“What’s there beyond the sea and the horizon?” I would ask Amma as we sat on the beach behind our home, watching cattle graze nearby and waves crash against the shore.
“There is land on the other side,” she would say. “Nations like ours.”
“Countries like…?”
“Look straight ahead. First comes Arabia. Beyond that, Europe. And farther still, the Americas.”
“Are they nations?”
“No,” Amma would laugh. “Europe and the Americas are continents made up of many nations. Arabia, technically, is part of Asia.”
“How do the people there look?”
“They all look different,” she would say. “Different features, different complexions, different languages, different clothes. Yet they are all people, just like us.”
Those conversations on the shores of my childhood planted a seed of curiosity that never stopped growing. Long before I saw an airport, boarded a ship, or crossed a border, I had already begun travelling in my imagination.
The sea became my first geography lesson and the horizon my first invitation to explore. What lay beyond it was not merely land, but stories, cultures, histories, and people waiting to be discovered.
Over the decades, journalism gave me the opportunity to turn that childhood wonder into a lifelong pursuit. From bustling cities to remote villages, from the deserts of Arabia to the streets of Europe, from Asia to the Americas, every journey has reaffirmed a simple truth: while people may differ in appearance, language, faith, and customs, our hopes, fears, and aspirations are remarkably alike.
Travel, for me, is not about ticking destinations off a list. It is about understanding people, embracing diversity, and discovering the threads of humanity that bind us together.
The little boy on the beach is still asking questions. The journey he began with his mother by the sea continues to this day.
“No,” Amma would laugh. “Europe and the Americas are continents made up of many nations. Arabia, technically, is part of Asia.”
“How do the people there look?”
“They all look different,” she would say. “Different features, different complexions, different languages, different clothes. Yet they are all people, just like us.”
Those conversations on the shores of my childhood planted a seed of curiosity that never stopped growing. Long before I saw an airport, boarded a ship, or crossed a border, I had already begun travelling in my imagination.
The sea became my first geography lesson and the horizon my first invitation to explore. What lay beyond it was not merely land, but stories, cultures, histories, and people waiting to be discovered.
Over the decades, journalism gave me the opportunity to turn that childhood wonder into a lifelong pursuit. From bustling cities to remote villages, from the deserts of Arabia to the streets of Europe, from Asia to the Americas, every journey has reaffirmed a simple truth: while people may differ in appearance, language, faith, and customs, our hopes, fears, and aspirations are remarkably alike.
Travel, for me, is not about ticking destinations off a list. It is about understanding people, embracing diversity, and discovering the threads of humanity that bind us together.
The little boy on the beach is still asking questions. The journey he began with his mother by the sea continues to this day.
