Glass Coca-Cola Bottles

Lydia, 2009 North Church Youth trip

So it has been two weeks, four days, and give or take a couple hours since I arrived in Kenya. The weeks have blurred by, and now the experience has turned into travelers bliss, that disconnected feeling of not feeling at home, but not feeling like home is home either.

Tomorrow I will leave on a plane from Kisumu and fly back with Caroline. (Yes, all by ourselves, I’m sure we will get lost or abducted or something that has sitcom potential.) As I write I’m trying to reflect back on my expierences and it is proving to be a little difficult. I want to remember the trip in movie sequence, day by day, moment by moment, but it is just coming up in spots, patches of images rattling around. Glass Coca-cola bottles, red dirt roads, the smell of fish and rice, squishing ugali in my hands, shaking hands-so many hands, chapati, and riding in vans-bumping and hitting my head on the ceiling. Laughing and new friends. The smell of burning trash. Thumping African rap coming from the market.

In 24 hours I will be leaving. Getting ready for yet another culture shock.