"Wait, you’re going home? America home?”
“You mean you aren’t coming back to Karungu?”
“How long will you be in America before coming back to Kenya?”
Question after question flooded me this week as I wrapped up my work here in Karungu. The week was packed with home visits, follow ups, and sneaking in two more school cementing projects with the remaining budget. Meanwhile, head teachers and community health volunteers from around Karungu called, visited, and pleaded that I not leave yet. “There’s still so much work to be done…how can you go now?”
I heartbreakingly responded to each of my new friends and co-workers with more or less the same answer…
“I’m going home for more schooling. But the Jiggers Project is still going on. I won’t be here in person, but I’ll be in America raising money and working with the volunteers here in Kenya. And don’t worry, I’ll come back to Kenya as soon as I can.”
Although I realize the difficulty of that promise -to continue raising money and working with the project while a medical student and promising to come back to Kenya as soon as I can- I know that I’ve worked too hard, invested too much, and began something too great to let it end when I leave Karungu.
The greatest blessing of the week was visiting many of the homes and families we’ve worked with. Almost everyone is jigger free and full of hope. Because of the heavy rains lately, many of the newly constructed homes remain unsmeared. But each of the families promised that as soon as the soil is dry enough to begin smearing, they’ll complete the work. And everyone seemed to understand how to prevent the jiggers from returning. So my unofficial evaluation of the project so far:
SUCCESS!!
While the greatest blessing was visiting all the families, the greatest heartbreak by far was saying goodbye to the neighborhood kids. As I gathered my last few things from the house, the kids drew pictures and wrote “Goodbye Kayla” notes. I managed to hold back my tears just long enough to hug them all goodbye. Of course kissing little Davis on the cheek and realizing I wasn’t going to be around to see them all grow into beautiful adults was too much. As I walked away from my little Kenyan house in the staff compound for the last time, eight months of tears poured down my suntanned cheeks.
Those tears instantly resurface when I think of the life I’ve left behind in Karungu. By far the most difficult, frustrating, overwhelming, lonely, eight months of my life. And yet simultaneously the most transformative, eye-opening, encouraging, unbelievable, indescribable eight months of my life.
So I have to keep reminding myself: Yes I’m going back to America. But it’s not goodbye, it’s see you soon.
Kenya: I’m not through with you yet.
i love you. its just that simple. and to imagine you at work.....wow i know that you are not only an amazing sister but an even more amazing person. i miss you like crazy
ReplyDeleteSafe journey back to the US and May God bless you. We in Kenya thank you for the wonderful work you've done. cheers
ReplyDeleteI'm so proud of you Kayla. When I read this excerpt by Ellen Goodman in the Boston Globe, I thought of you:
ReplyDelete"There's a trick to the Graceful Exit, I suspect. It begins with the vision to recognize when a job, a life stage, a relationship is over, and let go. It means leaving what's over without denying its validity or its past importance in our lives.
It involves a sense of future, a belief that every exit line is an entry, that we are moving on, rather than out...
The trick of changing well may be a trick of living well. It's hard to recognize that life isn't a holding action, but a process. It's hard to learn that we don't leave the best parts of ourselves behind.. We OWN what we learned back there.
The experiences and the growth are grated onto our lives. And when we exit, we can take ourselves along. Quite gracefully."
I love you!