It’s been a year since I boarded a plane and left my home of
so many wonderful years; a year in which:
-
I’ve not felt the intensity of the equatorial
sun, nor the deluge of African rain;
-
Nor been woken by the raucous squawks of ibis or
the untimely crowing of roosters.
-
I haven’t been aware of the “sound of Africa”, the
continual sweeping of compounds using brooms made of twigs.
-
My neighbours aren’t having their vehicles
washed daily, and mine has not once been filled with clouds of dust.
-
I’ve been incognito amongst this sea of white
faces, no longer a minority.
-
I’ve not heard the delightful chirruping of tiny
frogs at night, nor the tones of Abyssinian nightjar, nor the high pitched
sound of cicadas, or the ringing of Don Bosco’s bells.
-
My journey to work lacks multiple exchanges of greetings.
-
Security checks have been virtually unknown,
access to hotels, shopping centres, and supermarkets being open.
-
I don’t start each day anticipating regular adventures
to be had: on safari; on Nairobi’s roads; in the office…...
-
I’ve had clean feet (!), seemingly dust-free
homes, and clothes that haven’t taken on a reddish brown hue.
-
I’ve not been an integral part of the music
scene, and my flute has yet to be heard in a worship team.
-
I’ve barely used my binoculars, having exchanged
the vibrant beauty of bee-eaters, African paradise flycatchers, weavers, fire
finches…. at my window for their rather duller cousins.
-
The wonders of Kenya’s varying landscapes and wildlife
have only been enjoyed in 2-dimensional form, rather than as a 4-dimensional experience.
-
I’ve not been woken by a mozzie once (!), nor
have had need to slay a 'swarm' in the bathroom before bed.
-
I’ve not dodged construction vehicles nor
encountered ‘deviations’ over unmade roads……
-
I’m not been part of a diverse community, my
world (particularly relating to music) having been predominantly monolingual,
monocultural and monochrome.
So many things, most very positive, some less
so, but all were part of a life in a country that I’m so very thankful for, and
which I think of and miss each and every day.
