Nyumbani (Home)

Our compound with three lovely homes.

If you know Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes’ song Home, I ask you to imagine the next time you hear it, that there’s a crazy mzungu in Kenya (me) belting it out at full volume at the exact same time.  It’s quite likely true.  I’ve listened to it practically on ‘repeat’ this week.  (I secretly love the idea that if I ever got married I would be able to add it to my nuptial playlist, along with Ben Fold’s The Luckiest, Michael Franti’s Say Hey (I Love You), Mumford & Sons Sigh No More, and some other songs I’m sure I scribbled down on scraps of paper over the years when I’ve allowed myself to imagine that marriage might be in the future.)

Plantain chips, guac, spicy sweet potato
fries, refried beans, and seasoned steak
with pineapple juice.

Home is at the forefront of our thoughts here, as the time of a new era has dawned at Nuru House.  The last of FT6 (our fearless CEO, Jake) left yesterday morning before dawn and we, FT7, (the FT stands for Foundation Team), now left to our own devices 1) scrubbed everything in sight 2) chucked anything unclaimed, 3) fixed anything that was broken (bathroom door locks where we had just been using a rock to hold shut the door, for example), and 4) enjoyed our first amazing meal together in Kenya as FT7 (thanks to Mateo!). 

First FT7 only dinner in Kenya.

Our team is comprised of so many different characters, each possessing some indescribable and often unexpected awesomeness, and it seems the deeper in we go, the more we learn, the more love and mutual respect there is.  Despite how different we are, somehow we all seem to balance and support all the rest perfectly.  There is this underlying sense that we all genuinely like and fully respect one another, and everyone is willing to pitch in to make life easier and more pleasant for all the rest.  I tell you, it’s a rare and beautiful thing, and I don’t know how we got so lucky.

We definitely felt during the past month how an extraordinarily strong, negative personality can impact the whole, and it is not a pretty thing.  It actually pushed me fairly close to my limit (and for those of you who know me well, that's no small feat) on the final night, but I was lucky to have good friends, equally bothered by the same grating traits (some who actually had to deal with it for the better part of the last year) to empathize and talk me down. But I also saw that we actively tried to shield each other from anything negative, that we remained aware and supportive of hardships the others faced, and reached out to help each other through dealing with hostile personalities and external tensions.  We are a family, and for the next six months (wow! It’s already been a month!), this is definitely our home.

Emma trying on my hair.

I also felt graciously welcomed into another home.  A woman on my team, Pamela, is married to a man we call Pastor, and they have six children (though their home is usually filled with about a dozen more).  My program counterpart, Lindsey, was so close to this family and everyone was quite distraught at her departure.  Lindsey allowed me the opportunity to love and be loved by this family too.  She took me over in the hopes that the kids would take to me and that I would take to the kids, so maybe they would have someone coming by to play with them, help them learn, and show them love.  I have gladly and so gratefully taken on that torch.  Yesterday, one of the kids saw me approaching  their house from some distance and ran into their compound yelling ‘Jes-ka! Jes-ka Matinde!’ (this is my name here).  And before I knew it I had 10 or 12 children on top of me, hugging me, trying to carry my bag, braiding my hair, kissing my cheeks, holding my hands…and yes, the little ones might have peed on me just a bit.  It happens.

After some readjusting of the weight of children’s entire bodies, I was welcomed into their home.  I had a video message for them from another Nuru staffer who has been away for some time but who was also very close to them.  They must’ve watched it 20 times and kept asking me is she could see and hear them.

The kids watching a video message
 from Lindsey Cope.

After that, they asked about Lindsey.  I told them she had flown to England and Italy and they wanted to know more about those places.  I had brought my iPad at Pamela’s request, so I got out my photos from last autumn and tried to explain what everything was.  They were fascinated by Venice!  A place with no cars, but the main streets are made of water and trafficked by boats!  You could walk right off the sidewalk and into the sea! Jaws hit the floor.  I showed them the leaning tower of Pisa, the Vatican, the Coliseum, the works of Michelangelo and Bernini.  Then they wanted to see Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, the Tube, the Eye, and the Thames.  Then we went to Peru and they climbed Machu Picchu with me.  Then to Thailand.  Then to Spain.  Then to Canada, France, and Greece.  At one point, I thought their brains were a little overwhelmed, so I suggested we put a hold on learning stuff for a moment.  Pamela had caught a glimpse of a cartoon in the iPad when the Education team had asked to see it, and she wanted to know if the kids could watch Toy Story 3.  Of course!  I got it set up, added a speaker for volume, and they crowded around.  Within about a 30 second window, it appeared as though they completely forgot that I was there, and it seemed in fact, that they had forgotten that there was anything beyond Woody, Buzz, and the slinky dog in the entire world. Sitting there, with Michelle (a sweet little three year old) on my lap and baby Tony (he’s 17 months) eating (and otherwise smothering himself in ) ugali at my side, surrounded by laughter, fascination, appreciation, and love, I also knew I was home.

I greatly dislike the fact that I so often feel restless, that I am meant to be somewhere else, doing something else.  Each place I have lived has had its own beauty and charm, and I wish to be present always and appreciate all about where I am. The creature comforts of the States are lovely and I do appreciate them greatly, but it is exhausting constantly feeling like a fish out of water, wishing for the simple life uncluttered by material things and manmade/manufactured ideas of what success and happiness look like, searching for the place, the work, the people that make up a puzzle of which I am the missing piece. Where my heart is full, and still, and at peace.  Where I am surrounded by good people doing good things. Where I am able to both enjoy and truly, deeply appreciate the place around me.  Success and happiness don’t require a big paycheck (or any paycheck at all in fact) a big car, or a big screen TV; they shy from drama and gravitate toward peace; they fill you with the gentle comfort that your life has meaning and allow you to see the meaning and value in each and every life around you.

The path that leads me home.

I remember the plane ride over here.  I wasn’t filled with all the doubt and second thoughts that plagued me when I moved to Sydney, Paris, etc.  It was scary and new and crazy, but there was no doubt.  Instead, when I pulled my suitcase up to the compound, I had the comfortable sense of knowing I was home.  I know this is only my home until next April, and then I fly to my old home and have to find the next home (it took me so long to find this one, I have to admit that’s a daunting task), but it is the most at home I have ever felt in my life, even knowing the end date is so near.  And it gives me hope that I can find that same sense of home in beautiful little pockets of the world, where the people are incredibly warm, resilient, and welcoming; where I find an amazing group of friends and colleagues to share the experience with; and where I am doing work I believe in wholeheartedly.