Shaded Pathways, Sunny Disposition

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It’s funny how when things are different than what we planned, we pause. We question. Uncertainty grips our bones tightly. We freeze.

My path is usually sunny, and I have no problem forging ahead into the next adventure with a hopeful heart and open hands to welcome whatever may grab me. This changed recently. Suddenly, I was looking ahead, and my path was shaded. I paused. I questioned. I froze. I’ve never stood still with life before, but all at once, I was looking ahead, unsure of my next step. I realized that while I’ve experienced uncertainty before, it was commonly just a light hand on my shoulder, and I was able to shrug it off easily. Not so much this time; the darkness of uncertainty traversed my soul, leaving no corner unsearched.

The dark can be scary because so much is unknown inside those unlit spaces. We aren’t sure where edges lie and corners cut. We aren’t sure if what grabs our hands will be welcoming friend or an unknown enemy. But there are tiny dances in the in these unfamiliar places, with stars murmuring, and stolen affection between the light and the dark. With this realization, we come to accept that we often grow most within those labyrinths of the unknown. Maybe we shouldn’t be timidly walking in the dark. Maybe our tip toes and soft steps don’t lead us in these places and down these paths. Maybe it’s in the dark where we leap, and just when we are sure we aren’t going to land on our own two feet, those open hands welcome whatever grabs us: friends and family, hope, love, self, possibility.

Sometimes the sun sets differently on the life you’ve planned, and shadows are cast, but the sun still casts light and the shadows still have a role. So, I’ll continue on my way. The path may be shaded, but my hands are open for whatever may grab me, and my heart most certainly knows the way.

Tickling My Nose

It's funny what hope does to us...or what hopes gives and takes from us. Sometimes it's just what you need and there right when you need it. Sometimes it's our Achilles' Heel that leaves us standing lonely and bewildered like a tricked child.

I think the most interesting aspect of hope is when it latches itself onto change. In some ways, hope for change is the blind leading the blind. Neither one of you knows what's coming, but you'll take each other there anyway.

I do think that your outlook on hope (especially when it's tagging along with change) reveals a lot about the roots of your personality. When change and hope show up at your front door, are you slamming the door shut because you don't invite hope in to help you see what could be? Are you opening the door a little too widely and letting hope into the dustiest corners of your house, leaving nothing to the imagination? For those with the positive outlook on life, your door is always open and hope is always welcome. For those with the negative outlook, hope probably walks right on by and knows not to try to sell its Girl Scout Cookies to your house.

Either way, change is going to show up time and time again- and usually as an uninvited guest- so what do you do with hope? Do you walk in the darkness with a grin on your face, relief in your heart, and hope laced between your fingers? Do you have a partner on the journey? Or, do you walk in the darkness with a furrowed brow, fear in your heart, and hope no where to be seen? Do you walk alone on your journey?

I've decided this. I am going to water my roots, keep them positive, and bring hope with me. Sometimes I might lose sight of it. Sometimes it will run away from me. Sometimes I'll really have to look hard for it. But, you want to know what- I know I'll never lose it, because I won't give up hope on finding it.

I've Got Some Extra Weight...

I have been back from Africa for more than a few days now, and it is baffling how much baggage we all carry even after all of our luggage is unpacked. There are some items that no matter how often you put it away and no matter how much you think it’s out of your luggage, it’s still right where you left it- in your heart and on your mind. You can’t unpack a new perspective on life, but you can enjoy carrying it with you wherever you go.

There are little things and there are big things, but one thing is for certain- there are tons of things (and of course, when I go back to teaching, I will teach my students to use a word once in a sentence). Lights really did amaze me when I first got back. I was walking at a local festival and it hit me hard that in Kenya a light up Ferris wheel and an ATM in the middle of a parking lot wouldn’t happen. I stopped to wonder what the local families were doing without their Ferris wheels and ATMs. Were they sitting around their tables laughing and starting a candle for a little light in a dark hut? When I went to go buy groceries, it hit me doubly hard that any choice of fruit or vegetable was mine to be had (in Kabula, limited doesn’t begin to describe fruit and vegetable choices) and the cool air coming out of open air refrigerators would’ve been a welcome whisper in a place where electricity was harder to find than Oreo cookies. I stopped again to wonder what the local families were doing without their cantaloupes and free “air conditioning.” Were they eating their bananas and sitting outside with the stars? Throwing away paper has been, believe it or not, the most heartbreaking piece of carry-on luggage that I tote around with myself. To even put a piece in the recycling bin slows my hand to such a speed that I almost think it will stop before it gets there. I stop to wonder what the kids are doing at school without copied worksheets. Are they copying down words from the board into their notebooks because there are no such machines to do the work for them?

And then I realize that yes, they are lighting up dark rooms, eating with the stars, and manually Xeroxing. We are all going on with life- in America with our lights and refrigerators and in Kenya with their candles and limited fruit choices. And, even though we are all still ‘going on,’ one thing is for certain- that extra baggage that I am carrying with me from Kenya? It’s a welcome weight to carry.

My Last Few Days in Africa

I've been warned to be careful while (or, as I've learned from my new British friends- whilst) in Africa. I've been warned to watch for pickpocketing, to watch for people trying to charge me more than necessary, to keep my passport safe, to not wear expensive jewelry, to not travel alone or at night. I've pretty much been cautioned, in a thousand different ways with a thousand different words, that the only safe place is my hut, with the door locked, under my mosquito net, with loads of DEET covering any exposed skin. The thousand words of warning have stuck with me, but what has struck me more has been the universal language that exists everywhere in the world- the universal language of a smile and a wave.

