The African Fellows at Illinois Champaign-Urbana

Sleep deprived, exhausted and a little disoriented, we arrived at Presby Hall. After collecting our luggage we were greeted by two very friendly women, none of whom ended up being our coordinators.

They were full of smiles and apologies as they could not find the keys to the front gate. I remember one in particular feeling almost embarrassed and repeating that 'her group' wasn't here yet and that someone else was responsible for us.

Eventually, they managed to let us in through the car park. As we went upstairs to the second floor, I noticed something bizarre, there was no ground floor... I would later realise that this is an American feature that with the exception of some old buildings existed everywhere. The ground floor in American buildings is referred to as the first floor.

We waited in one of the flats until more instructions were given out as to where we would be living for the next six weeks and with whom...and that's when it began

'Ethiopian'?  Asked a fellow whom at the time I did not know the name of.

No, I'm from Sudan.

Silence. It seemed that suddenly, the sleepy fellows were no longer very sleepy, and my race became a topic of interest to nearly everyone in the room

'Sudan! How? Sudanese are very black people'

'Ummm... I'm from the North...'

'So there are other Sudanese who look like you?'

'Yes, many, we are mixed with Arabs'

'Right!' they exclaimed, as if that was the missing piece of the puzzle.

My race was questioned so often during the trip that I began to question why people knew so much about South Sudan and so little about Sudan. And then it came to me; everything we knew about everyone who is not from 'our race' is fed to us from a Eurocentric media

(Read here: http://hindsblog.blogspot.com/2015/08/sandra-bland-dangers-of-normalizing.html)

After our flats were allocated and a great nights sleep. I woke up and went to our very first 'lecture' where the program leader spoke to us in a way that would haunt the rest of our stay in America.

"Make sure you shower, you have no idea, every year someone comes to me complaining about so-and-so smells... and also, the plumbing in the united states is much better than the plumbing in 'Africa'" he paused to chuckle sarcastically,

"so when you use the bathroom, you should put your tissues in the TOILET, NOT the BIN" he made sure to emphasize his words, because of course coming from Africa meant we had language comprehension difficulties as well as being primitive.

I couldn't believe that the professor assigned to be the head of the program and known as a professor of African American studies could receive this title yet know so little about Africa.

I began to question the American system - was this really the person I came all the way from Sudan to learn from? Is he even qualified? What can he possibly teach us?

Will he attempt to teach us how to read and write next?

By this point, it was fair to say that all the excitement and motivation I had about the experience was deflated. I felt disappointed and began to reconsider the entire experience.

"I came here to learn about the American experience of democracy, to see if aspects of it will benefit Sudan... I wanted to access their strategies, methodologies, comprehend the results from an inside perspective and generally make a fair assessment of the country with the worlds largest economy. I didn't come here because I want to replicate America ... I came here precisely to find out what its weaknesses and strengths were... Why are these people so sure that I want to be like them? And how on earth is it acceptable in this culture for an academic to parade such stupidity?"

I remember thinking for a long time that evening, as I lay in my very high bed...I learned a hard lesson that night. America, like Africa, is very different from the image it's own media portrays globally. I would later learn that as a very young nation, their economic development proceeds their social development by a very long time.

Determined not to let him represent 'Americans', I checked the program agenda for the coming days, completed around half of that evenings reading material and went to sleep.

The Mandela Washington Fellowship for Young African Leaders Initiative - Meeting the Sudanese Fellows

The Mandela Washington Fellowship program is a young african leaders initiative (YALI) that was set up by president Obama, in the hopes of spreading American democracy to the nations of Africa. The initiative itself allows us, the young leaders (selected on a criteria I can only assume to be how influential and active we are in our communities) to witness democracy, democratically which I think is a wonderful testamont to the concept itself. 

(It's also cheaper than war).

I was selected for the fellowship, along with approximately 13 other Sudanese fellows, with these numbers echoed, exceeded and reduced for other countries across Africa - (except of course those countries that attribute themselves to the MENA region such as Egypt and Morocco).

On the 17th of June 2016, I finally met the other Sudanese whom I would be sharing this experience with. Our journey was full of laughter and excitement until we saw each person off as we separated in Paris... I didn't know anyone by 'face' during the first flight, until a friend of mine recognised me and showed me to the group and we were all excited to finally meet one another. The excitement among us was electric and contagious, for some, myself included who had never visited the United States this was also an opportunity to finally greet the land that produced some of our favourite films, music and even food. 

