Goodbyes

All good things must come to an end. And in the case of my trip to Kinangop, Kenya, I certainly wasn't ready to leave. Unfortunately, I actually tried to bump my flight back for an extra couple of weeks, but the airlines wouldn't allow me to get any kind of refund on the flight that I already had so that definitely wasn't an option. But then again, are we ever really ready to say goodbye? I feel like each and every one of the days I was able to spend with the kids at IAA was a blessing, and I'm so thankful for every moment I was able to stay.

My last days there were full of a mix of emotions. On one hand, I was doing my best to soak up every last bit of my experiences there, while at the same time I always had it nagging at me in back of my head that my time was in fact, limited.

I began exchanging letters with Sheilah the last couple of weeks. She's the oldest girl who lives on site, and she's much quieter than most of the others. Unlike the toddlers who immediately run up to greet you upon arrival, the older kids take a bit more effort to get to know. They won't just come up to you and talk about your day, but for some reason the effort required to get to know them seems to make things that much more personal. Since Sheilah was never particularly one to talk to any of the volunteers, I spent lots of time just sitting with her, or even doing a bit of talking to myself. I would ask her questions, yes - but that doesn't mean I'd get too many responses. But before long, she began to open up little bit by little bit. When she wrote me a note one evening, I was so excited to write her back. She'd leave notes and gifts (bracelets I'll treasure forever) under my door at night, then I'd be able to have a response ready when we picked everyone up from school.

When it came to the day I was flying out, it really hadn't hit me that I was leaving. Things were normal for the most part, and there was a lot to do. (Particularly since a medical team was coming in a couple of days - inspiration for the staff to do a bit of "spring" cleaning in the middle of their wintertime.) I brought Jacob along for the ride to pick up the kids from school one last time, and by the time we made it back on site he was fast asleep, drooling as usual. I handed him off to Sara so I could begin my goodbyes.

First was Mum Jane. I had completely held myself together until she began to cry - then suddenly I couldn't talk. Thoughts were racing through my head about everything I wanted to tell her - how much respect I have for her, how much I wanted to thank her, how much I was going to miss her and the kids, and what an incredible time I'd had - yet all I could choke out was that I loved her.

I went in the next room to find Teresiah and Sheilah standing, watching me blankly as I completely lost my composure. Hugging them and telling them how much I loved them seemed like it wasn't nearly enough knowing that I'm really unaware whether or not I'll ever see them again.

The toddlers were distracted, running around the dorm and having a good time as usual, but adorable little Sharon was kind enough to take a moment and say her goodbyes. Just like each night before bedtime, she took my face and gave me a slobbery kiss on the forehead, on one cheek, and then the other - finishing it with an "Auntie, and me?" Requesting me to return the favor, of course.

Christine was already waiting in the van while I ran up to say one last goodbye to the rest of the girls and all the boys. Then, suddenly, I was on my way home. Of course I was missing it in certain regards - but I still couldn't believe how fast time had gone. It was a strange mixture of so much that had happened within the past six weeks, yet I have no idea where it all fit in.

I tried my best to hold back my tears as our driver, Alex turned to me as we headed back to Nairobi jokingly asking, "Do you want to go home that bad? You spent too much time here, you're so upset!"

I laughed, "Not exactly."

I hope that one day I can return to IAA to see all of the kids again. Ruthie's constantly runny nose, Joy and her "Buddah Belly" and incredible imitations of everything you do, Moses and "how was school?", Lydia's crazy bedtime stories, Milka's dancing, Faith's deep belly laugh, Jacob's drooling and constant need for human contact, and on and on. But I also hope that I can move on to continue to discover people who may be able to use my help even more, and I hope to continue to learn from them and my experiences to come - whatever or wherever they may be.

I miss each and every one of the people I left behind. More than anything else, I miss being able to spend my time constantly loving on the kids. We all need to be loved - it's a given. And it's an incredible feeling to spend your time constantly knowing that you're living to serve and to offer every bit of love that you have for whoever is there to accept it. That doesn't mean it's always easy. When the toddlers start hitting, the older kids stop talking, and the babies start screaming - that love has to come along with a little more patience. But that's why its all a learning experience. And I have a lot left to learn.

Lessos, Mtatus, and Nyama Choma

As my time here in Kenya continues, so do the adventures! On Wednesday, Sara and I decided to ask Mum Jane (who takes care of the babies) if she wouldn’t mind accompanying us to go get some Nyama Choma. It’s a special treat for Kenyans – grilled sheep. Conveniently, there’s a restaurant relatively close that’s apparently famous for its Nyama Choma; and as Mum Jane told us, people will travel all the way from Nairobi to eat there.

So the three of us began walking down the road, each with a baby strapped to our backs Kenyan style in a lesso. Mum Jane had Joy, Sara had hope, and Jacob was with me. At the end of the road, we waited for a mtatu (Kenyan “taxi” vans) to come by, and fortunately one that wasn’t very full showed up almost immediately. We all piled in, twisting the lessos around so the babies were on our laps, and held on for the ride. Kenyan roads are full of potholes. Consequently, drivers are constantly swerving on either side of the road, dodging the holes, going around livestock, and passing slower vehicles. Fortunately our mtatu wasn’t very full, but you can often see them overflowing with passengers packed in as tightly as they’ll fit. (Not so pleasant when it comes to body odor.)

We rode just past Haraka (a town on the way to Njabini where the kids go to school) until we made it to the restaurant. The driver dropped us off past where we needed to be, so we began walking back down the road a ways, and as we traveled along in front of all the shops and businesses we got plenty of stares and laughs. Apparently it’s not a common sight to see two white girls with African babies strapped to their backs. One guy made the comment, “Oh, you have a black baby? How good!”

