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Hanny Lightfoot-Klien - A Womans Odyssey Into Africa: Tracks Across a Life

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Hanny Lightfoot-Klien A Womans Odyssey Into Africa: Tracks Across a Life

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Here is the intriguing story of one womans mid-life flight from her stultified, middle-class, psychologically crippling, and unfulfilled existence into a world of high adventure, danger, hardship, and endurance, which ultimately leads her to autonomy and recognition. In her new book, A Womans Odyssey Into Africa, Hanny Lightfoot-Klein chronicles three year-long solo backpacking treks through remote areas of sub-Saharan Africa. In the process, she discovers the mainsprings of strength within herself as she follows her own drummer, finding the courage to face the darkest and most secret convolutions of her own mind. She weaves the story of her journey through the men, women, and children she meets, and the dangers and adventures she faces as a lone woman traveler--part and parcel of the path she has chosen to take.She infuses readers at any stage of life, especially women, with the courage to do what their individual drummer dictates, as she did, to find fulfillment in life. Lightfoot-Klein assures readers in her book: Even a life of quiet desperation is not beyond redemption. Change starts with a reassessment of the distortions in self image one has been programmed to accept. It starts with an inner rebellion, a realization that something has been amiss and a desire to set it right, if only to leave a better heritage for ones children. And then, most important of all, it begins with a single, wild, breathless moment, where one picks up an unaccustomed load and steps off into the unknown . . . Her message is truly for everyone.

