We have traversed this route a few times now. The one from Nairobi to Nanyuki. The first time we came through, we sat, eyes wide, taking in the country side. It was partly amazement, and partly nervousness, we did not yet know the people sitting next to us, those we would spend every waking second with for the next three months.
Well it’s been six weeks, and we are on the road again. Once again, our luggage is piled in the back. This time, most people sleep or talk, some laying on each other, others splayed in rest across an entire row. We are going back to Mpala, though we do not know for how long. Kenya has just announced its first case of Corona virus, the world is shutting down, and travel bans are going up. Even the theaters have closed. It is time, I think, to go home.
And though I am disappointed, I find it hard to be truly sad while still here. This is quite simply a world filled with too much light. I know I will deal with inevitable depression upon returning to the states, but here, in this place, it is easy to ignore. This is a gift, and I hope it lasts. Though I continually expect to crash, somehow, this place is keeping me afloat.
Maybe it’s the bright green, the isolation in desert’s open space, or the moon’s consistent rise in welcoming orange and red. Maybe it’s the animals, the antics of the goats, and dogs, and giraffe, the laughter that follows when a baby elephant, ambling behind its mother, stumbles on new legs. Maybe it is each other.
I am grateful for so much. The late night conversations. The early morning walks around the centre, separated from the stunning natural world by only a small thin electric fence. The shabbat dinners, the late night star gazing, the movie watching on an old projector on the concrete wall of a cricket infested classroom. The moments on Lothagam’s peaks, evening sunset on my skin, covered in soil, silt, and clay. The kick lines, the talent show, and the impromptu dancing. The chance to experience something utterly new, over and over again.
I wish we’d had the other half of our stay. The opportunity to learn about African mammals and conservation was something I was deeply looking forward to. I was so thrilled at the idea of celebrating Passover here at Mpala, leading the seder with many newfound friends. There is a lot that I wish had happened, but dwelling on it isn’t worth my time or energy. I find that the anxiety of mulling over what could have been only sours what is. We had an extraordinary time. We are still here, if only for a few more hours.
I will stare out of windows, soak up sunshine, and greet every animal that I see. I will stay up late, and memorize the equatorial sky. I will enjoy my last few moments in Kenya.
And hopefully, someday, I will return.
Thank you,
Carolyn