We finally arrived and ordered a kilo of Nyama Choma for Sara and I, and meat pies for Mum Jane and the toddlers back home. (It still amazes me how cheap food is here – 270ksh for a kilo of meat, that’s only about three dollars!) One of the workers brought out a big chunk of meat and asked for our approval before he chopped it up in front of us. Next we stopped at another stand to get chips (French fries) and then we waited for a ride home.

The first vehicle that stopped was the Tulaga, a bus much bigger than the mtatus. Mum Jane said she’d prefer to wait for a different option so we continued standing on the side of the road while a guy got off the Tulaga that had stopped and approached us. Sara and I were a bit taken aback, not sure how to react to him. He had his face painted with black and white stripes, his two front teeth were painted black, his pants had colored strips of fabric hanging off of them, his oversized shirt was stuffed to give him a beer belly, and the same was done to his pants – giving him a highly oversized rear end. He was acting a bit like a mime, trying to get some kind of reaction out of us by making faces at us and the babies and randomly laughing and dancing around. We waited to see what Mum Jane would do, and she talked to him and told us he was a comedian… though he definitely acted more like the drunk men you can usually come across walking around. When he finally figured out we spoke English, he made a desperate attempt to sell us his CD as everyone else standing nearby laughed at our awkward meeting.

After no mtatus were showing up, we finally decided to take the next Tulaga home. It was more spacey than the mtatu, but it was crowded, full of body odor, and like the mtatu, its walls were covered in advertisements for Eminem and various rappers. After our walk back down the road making up the last leg of the trip, we made it back to IAA. It turned out the shopkeepers had put ketchup on the fries so they were all soggy and half of the Nyama Choma was fat or bone, but the meat was delicious and I’d say it was a pretty successful venture – not too bad for mzungus.

Blessed

I can’t believe it’s been nearly five weeks. It’s hard to explain how days here seem to be so slow, and the concept of time in Kenya is definitely a lot different than anything I’ve experienced in the states, yet time has still gone by so incredibly fast.

Days seem to be becoming a bit of a blur of cleaning, laundry, paperwork, nursery school, and lots of playtime. This past Saturday morning we got to greet the new addition to the livestock living here when Daniel notified me that one of the cows had had her calf the night before. After finishing up laundry with Ann, a bunch of us took several of the toddlers to see the newborn as it wobbled around on its unsteady legs. It was adorable, and so soft, but it took some convincing to get some of the kids anywhere near it – many of them are terrified of most animals. When the very friendly watchdogs Cole and Jinx are lying out on the porch, poor Peter John won’t even step outside, though a few of the younger kids have made it into a bit of a game, yelling “Sa, Sa!” And running after the dogs, proud of themselves shooing away their enemies.

Later on, I had the chance to accompany Donna (a long-term volunteer who’s been here for the past seven years, only leaving every six months as her visa expires), Sara, and Joyce (the nursery school teacher) to the visiting day of six of IAA’s boarders. That afternoon, we loaded up the car with Chipatis, chicken, rice, and some of Jen’s freshly-baked cookies and stopped off to get sodas as well as some beef stew before arriving at Good Shepherd Academy. The lawn in front of their chapel was covered with cars parked with families picnicking and visiting with their students. We found Kennedy, Joseph, Francis, Simon, Kevin, and Grace and propped open the back of the car to serve everyone lunch. All the kids huddled inside for warmth (it was plenty windy and cold) and Sara and I plopped right outside to enjoy our Kenyan meal. It was fun to see the kids, and I only wish I was able to be around when they were home on another one of their offs (I was able to meet them earlier during my trip when they came home for three days, but their two-week break isn’t until the end of July).

Fourth of July felt incredibly unusual this year. Being that it was a Sunday, we enjoyed church with all the neighborhood kids, and after that most of us stayed indoors watching a movie and playing cards where there was a warm fire to help fend off the cold (I taught some of the older kids how to play Egyptian Rat Screw and they get quite the kick out of trying to slap all the “sandwiches” and “doubles” at the right time). So no barbecue, fireworks, or celebrations… but I have to say – I think life here’s a pretty good trade-off, even if we are missing out on the American fun back home.

Yesterday afternoon Sara and I helped out in the nursery school during their “writing” time while Joyce went to the kitchen for prayers with the rest of the IAA staff. The kids are always more wild than usual without her around, so we definitely had our hands full. But I’ve felt that we’ve been able to be more helpful in nursery school recently – with the extra help Joyce is able to split the kids into two groups, one that can do a pretty good job writing out numbers, the alphabet, and even their names, while the other focuses on drawing their ones, zeros, A’s, and shapes.

Suddenly most of them seem to have figured out my name, so every time they decide they need help on something they yell out, “Auntie Carly, Auntie Carly!” over and over and over until I acknowledge them.

When things slowed down a bit later on in the afternoon, Sara and I took Joy and Jacob for a walk down the road. Joy did a great job marching along, pointing at all the cows on the side of the road and asking, “Auntie, doggie?” while Jacob was a trooper, laughing at the dogs who were walking with us while I carried him tied to my back Kenyan style in a lesso.

Its mid-afternoon right now, and this is right about the time things start getting more and more chilly outside. But it’s also getting close to when the big kids get done with school. Recently I’ve had a really good time hitching a ride in the van to pick them up and bring them back to the site. The scenery is green and beautiful along the way, and on the way home we talk about their days or I listen to them sing.

The last few days have included many transitions. We were all sad to see Krisitn leave on Saturday, Donna left yesterday, and we have one new arrival of a visitor who’s only planning on staying for the next week. Its hard knowing that I have such a seemingly short time left here, and I really do wish it would work out to stay longer. But everything happens for a reason, and I know I’ve been so incredibly blessed to be here as long as I have.