These stark white tiles feel dead and impersonal compared to the dusty, rocky red earth of Etora. Sitting here on the floor waiting until we can check in feels surreal. I am almost sure that the blue van is going to drive by and pick us up to take us to the orphanage and drop us off to work and play with the kids. But we are already miles away from them. We’ve flown over Lake Victoria and seen giraffes out the window. We have transitioned out of the rural communities and into bustling Nairobi, the scenery is changing but my mind refuses to accept it. Soon we’ll be in the desert of Doha sprinting through the airport to try and catch our next flight with only an hour long connection. And then one last 14 hour flight and we’ll be landing in Philadelphia and it will be Fall. Writing it out doesn’t even make it feel real. My body is processing this transition for me since my mind refuses to accept it. I feel dizzy and have no appetite. The lump in my throat is growing and I feel short of breath. How are we supposed to go back and leave these kids? Reverse culture shock is something we have both done before and it’s hard, really hard. On top of that we are leaving a family and a full life here. It’s taking an incredible amount of willpower to not just miss our flight and go back.
We couldn’t feel more grateful to Samson and his family, to the entire Etora church community, to everyone that helped us get over here way back in August; Charity Works, Kay Alden, the HCIC board, and so many more. The last days were beautiful. Samson and Jackline had a party for us on Sunday with the whole congregation. They bought cake which said “Have a happy life” and soda and bread and shared it all among the kids and the community. They had us cut the cake together like it was our wedding, which had us in fits of laughter, in turn making Samson and the whole congregation crack up. We sat up at the front of the church at the high table with the ministers. Samson spoke to his congregation in Swahili, as usual he had everyone listening intently, and often breaking into laughter. But this time he was talking about us. Dorothy translated a little of what he said for us and his words were incredibly touching. He wasn’t sharing them in English so we could understand all nice things he was saying about us, he was telling them in Swahili because he just genuinely wanted to share with the congregation how he felt. We continue to be amazed by his kindness and compassion without any need for recognition. The party ended with most of the community members coming up to take photos with us and shaking our hands, thanking us for our work. The next day was the day we threw a goodbye party for the kids. It was in the church lit by a single kerosene lamp after the sun had set. We wanted to thank them for welcoming us so warmly into their home and school, and who doesn’t love an excuse to have a celebration. Our plan was to give them all the gifts we made them and serve Chapati and meat because it is expensive and they rarely have it. So Kira and I, two vegetarians, decided it was worth it and bought a goat. We met him early on in the day when he was still running around in the backyard, and again, several hours later when he was being poured out of a ladle on to the children’s plates. The meal was complete with over 250 chapati that we helped spend the day making. It was the most wonderful evening. Being able to give back to these kids who have shared and given us so much love felt so right. Some of the kids gave speeches, thanking us and asking us to return. We in turn told them something that we realized weeks ago. We will be back, we don’t know when, but it will happen. And we gave them each a gift. Since they enjoyed learning to draw so much, and several of their lessons were how to draw faces, I drew a portrait of each of them. And they admired the handmade friendship bracelets we both wore on our ankles, so Kira made them each a bracelet with their favorite colors. Watching them pass around flashlights and gather pouring over their gifts touched our hearts in a way that we can not describe. The mutual appreciation and love almost entirely drowned out the looming fact that we were leaving. Just when it was starting to feel difficult to handle, Jackline, Samson, and Dorothy surprised us with another cake that said “Madams Calline and Kira”. They wrapped Kenyan flags around our shoulders Maasai style and once again we cut the cake together, earning a round of applause from the kids when we fed each other the first bite. And then there was dancing. Man oh man, do the Kenyans know how to dance. Dancing should be so much more of a regular occurrence, it is so much fun and such a joyful celebration of life. The Kenyan music gets into your bones, you can’t help but get up and dance. Every single kid, even the more introverted ones were up dancing and smiling so hard their faces looked like they would burst. We had the party the day before we had to leave so that the High School students would be able to attend. So our final day with the kids was just a regular day playing out in the compound after they finished classes. It felt right. It was our last game of frisbee, the last chance to teach them yoga poses, our last time to lend our phones out to aspiring photographers for hilarious pictures and videos. But we got so caught up in the moment that none of that registered. It wasn’t until we were walking down the driveway towards the most brilliant sunset and climbing onto the back of a motorbike that it hit us. No more playing in the dirt with these kids for hours every day. Back to a life that feels more foreign then the one we’ve made for ourselves here. More adjusting and transitioning. The bigger life becomes, the more experiences you live, and the more people you grow to love makes change harder and time and distance make less sense. Humans instinctively resist change, it’s terrifying and painful. But it is what makes life dynamic and beautiful, forcing us to grow and discover. Lots of the best things in life evolve when we are miles outside our comfort zones. So even though going back home is hard, this change is creating space and perspective for new opportunities both outwardly and inwardly. There’s a part of me that can’t wait to be invisible on the streets, and be able to enjoy the outdoors without half the neighborhood staring and thinking it’s the best entertainment they’ve had all week. But instead of living these experiences openly and daily we will be carrying them inside and that is going to be a challenge. Our hearts have been broken open and expanded to fit so much love for these people and this life. The entire experience is etched into our bodies and minds. Thank you for listening- With love, Cailin and Kira
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In 5 days we’ll be flying over that great big ocean and back to the world of grey pavement, pine trees, and hot showers. We’ll exchange the red roads and orange bricks for the brilliant colours of the trees during Fall, and the wandering cows and goats for squirrels and deer.
