Back at the Balm. Busy, busy.

Upon  our arrival we got the best surprise of all. Spencer and Ashley were there to greet us.  Nothing could have been better!  Wonderful smiles and warm hugs all around.  There was so much to catch up on and we were going to have the next couple of days together to make a start.

But first, Gary and I would drive west in our rental car to get Sydney.  Shan and George’s house was in a state with new windows being installed. We didn’t want to draw out the process or get in the way.  But when I cried out “Skyyyyyyydneyyyyyyyyyyy”  she jumped and wiggled with excitement.  She remembered us!  She was as big (well she did seem bigger) and beautiful and as hairy as always and she jumped in the car.  Again, how do I say Thank You, to people who have fostered our dog, loved her and spoiled her like one of their (two) own?

As we turned around and headed east toward the farm, Spencer and Ashley picked up our orange tabby, Tracadie, who had been staying with Christa, Stefan, William and Benson (huge thanks to them as well) and drove to the farm where we all converged in the late afternoon. The house had been cleaned but the larder was empty.  Bless Spencer and Ashley for coming prepared, Crown Royal rye for Gary, Tanquery Gin for me, and frozen pizza and toilet paper for all of us!  All the necessities of life!  How considerate.

Home again, home again, jiggedy jig.  To sit on the porch, with Spencer and Ashley, watching the sun go down after 9pm. The next day, we wandered the farm, half giddy with fresh air, the light breeze, the smell of cut grass, of being back at the Balm. I found feathers wherever I walked outside, of a variety of shapes and sizes and colours. Everywhere I was finding feathers. In two days we had only scratched the surface of catching up with Spencer and Ashley but we all needed to get (back) to work.

And so it began.  Days and days (at least 18) of long, long hours (10 – 12) of getting things in order; cars to get insured, licensed, running and detailed, the lawn mower, whipper-snippers, dishwashers, chainsaw and water softeners going, bush cleared, trees down, mouse and chipmunk poo cleaned up (from everywhere), a new pressure tank ordered and installed and replacing things that had shifted slightly over 2 years of various people putting things away as they best remember.  A mammoth grocery shop to restock empty shelves.  Silver to polish, I know, silly. We got the dogs to the vets for lyme disease vaccinations and Sydney to the spa for her summer buzz.  Outdoor furniture needed to be moved from its winter residence inside the house or drive shed to designated porches, decks or lawn. There were porch planters and house pots to be filled with flowers and plants, to  literally breathe life back into the house.  And there was the daily job of collecting apples from under the tree, to avoid the whole area becoming applemush, unmowable and major wasp attraction. The  novelty has long worn off and there are at least a thousand or so apples left to fall.  I have discovered that we can drop off the apples (three boxes last time) at the town hall where there is a free meal provided on the 1st and 3rd Mon and Wed of the month.  The weather was unseasonable cool, sort of Nairobi weather, no humidity and warm days and cool evenings,  It was perfect for what we were doing.

And then the wonderful feeling of collapsing exhausted into bed, to fall into a deep slumber. Deep and dreamless sleeps like I haven’t had since I can remember. Oh to wake up, feeling refreshed and so ready, with anticipation, to tackle the day’s jobs.

I became aware of the various ways I needed to recondition myself back to life here.

First, I was reminded once again, of my body’s reliance on light to pattern the day.  What with so much to do and such long days, we often didn’t stop working and have a cocktail until close to 7pm.  We would sit on the porch and enjoy the long shadows stretching across the lawn.

Then it was the birds. It seemed that even the birds were reawakening.  The found feathers indicated that they were there, but it was either the lack of filled bird feeders or, more likely, our unattuned ears and eyes.  We were listening but not hearing, watching but not seeing.  We needed time to reacustom ourselves to the birds of the Balm.  But eventually it came back to us, with the birds.  We spotted cedar waxwings, kildeers, blue jays, gold finches, red wing black birds, phoebes, the house wrens, starlings, swallows, robins, hummingbirds, chickadees, nuthatches, evening grosbeaks, and upon our arrival, a pair of herons flying low overhead.

Next, it was driving.  I caught myself looking the wrong way first when crossing traffic.  I kept thinking that left turns were the easy ones and for weeks I was turning my wipers on to signal my intention.  One day I needed to drive to the Toronto Airport to sign some customs documents.  This would mean a 2.5 hour trip each way.  I needed to work out how to do this and avoid the morning and afternoon rush  hours that I could trapped in crossing the top of the city.  Where or where was Nelson?

