Doing my best to fit in with the rest of the students at Samro School after giving my graduation speech during the Friday assembly.
I intended to write a re-entry update much earlier than this, but I could never seem to muster up the energy or focus during my many plane and train rides. So now I sit in a middle seat on an Alaska Airlines flight from Portland, Oregon to Los Angeles. Since I last wrote, I have spent some last, precious days with my family in Ilula and traveled just a bit in Kenya on my way to Nairobi for my flight out on July 29th. The time in Iula consisted of little more than cups of chai, games with the kids, and many conversations of where we had been together, and where we were going. Before my flight, I spent a few days with my close friend, Kigen in Nakuru and Nairobi, which was a much needed opportunity to relax and unwind while organizing my experiences from the previous six months. After my flight landed at JFK in New York, I spent 6 days in New York City, another 5 days in Seattle, and the past couple days in Salem and Portland. Throughout this time, I have been expecting and preparing for the difficulties I have come to know as inevitabilities of readjusting to life in America. While there have been some challenges psychologically, emotionally, and physically, they have been very modest and somewhat infrequent compared to years past. I spent time with people in each city that matter to me a great deal and understand who I am and where I have been quite well. This has made the readjustment much smoother for me in many ways, as they have allowed me to talk at length about my experiences, have asked a lot of good questions (not just about actual experiences, but much more about how those experiences affected me personally and how I reacted to them internally), and have also helped catch me up on life here at home by just talking about what has been going on in their world. The latter is probably the most overlooked, and possibly the most important piece of a smooth transition for me, as long as the people I am hearing from are those on the same wavelength as me. I am heading down to LA now to spend time with many people that fit that description, which gives me a great deal of excitement and peace. I will be involved in the wedding of one of my best friends, a former college teammate and roommate, and will see many friends from what seems like a former life of mine of five years living in LA and Orange County. After ten days down there, I will be returning home to Oregon for roughly a week, before heading back up to Seattle to settle in and get ready for my master’s program to begin at the University of Washington. So, in the midst of all this re-entry travel, now seems like a great time to reflect on my time in Kenya and offer some personal observations about readjusting to life in America. Understand that this is written with an elevated level of emotional sensitivity, and don’t take anything as too intense, no matter how much I may make it sound that way.
Sitting in my desk with my teachers, parents, and fellow class 3 students at Samro School on my last day of class
Being asked countless times how my time in Africa was, I have had a chance to verbally work through it with a lot of different people. I must say I am overall very, very pleased with how things went. Traveling there by myself, moving around a ton, implementing a fairly involved project in a rural Kenyan village, and spending a decent amount of time in South Sudan seeking a new project did not come without personal and professional challenges, but I really feel all those challenges ultimately have been or will be conquered and used in positive ways. I learned a ton about the people of Kenya and South Sudan, about project implementation and community mobilization, and about myself, how I react and respond to certain kinds of challenges. I learned a few years ago that you can never be more yourself than when all the familiarity and comfort of home are stripped away, and you are forced to face who you are and how you behave at your very core. This is a very uncomfortable situation, uncomfortable beyond anything I have experienced prior, and really beyond what I can articulate, but it has provided the foundation for me to learn some of the most profound lessons I have learned to this point in my young life, about myself and the people and places I am surrounded by. For this reason, embracing this reality and making sure you get at least a few hours as the only foreigner with locals is some of the first advice I offer to anyone traveling to Africa for the first time.
Partaking in a Kalenjin celebratory jumping dance with Nickson after receiving my gifts from the community during my farewell ceremony our last night in Ilula together.
