24 hours ago, I was (at the time or writing, not posting) on the tube somewhere between Acton and Rayners Lane. In these 24 hours I have transported myself through time, continents and society.
Since landing on Kenyan soil I have watched a group of people surround the staff at an airport gate and shout, dance, giggle, collective eye-roll and generally behave extraordinarily, (through the lens of a Londoner’s eyes), on account of a delayed flight. I wasn’t exaggerating – dancing, just to amuse one another (and, of course in Kenya, for a bit of a show).
I have driven through villages with no plumbing or electricity, alongside passangers that live four to a single room.
I have swam in a lagoon and watched ospreys circle overhead and fishermen paddle around in dugout canoes.
I have arrived at a house (or folly?) that now constitutes about two-thirds of my wordly wealth and wandered, filled with excitement and anxiety, around rooms I’ve never seen before.
I have seen people I haven’t thought about since I left, 5 months ago, who’ve continued their daily lives tirelessly.
… and yet it feels like I never left. The constrasts couldn’t be more marked, yet the ability to adapt improves with every swing.
and now I sit exactly 7.3m above the ground, watching those Ospreys dive for fish in Mida Creek in front of my house as a tropical storm rumbles on the far side of the creek and a little geckko on the wall above me eeks out its daily bugs.
I’m here for 2 weeks +, alone in my house wondering if I’ll enjoy the solitude, or if it will start to creep up on my sociable bones. Either way, I will be sowing the seeds for future love within Ruby’s (the house’s name) walls.
PS – I’m really not trying to rub it in, promise