Kenya
Kenya caught me off guard. I thought I’d like it there, but I could not have anticipated the immense impact it had on me, and the struggle I felt when leaving.
It’s not often I return from a trip and feel dispirited, but I did with Kenya. Stepping off the plane at Heathrow Airport, I was drained. Yes, it was partly down to the past 24 hours of travel that I had just endured. My ability to sleep on planes leaves a lot to be desired, so I spent most of the flight reminiscing over the last eight weeks and trying to figure out how I’d slip back into my previous life. But it was more than that. My departure came too soon. Instead of feeling excited to be returning home, I felt distance and a mounting resentment towards everything being back to normal. I didn’t even raise an eyebrow as clean water efficiently seeped from the airport tap, or at the array of cafes and restaurants now at my disposal, selling all the foods I had been craving for weeks. I simply didn’t want to be back, and the normality of everything filled me with unease.
I thought I’d have a culture shock when I returned to Europe. Kenya had been so different, and I had grown accustomed to its perks and the way of life there. Although my bucket shower technique still needed some work, my morning routine had begun to run without too many glitches. I was beginning to master hand-washing my clothes, was a ninja with the head torch during power-cuts and when a chicken wandered into the living room, unsuspecting to the fact he was to be our meal for the evening, I didn't even bat an eyelid.
Yet as soon as I arrived back in the UK, it was almost as if Kenya had never happened. I walked nonchalantly across the smooth tarmac, my bag rolling gently by my side, as if less than 24 hours ago, I hadn’t been heaving it up the dusty hill that led to my Kenyan home. The only giveaway was the lingering woodsmoke scent emanating from its fabric and the stains smeared across its side from the dust kicked up from the chaotic streets of Machakos.
I wish I’d had a culture shock when I returned, because that would have meant Kenya would have been harder to forget and move on from. It almost happened too quickly, the restoration of normality. Kenya soon felt like a world away. The problem, you see, is that I don’t want to forget anything about my time in Kenya. The life I had enjoyed for those two months was a simple one, without many of the luxuries I had grown accustomed to, yet it was bursting with excitement, vibrance, and a fervent wildness and freedom that I've struggled to find elsewhere.
I'm under no misconception that I probably benefitted more than anyone from my time there. I learned an immense amount, and disposed of lots of preconceptions that I had had of Kenya. The VSO programme pairs UK volunteers with local counterparts, and I found that working alongside Kenyan volunteers and living with a Kenyan host family gave me a unique insight into their culture and way of life. Debate was encouraged and we had lots of animated discussions around the dinner table, with all parties coming away with a renewed understanding of the other, and a realisation of the immense complexity of some of the development issues we were trying to tackle and understand.
More than anything, the experience made me acutely aware of my own predispositions and cultural biases, and my Kenyan counterparts agreed that they had undergone a similar realisation. For example, I packed a mountain of 'traveller trousers' for my trip- you know the type- light, baggy material with elephants printed on the side. I wanted to make sure I wore clothes that were appropriate as I knew that in Machakos people were fairly religious and tended to cover up and I (wrongly) assumed that the weather would be super hot. You can therefore imagine my embarrassment when my Kenyan friends asked me why everyone who came from the UK always wore such scruffy trousers, and took me off to the local market to buy a pair of skinny jeans. The stereotypes did go both ways however, with my Kenyan counterparts often making the assumption that everyone in the UK is rich, and that if you are white, you have money. My friends said that they had never really considered that poverty also existed in the UK, and it was interesting to explain the similarities and differences between our countries and exchange stories and ideas. For me, this is what makes the ICS programme so unique and worthwhile, and hopefully plants some seeds in the minds of both the in-country and UK volunteers, that can develop into something quite special.
The highlights were plentiful and low-points few. I've listed a few of my favorites below...
- Hiking with my counterparts in the first few weeks. As we passed through the village some kids decided to tag along and took us through the bushes, marking the path and showing us the way. They knew it like the back of their hand and were far fitter than us and we trailed behind in awe.
- Working with Green Life Africa, the environmental charity that I was placed on as an ICS volunteer. We spent a lot of time visiting villages and schools to encourage them to grow drought-resistant crops and increase awareness about sustainable farming practices within the region.
- Hanging out with my host family and counterparts. It was a busy house with people coming and going all the time which I loved. My fellow counterparts: Hannah, Siwa and Manu, were a dream to live with and the experience wouldn't have been the same without them.
It was an experience I'll never forget and has given me a fresh perspective on travel, relationships, development and culture. It's made me realise what truly is important in life and that a country really can steal your heart. I fully intend to return, to visit the friends I made out there and would love to go back to Machakos and see the progress that Green Life Africa has made. Development is complex, and I've come to understand that more than anything, change has to come from within the country and by its own people. However, I still think that there is a huge benefit in having young people from different cultures and regions of the world come together to share ideas, tell stories and understand one another. Surely this will have a long-lasting impact and unify future generations.
