Laying out the first words on a brand new blog feels like a lot of pressure. I’ve often said that I have no idea where to begin when it comes to telling about my childhood in Africa. I suppose an introduction and the very beginning of my life is as good a place as any.
My name is Carrie. I was born in Nazareth, Ethiopia in 1977. It was a time of extreme political unrest. A new Marxist government had just taken power, expelling American military missions, and torturing and executing any person who was viewed as potential opposition.
To make a long and traumatic story rather short, my parents, along with all U.S. citizens, were evacuated on very short order when I was six months old. After a brief 6-month period of regrouping, we travelled to Kenya where my childhood, as I remember it, began.
I invite you to join me as I embark on this safari through my past. We’ll wade together through the experiences that have shaped me and that laid the foundation for me to grow into the woman I have become.
It’s all a bit vulnerable. I ask that you kindly tread lightly as I spread before you the roots of my heart.