After nearly every corner I turn here in Kenya, there has been a smiling face with a waving hand not too far off. When a bit of homesickness finds its way into my daily routine, and my heart seems fragile, there is such comfort in knowing that we all share the ability to connect and welcome someone who is completely different from us. While I have yet to get pick-pocketed or have any jewelry stolen from me, I have spoken to many people without using any words and have felt a little piece home thousands of words and miles away.

It's hard not to imitate the child whose eyes grow larger when they see me and a slow smile spreads across his face while a hand pops up to accompany the smile. I can't help but be the mirror image- that's the power of language.

It's hard not to feel safer when someone I don't know smiles, waves, and lets me know that I'm okay here and I'm welcome here- despite the fact that it's not my home. I can't help but feel comforted- again, that's the power of language.

So, as I leave Kenya, I know I will always carry these things in my wallet- even if they are the only items in there. A smile makes you look like a million bucks anyways.

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So, maybe I have become used to long drops (Kenyan toilets), maybe I have become used to not having running water for a shower, maybe I have become used to DEET saturating my skin 24/7, but I am finding that things here aren't that difficult- just different. The food, the language, the transportation, the culture- different, not extremely difficult, just different. And, embracing the different- rather than going against- has proved invaluable. Embracing isn't just a lesson for Kenya or a lesson for travelling, it is a lesson for life.

I've learned how to embrace (what is locally referred to as) "African Time." Meetings are to start at 9:00 AM? Don't get upset when they start at 11:30. People are visting with thier families, taking time to develop relationships and listen, rather than rushing through a morning routine and shouting, "Hurry up, we're late!" as they scramble out the door without pausing to hear a response. "African Time" has reminded me that when it is well spent, it doesn't matter what the clock says, just what your actions do.

I've learned to embrace the children proclaiming, "Myzungo! (White person!)" and stopping to talk to you on your way to catch the bus to town. A piece of candy, a "How are you? I'm fine." verbal exchange, and a few dances and songs later- along with them wanting to touch your skin and hair- remind me that embracing thier curiosity is what childhood and life are all about.

So often, when ideas are different or foreign to us, we reject them, runaway from them, or question thier validity. I've come to realize that embracing is a universal language that is spoken and welcome anywhere. I plan on carrying it with me wherever I go. There are wants in life, comforts in life, and necessities. Embracing is a necessity.

There has been a BLOWOUT!

Literally, a blowout.

So, we went on safari this past weekend (I will post my thoughts on these adventures after I come back. Reflection on these take time) and I wanted to look good for all of the pictures we would be taking while on safari (can one still be vain in Kenya? Yes, just ask Dan and Hugo). Of course we wouldn't be taking pictures of all the amazing animals we would be seeing on safari (including lions eating zebras, cheetahs, elephants, giraffes, the wildebeest migration), we would be taking pictures of the group, so I needed to look my best for this massive photo shoot.

So, I went to the local salon- ha ha ha, yes, the local salon in Bungoma- and got a blowout. This was by far one of my favorite times in Kenya. I walked in and told the woman I would like her to wash and blowdry my hair. She nearly fell to her knees thanking the Heavens for such an "opportunity." I blowdry my hair often in the States and don't feel quite the same way about this "opportunity." Chore/hassle might be a better choice of words for my blowdrying.

She immediately brought me to the backroom, took out my ponytail holder and petted- I am not kidding with this verb; it is the PERFECT description- my hair. Then, she told me she would disinfect the sink for a myzungo. As I was waiting for her to do this, 3 other women came in to see and touch my hair. Here is the converstaion:
Woman: "Why is your hair different colors?"
Me: "Oh, I dye it back at home."
Woman: "All myzungos don't have blonde hair?"
Me: "Hahaha! Well, not naturally."
Woman: "How do you get it blonde?"
Me: "I use peroxide."
All Women: "Hahhahahaaa! On your hair??! Oh my! Oh my!!"
Woman: "Why do you have hair in the front of your head?"
Me: "You mean my bangs?"
Woman: "Yes, why do you have bangs? Those are...hmmm."
Me: "They are in style in the States."
All Women: "Oh! Oh! In style! Okay! Bangs then!"
Woman: "Why do you have a bob haircut and then long hair? Why is there short hair in the middle of your head and long hair underneath that?"
Me: "My layers? That is so I have body in my hair."

Then, everyone touched my layers. They also wanted me to get braids (called plaits out here) and they wanted to be the ones to braid it. I lifted my bangs and informed them of my large forehead (and, by the way, this means I have a large brain...).

So, I went to the sink and it was DISINFECTED! There was so much Pine-Sol used I was worried it would damage my hair. After three shampoos and one deep conditioner treatment (and quite the intense scalp scrubbing!), I went to the back for the blowout. I brought my own bristle round brush for the stylist to use. She took the brush to "comb out" my hair after she washed it. More-or-less, she raked through my hair and then took out a blowdryer with a comb device attached. She disinfected that with a liquid and then used it (rather than the brush...) to blowdry my hair. When she was done, my hair was parted on the wrong side and I had no bangs- they had been brushed back in a combover-like fashion behind my ears. Otherwise, the look was perfect! :)

I showed her how I normally fixed my hair and she sat me back down when I was done. She asked if she could use oil on my hair. I said no. She asked if she could use spray oil on my hair. I said no. She asked if she could use olive oil on my hair (apparenlty different from regular oil). I said no. She asked if she could use spray olive oil on my hair (apparently different from regular oil, regular spray oil, and olive oil). I said no. She asked if she could set my hair then spray it. I said no. She really wanted to coat my hair. I said no. She gave up.

So, for 4.00 USD, I experienced my first Kenyan blowout. I hope the lions liked my mane.