Is it true? Can it be? Have I really been home for a whole month now?
What with a lot of people to see, a lot of pictures to share, and an overly full to-do list, the month has flown, and I feel like I've had little time to actually reflect on my experiences, and what it's been like to be home. Now that I've seen a lot of my people, spent many hours sharing pictures, and checked a few things off of my list -- including one very big one today: "Take Step 2" -- I think I can say a little bit more about October. Primarily, that it's been hard. First off, going from the most amazing 2 month elective to one that I'm less than thrilled about has understandably induced some depression. Of course, I don't think I could have scheudled anything in October that wouldn't have paled in comparison to Kenya.
And the rest of life has just been...life. You know, the random minutiae that must be dealt with on a day to day basis. Stuff that, in the end, really doesn't matter, but you still have to do it just the same. Going to work, coming home, housework, homework, meetings, assignments, tests, etc.... it's all just such a drag. Much more so than usual. I find myself, strangely unfulfilled.... in a way that I wasn't before. Not to say that there's anything wrong with my life. Not at all. I just experienced the fullness that my life /could/ have... all of the things it /could/ be... and now that it's not like that anymore... well, it just sucks. I know it sounds weird, to be happy and not happy at the same time. I guess the best way to describe it is going into your attic to find your favorite painting has been stored in the sunlight for years, and now the colors are less bright, less vivid, and it won't ever be the same again.
And of course I've channeled all of these emotions into busy-ness and a full schedule... until this afternoon, when all I could think about was Kenya. This afternoon was also my scheduled time to start taking out my braids, which, at 6:20, I still haven't started yet. To be quite honest it makes me sad. Once I start, there's no turning back -- I don't imagine half-braided hair would look good at all. If I didn't have my first interview in a few weeks, I think I'd leave it in longer, but I suppose the longer I leave it in the harder it will be to take out (logistically and emotionally). It's about the hair and it's not about the hair. I can't remember the last time -- if ever -- I had a hairstyle that I liked every single day and that took about 60 seconds every morning. I really think I've gotten a significant amount more sleep this month than I would have otherwise. So yeah, I'm really gonna miss that. But, it's more about what the hair represents. On any give day in clinic 2-5 parents would ask me about my hair, how long it took , was it all my own hair etc. It was an automatic and easy way to talk about Kenya, I got to do it 2-5 times a day, and I didn't even have to be the one to bring it up. With my hair, it felt like a small part of me was still in Kenya, still a part of the country. And after it's gone...it's almost like my last tie to Kenya in the US will be falling on the floor in chunks along with my synthetic extensions. The other huge thing is that I said goodbye to Joe and Sarah Ellen on Sunday, as Wednesday they're heading back to Eldoret after their month in the States.
Goodbye to the Mamlins, goodbye to my hair... it's like all those difficult goodbyes from a month ago are happening all over again. No matter how hard I've tried to cover it up and move on, a month later, I still miss Kenya just as much as I did the day I left.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Journey Home
My week of "vacation" in Eldoret was anything but, especially the last half of the week. The many friends I made while in Kenya were a blessing, but when it came time to leave they all wanted to say goodbye to us, which really made for quite the busy social calendar.
On Monday we had goodbye lunch with Laurien, then on Tuesday it was goodbye and evaluation lunch with Hao. On Wednesday I had goodbye lunch with Joy, then it was our last dinner out with IU house that night. On Thursday our medicine Registrar Dr. Akwanalo took our team out for lunch, then that night it was our last dinner at IU house. On Friday our pediatric registrar Julia invited us to her home for a delicious lunch, which we could only stay for an hour of before we had to catch our plane.
Full and sad, we said our goodbyes to friends at IU house, then jumped into one of 3 taxis that had been hired to transport us and our tons of stuff to the Eldoret airport. The 3 cars weren't /all/ for us -- we happened to be going back at the same time as 2 other Indy people: Ellen and Dave who were in Eldoret on behalf of the Umoja project. Priti and my luggage had been sitting in the office, and as we were standing outside for goodbyes, we hadn't actually witnessed the drivers loading it into the cars. I was just about to jump into our cab, when my paranoid personality took over, and I ran into the office just to make sure that everything had been loaded. I'm glad that I did, because my smaller duffel bag carry-on was still sitting in the office; which included, among many other important things, my passport and my plane ticket from Eldoret to Nairobi.
Our time of departure from IU house was projected to be 2:00 in order to make our 3:00 flight, which in KT was really about 2:20 or so. On the way to the airport, our driver stopped to get gas, which in Kenya (of course) is no short 5 minute stop. Especially when your driver gets out and talks to everyone he knows on the street. Now, I realized that flights in Kenya probably also operated on KT, but I was still a little nervous when we pulled out of the gas station with about 25 minutes to go before our flight took off. Luckily our driver thought he was Speed Racer, so we made it to the airport in about 20 minutes or so. We arrived just behind Ellen and Dave's car, so we all grabbed our own luggage and headed into the airport...except... it wasn't all there. Priti was missing her big suitcase and I was missing the IU trunk jammed full of Stuff that I bought. Short moment of panic later, the drivers assured us that it was already inside -- apparently the 3rd taxi had come earlier with just those 2 pieces of luggage, and the other 2 taxis were for people and the rest of our luggage. Kenyan efficiency at its finest, but we didn't really have time to question. (As it turns out, the car with our 2 errant bags had been sent to pick up the pilots of the flight we were about to get on...so at least we were really in small danger of missing the flight).