Time is a funny thing. Cailin and I talk way too much about how long we’ve been here, how short the time is we have left, and how we interpret it all with each passing day. Since we reached our two thirds mark, the weeks have been flying by. Its strange to think back to the majority of the time we’ve been here, when each week seemed to go as slow as could be. It seems a bit unfair that now that we’re completely settled and happy here, time is racing. A week is not enough time. Leaving seems impossible, its incomprehensible that this life we’ve made for ourself in this beautiful, different, challenging place is just going to end. How does everyday end if not with a rainstorm? How do we get from place to place without motorbikes and matatus always passing by? What is it like to pass a schoolyard of children and have no one yell and wave? Life back in North America seems almost as distant and mysterious as this place did when we boarded an airplane 9 weeks ago. This past week was really incredible. Counting down the days has forced me to really appreciate each one, and every moment has become that much more precious when I remember how few we have left. Friday was my birthday, and everything about it felt so right. Apparently its a Kenyan tradition to dump water on a person if they can’t celebrate their birthday properly, so of course Cailin and Dorothy had to honour that, surprising me when I was outside in front of the apartment building with a huge bucket of freezing cold water. The day was completed with an eventful motorbike ride in a torrential downpour, some clapping games in a dark and damp classroom, and all my favorite Kenyan food for each meal. I was so taken aback by the outpouring of love. I’ve never thought of my birthday as a big deal, but it always does seem to be a really good day. There’s something about taking the opportunity to be aware of how incredible life is, and noticing all the little gestures that can speak volumes. It was a good reminder of how much I have to be grateful for. Monday was Dorothy’s birthday, and as a present to her we made dinner. She had been asking for us to make “American food” for them for a while, so we tackled the challenge of making grilled cheese, tomato soup, and apple pie. The supermarket in Kisii town surprisingly had everything we needed including apples (which almost had us in tears in the middle of the store). It was a pretty surreal experience. They have never used the oven, all the food they cook just uses the stove and dessert doesn’t exist here. Cailin made an incredible apple pie that was more successful than we ever could have hoped for. We had to light the oven with a match and guess at the temperature, flames shooting out from the top. The whole family was taken aback by the meal. Photos were being taken at every angle and Dorothy could barely believe it. It was nice to give back a little bit. This family has done so much for us. They have welcomed us so warmly into their home, feeding us incredible food, and making sure we always have whatever we need. Dorothy has been our guide, teacher, and best friend and it felt so good to be able to honour her and treat her to something a little bit special. Spending time with the kids has been simultaneously fulfilling and heart breaking. The fact that we have to leave is always looming over our time together and the more I think about it the more I’m sure it just can’t happen. On Tuesday the weather was beautiful so we all went out behind the school to jump rope and throw the frisbees. It quickly turned into an afternoon of hilarious photos, headstands, and all sorts of games as a few of the kids got their hands on our camera and phones. Its gotten to the point where communication isn’t even a challenge anymore. So much can be communicated with laughter, funny faces, and hand gestures and every day it seems like we all grow so much closer. Cailin started doing headstands, and quickly a whole group of kids had joined in, another group crowded behind the camera taking photos of everything. Everyone started calling Beckham’s name to make sure he didn’t miss out because he has been doing headstands ever since he saw photos of it on her phone weeks ago. He was beyond excited to see a photo of them headstanding together. Even as storm clouds filled the sky and the wind picked up, everyone continued running around. We taught them a few other yoga poses, and everyone joined in, excited to try backbending or tree pose, helping out each other and laughing hysterically, smiles stretched across their faces the entire time. Vanis grabbed my hand to pull me along on a game where everyone runs in a giant circle, avoiding the person in the middle who tries to hit people with a ball (which was actually something heavy all wrapped up in a plastic bag). At another point Annah collected all the jump ropes and asked me to take her back to the office so she could put them away for us. David and Samson were dedicated to taking photos with my phone, taking a picture of a group of us and then running over to show everyone. Shilley was running around, pretending to take photos with his watch. Every time I bought into the joke he would break his straight face and laugh hysterically with a high pitched giggle. When it was finally time for us to leave, they all waved goodbye, giving me high fives and replying to my “see you tomorrow!” I can’t get enough of these kids. Its the simple things, the small gestures, the smiles, the giggles, the hands grabbing mine or pushing me in to play a jump rope game or wrapping around my waist for a picture. Its the funny faces and the excitement of looking at a photo of their friends and the enthusiasm to be around us and around each other. Their happiness and love is contagious. Everyday on the way back to our home in Ogembo, bumping up and down on the seats of the blue van, passing the now familiar sights of matatus, motobikes, people, brick houses and wooden market stalls, I feel still surrounded by the warmth and excitement of our time hanging out with the kids. It’s a feeling of contentment and awe for the world, and Cailin and I often find ourselves talking in circles about how wonderful those few hours were for the rest of the evening and into the night. This week is the beginning of the lasts. Our last full week, our last trip to Kisii-town, our last Wednesday. Its only going to get harder and time is only going to go faster and the lasts will only start to get more final. The changes ahead seem ominous and challenging, but if we’ve learned anything from this trip it is to let go and let life happen as it will. The only thing we can do is keep looking for the joy and beauty that constantly surrounds us in the smallest and most unlikely of places. |