I’m back. Back in the States, back home. Or at least on my way. The return journey has been fraught with moments of frustration, luck (both good and bad), camaraderie, exhaustion, and a zen-like approach to situations outside of my control. I left Nairobi at 11pm on Wednesday night. It’s now 4pm on Friday, and I’m still working on getting back to Atlanta. If I don’t miss my flight in Miami (the flight from New York left over half an hour late—the pilot predicts we’ll land 5 minutes after the gate closes for my final flight to Atlanta) I’ll land round abouts 7pm, a full 51 hours (remember the time change) after I left Nairobi. During that time, I had brunch in London and spent a night in NYC. My internal clock thinks its 11:15pm, and I’m fighting sleep. The complementary Coke didn’t help. (It’s easy to forget how much I dislike soft drinks until I polish off a 12 ounce can.)
Those are facts, what I’m actually feeling is much more difficult to wrap my mind around and express.
I met up with a friend from Uganda last night. It’s amazing how much we both missed it. I may have only just gotten back to the States, but I feel like it has been ages since I said goodbye to Kampala. Mostly, I imagine that in the brief 5 waking hours I spent with my (non-Ugandan) friend last night I managed to mention Uganda roughly 5 bajillion times.
Which brings me to another point. Getting home means it is my turn to answer questions. More specifically, the question: “How was Uganda?”
I have to wonder, do you really want me to answer this? It would take hours. And since I don’t have hours on end, the answer becomes succinct to the point that it is no longer an answer:
“Amazing!”
“I can’t imagine not going back!”
“Life changing!”
“I loved it!”
etc.
Sometimes, I’d like to answer. I’d like to sit down and spend a good two hours talking about the past half year and everything I saw and thought, but sometimes I don’t. I also have to remember, if someone asks me simply, “How was Uganda?” they maybe probably are only looking for an answer as detailed as the ones we expect in response to “How are you?” (Oli Otiya?). One liners are easy and pretty standard.
So. Let’s make a deal. My answer will reflect your question. The more specific the question, the more rich details in the answer. Ask about the street food or my host family or a day when I looked around and thought ‘Is this really my life?’ I promise I’ll give you the best answer I’ve got.
I wrote the above part of the post nearly a week ago, now, I’ve been home. Old news. Kinda. Oh, and I did miss my flight in Miami. I still don’t quite know how I’m feeling. Am I allowed to have mixed feelings the rest of my life? Can that be a thing?
I’m patiently waiting for reverse culture shock. My parents received a letter from Kenyon saying to listen to your child, help them as they make a difficult adjustment to American life. American life is pretty much how I remember it. Instant Netflix changed their interface slightly, but I’m managing. The important thing seems to be staying busy, which I’m not, as implied by my comment about instant Netflix. But I’ll be very busy very soon since I’m about to leave for the beach!
I have a lot more to say about Uganda and East Africa generally. We’ll see if I’m suddenly to busy (read lazy) to write about it.