After passing through "security" in the Eldoret airport, we approached the one and only ticket counter. Sure enough, behind the counter and already on the luggage belt were our missing suitcases -- they apparently had already passed through security without any escort. Hmm... Speaking of our luggage, there was a 10 kg (22 lb) limit TOTAL per person for all luggage, which clearly we were way, WAY over. The total overage was 5,000 some shillings which is about 100 dollars. Yikes. I guess they count on how much muzungus like their stuff. And actually we had so much luggage that they wanted to send us on the 3pm flight to Nairobi with some of our luggage and then send the rest of our luggage on the 6pm flight. We told them in no uncertain terms that that was completely unacceptable and not an option. We were paying enough, we wanted to make darn sure that our luggage actually got to Nairobi, not to mention not leave our property sitting in Eldoret unattended for several hours. Oh yes and also the flights into Nairobi fly into dinky little Wilson airport, and international flights out are from the much larger Jomo Kenyatta airport that is clear across the city. We would have had to be at Wilson at 7:00 to pick up our bags. No, I don't think so. Our bags were on the flight with us. Checking in provided another challenge in that Dave didn't have his return ticket. It was a huge miscommuncation that involved at least one phone call and at least one turning inside out of Dave's bag. It was worked out about 3:10. We then turned around to walk to the "gate" (literally, directly behind us), and as soon as we started walking that way the entirety of the people waiting also got up and headed for the door. Clearly, we had been holding up the flight.
Like sardines into a can, 15 or so people crammed onto the smallest plane I've ever been on. Well, maybe a few of the planes I flew on on transplant surgery were a bit smaller, or at least the same size, but on those planes we had 3 to 5 people max. This plane was one of those twin prop deals, with no bathroom and no cargo area -- everyone's luggage was just piled up in the back of the plane.
The ride to Nairobi was... hot and nauseating but blessedly short, only about an hour. The birds-eye views of the beautiful countryside were almost worth the price of admission. Really the flight was extremely turbulant, and poor Priti ended up throwing up onto the aisle toward the end. Even after a short 60 mintues, I have never been so glad to be back on the ground.
We unloaded our luggage at Wilson. Priti has a family friend that lives in Nairobi, and he came to pick us up at the airport. His name is Narendu, and amazingly all of our luggage, plus the three of us, fit into his small Nissan. He drove us back through the city to his house, where we met his wife and his two kids -- a very nice family. They took us on a short drive through the area around their neighborhood; took us to a VERY nice mall with a HUGE market that I could have spent significant time in, and they even drove us past the US Embassy in Nairobi. It was... big... very American-looking. Surrounded by high walls, barbed wire, and lots of signs warning against picture taking or film making of any kind. Apparently absolutely nothing inside is foreign -- even the pens are imported from America. Hmmm... I couldn't help but wonder: At what point do you pass secure and get to paranoia? At what point do such extrememe measures actually compromise security by making everyone live in a constant state of fear? I'm not sure...
After a brief and delicious meal back at their house, it was time to jet off to Jomo Kenyatta. Now, Shawn at IU House had told us to get to the airport around 7:00 for our 10:00 flight. Narendu said if we left his house by 7:30 to get to the airport by 8:15 we would be fine. Not wanting to argue with our host and source of transportation, we went with his plan. Nairobi is a big city, but Kenya is still Kenya, so Narendu (being Indian) does not drive at night. They actually have a (Kenyan) driver named Peter, and he took us to the airport. Traffic is absolutely horrendous in Nairobi, and we spent more time sitting than actually driving. Again, I realized that even at the international airport things are probably still run on KT, but still... missing the one and only daily flight to Amsterdam was not really something I wanted to do; not really the best way to start my trip home. It was about 8:15 by the time we reached the outskirts of the airport.
We approached the police roadblock/security checkpoint, and we were waved over by two policemen. They came up to Peter's window and were speaking in rapid Swahili to him. Then, Peter stepped out of the car and disappeared into the shadows with one of the policemen. Yeah, heart started beating a little faster just then. The other cop stayed by the car, and was shining his flaslight in the windows at us, directly in our faces. He was going on and on about how the two suitcases stacked on the seat beside me (in the back seat) were dangerous and there's no way we could be allowed to go on like that. Yeah... I'm /sure/ that my safety was the first priority on his mind. But, I tried to be overly polite, just explaining yes, thank you for your concern, but we're on our way back to AMERICA (stress the AMERICA part) after 2 months in Kenya, and we had a lot of luggage, and the boot was full. Still, the flashlight-holding cop lectured on and Peter had not returned. Meanwhile, there are groups of random people (men) walking by the car, stopping to look in the windows, and I can see the lights from the airport up ahead of us. In everything I've been through in Kenya, that was the first experience I had where I was really, truly scared; or felt threatened by a person.
After what seemed like an eternity, Peter came back to the car. When we asked him if the cop wanted money, he said yes, but he was arguing with him and wouldn't give him any. I almost wanted to shout WHAT?!? at him. OF COURSE give him money! You don't argue with a man with a semi-automatic weapon strapped to his back, no matter the superiority of your position! Give him the money man! I just want to go HOME!!! The real issue was that Peter didn't have much on him, so the cop was telling him to ask us for money (being the wealthy Americans.) Which, by the way, I WOULD have given to him. But, Peter was explaining to the cop that we were the guests of his employer, so to ask us for money would have been unforgiveably rude. Moreover, our mood was not likely to be improved by the fact that the more they argued, the higher the chance we would miss our flight home. While it's admirable that Peter was trying to do the right thing... seriously man... just give him some money. The solution they worked out was that the cop kept Peter's license and he was free to drop us off at the airport; but, he had to stop there again on the way out and "argue" (pay??) with the cop some more. I sincerely hope it turned out ok for him.
