) today, you will see Hutus and Tutsis living side by side. Burundians don’t pretend that their tribal differences are nonexistent. They don’t ignore the history of hatred. But they do exemplify a lesson learned in the dark days of war. No matter how we look, what we believe, or what our social status is, we all share at least one thing in common: our humanity. When the value of human life is affirmed and each person treated with respect, there is no room for violence. If only this concept could be carried to ends of the earth, perhaps the world could enjoy peace, as well. 

The school day ends, and I return to the stone house, now bathed in afternoon light. School children kick up dust as they run past the house on their way home. Beyond the wall of the compound, the streets echo with the noise of foot traffic, bikes, and taxis. In the distance, the hills rise above the horizon line, concealing rural villages and rolling fields. Bullet holes may remain as reminders of the past, but Burundi accepts today with gusto and looks forward to tomorrow. For this beautiful little country, there is peace and hope. 

Categories
Culture and Heritage Family Travel Historical Travel Inspiration Middle East Religious and Spiritual Travel Travel Tips Travelog: Our Personal Travels Uncategorized

Places in Jerusalem where Easter comes alive

Easter Sunday is the most joyous day in the Christian calendar.  The day marks the resurrection of Jesus Christ who died on the cross at Calvary as a sign of love for all people so that they can also be resurrected from sin.

On a recent trip to Israel we had the pleasure of visiting numerous sites throughout the country that really brought the Bible to life for us.  In Jerusalem, we visited several places that were poignant reminders of the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ.  To say that we felt God’s presence and experienced powerful biblical history is an understatement.   In celebration of this important holiday we are pleased to share just a few reflections from our lens.  Happy Easter and Passover.

Mount Scopus overlooking Jerusalem
We enjoyed a panoramic view of Jerusalem as we stood on Mount Scopus overlooking the Mount of Olives. Photo: Tonya Fitzpatrick
Garden of Gethsemane and Church of All Nations
We reflected on Judas’ betrayal and Jesus’s last night with his disciples at the Garden of Gethsemane. Photo: Tonya Fitzpatrick

As we walked the 1-mile length of the Via Dolorosa (Way of the Cross) through the Old City of Jerusalem, we thought about the phyical challenge that Jesus felt as he carried the cross along the hilly terrain to his death on Calvary.

id=”attachment_11186″ align=”alignleft” caption=”There are 14 Stations of the Cross that depict images of Jesus carrying the cross. This 6th Station identifies a Jerusalem woman who wiped the face of Jesus. The cloth she used reportedly took up the image of Jesus. The Greek translation of this event is called Vera Icon, meaning ‘true image’, thus the woman becomes known as Veronica. Photo: Tonya Fitzpatrick”

 

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, also known as the Church of the Resurrection or Church of Anastasis, is considered to be the holiest church in the world because it is the place where Jesus died on Calvary and tomb where He was resurrected.  The Church, which is located in the Christian side of the Old City, contains the last few Stations of the Cross, the Calvary (Golgotha) Altar, the Stone of Anointing, the Aedicule that holds the Holy Sepulchre and the Tomb.

 

Court yard of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher

id=”attachment_11186″ align=”alignleft” caption=”Calvary (Golgotha) altar. Visitors can feel the hole where the cross was erected. Photo: Tonya Fitzpatrick”
id=”attachment_11186″ align=”alignleft” caption=”A mosaic depiction of Christ’s body being prepared after his death, opposite the Stone of Anointing. Photo: Tonya Fitzpatrick”
id=”attachment_11186″ align=”alignleft” caption=”Visitors kneel down to kiss the Stone of Anointing. This is where Jesus’ body is said to have been anointed before burial. Photo: Tonya Fitzpatrick”
id=”attachment_11186″ align=”alignleft” caption=”The Aedicule. Photo: Tonya Fitzpatrick”

 

For Christians, traveling along the Via Dolorosa and visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre are high points on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.  Experiencing biblical history during our travels through the Old City and New Jerusalem is one of the most transformative travel experiences we have had.  Certainly, our visit was reminder that Easter is much more than chocolate bunnies and colored eggs.