Often when I think of Africa, I think of aid songs and images of people fleeing from hunger, illness, war, suppression and persecution.
But Africa is so much more than that. I have discovered there are beaches, trees, high-rise buildings and surfaced roads in Africa. And like anywhere else in the world, people in the streets are on their way to school, work, swimming lessons or family visits.
Through my images I attempt to connect with this continent, which is where we all originate from – our common cradle. When the dust makes me cough and the sun makes me squint I expect to recognize the place I’m in; a bend in the river, a mountain ridge, or the shop on the corner, because it feels kind of familiar, but yet in a distant and unfamiliar way as if what I recognise are not my memories.
And everything is different; the trees in Africa are different, the smells, the music, the people and the animals are different. But actually Africa is not what is different, it’s me – I’m a visitor in the continent that was home to my ancestors, but is not my home.
Africa is overwhelming, magnificent and intrusive; a continent full of memory.