How such blatant and disgusting corruption can exist in such a beautiful country is beyond me... it was really not what I wanted one of my last memories of Kenya to be, though I suppose it's a dose of reality.
At any rate, Peter got us to the terminal. Everything thereafter until we got on the plane was just stressful. Of course we felt like we were running rather late. We had to get carts, as we had 4 bags apiece, and then to even get into the airport you have to pass through security screening. The guy outside the door was giving us a hard time about not having our tickets -- which of course we didn't have yet because we hadn't even checked in yet...we finally got to pass through security -- unload the carts, take out liquids, take off jacket, take off shoes, show passport, go through screening, then scramble to collect all of your belongings in reverse, while trying to find replacement carts for the ones you left outside... it was just a huge hassle. Then we had to stand in another line to have our luggage weighed. The guy told me my suitcase was too heavy. Yes, I know, but I can pay extra, yes? Oh, you want to pay? Yes. Because your suitcase is too heavy. YES, THANK YOU. It was not a shining moment on my part.
My luggage appropriately labeled, we then get in another (much longer) line to check in. The woman checking passports wanted to know why we didn't have our tickets. Because we haven't checked in yet! We are standing IN LINE to CHECK IN!!! Meanwhile we're also trying to fill out our immigration/declaration papers while juggling 4 bags apiece on big carts, trying to write and maneuver through the long turnstyles at the same time. Luckily it was such a horrendously frustrating experience that we just laughed about it. I was so glad that Priti was there though, and we could help eachother out. If she hadn't been there I might have had a nervous breakdown. We finally get to the front of the line about 9:00. It turns out the guy checking me in is originally from Eldoret, so we had a nice conversation about that. He was so busy chatting that he didn't charge me for my extra heavy bag (clearly labeled) and I wasn't about to speak up about that one. Bags checked, tickets in hand, we wait in yet another line to clear customs/immigration, then upstairs to the terminal. Nairobi is another one of those airports that does security screening at the gate, so we immediately get into yet another line to go through the gate security checkpoint. Well, Priti got in line and juggled 4 bags while I went to the bathroom, then we switched. Also, we both had quite a bit of Kenyan money left that we didn't want to take with us, so Priti ran off down the terminal to find an exchange place while I scooted/juggled our 4 bags again. She got back just in time for us to start going through security. I called Mike for just a quick hi we made it to the airport and will be on the plane shortly; which turned into a hi your car got broken into while sitting in our driveway and my wallet and the garage door opener were stolen, so I've had to cancel all of our credit cards - type conversation. A bad mood that got somehow worse....
Got through security ok -- well I did. They made Priti throw out all of her liquids/gels for some bogus reason, then she was so flustered she almost left her second bag at the security checkpoint -- she remembered it right as we were getting on the plane. We had just enough time to sit in a corner at the gate and send our last text message from Kenya before we got on the plane. Yikes. But, we made it on the plane, with eachother and all of our stuff, which is really the most important thing.
Pretty soon after taking off, I was out like a light for about 5 or 6 hours. Aside from being a completely full flight, the trip to Amsterdam was uneventful. After landing in Amsterdam, I had just enough time to brush my teeth, call Mike (who was still awake at whatever time it was in Indiana) and grab a quick breakfast with Priti before getting in line for security for my next flight. Of all the goodbyes I'd said, I think saying goodbye to Priti was maybe the hardest. Not that we wouldn't ever see eachother again, but saying goodbye to the person that I'd spent the last 60 days with meant that my time in Kenya was really over. When I got up to the checkpoint, one of the questions they asked me was "are you travelling alone?" I had to catch myself as I answered "N--Yes." When was the last time that I actually travelled anywhere alone? It was a strange feeling.
The flight to Boston was long and nondescript -- I slept some, watched a few movies, read, re-braided some of my hair -- you know, the usual. I was nervous about landing in Boston, as we would have to gather up all of our luggage (including our checked luggage), take it all through passport control and customs, then re-check it onto the flight to Indy. I had a little under 3 hours to do all of this, which I thought would be plenty of time, but sometimes you never know. As it was, the whole process couldn't have gone smoother. We were one of the first, if not the first, flight to land in Boston that morning, so passport control took all of 5 minutes by the time I waited for the 3 people in front of me. I was able to grab a cart right away, and I only had to wait about 10 minutes before both (yes, both!) of my bags came out of baggage claim. I wheeled my cart right through customs -- the guy didn't even ask me any questions, just looked at my passport and my declaration list and said "Have a nice day." Re-checking my bags was not even a problem -- the airport was basically deserted aside from our flight, and I just handed them to an NWA agent at the ticket counter. She didn't even weigh them (so I yet again got out of paying an overage for my too-heavy suitcase), just put them on the belt and said "Have a nice day." Going back through security was quick and easy too, and I got to the terminal area with 2 1/2 hours before my flight. I freshened up (one does not want to see one's husband for the first time in 2 months looking like one has been traveling for 30 hours, even if one has been), called Mike again, then I spotted the promised land -- STARBUCKS! I was even more excited when I realized that I was home in time for the best Starbucks Season -- fall. Java in hand, I sat in a rocking chair by a large window with the sun shining in and sat and thought... thought about anything and everything. I was so focused on not wanting to leave Kenya that I underestimated how good it would feel to be back in the US. But, sitting in the pristine modernity of the Boston airport, drinking my grande non-fat pumpkin spice latte, listening to American music on my Ipod, it was a good feeling. A feeling of being home.
