Revolving through Nairobi

I feel like I’m coming full circle as I make my extended journey back on the return route. I have left the Salvation Army; I have left Dar es Salaam; I have left Tanzania. I am no longer in that life, no longer with the pastor and his family, Mariam and the other maids, Robert and the other waskari, the Kiswahili teachers, the Jeshi workers, the villagers and informants, friend Luke, brother Aaron, Manyanya the taxi driver, Boniface. 

Nairobi is so much colder. The air here is thinner and chillier as temperatures dip down dramatically in the mornings and nights with the sleeping and awakening of the sun. Flying in from the hot and humid season in Dar has left me with a slight cold, full of soar throat, coughs, congestion, and fatigue.

Returning to N’s house is a blessing in the sense of it being a home away from home. Seeing familiar faces, I am once again grateful for the unhesitating acceptance and honesty. The people create comfort in this paranoid city.

I’ve spent the past days checking email on decent connections, accompanying N on his European visa missions, and buying gifts from various shopping hotspots.  

Have I been so quickly removed? It’s 8 in the morning, so why hasn’t Mariam knocked on my door? Where are they tree cutters outside my hut? Is there water, or electricity? Where will we find our food today? Agency, power, movement, separation, distance.


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