I've been reading this autobiography of Prince Modupe a little bit recently. He was this West African, born into a tribe, and then ended up crossing an ocean and landing in America. He writes about his experience and the the polarities between vastly disparate modes of thought and perception he encountered. The part that really got me was when he was describing how his father (still leading the tribal life) felt about maps and what they represented:
"Maps are liars, he told me briefly. The things that hurt one do not show on a map. The truth of a place is in the joy and the hurt that come from it."