I have so much to write about my recent trip to Kenya. Some things that I am still holding close to my heart and are too hard to think or write about right now. But I don’t want to wait so long that I start forgetting things, so I thought I’d start with some of the lighter parts of my journey.
I’ll just throw it out there. There aren’t a lot of white people in Kenya. Well, to be fair, there are plenty of tour buses full of them, on their way to a safari or some other touristy adventure. But there are basically none walking through the center of town holding hands with little Kenyan boys. If you are easily embarrassed or made uncomfortable, I wouldn’t recommend it. I have never been so gawked at in my life. It was almost like some sort of pseudo-celebrity situation. On the day we went to do the rescue in Nakuru (a nearby town around 2 hours away), I had no less than 10 people actually stop me on the street and ask to take a selfie with me. One woman even approached me with her toddler daughter to ask if I would take a picture with her. It’s actually a little unnerving to think that there are a bunch of no-makeup, filthy-hair, dirty-face pictures of me floating all over the Kenyan internet.
The slang term for “white person” in Swahili is “mzungu.” It was the first word I learned only because I heard it whispered so many times I finally asked one of the boys what it meant.
My second week in Naivasha I went into town with one of the social workers to visit some of the boys who would be coming to shelter a few days later. At this point, I was used to hearing, “Hey, mzungu!,” but one guy surprised me (and sent me and the boys who were with me into a fit of uncontrollable laughter) when he yelled, “Merry Christmas!” I still don’t know why, unless he’s been reading my blog, or rightfully assumes all white people love Christmas, but it was one of my favorite moments of my trip.
There are some distinctly mzungu things that the boys found fascinating. For instance, I did a pretty good job with the sunscreen most of the time I was there, and that was no easy task considering I spent at least 8 hours a day outside playing in the sun. But on my last full day with the boys, we took them to a swimming pool and I didn’t reapply my sunscreen after a few hours in the pool. We had the best time, by the way.
On the bus ride back home, as I can feel the heat creeping up on my face and neck, I see one of the boys staring at me, looking a little concerned. Finally, he says, “Janell, I think something has affected your skin…” I then spent most of the next 24 hours explaining sunburn to a bunch of horrified kids. And despite my best attempts and a decent amount of concealer, I’m looking pretty pink in these final pictures, haha.
Jokes aside, I hope you can see that despite the obvious physical and cultural differences, I connected with these kids so deeply and I am truly heartsick to be so far away from them now. I’ll share more soon about this incredible place and why the work they are doing is so important, but in the meantime, you should check out their website and like them on Facebook.
Let Go, My Soul 