In 2007 my family and I took a trip to Kenya, Africa. With this being my first trip out of the country I wasn’t quite sure on what to expect. As far as I knew, the people in Africa lived just like we did in America. After arriving to the airport in Africa I looked around and immediately felt uncomfortable. No one looked like me or talked like me, in fact many people were staring at me as if I was some strange creature they’d never seen before. I stayed close to my parents’ side and didn’t say a word. Throughout the week we went on early morning safaris, visited old villages, and ate the local ostrich meatballs. The night before our last day my mother walked into the room holding a large bag. She unloaded the contents on our bed: six bags of multicolored beads and a large spool of leather string. She went on to explain that we were going to take the rest of the night to make bracelets for the young children that we would be going to visit in the village the next day. I was on vacation, and here she wants me to do all this work when all I wanted to do was relax. As much as we didn’t want to my brothers and I spent the rest of the night stringing beads and tying knots.
The next day we drove down the