An escapade to Africa

Discovering self in the soul of a continent.

Bryana Mayberry, far right, with her cousins in Sierra Leone in summer 2024.

Editor’s note: When my niece traveled to Africa for the first time last summer, I was thrilled. I knew firsthand how transformative such a journey could be. Thankfully, she agreed to share a glimpse of her two-week adventure to Sierra Leone in today’s guest column.

Along our journey, I want Parker to learn from a range of voices and see a world far bigger than her own.

So, it’s with genuine pride that I introduce Bryana Mayberry — a high school senior from Oklahoma City with big dreams and a passport waiting for life’s possibilities. She graduates in May. Tonight, she’s off to prom.

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Africa, the motherland. The start of the human species. The backbone of our natural resources. When I traveled to Sierra Leone in West Africa, I learned a valuable lesson about life and money.

This is the story of my journey, and how I learned wealth isn't determined by material possessions, but by resourcefulness, community and the ability to find joy in life’s simplest aspects.

My name is Bryana, and I’m a high school senior. I visited Sierra Leone with my cousins last summer for two weeks, and it significantly changed my life.

During my trip, I witnessed a birth, climbed a mountain and got to be a princess for a day. After missing the opportunity to go on my dream trip to France with my French class, my aunt and uncle invited me to join their vacation to Sierra Leone, and I excitedly agreed.

This was less than three months before the big departure day. My preparations included vaccinations, applying for a visa and picking all window seats before they sold out. When the day came, I was prepared to travel, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the life changing moments I was about to experience.

I traveled with my aunt, her mother, my uncle, their two children, my aunt’s brother, his wife, and their two children. All of the children were ages 11-17, and they all had visited their family in Sierra Leone multiple times.

We stayed at the NarSarah Clinic, a compound owned by my aunt’s family. It’s home to a clinic, a triage, a children’s village that cares for 20 young girls, a women’s center, guest houses and more.

Bryana checking out the clothes line used to air dry laundry on the compound.

During my time in Kabala, Sierra Leone, I lived a completely different lifestyle than the one I am used to. The friends I met in Sierra Leone lived with far fewer financial resources than I’m accustomed to in the United States, but their lives were rich in ways I hadn't considered before.

I saw younger children playing with toys made of water bottles and a jump rope made from plastic squares. I saw older kids outside who formed hip-hop dance groups that competed against other neighborhood groups. They all were content without scrolling on their phones for hours.

I saw how hard others worked to support themselves and their families. At the airport, young men assisted travelers with their luggage, while others provided simple services, like handing out paper towels in the bathrooms. They all worked for non-guaranteed tips.

Men loading the van at the airport before the drive to the compound.

Performers gathered crowds and even pulled me and my cousins into a circle to dance. Each act reflected an incredible level of determination that I don’t see often in the States. They were minimalists by necessity, but their ability to make the most of what they had was inspiring.

Everyone was extremely resourceful, and the community felt like a huge family.

But we drove six hours from the airport to the compound, and sitting in a cramped car wasn’t how I was expecting to spend my first hours in beautiful Sierra Leone. About three hours in, I started to doze off when the car hit something.

Everyone rushed out after pulling over, and we saw an animal that we don’t have in the States. They call this raccoon-like animal “bushmeat”, or really it should be called Bush Beef because it did not survive that impact.

After the adults identified the carcass, a few men packed it in a plastic bag. When I later asked why the driver packed the dead animal, my Uncle Ali told me “His family will use this for dinner!” He explained that it would be pointless to leave a possible meal there to rot. Traumatized, I immediately recognized my privilege. I’ve never had to hunt my own food.

But here, everything was recycled. And anything was reusable.

The community of Kabala was unmatched. Everyone was family, and you don’t pass anybody without saying hi. The morning rush at the clinic was the most pleasant public-speaking practice I’ve experienced. I probably said good morning more times than I’ve said in my life. You refer to elders as “auntie” or “uncle” and others our age as “brother” and “sister”. This was perfect for my notorious “bad-at-names” disorder.

Tokeh Beach. Can you say “luxury?”

At the end of the trip, we visited a resort on beautiful Tokeh Beach. This expensive resort also exposed me to a different lifestyle. It was a luxury that I’ve never experienced. It was interesting to see the range of financial resources in Sierra Leone, and anyone who vacationed on the resort but never in the land would never reach the same conclusions that I did.

My takeaways from this trip were to just enjoy life. I come across many people saying, “If I have more, I’ll be happier.” Whether it’s more things, more money or more opportunities.

While there’s nothing wrong with wanting more, your happiness should never depend on it, and you shouldn’t let the process of reaching your goals get in the way of your peace.

Real wealth comes from one’s ability to find joy. The kids in Kabala had genuine smiles and joy.

I now love traveling because I love seeing how others my age spend their time and how their life is different from mine.

Everyone should travel because it highlights the opportunity that you have that others may not, and it encourages you to take advantage of those opportunities.