As good as it did feel to be home again, I also thought a lot about Kenya, and I realized how much I already missed it. I wondered how I could ever reconcile the feeling of now having 2 homes, and how can I live in one and not miss the other, or at least remember it? I think that will be the hardest part of readjusting -- learning to live not just as an American, and not just as a Kenyan -- but to live as both.
Finally it was time to board the 4th and last plane. Of course it was tiny, and of course it was the longest 3 hours of the whole journey; they were all that stood between me and seeing Mike and the kids again. The very first thing I noticed when I sat down was that it was a plane of 40 white people. As a small flight going to the heart of the midwest, it's not all that surprising, but still... a bit of a shock compared to living as a definite minority for the last 2 months.
We finally got to Indy. As we were circling around waiting to land I got the greatest view of downtown, and I'll admit, it made me a little weepy. It was just SO good to see my home again, after being away for what felt like a very, very long time. And inside, I saw Mike, flowers in hand, and that was an indescribable moment as well.
All of my luggage in tow (yes!), Mike drove me to Chile's for my first American meal, which was quite satisfactory, I might add. Then it was on to home for my reunion with Ms. Thing and The Boys, which was a very loud, but fun, event. After PJ time and playing show Mike every single individual thing that I bought in Kenya (for which he was a fantastic sport), I passed out on the couch about 8:00. (I'm actually surprised I made it that long). Then I woke up at 3am bright and shiny and ready to start the day. Whoops.
Sunday was Church Day, which was great for several reasons. Obviously, it was great to see all the people I had been missing, and they all had hugs and nice things to say about my hair :). During the Sunday School hour, there was a presentation from the group of people who had gone to Eldoret for 2 weeks in April to see all of the various church-sponsored programs there. They talked about their trip, showed pictures, and answered questions. Sitting in the Fellowship Hall, half asleep and jet-lagged, looking at pictures of the hospital and the town where I had just been a little over a day ago -- it was SO SURREAL. It was just.... weird. I don't know how else to describe it.
Sunday passed too quickly, and soon it was Monday morning and time to go back to work. Getting ready to go went about as well as you might expect (read: absolute train wreck) with half-unpacked suitcases sitting all over the house. Between getting ready, packing my lunch, packing my gym bag, finding my white coat, medical equipment, books, car keys, letting out the dog... I played the "where's my...." game numerous times on Monday morning. The other thing I realized on Monday morning was that my school parking pass had expired in August. Whoops. Usually, if you renew it online and put the receipt in your window, they won't ticket you until you get your new pass in the mail. Well, I got it ordered, but no receipt was available. Instead I got an error message stating that my order hadn't gone through, but my credit card had been charged. Wait a minute... Running rather late at this point, I printed off the error message and hoped it would be good enough.
Surprising myself that I actually rememberd how to drive a car (on the right side of the road, no less) and how to get to work, I made it downtown without incident. Work was strange... I kinda felt like I was just floating through the day. I still don't think I'm 100% awake yet. I didn't really make my best showing, but I hope they'll understand. One of the fellows who worked in the clinic -- Laura -- went to Kenya a few years ago as a resident. It was nice to chat and trade stories about something that obviously meant a great deal to both of us. I think my biggest fear in assimilating back into normal life is that over time, Kenya will sort of fade into the background behind all of the lists, bills, appointments, tests, etc that pile up in everyday life. I think maybe by talking about it, to whoever will listen, it will always seem real to me. Like if I tell people about it, then it actually happened. And if I don't, then it seems more like a dream or some fantastic story that I just made up. Sounds strange, I'm sure.
After work, I got back out to my car to find -- you guessed it -- a parking ticket. *Sigh* Welcome home, Meagan. I drove right to the parking office, where I explained very politely to the nice man that I was out of the country for 2 months, tried to renew my parking pass online, but the computer wouldn't let me, and for crying out loud the office already /had/ my 150 dollars, and what I really needed was my parking pass and not a week's worth of 20 dollar parking tickets. The nice man was very nice about it -- he printed me a receipt, told me my pass would be mailed to me in 7 days or less, cancelled my ticket, and validated my pass to get out of the garage. Thank you, nice man.
Testing out my theory that the best way to resume my old life is to just jump right back into it, I went to the gym after work. I saw some more people that I knew, and got to talk about Kenya some more, which was great. (The hair was a great idea for this reason -- it's a natural conversation starter about the elective.) Then Monday I actually did some domestic-type activities AND I submitted my residency application! It was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be even though all I had left was to select the programs I wanted to apply to. But, as I was clicking the little boxes all I could think was that 'one of THESE hospitals will be my home for at least 3 years.' Frightening. And also expensive, by the way, but after much hemming and hawing and prodding by Mike, I did finally click the 'submit' button. I applied to 12 programs: IU, St Vincent (Indianapolis), Vanderbilt, UT Memphis, Louisville, Cinicinnati Children's, Cleveland Clinic, Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, Boston Children's, Salt Lake City, Duke, and UNC. Hopefully at least ONE of those programs will want me, eh? ;). And then this morning I was rather late to work, because I couldn't find my car keys. Turns out they were actually locked inside my car (the result of a very convoluted story involving Mike, #20 fuses, and his back window not rolling down). So, Mike had to drive all the way back from work to let me into my car, and I got to clinic about 30 minutes late. I really don't think I've made the best impression these first 2 days, but I suppose there's nowhere to go but up from here (I sincerely hope).
