Karibu Kenya #1: The trip

            Karibu means welcome in Swahili. A fitting title for my travel blog- at least I think so anyway. It was comforting to hear that phrase come out of my grandma June’s mouth as she unlocked the white metal door to her house at 3am on Saturday morning. Considering I didn’t have to walk or travel by boat, I think covering close to 9,000 miles in three days is quite reasonable.

                It was a new experience flying Turkish Airlines. I have to say I was very pleased with the hot towel and piece of Turkish delight shortly after takeoff. It helped calmed my nerves and brought a bit of color back to my white knuckles. You would think after being on planes my entire life that I would be more comfortable with the process. Fortunately though, I am no longer accompanied by my childhood friend, the upchuck reflex (strong apologies to those passengers who had to sit beside me between the ages of 2-12).

                Nowadays, my flying anxieties usually dissipate by the time I reach the second airport. The hustle and bustle of an airport never ceases to keep me interested-the languages, the styles of clothing, the different physical features-I could people watch for days.  Of course, I can never simply sit back and watch; like my father, I end up talking to almost every person that I come in contact with. And let me tell you, it made the trip far less boring than it could have been. From Nashville to JFK I was seated next to an English man in his early 50s who was on his way to Vigo, Spain to see his daughter and wife compete in a duathalon. His wife was representing the USA while his daughter represented Great Britain. The English man, however, was just the beginning of the long list of people I would meet. While waiting to check-in at JFK, I began talking with a Saudi Arabian couple returning home for the summer after working on their master’s degree at Murray State University in Kentucky. Later on in line, there was Adia, an extremely talkative 4 year old, who would have covered every conversation topic possible if not quieted by her mother 4 or 5 times. Adia, her mom and her uncle Mohammed were all on their way to visit family in Afghanistan. I continued to talk with Mohammed while were charging our phones at the gate. He didn’t seem to mind me asking him about the different languages he spoke and places he’d been. I asked him to teach me how to say a few phrases in Farsi, but I won’t pretend to remember any of them. After a three hour layover and the most unorganized plane boarding of my life, I finally made it to my aisle seat. Not long after, I was joined by a Mediterranean family who spoke little to no English. I say Mediterranean because that is all I understood when Ayse, the mother, was trying to tell me the name of the tiny island they lived on. Despite my inability to speak their language, a bit of pantomiming and broken English proved effective as I learned they were coming from New York, having attended the high school graduation of their oldest daughter. The flight ended with a group selfie, a facebook friend request and an open invitation to visit Ayse and her family on the island that I was still not sure of geographically.

                After 10hrs of flying and extremely swollen feet, I managed to squeeze back into my boots. The airport in Istanbul was a bit tricky since I had never been before. The layout was strange and finding my gate was like navigating a labyrinth. Maybe it had something to do with me being extremely exhausted but I finally made it to gate 303 where I found the bus that would transport me to board the plane from the tarmac. I quickly noticed there were about 10 other flights leaving the same gate. After a solid hour of waiting, I found several other Nairobi-bound passengers who were beginning to look as confused as I was. Our departure time had already passed and no one was able to understand why the Nairobi flight had yet to be called. We had asked the attendants working the desk, but they were not very helpful and informed us that we needed to keep checking the monitor. Needless to say, getting upset would have done little to change the situation. I continued to meet more people, starting with Marie-Claire, a Congolese woman and her two middle school daughters Cristelle and Benedit who were en route to visit their mother’s home country for the first time. Then there was the frustrated Arab man who continued to linger and complain about the flight. Let me not forget to mention that he had no concept of personal space. The angrier he got about the situation, the closer he got. I couldn’t help but feel like he was blaming me for not knowing why our plane was still not boarding. I quickly found a new friend- a grad student about my age from Colorado who was going to Kenya to do his research project on community conservation while living with the Masai tribe near Mount Kenya. We then met an English teacher and shortly thereafter a Muslim woman and her grandmother joined us with 4 crying children under the ages of 5. After what seemed like an eternity, we were finally told by word of mouth that our bus had arrived. Without hesitation everyone piled in the bus. Although packed in like a can of sardines, everyone looked relieved that we were going to make our flight. While standing in such close proximity, I talked with a Harvard college student who was coming back from a study abroad in Athens, Greece. She was headed to take classes in Kisumu, Kenya in effort to work toward her Pre-med degree. A 10 minute bus ride later, we were finally boarding. It was so nice to feel Istanbul air on my face before my 6 hr flight (I think it sounds more exciting when you think of it as Istanbul air- very exotic.).  By this time the Muslim woman was beside herself as to how to get 4 kids, 2 strollers and 6 carry-ons from tarmac to plane. Another woman and I saw her struggle and grabbed her bags. I’ve never had the experience of traveling with little children, but I can confidently say that it must be one of the most difficult things in the world. Thank you mom for putting us on leashes during international travel! I COMPLETELY understand why you had to do what you did.

                Once the plane was fully boarded, I was happy to see that there was still an empty seat between mine and the passenger next to the window-more leg room! He was a Turkish man in his late 30s who was visiting Kenya on business. He ran a guest house and a cargo company. He seemed to be interested in practicing his English, but I refused to participate without some sort of even trade. I quickly got out my notepad and asked him to write down basic Turkish phrases so I could practice with the flight attendants who were preparing to serve us dinner. What a difficult language! The flight attendant found it comical when I attempted to say “teşekkűler” which translates to “thank you”. There is no doubt in my mind that I butchered the pronunciation but at least my epic failure was entertaining. Needless to say, I remain completely fascinated by the ability language has to connect you to people from other parts of the world.

                At this point in the blog, you'll  be relieved to hear that I landed. I'm sure you're thinking "when is  this going to end?" ; I do have tendencies of being long winded. Luckily there was no problem passing through Kenyan immigration despite the fact that I hadn't gotten my yellow fever vaccination. Fortunately they didn’t ask. I was met by our family friend, Mim, at the airport and my grandpa’s driver, Dan. After loading up all the suitcases, we made the 30 minute commute to my grandparent’s house. I couldn't help but think that it had been 14 years since I had last been to Kenya.  I had wanted to return since the day we left and I realized during that short car ride that my wish had finally come true.

               It was 3 in the morning and I gave grandma a big hug at the door. Grandpa walked by in his bathrobe- the typical attire for his early morning rituals of coffee making coupled with devotions. Once he saw me, he became his usual emotional self and before I knew it, we were both crying and hugging.  It’s crazy to think that it has been 5 years since we’ve last seen each other. I’m feeling very blessed and thankful for the time I will get to spend with them and hoping the jetlag wears off sooner than later. Hopefully my internet connection will come through in time to post this before my next entry.

                If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I’ll try and limit my next post to 1,000 words next time.