These personal lessons are the first things I think of and work through as I re-enter, but something that is different this time from trips past is that I actually was there to implement a project. On that end, I have to say I couldn’t be much more pleased than I am with how that process went. The borehole was constructed and is operational, and there is now a huge garden, two fruit tree orchards, a passion fruit field, a tree nursery, and many eucalyptus trees planted for future harvest in Ilula. None of that was there 7 months ago when I made my way to this village for the third time, and all of it will have a huge impact on the lives of the residents, particularly the nearly 100 formerly orphaned children that became my little brothers and sisters over the past few years. Implementing this project was also not without its challenges, some expected, some surprising. Because I afforded myself enough time there and worked so closely with the locals, I think most of those challenges were addressed in positive ways that yielded locally understood and sustainable solutions. There are still a few unanswered questions and unfinished tasks, but, because it is now well understood that this is their own project that I am no longer directly responsible for, I am confident these questions and tasks will be respectively answered and completed in due time. I wrote often about having to learn hard lessons that in a management situation in that context, to really help the project succeed I had to find the balance between bringing ideas and motivation, and letting the local staff really be the ones to own it. Although that is an art I haven’t mastered yet, I feel that I am now at least very aware of indicators and implications of missing that balance on either end. This has led to many positive strategic conversations with some very bright people, and will serve me and those I work with in the future very well.
Taking a look out at Lake Nakuru National Park from Out of Africa Viewpoint.
So, what have I been going through and learning since leaving Kenya and arriving back to the US? First of all, I will not write any of this in absolute, final terms, because I am very aware that many of the toughest challenges and biggest lessons have not yet presented themselves, and only will once I move back to Seattle for good. At that point I will be faced with a daily life there, forced to make decisions regarding routine and responsibilities which ultimately are evidence of my values and character. With that said, I have been amazed by how smooth the transition has been in many ways. I have not had many random laughing fits, very temporary bouts of depression, or inexplicable tear streams, as I had become accustomed to in the few months after returning from my first big journey. One very profound and memorable lesson I remember learning during that time is that, even though I had returned to the place and people that held the life I missed so dearly while overseas by myself, the dynamics of that life had forever changed and it was no longer available to me. I was struck by the fact that I had spent a good amount of energy fighting the discomfort and longing for the comfortable life I had left behind, only to come back to find that it no longer existed. My friends had made changes in their living and working situations while I was gone, and in many ways I had to start all over myself. That was unexpected and caused a lot of internal grief for me then, but ultimately led to a lot of positive personal reflection and evaluation. In the days leading up to my departure from Kenya last month, I read back through my old journal entries from that time period to make myself aware of what I was getting into, which I think has helped me a great deal in not overreacting to any similar feelings. I have been blessed by so many great conversations with wonderful people over lattes and delicious meals, which has helped me to walk through some of this and get the support I need.
A family of giraffes spending the afternoon eating trees and playing games
Going away and doing the things I have been doing for the past seven months also has allowed me to learn a lot about the relationships I have. Inevitably, in a situation such as this, some friends you consider very close will show that they have little interest in going out of their way to communicate with and support you. At the same time, some people you think of as little more than acquaintances will be in your corner more than many friends. Accepting that this is a reality and not getting your feelings too hurt by it is of huge importance, I have found, to making the most of the time you have away and giving yourself the best chance for a smooth transition back home. The framework of this trip provided plenty of both of the above, but I haven’t let it upset me too much to this point. I realize that what I have chosen to commit my life to does not excite or even make sense to many people, and that is alright. I can either let that increase stress and negativity in my life, or I can accept it for what it is and move forward to the best of my ability, surrounding myself with people who understand, support, and challenge me, whether or not they understand or support a trip such as this. I have chosen the latter, and would say my transition and overall quality of life are better as a result.