So, I'm back now. And it's still strange, thought its strangeness is wearing off faster than I thought it would. I'm in the process of sorting and posting my pictures, though with boards to study for and residency interviews to prepare for, I foresee it being a slower process than I would like. My old life was here waiting for me, and in some respects, I was waiting for it. Not getting stared at absolutely everywhere I go is certainly nice. As is my own house and my own bed, my own washer, dryer, and dishwasher; my own car, my own friends. I'm having dinner with Priti and Dayna tomorrow night, then I'll go out with Emily and Lindsey sometime this weekend. I think reconnecting with people has been the best way to feel completely happy about being back. That and the fact that I came back at the beginning of one of the most beautiful months in Indiana. It's cool in the mornings and the evenings, but just the right temperature to be outside during the day. The trees are starting to change color, and the media is saturated with the die-hard predictions and pompous know-it-all of the football crowd. And, Starbucks has pumpkin spice lattes.
I still think about Kenya at least a dozen times a day. The way the wind blows through the trees or a child speaks to me in clinic -- anything can remind me of Eldoret. I miss it. And I already can't wait to go back.
On Monday we had goodbye lunch with Laurien, then on Tuesday it was goodbye and evaluation lunch with Hao. On Wednesday I had goodbye lunch with Joy, then it was our last dinner out with IU house that night. On Thursday our medicine Registrar Dr. Akwanalo took our team out for lunch, then that night it was our last dinner at IU house. On Friday our pediatric registrar Julia invited us to her home for a delicious lunch, which we could only stay for an hour of before we had to catch our plane.
Full and sad, we said our goodbyes to friends at IU house, then jumped into one of 3 taxis that had been hired to transport us and our tons of stuff to the Eldoret airport. The 3 cars weren't /all/ for us -- we happened to be going back at the same time as 2 other Indy people: Ellen and Dave who were in Eldoret on behalf of the Umoja project. Priti and my luggage had been sitting in the office, and as we were standing outside for goodbyes, we hadn't actually witnessed the drivers loading it into the cars. I was just about to jump into our cab, when my paranoid personality took over, and I ran into the office just to make sure that everything had been loaded. I'm glad that I did, because my smaller duffel bag carry-on was still sitting in the office; which included, among many other important things, my passport and my plane ticket from Eldoret to Nairobi.
Our time of departure from IU house was projected to be 2:00 in order to make our 3:00 flight, which in KT was really about 2:20 or so. On the way to the airport, our driver stopped to get gas, which in Kenya (of course) is no short 5 minute stop. Especially when your driver gets out and talks to everyone he knows on the street. Now, I realized that flights in Kenya probably also operated on KT, but I was still a little nervous when we pulled out of the gas station with about 25 minutes to go before our flight took off. Luckily our driver thought he was Speed Racer, so we made it to the airport in about 20 minutes or so. We arrived just behind Ellen and Dave's car, so we all grabbed our own luggage and headed into the airport...except... it wasn't all there. Priti was missing her big suitcase and I was missing the IU trunk jammed full of Stuff that I bought. Short moment of panic later, the drivers assured us that it was already inside -- apparently the 3rd taxi had come earlier with just those 2 pieces of luggage, and the other 2 taxis were for people and the rest of our luggage. Kenyan efficiency at its finest, but we didn't really have time to question. (As it turns out, the car with our 2 errant bags had been sent to pick up the pilots of the flight we were about to get on...so at least we were really in small danger of missing the flight).
After passing through "security" in the Eldoret airport, we approached the one and only ticket counter. Sure enough, behind the counter and already on the luggage belt were our missing suitcases -- they apparently had already passed through security without any escort. Hmm... Speaking of our luggage, there was a 10 kg (22 lb) limit TOTAL per person for all luggage, which clearly we were way, WAY over. The total overage was 5,000 some shillings which is about 100 dollars. Yikes. I guess they count on how much muzungus like their stuff. And actually we had so much luggage that they wanted to send us on the 3pm flight to Nairobi with some of our luggage and then send the rest of our luggage on the 6pm flight. We told them in no uncertain terms that that was completely unacceptable and not an option. We were paying enough, we wanted to make darn sure that our luggage actually got to Nairobi, not to mention not leave our property sitting in Eldoret unattended for several hours. Oh yes and also the flights into Nairobi fly into dinky little Wilson airport, and international flights out are from the much larger Jomo Kenyatta airport that is clear across the city. We would have had to be at Wilson at 7:00 to pick up our bags. No, I don't think so. Our bags were on the flight with us. Checking in provided another challenge in that Dave didn't have his return ticket. It was a huge miscommuncation that involved at least one phone call and at least one turning inside out of Dave's bag. It was worked out about 3:10. We then turned around to walk to the "gate" (literally, directly behind us), and as soon as we started walking that way the entirety of the people waiting also got up and headed for the door. Clearly, we had been holding up the flight.
