This is my first opportunity to visit this part of North Africa

Hear the words of Donald Evans, who declared: “This is my first opportunity to visit this part of North Africa, so I am going to be able to go back home and talk about this beautiful country and encourage Americans to travel here.” At first, these words sound like the speech of a dignitary abroad, offering courtesy and goodwill. Yet when examined with the eyes of wisdom, they reveal a timeless truth: that travel is not only for the sake of personal wonder, but for the building of bridges between peoples, for the carrying of stories, and for the spreading of respect across nations.

To set foot in North Africa is to walk upon lands where empires once flourished, where the sands have swallowed cities and yet preserved the voices of the ancients. It is the land of Carthage and Alexandria, of desert caravans and Mediterranean shores. Evans’ recognition of its beauty is not merely a polite remark—it is an acknowledgment that every land holds treasures waiting to be witnessed, honored, and shared. To call another country beautiful is to affirm its dignity, and to invite others to see it with the same reverence.

The mention of home is vital. For the traveler does not simply absorb; he returns as a messenger. He becomes a bridge between lands, carrying impressions, tales, and insights back to his people. Evans speaks of going home not merely to tell of what he saw, but to encourage Americans to travel—to step beyond their borders, to meet the other, to see with their own eyes what cannot be understood through rumor or distance. In this sense, the traveler becomes a prophet of peace, showing that curiosity can defeat suspicion, and beauty can dissolve fear.

History bears witness to this. When Ibn Battuta, the Moroccan traveler, journeyed across Africa, Arabia, India, and even China, he returned not only with tales of exotic lands, but with knowledge that enriched his people. His words connected cultures and expanded the horizons of his homeland. Similarly, Herodotus of Greece, by writing of Egypt and Persia, brought foreign wonders into the Greek imagination, showing that wisdom could be gathered beyond one’s borders. Travel, when shared, becomes more than personal—it becomes transformative for entire societies.

Yet Evans also points to a deeper truth: that one’s perception of a land can alter the destiny of its relationship with others. To see a country not through the lens of suspicion, but through the eyes of admiration, is to plant the seed of friendship between peoples. The encouragement of others to travel there is not mere tourism—it is the fostering of understanding, the weaving of connections that make war less likely and peace more enduring. For when you have walked in another’s market, tasted their food, and marveled at their landscapes, you can no longer see them as strangers.

The origin of this wisdom lies in the eternal role of the traveler as witness. In every age, rulers, merchants, and common people alike have returned from journeys with stories that changed how their people viewed the world. Sometimes this bred envy or conquest; but at other times, it gave rise to respect, trade, and kinship. Evans’ words remind us that in our age, when the world is divided by suspicion and walls, the traveler’s task is more vital than ever: to bear testimony to beauty, and to invite others into the circle of shared humanity.

The lesson for us is clear: do not travel only for pleasure, but travel as a witness and as a bridge-builder. When you see a foreign land, do not keep the vision to yourself—speak of its beauty, its strength, and its uniqueness. Encourage others to step beyond their fear and see for themselves. Practically, this means being open-hearted in travel, learning the stories of other lands, and sharing them truthfully when you return. In this way, your journey will not only enrich you, but will enrich your people.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, remember the wisdom of Donald Evans: to visit a land is to gain the power to speak of it, to honor it, and to connect it with your own. The earth is wide, and its peoples are many; let your steps carry you forth not to conquer, but to admire, and let your voice carry back not suspicion, but praise. In this way, travel becomes not only a private joy, but a force of harmony among nations.