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A Womans Odyssey
into Africa
Tracks Across a Life
HAWORTH Womens Studies
Ellen Cole, PhD and Esther Rothblum, PhD
Senior Co-Editors
New, Recent, and Forthcoming Titles:
When Husbands Come Out of the Closet by Jean Schaar Gochros
Prisoners of Ritual: An Odyssey into Female Circumcision in Africa by Hanny Lightfoot-Klein
Foundations for a Feminist Restructuring of the Academic Disciplines edited by Michele Paludi and Gertrude A. Steuernagel
Hippocrates Handmaidens: Women Married to Physicians by Esther Nitzberg
Waiting: A Diary of Loss and Hope in Pregnancy by Ellen Judith Reich
Gods CoUntry: A Case Against Theocracy by Sandy Rapp
Women and Aging: Celebrating Ourselves by Ruth Raymond Thone
A Womans Odyssey into Africa: Tracks Across a Life by Hanny Lightfoot-Klein
Womens Conflicts About Eating and Sexuality: The Relationship Between Food and Sex by Rosalyn M. Meadow and Lillie Weiss
Anorexia Nervosa and Recovery: A Hunger for Meaning by Karen Way
Reproductive Hazards in the Workplace: Mending Jobs, Managing Pregnancies by Regina Kenen
Women Murdered by the Men They Loved by Constance A. Bean
A Womans Odyssey
into Africa
Tracks Across a Life
Hanny Lightfoot-Klein
First published in 1992 by The Haworth Press Inc 10 Alice Street - photo 1
First published in 1992 by
The Haworth Press, Inc., 10 Alice Street, Binghamton, NY 13904-1580
This edition published 2016 by Routledge
52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
1992 by Hanny Lightfoot-Klein. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, microfilm and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lightfoot-Klein, Hanny.
A womans odyssey into Africa : tracks across a life / Hanny Lightfoot-Klein.
p. cm.
ISBN 1-56024-155-1 (alk. paper)
1. SudanSocial life and customs. 2. Lightfoot-Klein, HannyJourneysSudan. 3. Sexologists United States Biography. I. Title.
DT154.9.L54 1991b 91-18809
916.2.24044dc20 CIP
ISBN 13:978-1-56023-007-6 (pbk)
To my Implacable Demons,
To Laurance the Loveable,
To John, my Benevolent Ogre,
And to Lightfoot, my Indian Grandfather,
Who taught me how to Live.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hanny Lightfoot-Klein, MA, is an independent researcher under the auspices of the American Foundation for Gender and Genital Medicine and Science. Ms. Lightfoot-Klein studied female genital circumcision during three year-long treks through Sudan, Kenya, and Egypt; she lived with families of all social levels and geographic areas and interviewed over 400 people in all walks of life in regard to psychological, sociological, historical, sexological, medical, religious, and legal aspects of female circumcision. An avid writer, Ms. Lightfoot-Klein has published many articles in the Journal of Obstetric Gynecology and Neo-Natal Nursing, Medical Aspects of Human Sexuality, Journal of Psychology and Human Sexuality, Journal of Sex Research and several British and German publications as well. She is a member of the Association of Women in Psychology, Society for Sex Therapy and Research, National Womens Studies Association, and the Society for the Scientific Study of Sex. Her first book, Prisoners of Ritual, was also recently published by The Haworth Press, Inc.
CONTENTS
Daniel, my dearest Sonshine,
Sweet heaven! Surely this must be the end of the earth! Have I fallen off yet, or am I about to fall off? If only it were not so inhumanly hot! If only I were not so abominably homesick! It has been almost a full year since I have seen my kiddies and nearly as many moons since a letter has gotten through to me! This engulfing loneliness does not hit me often, but when it does, suddenly and completely out of the blue, it is like a sledgehammer, straight to the gut. Where does it come from? I was so happy yesterday!
But I am getting ahead of myself. Yesterday? Oh yes, I was coming back to Kadugli from Kelek, a village in the mountains. There is a lake of sorts at Kelek. Its waters are impossibly clouded, slimy and filled with animal ordure. Great herds of cattle and goats wade into it every morning and evening to drink, while water for human consumption is ladled out no more than a hundred yards away along its banks, as if it were any less polluted there! I have cursed the weight of my full water bottle all too often, but what a treasure it becomes in places such as this!
And what a village! Absolutely untouched! It is altogether innocent of the ubiquitous plague of plastic bags. There is not a single soda can. I was cariying a stack of book matches, donated by a kindly stewardess in Khartoum, and they caused quite a stir. I tried to explain that they could be very useful during the rainy season, but the irresistible magic of this marvel proved to be too much. Whenever I gave a pack away, having first demonstrated its powers, its recipient merely sat and lit one match after the other until they were all gone. Perhaps it is best that way. Quite obviously they have ways of making fires even during the rains and have no need for my matches, except as a wonderful entertainment!
They call me Chiwadja, white woman, and when they ask my name, I say that it is El Shadida, the strong woman. I dont feel too strong at the moment, I must confess. I feel weepy and abysmally lonely. This too shall pass. It shall, it shall. It always does, eventually, with the next step, the next day, the next adventure. All that I need to do is to hoist my pack upon my shoulders, put my left foot in front of my right one, then the right in front of the left one and just keep going. It is a formula that never fails me.
The ride to Kelek was not too bad, but Ive learned to make allowances for the discrepancy between theory and reality here. In theory, the lorry leaves Kadugli at 3 p.m. and gets to Kelek at 5 p.m., and there should have been ample time for me to pitch my tent before dark. So far, so good.
In actuality, the driver did not leave until 6 p.m. and after the usual breakdowns and visits with the relatives in the villages along the way, we finally wheezed into Kelek at midnight. But it was all quite wonderful, for all along the way there were gifts of dates and peanuts for me at every stop, invitations to tea and lemon juice at every village, and many exotic sights to see.
And so, there I was at 12 p.m. trying to pitch a tent. The ground was hard as stone, and for the life of me I could not sort out that monster of a tent in the feeble moonlight. Oh well, no matter. The sleeping bag would have to do. But it does get cold here! The mercury creeps well beyond 110 degrees during the day, but at night it must be in the vicinity of 40 degrees.
A word about roads. (There will be a brief pause while I giggle hysterically.) There is no such animal, of course. There is, however, a path of dried lorry ruts, a legacy from the rainy season, and these are great sport when the springless vehicle descends into and climbs out of the many dry gullies that have to be crossed.
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