Like sardines into a can, 15 or so people crammed onto the smallest plane I've ever been on. Well, maybe a few of the planes I flew on on transplant surgery were a bit smaller, or at least the same size, but on those planes we had 3 to 5 people max. This plane was one of those twin prop deals, with no bathroom and no cargo area -- everyone's luggage was just piled up in the back of the plane.
The ride to Nairobi was... hot and nauseating but blessedly short, only about an hour. The birds-eye views of the beautiful countryside were almost worth the price of admission. Really the flight was extremely turbulant, and poor Priti ended up throwing up onto the aisle toward the end. Even after a short 60 mintues, I have never been so glad to be back on the ground.
We unloaded our luggage at Wilson. Priti has a family friend that lives in Nairobi, and he came to pick us up at the airport. His name is Narendu, and amazingly all of our luggage, plus the three of us, fit into his small Nissan. He drove us back through the city to his house, where we met his wife and his two kids -- a very nice family. They took us on a short drive through the area around their neighborhood; took us to a VERY nice mall with a HUGE market that I could have spent significant time in, and they even drove us past the US Embassy in Nairobi. It was... big... very American-looking. Surrounded by high walls, barbed wire, and lots of signs warning against picture taking or film making of any kind. Apparently absolutely nothing inside is foreign -- even the pens are imported from America. Hmmm... I couldn't help but wonder: At what point do you pass secure and get to paranoia? At what point do such extrememe measures actually compromise security by making everyone live in a constant state of fear? I'm not sure...
After a brief and delicious meal back at their house, it was time to jet off to Jomo Kenyatta. Now, Shawn at IU House had told us to get to the airport around 7:00 for our 10:00 flight. Narendu said if we left his house by 7:30 to get to the airport by 8:15 we would be fine. Not wanting to argue with our host and source of transportation, we went with his plan. Nairobi is a big city, but Kenya is still Kenya, so Narendu (being Indian) does not drive at night. They actually have a (Kenyan) driver named Peter, and he took us to the airport. Traffic is absolutely horrendous in Nairobi, and we spent more time sitting than actually driving. Again, I realized that even at the international airport things are probably still run on KT, but still... missing the one and only daily flight to Amsterdam was not really something I wanted to do; not really the best way to start my trip home. It was about 8:15 by the time we reached the outskirts of the airport.
We approached the police roadblock/security checkpoint, and we were waved over by two policemen. They came up to Peter's window and were speaking in rapid Swahili to him. Then, Peter stepped out of the car and disappeared into the shadows with one of the policemen. Yeah, heart started beating a little faster just then. The other cop stayed by the car, and was shining his flaslight in the windows at us, directly in our faces. He was going on and on about how the two suitcases stacked on the seat beside me (in the back seat) were dangerous and there's no way we could be allowed to go on like that. Yeah... I'm /sure/ that my safety was the first priority on his mind. But, I tried to be overly polite, just explaining yes, thank you for your concern, but we're on our way back to AMERICA (stress the AMERICA part) after 2 months in Kenya, and we had a lot of luggage, and the boot was full. Still, the flashlight-holding cop lectured on and Peter had not returned. Meanwhile, there are groups of random people (men) walking by the car, stopping to look in the windows, and I can see the lights from the airport up ahead of us. In everything I've been through in Kenya, that was the first experience I had where I was really, truly scared; or felt threatened by a person.
After what seemed like an eternity, Peter came back to the car. When we asked him if the cop wanted money, he said yes, but he was arguing with him and wouldn't give him any. I almost wanted to shout WHAT?!? at him. OF COURSE give him money! You don't argue with a man with a semi-automatic weapon strapped to his back, no matter the superiority of your position! Give him the money man! I just want to go HOME!!! The real issue was that Peter didn't have much on him, so the cop was telling him to ask us for money (being the wealthy Americans.) Which, by the way, I WOULD have given to him. But, Peter was explaining to the cop that we were the guests of his employer, so to ask us for money would have been unforgiveably rude. Moreover, our mood was not likely to be improved by the fact that the more they argued, the higher the chance we would miss our flight home. While it's admirable that Peter was trying to do the right thing... seriously man... just give him some money. The solution they worked out was that the cop kept Peter's license and he was free to drop us off at the airport; but, he had to stop there again on the way out and "argue" (pay??) with the cop some more. I sincerely hope it turned out ok for him.
How such blatant and disgusting corruption can exist in such a beautiful country is beyond me... it was really not what I wanted one of my last memories of Kenya to be, though I suppose it's a dose of reality.
At any rate, Peter got us to the terminal. Everything thereafter until we got on the plane was just stressful. Of course we felt like we were running rather late. We had to get carts, as we had 4 bags apiece, and then to even get into the airport you have to pass through security screening. The guy outside the door was giving us a hard time about not having our tickets -- which of course we didn't have yet because we hadn't even checked in yet...we finally got to pass through security -- unload the carts, take out liquids, take off jacket, take off shoes, show passport, go through screening, then scramble to collect all of your belongings in reverse, while trying to find replacement carts for the ones you left outside... it was just a huge hassle. Then we had to stand in another line to have our luggage weighed. The guy told me my suitcase was too heavy. Yes, I know, but I can pay extra, yes? Oh, you want to pay? Yes. Because your suitcase is too heavy. YES, THANK YOU. It was not a shining moment on my part.
