Most travelers in Africa seemed primarily interested in safari thrills. As a young Australian man reflected to me in a Lusaka cafe, "So many Black people in Africa...?" It highlighted a common perspective among many white Europeans, Afrikaners, and white inhabitants of Africa, often thinking & economically empowered to believe they owned Africa. At the end of my trip, I was overwhelmed with disbelief. I had never confronted racism in my entire life, but I know what rejection, disrespect, colorism, and entitled behavior & narcism was as I was raised in a family & society that exhibited such behaviour.
Even among locals in the country, I often felt like an outsider, as I was an outsider to them. Hair care became a source of fascination for many. The simple acts of washing and braiding my hair across different countries often drew numerous questions. I tried to maintain a playful attitude, changed my attire daily, had people wash my clothes in each country, and made sure I stayed in a room when I could, otherwise reading through the +10 countries, peaceful in my solitude.
Overland Africa became a container for my sorrow, egoic minded false state, gradually aligning my spirit. I also mourned the lasting impact of historical oppression. As an Ethiopian-American, I felt like a stranger in my own land, acutely aware of systemic issues. I often sought moments of solitude to detach, read, and reflect alone, a practice familiar to my family, friends, and partners on our shared travels, as I felt content within, not outside.
Leading a startup bank had taught me about systemic barriers, ethical considerations, and outdated practices. Traveling solo across Africa mirrored many of these challenges. Our dignified Kenyan and Zambian staff were often unfairly barred or overlooked. My respectful treatment of them was sometimes seen as bizarre by others.
Confronting racism directly ignited a fire within me, but the silence of complicity often felt even louder. Witnessing such inequities in the very cradle of civilization deeply troubled me. Friends in the Pacific Northwest had warned me about some of these realities. It was during this time that the blueprint for Deldeyoch began to solidify in my mind. I realized that one person, through dedicated action and even sacrifice, could indeed make a significant difference, a commitment that few partners might fully accept, as it is a suicidal mission to use oneself, to experiment
In Livingstone, Zambia, a sunset cruise on the Zambezi River brought a profound moment of reflection. I thought deeply about my father and my ancestors. What is life without truly feeling alive? I visited the majestic Victoria Falls, utterly awestruck by its power and beauty. Invited to a colonial-era hotel, I respectfully declined, unable to comfortably occupy spaces that felt steeped in erasure. Instead, I walked through Victoria Falls Town alone, claiming my own experience.
Victoria Falls, or Mosi-oa-Tunya, a place imbued with contested histories.
Crossing into Zimbabwe, I felt tested in new and profound ways. White water rafting on the Zambezi River with a predominantly white group revealed subtle undercurrents of resistance. The Zimbabwean guide, with a quiet understanding, positioned me beside him in the raft, his protection palpable.
While my MBA and banking experience provided a solid foundation, it was ancestral wisdom and the vibrant spirit of African entrepreneurship that truly fueled my drive. We entered the churning waters. The Zambezi is classified as Grade 5 for rafting—just one level below being commercially un-runnable. Its infamous rapids—“The Devil’s Toilet Bowl,” “Oblivion,” “Stairway to Heaven”—raged and roared around us. At Rapid 25, I met the raw power of the water head-on, as if in battle. And I didn’t flinch. I rose with the waves.
We stopped for lunch mid-river, completely soaked and breathless. I sat quietly, honoring my father's memory, mourning the systems that had tried to erase our history and dignity, and marveling at the sheer, untamed power of nature surrounding us. No mountaintop meditation could have offered such a visceral and profound experience.
And then came the climb. Out of the deep gorge. A brutal ascent that stretched for what felt like hours. My body screamed in protest with every upward step. Yet, my spirit roared with a fierce determination. By the time I finally reached the top, I collapsed into a profound silence.
