1,485,000 words

I've completed a lot of tasks since returning from Kenya last month.

I've unpacked my bags, scrubbed the dirt from my trail shoes, and did several (incredibly necessary) loads of laundry.

I've picked jewelry to join my engagement ring, cross necklace and FitBit in the "daily wear" pile and I've tucked my passport away safely in the cupboard, with my old boarding passes and expired travel visa sticking out the sides. 

I've gone back to work.  I've started going back to the gym.  I've turned my focus to wedding planning. I'm changed - wilderness inevitably has that effect - but I'm adjusting.

There's one thing I still have to do, though - something I think about often, but put off because...well, it's daunting.

I have to sort through my photos.

All 1,485 of them. 

The Great Rift Valley, on the way from Nairobi to Kipsongol 

One of the things I knew I wanted before leaving for Kenya was a new camera. My Fuji called it quits a couple years ago (after about six years of consistent use) and while I debated a couple other models over the year, I found myself relying increasingly on my iPhone. I'm not a professional and I've generally had access to better cameras for work, so I didn't have as much of a need to have gear of my own. 

I knew an iPhone wasn't going to cut it for this trip, though. 

Jenna's epic heel click 

They say a photo is worth a thousand words. It's totally cliche, but I've found it's not really all that far from the truth. When I look through the 1,485 photos I took during my trip, it's not just the moment captured in the frame that comes to mind. It's the memories of what happened before and what happened after. 

Walking hand-in-hand with village children on the way to the build site.  Digging up dirt and clay in the mid-day sun.  Open air showers when we returned to camp. 

The way the lorry struggled over the rocks every time we turned left at the end of the road leaving camp. The way the wind felt during those drives. 

Sitting on the "deck" at Mike's tent at the end of the night, listening to the kids laugh and scream while playing spoons in the mess tent. 

And that's just the start. 

Phillip, our Maasai guide, playing cheat in the mess tent with the kids

So, if a picture is worth a thousand words, I've got about 1,485,000 words worth of story to sort through. I anticipate that will change - some of the photos are duplicates, some aren't going to be the quality I want. I think that's what makes it daunting. To go through that process is to sort through all those memories, to remember and revisit all the feelings and emotions associated with that time, and make decisions about which of those 1,485 photos come the closest to telling the stories that I can't find the words to relate.

Sunrise, safari morning

So, for those who have been waiting to see photos...I promise I'm working on it. The longer I'm home, the easier it becomes to reflect on the experience and share stories with others. My thoughts are more organized and I'm less tongue-tied. It's getting easier.  But it's a work in progress.

And let's face it: 1,485 photos is a freaking lot of photos! 

Community celebration, last day in Kipsongol

to be continued...

the first 16 days

so um hi!

it's been a while.

it's been some time.

I didn't forget about this space, though (even though it probably seems like I have).

The last couple months have been...full.

Oleleshwa at sunset 

Ten days. Sixteen travellers (11 kids, five adults)

Fifty-two hours in transit to and from destination. 

Three airports. Two six-hour bus rides. 

Four build days. One six kilometre walk to fetch water.

Five lorry break-downs. 500 shillings to buy enough food for seven people. 

About a dozen cups of chai hot chocolate (seriously recommended). 

More donkeys and goats than I could ever begin to count. 

+ a sense of community unlike any I had ever experienced before.

I have been home for 16 days. During those 16 days, I have been asked the question "how was Kenya?" so many times I've lost count. 

The answer is always some variation of the same thing:

"It was great!" or "It was awesome!" or "It was wonderful!"

And all of these things are true. But none of them come close to doing a justice to the experience.

Of flying into Nairobi at night and seeing all the lights from the plane

Of eating some the most incredible fruit 

Of leaving camp and having children running toward you so they can hold your hand on the walk to the build site (aka their school)

Of seeing the before and after - the old school, in its desperate state, next to the new builds

Of not speaking the same language, but still finding lots of ways to connect

Of waving and smiling at everyone you see because they're waving and smiling at you

Of that night when the sky was so clear it was like being in a planetarium 

Of sitting around a camp fire while your Maasai guide shares about his culture 

Of being blown away as you listen to seven high school girls talk about what the opportunity to pursue education means for them

Of sitting in a classroom in the dark while children take turns reading to you in English and Swahili 

Of creating a community with a group of people you probably wouldn't otherwise have the chance to meet or interact with

Of feeling like you're part of something, everywhere you go

"You are highly welcomed in Kenya."

This phrase was repeated often during our time in Kipsongol, although none of us needed the repetition to know it to be true. We were taken in immediately by the community, embraced without hesitation. And it had nothing to do with us - it's just the way things are. There is a deep current of love that runs through rural Kenya that manifests in acts of care.

People look out for one another. And for someone whose love language is acts of service, seeing that in action affected me on a deep level. 

The crew, after a six kilometre roundtrip with Mama Katherine, Mama Norma and Mama Carolyn to fetch water. The water we carried was enough to last four days. 

The first 16 days home have passed quickly, filled with work and appointments and wedding planning and more work. I have had the chance to meet with some people and tell them about my trip, but I am very much still processing the experience - and more specifically, grappling with the question of whether or not its possible to create that same sense of community here at home - and if so, how to go about doing it. 

Dear friends, since God loved us, we also ought to love one another

1 John 4:11 (NIV)