Three weeks after our arrival and still in the throes of getting ourselves back to where we left off, I went back to work.  I am in the same role, supporting Africa.  Most mornings,  I start at 5am and work until 1 pm or so. I am a morning person, so when my alarm goes off, I pop out of bed and slip into the dressing gown and slippers I have left out.  The dogs no longer think its time to get up, though they do greet me before they resume their various sleeping postures. The window in front of my desk overlooks the currently heavily burdened apple tree and I can watch the aforementioned birds hop through the tree.  I have noticed the sunrises, still spectacular over the green and gold field of corn starting later and later each day.  By the time Gary comes back from his coffee walk with the dogs, I have put in 3+ hours and its time for a break.  I like wrapping up my work day early, leaving me time to continue on with household and property chores.  I have moved up my bed time and try to get there by 10 or so, and lights out by 10:30.  However, its my sleep that seems most impacted. I wake up fussing that I didn’t check my calendar and could miss an early morning meeting, or what if my alarm doesn’t go off, or, or or.  Hopefully, this will sort itself out. Sooner rather than later would be appreciated, but that would be impatient of me.

All in good time, g

Grasshopper, all in good time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

daily apple picking (

 

 

How do I say Thank You?

Our final week in Nairobi was frantic.  The movers arrived promptly Monday morning.  All six of them were polite, clean and in company uniforms.  They moved with the swift smooth assuredness of men who had been doing this for years. They spread like a virus throughout the house, infecting every corner and sending the house residents, Gary, Jane, Samson and even Nelson into ever-increasing circles of not belonging.  It was all going according to plan.

(Photos to be added once cables arrive from Africa in either our air or sea shipment – which is currently unknown.)

I worked from home on Mon and Tues, to oversee and answer questions.  We had been advised to keep our eyes on the packers, but with six of them and only Gary, Jane and I, it was not possible and eventually, perhaps in defeat, I began to feel that it was not warranted.  I tapped away and took calls in the office as long as the office was still in tact. On Wednesday morning, I went into the office to have some meetings a print files and to get my old laptop that I brought from Canada working again. I was home in time to see the men packing all the boxes onto the container.  It was like a jigsaw puzzle, a work of art and I was relieved to see that just as they had promised, it all fit (despite the dire first hand stories I had heard of people who had to jettison items that they had been reassured would fit).  Kelly, the only unboxed item, but with an identification and ownership sticker on his back, was the last item put in place.  There was room to spare. (I could have purchased items and brought them back for my County Shuka Duka!)

 

I said my final good-bye to the Gem, a warm and gracious place to call home, which quickly became home for us and an idyllic island getaway of peace and great come together place for parties, not only for ourselves but for several others.  As Norm Seli had predicted, it had become the Balm East, very East.  Our own wonderful Nidulus.

 

Glenda, ever the thoughtful, kind and generous friend had always offered a room in her apartment for us to stay before we left Kenya and we gratefully accepted. At the time, her three bedrooms were set up as a master bedroom, guest room with twin beds and an office.  What none of us knew at the time, was that Glenda would be packing up so soon after us.  Since we accepted her invitation, the beds in the guest room had moved next door to Kyle’s apartment, to accommodate his wife and two kids visiting for the summer.  And to make things even more hectic, Angela and Kyle were moving apartments as well.  All three of them in three consecutive days.  Naturally, there was a party at Glenda’s.  By the time we had finished in Karen and drove along the fascinating jumble of shops, and stalls, restaurants and hawkers along Ngong Road, all stories waiting to be told, it was almost 9pm and the gathered tribe were in full swing.  As usual, the place was bursting with food, energy and good will, and a fair amount of beverages and music.  I need not have worried about Tusker.  I had thought that perhaps putting his crate in the room Glenda had designated as Tusker’s room, and leaving him in a ‘quieter’ place would be easier for all of us, but Glenda assured me that anything at tail height had been removed and his tail indicated he was up for the crowd.  I should have known he would be in his element with so many people around.  Eventually he wandered calmly from hand to hand, discerning those that were happy to heap attention on him.  But Tusker’s room was the former guest room.  Sleeping logistics?  No problem for Glenda.  She would move downstairs and sleep in Angela’s guest room, at least for the one night that Angela was still downstairs.  For the next time, she insisted on keeping us in her room while she slept on the bed.  Unbelievable.  As it turned out, unbeknownst to me, as I sat on the toilet in her bathroom trying not to wake Gary up, hastily sending out last chance work emails, Glenda was up at 3am fussing with email and sorting out last-minute screw ups for her return flight to Australia.  We should have had a pot of tea together!

 

On Thursday, I went into the office to return my Kenyan laptop. My colleagues had a delightful pot luck lunch for me with delicious Quiche, spicy rice, meat balls, grilled meat, pizza and cake.  Kind words, farewells and, of course, lots of laughs were exchanged.

 

Saying good-bye knowing that I would still be in the same role, working from Canada with these colleagues and friends helped.  Confident that I would meet some of these folks again, somewhere in the world, helped even more.  Knowing that we would see some in the near future helped even more.  But it was still difficult to say Kwaheri Kenya.

