SYNOPSIS :
Some people visit Africa once in their lifetime to marvel at expansive savannas or subtropical woodlands. Their exotic destination was my home. I grew up completely spoiled by the accessibility of wild places. Africa was my playground. I™d taken a drink from the source of the Zambezi River and stood in its spray at the Victoria Falls. I™d seen waves kiss the beaches of Lake Malawi, caught my first tiger fish in Lake Tanganyika, visited black townships in South Africa and knew about ˜apartheid.™ I™d eaten elephant, hippo, and various village foods I didn™t recognize. But in America, I was an alien with no desire to fit in. I have a Zambian birth certificate and an American passport. How does one qualify as being from a place? Surprising and hilarious in turns, Made in Africa is the story of my quest for identity, belonging and home. Who said an AfricanAmerican has to be black?