Our flights totalled to an average of 3 each. The connection in Abu Dhabi took 7 hours, but we were too excited to notice. Then, when we got to Paris, there was just three of us left waiting for our next flight which was scheduled to depart 9 hours later. 

                                                   Some of the Sudanese Fellows at various stages of travel!

Although we had only been together for around 24 hours, I grew somewhat attached to these individuals, after all we were about to experience what we thought would be one of the most exciting experiences of our lives. I felt sad that I won't be spending the rest of the trip with my new friends, but it was also a great opportunity to finally meet with other Sudanese to discuss some of our issues in a safe space. I started to see ways to really improve our community together using our very different skills and I hoped that after our experience we would be able to connect for our common cause 

As my flight was delayed due to rain... (somewhat an ironic reason for Paris) I began to contemplate my thoughts about the project. 

Will it be possible for me to make a real change? Can we contextualise something to Sudan? My greatest concern at this point was that this entire experience might not demonstrate feasible solutions for our issues in Sudan. My very basic surveys found that the instability in the middle east is playing to the benefit of the National congress party and if nothing else, the public believes that tyrants provide security.

My legs began to ache from the long wait at the queue in Paris. I remembered my fathers advice to make sure that I move around a lot, and as moving would result in losing my slot at the queue, I started to shake my feet gently. 

'Tired legs?' Came a polite voice from behind me. 

I turned in an attempt to trace the voice which sounded both close and far. And that was when I met Paul, a professional I would later call a friend, and potential employer. 

During my flight to Chicago I was apprehensive, Air France economy is not very spacious and for the first time in my life I was surrounded by Americans. 

Interestingly, up until this point in my life, I had never met an American who was not in someway important, they were either a diplomat, an expat or a well versed rich kid on an exchange program at my school. My perception of them was blank, but I had been warned that they are sometimes very 'direct'.

Next to me to the right was a young lady and her father who were partaking in a very loud conversation about Paris, and to my left, a very old American woman who kept complaining about how cold the aircraft was (which for the record was freezing) to the great irritation of the French air hostess'. 

The lady wrapped her blanket so tightly around herself that I couldn't tell what other items of clothing she had on. She then ordered some champaign, drank half of it and left the cup on the cup holder on the seat in front. 

The lady in front then attempted to position her seat back to which she shrieked a shriek so high I could only expect such a sound from a wounded animal. It sent shivers down my spine - and worth noting, my spine only. No one else on the row even raised an eyebrow.

The lady in front immediately withdrew her chair and turned to apologise to which she received a scolding. Although I was in shock by this entire process, no one else seemed to be. In Europe displaying emotions is so rare, a situation like this would have been resolved with passive aggression and some humiliation, all of which are almost silent. 

But it didn't end there, after an hour or so, the lady in front turned again to ask'

'is it ok now?'

To which the woman next to me replied 

'No it's not, I'd rather not have you in my face!'

Unfazed by the rhetoric, the lady in front simply carried on the conversation she was having with the gentleman next to her, meanwhile the old lady next to me delved her hand into her hand bag and tapped me on the shoulder, I turned to see a sweet face and an open palm that displayed 2 small chocolates 

'Would you like some chocolate dear?'

I didn't know whether to laugh or be afraid, but I took the chocolate and realised I had subconsciously stereotyped what I thought Americans would be like based on their origins. At this point it became clear to me that Americans resembled Europeans in appearance only. 

We arrived at approximately 7:30pm Chicago local time on Friday the 17th of June (the never ending Friday) I passed through immigration which interestingly had carpeted floors, a feature that is iconically British. After being approved, I fetched my luggage, exchanged contacts with Paul and anticipated the university representatives who would be holding a sign.

After waiting around 10 minutes I decided to explore the airport a little. I noticed that although the American McDonalds didn’t differ much from the ones in Britain (when observed from a distance) it had one iconic feature that I didn't realise at the time would be echoed all over America - the American flag. Almost four of them hung proudly at the fast food chain almost to certify its legitimacy. 

After around 15 minutes Chekwube, one of our guides arrived along with a man called 'Carlos'. They escorted us to a bus which drove us to campus. 

Although I was exhausted, my love for travel kept me awake, I couldn't stop staring at the roads, the vehicles, the greenery and it was bizarre just how familiar the American accent was to me... I realised at that moment the power of Americanisation through the media - And so my journey through America began.