My luggage appropriately labeled, we then get in another (much longer) line to check in. The woman checking passports wanted to know why we didn't have our tickets. Because we haven't checked in yet! We are standing IN LINE to CHECK IN!!! Meanwhile we're also trying to fill out our immigration/declaration papers while juggling 4 bags apiece on big carts, trying to write and maneuver through the long turnstyles at the same time. Luckily it was such a horrendously frustrating experience that we just laughed about it. I was so glad that Priti was there though, and we could help eachother out. If she hadn't been there I might have had a nervous breakdown. We finally get to the front of the line about 9:00. It turns out the guy checking me in is originally from Eldoret, so we had a nice conversation about that. He was so busy chatting that he didn't charge me for my extra heavy bag (clearly labeled) and I wasn't about to speak up about that one. Bags checked, tickets in hand, we wait in yet another line to clear customs/immigration, then upstairs to the terminal. Nairobi is another one of those airports that does security screening at the gate, so we immediately get into yet another line to go through the gate security checkpoint. Well, Priti got in line and juggled 4 bags while I went to the bathroom, then we switched. Also, we both had quite a bit of Kenyan money left that we didn't want to take with us, so Priti ran off down the terminal to find an exchange place while I scooted/juggled our 4 bags again. She got back just in time for us to start going through security. I called Mike for just a quick hi we made it to the airport and will be on the plane shortly; which turned into a hi your car got broken into while sitting in our driveway and my wallet and the garage door opener were stolen, so I've had to cancel all of our credit cards - type conversation. A bad mood that got somehow worse....
Got through security ok -- well I did. They made Priti throw out all of her liquids/gels for some bogus reason, then she was so flustered she almost left her second bag at the security checkpoint -- she remembered it right as we were getting on the plane. We had just enough time to sit in a corner at the gate and send our last text message from Kenya before we got on the plane. Yikes. But, we made it on the plane, with eachother and all of our stuff, which is really the most important thing.
Pretty soon after taking off, I was out like a light for about 5 or 6 hours. Aside from being a completely full flight, the trip to Amsterdam was uneventful. After landing in Amsterdam, I had just enough time to brush my teeth, call Mike (who was still awake at whatever time it was in Indiana) and grab a quick breakfast with Priti before getting in line for security for my next flight. Of all the goodbyes I'd said, I think saying goodbye to Priti was maybe the hardest. Not that we wouldn't ever see eachother again, but saying goodbye to the person that I'd spent the last 60 days with meant that my time in Kenya was really over. When I got up to the checkpoint, one of the questions they asked me was "are you travelling alone?" I had to catch myself as I answered "N--Yes." When was the last time that I actually travelled anywhere alone? It was a strange feeling.
The flight to Boston was long and nondescript -- I slept some, watched a few movies, read, re-braided some of my hair -- you know, the usual. I was nervous about landing in Boston, as we would have to gather up all of our luggage (including our checked luggage), take it all through passport control and customs, then re-check it onto the flight to Indy. I had a little under 3 hours to do all of this, which I thought would be plenty of time, but sometimes you never know. As it was, the whole process couldn't have gone smoother. We were one of the first, if not the first, flight to land in Boston that morning, so passport control took all of 5 minutes by the time I waited for the 3 people in front of me. I was able to grab a cart right away, and I only had to wait about 10 minutes before both (yes, both!) of my bags came out of baggage claim. I wheeled my cart right through customs -- the guy didn't even ask me any questions, just looked at my passport and my declaration list and said "Have a nice day." Re-checking my bags was not even a problem -- the airport was basically deserted aside from our flight, and I just handed them to an NWA agent at the ticket counter. She didn't even weigh them (so I yet again got out of paying an overage for my too-heavy suitcase), just put them on the belt and said "Have a nice day." Going back through security was quick and easy too, and I got to the terminal area with 2 1/2 hours before my flight. I freshened up (one does not want to see one's husband for the first time in 2 months looking like one has been traveling for 30 hours, even if one has been), called Mike again, then I spotted the promised land -- STARBUCKS! I was even more excited when I realized that I was home in time for the best Starbucks Season -- fall. Java in hand, I sat in a rocking chair by a large window with the sun shining in and sat and thought... thought about anything and everything. I was so focused on not wanting to leave Kenya that I underestimated how good it would feel to be back in the US. But, sitting in the pristine modernity of the Boston airport, drinking my grande non-fat pumpkin spice latte, listening to American music on my Ipod, it was a good feeling. A feeling of being home.
As good as it did feel to be home again, I also thought a lot about Kenya, and I realized how much I already missed it. I wondered how I could ever reconcile the feeling of now having 2 homes, and how can I live in one and not miss the other, or at least remember it? I think that will be the hardest part of readjusting -- learning to live not just as an American, and not just as a Kenyan -- but to live as both.
Finally it was time to board the 4th and last plane. Of course it was tiny, and of course it was the longest 3 hours of the whole journey; they were all that stood between me and seeing Mike and the kids again. The very first thing I noticed when I sat down was that it was a plane of 40 white people. As a small flight going to the heart of the midwest, it's not all that surprising, but still... a bit of a shock compared to living as a definite minority for the last 2 months.
We finally got to Indy. As we were circling around waiting to land I got the greatest view of downtown, and I'll admit, it made me a little weepy. It was just SO good to see my home again, after being away for what felt like a very, very long time. And inside, I saw Mike, flowers in hand, and that was an indescribable moment as well.
