Africa – Chalk Flowers, Crater Toilets & Divine Detours
A true story of inspiration, interference, and realignment
When I was in cult school, they taught me all about the Word of God. People would walk up to you at any given time and say, “God told me to tell you this.”
They meant it. They genuinely believed they had received a message from the Divine—something meant just for you.
(I have A LOT to say about this. I’ll revisit it in a future post.)
Anyways.
One day, a pastor came up to me and said, “Jolene, God showed me a vision of you. You were drawing with chalk on a sidewalk in Africa.”
WTF? I had no plans to go to Africa. I couldn’t even make it out of Pittsburgh.
Fast forward thirteen years.
Guess what?
🔁 The Unexpected Invitation
I had just come back from Hawaii and was attending a conference in Washington State called The Science & Art of Transformation. This was 2009, back when the word “energy” still made people nervous.
The conference focused on a paradigm-busting approach to healing—blending subtle energy, quantum physics, and our own creative power to shift reality.
Casual stuff. You know, light work.
(Yes, this also deserves a separate post. So many detours, we’re barely five paragraphs in.)
At the conference, I met a neurosurgeon. Months later, he invited me to Africa as a photojournalist to document him teaching life-saving procedures at a rural hospital.
After talking it over with my boyfriend, I said yes.
And just like that, I was going to Africa.
💍 A Ring Before Departure
Not gonna lie, I had a moment of panic before leaving. I had never been to Africa. My only frame of reference was late-night charity ads on TV.
I don’t like to know too much before big moments—I like to be surprised. But even I was feeling the weight of this trip.
So I turned to my boyfriend and said, “You’re not gonna let me leave without a ring, are you?”
He said, “Let’s go get one.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in a jewelry store. He was picking out massive diamonds; I was begging for the tiniest one they had.
At the register, I panicked again.
“You know this is just a friendship ring, right?”
The sales clerk raised an eyebrow. He didn’t flinch.
“Sure, Jolene. That’s exactly what it is.”
And that’s how I wound up… kind of engaged? I’m still not sure what to call that.
🧠 The Neurosurgeons, the Orphanage, and the Flower
We landed in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, then took a minivan to a small village three hours away.
The hospital was unlike anything I’d ever seen. But it was the children’s ward that wrecked me. That’s where I spent most of my time.
That’s where I met Nema. She was eight.
One day I started drawing chalk flowers on the ground. She knelt beside me and copied every line.
Later, I found out why she was there. And it shattered me.
The children shared beds. Most had no shoes. I remember walking in the rain in mine, watching them run barefoot and laughing.
I thought of how many times I stood in front of a packed closet, overwhelmed by choice. These kids had nothing—and yet they radiated joy.
When I got home, I emptied my closet. I’ve never let it spiral out of control again. That experience rewired my definition of “enough.”
And while I couldn’t save Nema—she died a year later from a disease we have medicine for in the U.S.—I could still help.
I raised money to fund tuition for a nursing student in Tanzania. She only needed $800 to finish her degree. That’s it.
And now, because of that, she’s helping others—maybe even kids like Nema.
I couldn’t save one life, but I could support someone who might save hundreds.
🛬 The Plane, the Gun, and the Crater
Later on, we chartered a small flight—maybe to Zanzibar, though I honestly can’t remember.
Our Finnish pilot let me sit up front and “co-pilot,” which meant I touched buttons and felt extremely cool. (I’ve always wanted to get my pilot’s license.)
Mid-flight, he announced we needed to stop to pick up a few passengers.
We tried to land on a dirt airstrip in the middle of nowhere—but first, we had to circle. There were elephants on the runway.
Now, a thing about me: if there’s no bathroom, I will definitely need to pee. I had chugged what felt like two gallons of water pre-flight.
When we finally touched down, I asked the pilot if there was a bathroom.
He looked at me strangely. We were standing on dirt in front of what looked like a lean-to made from sticks and a tarp. Two guards with machine guns stood at the “arrivals area.”
The pilot said something to one of them in Swahili. The guard nodded and motioned for me to follow him—with his gun.
So I did. What choice did I have?
We walked into the bush. I was sure this was it—that I was going to die in Africa because I had to pee.
Eventually, we reached a crater in the Earth with two arched openings. Inside one was a hollowed-out space with a toilet.
It was, without question, the most terrifying pee of my life.
When I got back, I asked the pilot why the guard came with me.
“To protect you from the lions,” he said, completely deadpan.
Of course. The lions. Naturally.
🌍 Real Impact
I don’t keep in touch with anyone from that chapter of my life.
But the experience lives in me.
Africa changed me.
The lions. The laughter.
The chalk flower drawn by a little girl who’s no longer here.
The Finnish pilot.
The friends I never saw again.
The ring.
The crater.
The bathroom with no doors but a guard with a gun.
It all mattered.
The world moves us, leaves pieces of itself inside us.
Sometimes we’re changed in a moment.
Sometimes in a heartbeat.
Sometimes in a bathroom, trying not to die.
But we are changed.
And if we’re lucky, we let those changes ripple outward.
Last Words
We don’t always know where the detours are leading.
But sometimes, the story finds us before we even know we’re in it.
This one found me in Africa—with lions, laughter, loss, and a chalk-drawn flower I’ll never forget.
If this story moved something in you, there’s more where that came from.
🎧 Listen to last week’s episode of Magic in the Mess: Cosmic Interference — my private podcast for paid subscribers where I share the more personal stories about this chapter of life.
And if it struck a chord?
📤 Share it. With a friend. With someone who’s been rerouted. With someone who needs a reminder that the path is the point.
You are becoming a World Traveler. Can’t wait for your next post on your adventures.It looks and sounds like you are having an amazing time.