 

Friday was a whirlwind of taking Tusker to the vets in Karen.  He was to board with Nonee for almost a week as he would be leaving Kenya after we arrived in Canada.  From there, we were back into town for Gary to see the doctor to ensure his eye had healed (a separate story for another time).  Then to the office to print documents I needed for customs and had just received.  Then we took the car to the leasing office, to top off with gas and to settle the June invoice and to finalize July payments.  While the July statement was being created and the car being gassed up, Nelson, Gary and I had lunch at the new burger restaurant next door. While our flight didn’t leave until 7pm, it was Friday which could mean that traffic on Mombasa Road might be a nightmare.  As well, preparations for  U.S. President Obama’s visit were underway which could also impact traffic, so we headed out to the airport after 1.

 

Naturally, and yet simultaneously ironic, traffic moved well.  We passed by signs of ‘Obamification’, roads being carpeted (paved), traffic lines being painted, pedestrian overpasses being built, shabby roadside stalls being removed and only the lucky ones getting appropriate face-lifts, ditches and mediums being raked and cleaned and trees being planted. Somehow the budget for infrastructure, long depleted into dozens of the deep and secret pockets of the affluent leaders miraculously reappeared in time to put on appearances.

 

For perhaps the last time, I took a mental inventory of the amazing things one can see for sale along Nairobi roadsides: peas, oranges, mangos, tree tomatoes, maise, turkeys (a man carrying two live), bananas, fire extinguishers, steering wheels, emergency car reflector triangles, hats, sports balls, bags, biscuits, CDs, DVDs, learn to read books, gum and candy(sold individually), tiny bags of peanuts, towels, face cloths, magic boards (a low-end, low-tech Etch-a-Sketch) and telephone charges.   We passed under the huge and hilariously ugly marabou storks. Busses emblazoned with names like Black Market, Optimist, Black List, Culture, Ebeneezer, Lumnous, Gracious, The Dawn, Jehovah’s Say is Final, Chap Chap and God’s Blessing tottered, screeched and belched along. We passed by the Mercedes dealership and the Panari Hotel, with its indoor ice rink.   Was the ironic juxtaposition of the necessary and the superfluous lost of most of the traffic zipping past?

 

Terminals are still under construction at JKIA and signage is either questionable or missing, so we circled once before finding the Swiss Air drop off. It was under construction, well, actually, it was missing altogether, so we simply pulled over and hastily pulled out our four suitcases.  Nelson, never a man of many words, or for showing much emotion and convinced that we will be back in a few years, quietly shook Gary’s hand and looked a little embarrassed by my hug.  We were off.  My last quick glance back saw Nelson letting a uniformed women into the back seat of the car, I assumed to give her a lift somewhere.

 

The terminal entrance was not busy and check in was orderly.  All security checks were passed, including my two ostrich eggs which had to go carry on and are illegal to buy in Kenya.  Mine were purchased in South Africa, where they are sold everywhere, from roadside stalls, to shops to duty-free, but as I had bartered at the side of the road for mine, I had no paperwork.  I guess ostrich eggs were not on the high alert list that day.

 

And so two years had flown by, just like that. In the blink of an eye, our anticipation, our initial loneliness, our busyness, our excitements, our exploring, adventures and travels in Kenya were over.  Done.  Finito.  Just like that.  Where had it gone?

 

Yes, we were anxious to get home, to see family and friends, to get working on the long list of projects at the farm.  We were looking forward to the long days of summer, to cleanliness of public spaces and orderliness of behaviour and operations.  We were looking forward to driving ourselves, of feeling completely comfortable to go anywhere at any time.  Yes, we were ready to leave behind certain 3^rd world frustrations.  And yet, I was sad to be leaving this adventure behind.  True, when one door closes, another opens.  And as wonderful as where the new door leads, there is still, for me, a sadness of what is being left behind.  But ‘We keep going’ and so we do.

 

Several hours later, as we were waiting in the departure gate, my phone rang.  It was Nelson.  Poor Nelson.  He had not generously offered to give the uniformed woman a ride.  She was a police officer who had arrested him for illegally parking.  He had been driving around the airport all that time.  The ‘fine’ was 5000 ksh ($65).  Nelson insisted that all he had was the 500 ksh that we had given him to pay for the gas to top it off again before returning it to the leasing agency.  Eventually, the officer relented and took the 500 ksh.  If only I had known what was happening at the time, I would have marched over to the car and had a discussion with the officer, pointing out that a) Nelson had not parked and b) as a result of the airport construction, he stopped in the only place to let passengers out.  She would not have been successful with her tricks with us.  I almost wonder if she had been lurking around waiting for just such an opportunity.  It  the manner of many Kenyan police officers.

 

Filled with all this turmoil, physically, mentally and emotionally drained, we headed to Zurich Swizterland (via Dar es Salaam, Tanzania).