All of my luggage in tow (yes!), Mike drove me to Chile's for my first American meal, which was quite satisfactory, I might add. Then it was on to home for my reunion with Ms. Thing and The Boys, which was a very loud, but fun, event. After PJ time and playing show Mike every single individual thing that I bought in Kenya (for which he was a fantastic sport), I passed out on the couch about 8:00. (I'm actually surprised I made it that long). Then I woke up at 3am bright and shiny and ready to start the day. Whoops.
Sunday was Church Day, which was great for several reasons. Obviously, it was great to see all the people I had been missing, and they all had hugs and nice things to say about my hair :). During the Sunday School hour, there was a presentation from the group of people who had gone to Eldoret for 2 weeks in April to see all of the various church-sponsored programs there. They talked about their trip, showed pictures, and answered questions. Sitting in the Fellowship Hall, half asleep and jet-lagged, looking at pictures of the hospital and the town where I had just been a little over a day ago -- it was SO SURREAL. It was just.... weird. I don't know how else to describe it.
Sunday passed too quickly, and soon it was Monday morning and time to go back to work. Getting ready to go went about as well as you might expect (read: absolute train wreck) with half-unpacked suitcases sitting all over the house. Between getting ready, packing my lunch, packing my gym bag, finding my white coat, medical equipment, books, car keys, letting out the dog... I played the "where's my...." game numerous times on Monday morning. The other thing I realized on Monday morning was that my school parking pass had expired in August. Whoops. Usually, if you renew it online and put the receipt in your window, they won't ticket you until you get your new pass in the mail. Well, I got it ordered, but no receipt was available. Instead I got an error message stating that my order hadn't gone through, but my credit card had been charged. Wait a minute... Running rather late at this point, I printed off the error message and hoped it would be good enough.
Surprising myself that I actually rememberd how to drive a car (on the right side of the road, no less) and how to get to work, I made it downtown without incident. Work was strange... I kinda felt like I was just floating through the day. I still don't think I'm 100% awake yet. I didn't really make my best showing, but I hope they'll understand. One of the fellows who worked in the clinic -- Laura -- went to Kenya a few years ago as a resident. It was nice to chat and trade stories about something that obviously meant a great deal to both of us. I think my biggest fear in assimilating back into normal life is that over time, Kenya will sort of fade into the background behind all of the lists, bills, appointments, tests, etc that pile up in everyday life. I think maybe by talking about it, to whoever will listen, it will always seem real to me. Like if I tell people about it, then it actually happened. And if I don't, then it seems more like a dream or some fantastic story that I just made up. Sounds strange, I'm sure.
After work, I got back out to my car to find -- you guessed it -- a parking ticket. *Sigh* Welcome home, Meagan. I drove right to the parking office, where I explained very politely to the nice man that I was out of the country for 2 months, tried to renew my parking pass online, but the computer wouldn't let me, and for crying out loud the office already /had/ my 150 dollars, and what I really needed was my parking pass and not a week's worth of 20 dollar parking tickets. The nice man was very nice about it -- he printed me a receipt, told me my pass would be mailed to me in 7 days or less, cancelled my ticket, and validated my pass to get out of the garage. Thank you, nice man.
Testing out my theory that the best way to resume my old life is to just jump right back into it, I went to the gym after work. I saw some more people that I knew, and got to talk about Kenya some more, which was great. (The hair was a great idea for this reason -- it's a natural conversation starter about the elective.) Then Monday I actually did some domestic-type activities AND I submitted my residency application! It was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be even though all I had left was to select the programs I wanted to apply to. But, as I was clicking the little boxes all I could think was that 'one of THESE hospitals will be my home for at least 3 years.' Frightening. And also expensive, by the way, but after much hemming and hawing and prodding by Mike, I did finally click the 'submit' button. I applied to 12 programs: IU, St Vincent (Indianapolis), Vanderbilt, UT Memphis, Louisville, Cinicinnati Children's, Cleveland Clinic, Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, Boston Children's, Salt Lake City, Duke, and UNC. Hopefully at least ONE of those programs will want me, eh? ;). And then this morning I was rather late to work, because I couldn't find my car keys. Turns out they were actually locked inside my car (the result of a very convoluted story involving Mike, #20 fuses, and his back window not rolling down). So, Mike had to drive all the way back from work to let me into my car, and I got to clinic about 30 minutes late. I really don't think I've made the best impression these first 2 days, but I suppose there's nowhere to go but up from here (I sincerely hope).
So, I'm back now. And it's still strange, thought its strangeness is wearing off faster than I thought it would. I'm in the process of sorting and posting my pictures, though with boards to study for and residency interviews to prepare for, I foresee it being a slower process than I would like. My old life was here waiting for me, and in some respects, I was waiting for it. Not getting stared at absolutely everywhere I go is certainly nice. As is my own house and my own bed, my own washer, dryer, and dishwasher; my own car, my own friends. I'm having dinner with Priti and Dayna tomorrow night, then I'll go out with Emily and Lindsey sometime this weekend. I think reconnecting with people has been the best way to feel completely happy about being back. That and the fact that I came back at the beginning of one of the most beautiful months in Indiana. It's cool in the mornings and the evenings, but just the right temperature to be outside during the day. The trees are starting to change color, and the media is saturated with the die-hard predictions and pompous know-it-all of the football crowd. And, Starbucks has pumpkin spice lattes.
I still think about Kenya at least a dozen times a day. The way the wind blows through the trees or a child speaks to me in clinic -- anything can remind me of Eldoret. I miss it. And I already can't wait to go back.
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