A Family Away From Home

Maybe it was my stomach getting tougher or maybe it was sheer willpower. I managed to swallow down the last of my lamb sausage (it tasted exactly how a horse smelled) and my ox testicle (the men had more trouble with this one). It was my last weekend in Kenya and dammit I was going to make the most of it, gassy or not. 

We called George. George was supposedly the name of the IVHQ approved taxi driver, but it was hard to know who was who because I swore they passed off calls to one another and didn't leave us with a clue. "George" picked us up in the safari van. Nobody really knew why that was his mode of transportation. I thought it was because it fit the most people, but then later he picked me up alone, in the same vehicle, to take me to the airport. None of this really mattered though. "Take us to a mzungu bar!" we cried.  He passed out on the couch as we danced and socialized, lost each other then found each other, laughing and shouting as the rain pounded over the canopied dance floor. By 3:30 we found George asleep in his safari van. We banged on the door and he took us home. 

Sunday was a lazy day. We had stayed at the volunteer house that night, the one that held up to 15 people and had a constant flow of newcomers. We trickled out of bed one by one, pouring chai and toasting bread. It was my last day with this crew. These were my Mombasa friends, the ones I had spent a weekend with exploring white beaches and soaking in paradise.  These were the strangers I bonded with as Nairobi was making headlines and innocents were getting shot, as parents were worried while the ocean beckoned  us to forget. It had only been three weeks but were had created something great. My last hour was spent happily reminiscing and quietly reflecting together on the balcony. When my taxi rolled up I looked up at the friends I'd never see again and they waved down. I'm lucky, I thought. 

I had two more days of life in Kenya. Some days whizzed by while others never seemed to end. But of course, I knew this was inevitable. I knew I'd feel it was all over too fast.