Don't be too hasty, my see-through Hebrew:
"In 1957, Kwame Nkrumah became the first president of a newly independent Ghana. Himself a graduate of the historically black Lincoln University, Nkrumah issued a call to black Americans to come to Ghana, claim their patrimony, and help to build the new nation. The first group of black Americans who heeded Nkrumah’s call solemnly collected themselves at Labadi Beach in Accra, where they participated under a full moon in a ritual of denunciation of American racism and of their American citizenship. Then they flung their passports as far out to sea as they could. Late one moonlit night, about a month later, African residents at Labadi Beach noticed strange shadows at the ocean’s edge. Curious, they went with their torches to investigate. To their enormous surprise, they discovered that the shadows were those same black Americans, now searching furiously in the low tide for their passports! I’m afraid this anecdote—apocryphal as it may be—defines the arc of my own experience: I love arriving in Africa, almost as much as I love returning home to America."
Henry Louis Gates, Jr., “Africa, to Me, Wonders of the African World” in The Henry Louis Gates Jr. Reader (2012).