My friend, Kigen, taking a look at a waterfall feeding one of the main streams through Lake Nakuru National Park
A few things have surprised me in the transition home, mostly in how I have reacted to seeing or experiencing them. First of all, I was horrified at the presence of pain and struggle in New York, and surprised at my reaction being so strong to it. If you remember, in an attempt to understand a life of impoverishment in America better, I spent a weekend being “homeless” in New York City a few years ago. During that 48-hour stretch, I was astounded at the intense sadness and loneliness I experienced, very aware of the painfully ironic state of sitting in the most densely populated city in the country while feeling the most desperate loneliness I ever have up to or since then. I think that understanding and those feelings resurfaced when I found myself seemingly unable to escape the presence of downtrodden, presumably mentally and physically ill people in subway stations and on the streets around the city. My heart broke afresh each and every time I came across one, and I found myself feeling helpless and incredibly uneasy. These feelings always present themselves in some capacity and at some level whenever I encounter human suffering, but, coming from where I had just come from, being confronted by intense human suffering almost daily in Africa, I was surprised at the level I felt them in America. As I worked through this, I discovered that it was the apparent loneliness, a loneliness that I had felt in a diluted way a few years back, that really made it tough for me. When people in rural Africa are suffering, for the most part they are suffering together in a community, which I realize doesn’t reduce their physical suffering substantially, but it does ease a lot of the emotional and psychological anguish, which is arguably more unbearable. As I learned through my homeless weekend in 2008, and have tried to practice since, the best thing you can do when confronted by that lonely, suffering person on the street is to simply acknowledge their inherent value in being a human being. I craved human connection and being treated as an equal to everyone else more than I ever did food, likely because I only went 48 hours without a real meal and knew I was going back to my apartment in Brooklyn to indulge. Even so, I can only assume the same desire for human connection is true for a majority of those whose reality is living on the streets and begging for their very survival. I have had some of the most interesting and delightful conversations with people on the street, who seemed to want nothing more than cash or a sandwich, and have seen outward agony turn to inward joy as a result, even for just a few minutes.
Something else that has been surprising, if not troubling, for me since returning is that I have found that on some level I actually enjoy the fact that I can be judged by what I look like and what I am wearing. This is what most of us would define as American superficiality, and it is something I have not identified with, even been repulsed by for years. Maybe just because it is a part of the familiar life I have missed for months, or maybe because it affords me the opportunity to simply blend in and not have to verbally explain who I am to everyone I come across, but either way it has actually been refreshing. I am sure this will wear off soon and I will soon be back on my soapbox, ranting about treating each person the same, regardless of their appearance and apparent ability to contribute to your life in a way you see as valuable.
Some white rhinos we came across grazing near the shore of the lake. I am amazed how big and strong some animals can become on a diet of strictly grass.
Those of you who know me know that I have been blessed (or cursed, if you see it as so) with a very casual and laid back demeanor, earning me the nickname “The Dude” in many friend circles. This outlook on life and personal conduct has become magnified since leaving on my most recent wanderings through Africa. I find myself always sarcastically saying to others that life is so hard and that if we just worry more and try harder, I’m sure everything will be exactly as we want it to be. The fact is that experiencing the way of life in East Africa and collectively facing problems I consider to be much graver than those most of us face here has caused me to avoid stressful thinking and people. This very well could either catch up to me or return to my own natured and nurtured level as I return to work and begin graduate school, but for now I have to note my observation of elevated, sometimes unbearable levels of self-imposed stress in our fair country. Along with this is the observation of the stark contrast between my two homes in levels of genuine social interaction. I have told a few people of my struggle to readjust to the fact that most people here really do not care how you are doing when they ask. People do not usually make a point to greet everyone in a group of people, if they only know or wish to talk to one of them. We are all too busy or too uncomfortable with that type of interaction to do so, which has been engrained through years of observing and following societal values and norms. I am not suggesting that you set yourself of for misunderstanding or mockery by ignoring these norms on a grand scale, but please just keep this in mind when you see me, knowing that I am comfortable to shake your hand, give you a hug, hear how your life is going, and tell you how mine is, regardless of how well I know you. If you can gather up the courage to do so outside of our interactions, please feel free.
A view of the lake from Baboon Cliff, where we had the picnic breakfast we packed while taking in the sunrise
