Volunteers
As a volunteer with the Imani Project, and having had the chance to travel to remote villages in Kenya, I am hard pressed to find words that describe how exceptional and life changing this opportunity was. As we approached the schools the children would surround us with wonder and gratitude. They had prepared performances for us, and their way of song and dance is so amazing and powerful. I had the chance to educate villagers on subjects that are adversely affecting their lives, and visit many orphans, one by one, to bring a renewed hope to their lives and the lives of their families. Getting a glimpse of the way these families extend their hearts and homes to each other in dire conditions is a very profound thing to witness. I made many new friends brought hope to so many beautiful people. It was amazing to see what an impact we can have on people who need so much when we just open our hearts to them. This experience opened my eyes to a new culture, a new way of relating to other people, and the beauty of doing a small yet very important part to help when help is so needed.
I went to Kenya in June of 2009 as a volunteer, accompanying the Director, Marlene Anderson, and three other volunteers. I'd spent my career as a social worker in HIV/AIDS care, and had just retired. It was an extraordinary experience, one that forever changed me. I now marvel at the things Ive always taken for granted, and understand that I want for nothing. I need nothing. I know that I am blessed.
I also know that, despite our "developed" lifestyle and its great technological benefits, there are so many important things that they know, that they understand, in the rural villages in Kenya, that we have long forgotten. How to trust and depend on one another, the importance of community, and of laughter. How to appreciate even the most rudimentary necessities. How to accept what life gives you and to find joy in it. How little one needs to be happy. That life can be rich and full, no matter what you own, what you wear, where you live, or what your house looks like.
There is so much I will miss. The laughter. The children, always the joyful, grinning, barefoot children. The people I met on the paths and the roads who always greeted me. The group of women I passed every night on the road in Sabaki village who taught me, over time, the good-evening ritual in Giriama; it took me forever to learn it, and when I got it right, they would laugh and clap, and cheer me on. The dedicated volunteer staff of the Imani Project at Masheheni village. The dozens of children who came to us for wound care and who sat stoically while I dressed their wounds, and even though I had caused them pain, they came back time and again, and were so grateful. Watching every sunset from the table outside our house, under the thatched palm roof. Going outside on a moonless night and seeing more stars than I thought could possibly exist. Lying in bed at night and listening to the night birds and to the hippos grunting. Waking up just before dawn to the symphony of birds every morning. Tuk-tuks, and matatus. The smoky smell of my morning bath water, having been heated over an open fire. The crystal clarity and the incredible color of the Indian Ocean. Fresh mangos at every meal. Mostly I will miss the people. Their remarkable generosity. Their joy. Their laughter. Their gratitude. The kindness they always showed me. Our host family - for a while they were our family, as well - and the good care they gave us. I don't know if I'll go back.
Hopefully, I will. As the Muslims say in Kenya, “Inshallah.“ God willing.
