Sometimes my mind wanders, and when it does, I find myself in imaginary worlds that sound, look and feel exactly the way I want them to. These worlds are the ones I create when staring out the window of a car as rain slowly lands on the glass or perhaps the dreams I weave through seamlessly when taking a hot shower in the early mornings before football practice. Imaginary worlds draw me to a place of mental freedom. The beauty of reading books is that someone else can do the creating for me. What instigates these mental field trips have varied throughout my life, but for my young adolescent self in the confines of my cheetah-print bedroom years ago, it was a book that took me to an magical world I never wanted to leave.
I was in early middle school, my hair close to a buzz-cut, showing off my big blue eyes and crooked smile that would eventually be corrected through an agonizing experience with braces. My main concerns were why my friends didn’t play with me at recess and if I could play video games all night and still pass my English quiz the next day. In the quiet times during school and to avoid being made fun of by kids bigger and less sensitive than me, I’d go to the library and pick out a book. Despite the difficulties this seemingly simple age possessed, I found an escape through a book by my favorite author at the time, Gary Paulsen, called “The Transall Saga.”
“The Transall Saga” is a fictional story of a young boy named Mark who is adventuring in the mountains when he is bitten by a snake, falling into a blue light that transports him to a whole different world. The world turns out to be a post-apocalyptic Earth that has been ravaged by a strange form of Ebola. Mark struggles for survival until he is captured by an indigenous tribe that resembles early humans. Mark immerses himself into this culture, falling in love with the tribal leader’s daughter and becoming a member of the tribe through his leadership in warfare and other adventures.
I’ve always been adventurous, and looking back, it’s clear to me now that “Transall Saga” engrained in me a desire to travel and experience different cultures. I still looked out rainy windows longingly, wondering if each droplet was a moment passing where I could be somewhere else. I still dreamt during hot showers before early morning football practice, but the heat on my neck moved to my heart also. I began to actively imagine myself in some distant land, dancing and singing with groups of people radically different than those around me. I wanted my world to be bigger, brighter and unique. I just didn’t want to have to fall into a magical blue light for it to happen.
Little did I know, I’d find myself face to face with it.
***
Only a year after my mindset had changed because of this book, my parents approached me with a decision they had made that would change my life forever, and fulfill my passion for experiencing something like Mark, with a little less Ebola. My parents had decided to move to southern India for three months to partner with a Christian ministry organization there. My mom had gone on trips to Honduras and Haiti before, but now this involved me. I remember staring at them in fear and shock, immediately attempting to grasp what exactly this type of change meant. The fear only grew, but I trusted my parents, who reassured me that this experience in cross-cultural missions would give me lots of stories to tell and possibly change me a person. The longest I had ever been away from home was to go spend the night at a friend’s house, and even then, I’d call my dad and secretly tell him to come get me, because I missed sleeping in my own bed. There were no if, and or buts about it, I was going to fall into my own blue light, whether I liked it or not.
When my feet hit the sand, I remembered “The Transall Saga.” I recalled reading how scared Mark was and marveled out how similar the situation felt to my own. Despite the fear, the joy and love that came with other cultures outweighed any doubt and worry in my mind. Just like Mark found life in the people he was with, I found a connection to people in other areas of the world. I had such a limited perception of the universe, and life outside my cheetah-print bedroom turned out to be just as hard and life-giving as I had dreamt it would be.
***
“Transall Saga” wasn’t just a fun read. It wasn’t just a book that I curled up to by the fireplace and read while drinking hot chocolate. It was a book that punched me in the stomach with its characters’ successes and failures. It was a door into a world that I would soon become apart of multiple times throughout my teenage years, and a book I reflect on to this day for placing a desire in my heart to step out of my comfort zone and travel the world. Mark’s immersion into the tribal culture of that post-Ebola Earth was earth-shattering to me, because nowhere in my tiny world could I have foreseen myself experiencing something equally life-altering.
Books are more than just words on a page; they’re an experience. In the midst of the daydreaming, I still find time to remember “The Transall Saga”, and it’s story that made my daydreams feel a lot less dreamy.