The next day, my body refused to move. I lay by a tranquil pool, my muscles wrecked and aching, my gaze fixed on the vast expanse of the sky above, feeling both utterly humbled and deeply proud of the journey I had undertaken thus far—from walking the biblical lands to traversing the heart of Africa. No one had adequately warned me that the rush of adrenaline could leave its own unique kind of bruise, a deep ache that resonated through my being. I realized that spiritual warfare could indeed be waged through the very sinews of muscle and the sweat of physical exertion. Ultimately, my questions to God in those moments were fundamental: how can I serve authentically on my own? Why am I here in this life? What is my true purpose? And what awaits us beyond the veil of death?
That moment on the Zambezi, battling the rapids, felt like a true coronation. A powerful reminder that my presence here was not accidental. That the land itself remembered me, even if the people I encountered sometimes did not. This entire journey—through deep valleys of grief and over exhilarating peaks of adrenaline—was far more than just an adventure. It was a sacred pilgrimage. It was a profound return to a part of myself I had almost forgotten. It was for my Ancestors who whispered that I could. It was for every African daughter who has ever been told, implicitly or explicitly, that she does not belong in her own story.
As my trip continued southward towards Cape Town, I felt compelled to write a letter to the Overland tour company. I felt a deep responsibility to speak my truth. I shared the instances of racism I had witnessed firsthand, the profound pain I carried within me, and the inherent indignity faced by the very people who worked tirelessly to make our journey possible. I also emphasized the urgent need for more inclusive and conscious choices regarding hotels, tour guides, and the places we chose to visit along the way.
In my overland trip through Africa, taking my perhaps naive, innocent, awakened, intelligent, empowered, and yet still ignorant self, I felt overwhelmed by the insidious ways in which the global world has strategically enslaved my sense of worth, disrespected an ancient country like Ethiopia that is the cradle of mankind, and mama Africa the cradle of civilization. through mental manipulation, preventing its people from fully accessing their inherent worth. Even coining TIA, as this is Africa to mean primitive, that the locals would tell me when I fight on their behalf. I observed that many fellow Africans working in the tourism industry in the countries I traveled through as a solo Black woman traveler often exhibited submissive behavior in the presence of white individuals, yet could be surprisingly disrespectful when I was alone.
My journey across Africa, symbolically baptized by the powerful Zambezi River and deeply etched in the ancient landscapes of my ancestors, was far more than just a personal pilgrimage. It served as the powerful catalyst for the creation of Deldeyoch, an initiative deeply inspired by millennia of Pan-African exchange and the remarkable ingenuity of contemporary African entrepreneurs. Operating with a spirit of freedom and inherent agility,
Fifteen years and over twenty impactful projects later, as well as having traveled to more than thirty countries solo and shared meals and conversations with diverse groups from every continent, it has become clear to me that one woman's solitary quest, fueled by the potent combination of grief, a deep sense of justice, and the profound wisdom of her ancestors, can indeed create meaningful impact in her own evolution and beyond. I have failed in some parts, tested, challenged, having my assets stolen by family, taken on a curve, & started from nothing a few times. I have been labelled, attacked, & bullied by those I consider family, best friends, partners & community as humans we are falliable. The Matrarchy society have austracised me, as they could not see many power in them, just like I could not see their dark souls. But they all ended up doing everything I was advocating, claiming it's their idea, and trying to make it seem like they did not give me hell for it ðŸ¤. I know I AM more powerful than I think or imagine, as if you leave your life in passion, authentic, in integrity, consistent & with a vision, your wealth is your peace, health, your aura, glow and life happening for you.
Writing this blog now, in a new phase of my life characterized by peace, contentment, wisdom & observing Africa's powerful awakening to its own inherent worth, as well as Ethiopia's mindset changes, as we rewriting our stories, doing intertrade, and going within to empower ourself, it brings a genuine smile to my spirit. Has many of my ideas been taken without appreciation, yes, does it pain you, yes, but service means I am simple a gifted vessel, a connected, bridges that is sharp, aware, mindful, conscious & knows how to bridge the gap, Deldeyoch. Life's trainings sometimes comes from learned experiences. I am grateful for that woman in my 30s, that chose a different path, journey & courageous enough to want my freedom, awakening & evolution.
Stay tuned.
More reflections to come from my Overland African travels…
By Dutchess @Deldeyoch
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