“Welcome Home”. These were the first two words uttered to me by the immigration officer at the Nairobi Airport. “Welcome Home.”
A quick flip through my passport showed him I had been in and out of Kenya twice before, so he was simply making conversation with the nice Mzungu (white girl). But there was such a deep resonating in my spirit that I could only smile and try not to cry.
My three months in East Africa were life-changing for me last year. You can read about my African Love Affair and see how much I LOVE Kenya and Uganda. It really was like I was coming home. It is hard for me to even try and sit down and explain why I love it. There really aren’t words to describe the smell: BO mixed with burning trash, or the sounds: chickens, honking horns, singing, or the sights: a slow-moving busyness that doesn’t really make sense to us, giant buses crammed way over capacity. It is just Africa. And it felt like coming home.
My week there was a quick whirlwind. We did 5 days and nights of teaching, one FULL day at church and hopped right back on the plane. In a blink it is over and I am freezing again in my bed in Michigan; greeted again with more ‘welcome homes’.
The paradox of it all is overwhelming.
