No Knowledge of a Pillow

4:30 am on a plane, about to depart from Nairobi. Culture shock hit pretty quickly: starting in Kisumu and just getting worse in Nairobi. It went from a college girl not knowing how to sleep between two sheets and not knowing what a pillow is, to the privileged school kids in Nairobi who have never seen a night without a pillow.

I came into Nairobi with dirty sandals and dirty feet. I’d been running barefoot in the dirt for five days, so what do you expect? But I felt so out of place. Everyone with their white name-brand sneakers and then me: muddy feet and muddy shoes. I’d been in the village. But I wouldn’t want to change that. I wouldn’t want to go to the village and say I didn’t want to play football because I didn’t want to get dirty. Because that’s more than half the fun.

I’m gonna miss them. I already do. They make my life a million times better. They give me purpose and I’m so thankful that God knew that I needed them, because I don’t know what I’d do without them.

This trip was much needed. Only God knew how much I needed to see them at this time. This trip was so amazing. I spent time with every age group. None excluded. The relationship we all have is so strong. I hope and pray it’ll never be broken.

Until next time, watu wa Kenya. You’ll be missed and prayed for daily. And to the ones at Huruma, you’ll never know how much you mean to me. I never knew that one trip to Kenya when I was ten years old would lead to a calling from God, to travel over 8,000 miles away from “home” to see His children. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. And I mean that. Nawapenda nyote.😘♥️