 

What an absolute joy it was to see Dominik at the Zürich airport. What a happy reunion.  We dropped off two of our suitcases and then we were off. With a running commentary of the city, Dominik sped through the down town, there being little traffic in the early Saturday morning hours. Everything was clean and modern and signed and orderly. We skirted along Lake Zürich, a bright blue sparkling sliver nestled in the foot hills.  Too early for a stiff sailing breeze, only a few kayak and canoes disturbed the mirrored surface.  A small detour off the main highway took us to Operieden, the town now almost enveloped by the sprawl of Zürich and its suburbs, where Dominik grew up.  He pointed out the house he grew up in.  Back on the highway, we passed the through a narrow gorge which widened out upon the Waldensee, a glacier green and pristine lake. The city and suburbs were far behind us now.  We were living in a Heidi post card now.  Every view was like something from a travel brochure and now seated shotgun, I was shooting photos left, right and centre.  Another side route took us through Bad Ragaz, with its posh shops, hotels and golf course being overseen by a smaller replica of Rio’s Christ upon the hill.

 

Upon arriving in the chalet dotted mountain village of Klosters, our welcome from Carmen and Emma was no less joyous and we laughed and cried with happiness as we hugged and kissed (three times) and patted one another.  Only six weeks, a new home and continent apart , there was much to catch up on.  We had a tour through the house.  It is  almost 300 years old (and I thought the Balm was old) with built-in cupboards and hutches.  The combination of traditional (at least to my mind) Swiss touches, of red and ivory checks, bovine images and Nordic themes mixed with their carefully collected pan African treasures made their house a welcoming home.  The split front door, allowed the crisp mountain air to flow and kept Emma inside, while allowing her a view while standing on her kind legs.  We were shown to our room, on the top floor to ourselves, crisp white linen on duvets, charming red and white accents, white towels, aromatic wooden walls and ceiling. Our beds were strewn with Swiss candies and biscuits.  Bottled water on the dresser and the children’s story book about Ursli, of whom we had previously seen and heard.  The window between our beds overlooked chalets below, barns on the hillsides, mountain peaks in the distance with a backdrop of crystal skies regardless of the time of day or night. The “Eagles Nest” was the perfect respite.

 

Carmen’s delightful parents stopped by in the afternoon.  While her mother, Annina,  is a little reserved and perhaps shy that she  didn’t speak much English, but with Carmen’s help, we managed to communicate and share stories.  Bardot, Carmen’s father, spoke English very well and was a friendly and gregarious chatter.  He and Emma have a very special grandfather/granddog relationship, each adoring the other.

 

Ccappuccinos, expressos and tea with some Swiss chocolate sitting in their back yard, surrounded by deeply forested hills and snow topped mountains was the perfect way to energize us and a long walk along the glacier river to freshen up and awaken our other senses and appetites. Even the firewood is neatly and even artistically piled.  And just in time for a home made, traditional Swiss meal of veal flakes with a creamy onion sauce and my fav, rosti!  Heaven.

 

Upon awakening on our first morning in Switzerland, we drove through Klosters to catch the Madrisa gondola which took us up the Saaser Alp.  There we passed the children’s activities (petting zoo, paddle boats, trampolines etc) and made a very short climb to the restaurant.  Tables were set up inside and out.  The morning was fresh and glorious so we chose one out of the wind and partially in the sun (for me). Sheep skins covered the benches.  The preset breakfast arrived; yogurts, granola, cold cuts, fruit, bread and condiments. It was a feast fit for those that had hiked the whole way up, but we tucked in well, nevertheless. Laced strong coffee and tea washed it all down.  Now we were ready for a hike.  We passed by a cheese making farm, the nearby cows ringing their presence.  All kinds of people were on the wide well kept paths with us, families with toddlers and little ones in strollers or back packs, extreme sports enthusiasts, dog walkers and elderly couples, clearly prepared for some good exercise.  Despite the still early hour, the day was warming up and we were peeling off layers.  We stopped for Emma to drink in one of the cold clear alpine streams and taught her how to ‘dive’ for stones, something that Sydney loves to do, though we haven’t seen Tusker ever put his face in the water either.  Emma thought it was great fun as she could get practically completely immersed while her feet were still on the bottom.  Summer alpine flowers, including Edelweiss were in full bloom. We stopped at a rest stop at one of the peaks, with a breathtaking view along the pastoral valley below and across to other mountains and ranges.  The visibility was incredible.  Dozens more photos…

 

Later that day, we drove to Davos.  On the way we stopped at the small picturesque lake of Davosersee.  In addition to the surf paddlers and kayaks, there was a school of albacore (boats not tuna) that was either having lessons or racing or both.   People were strolling or jogging on a footpath that went around the edge of the circumference of the lake.  We commented on how remarkable it was, at least by Canadian standards, that the shoreline was not jammed with personal homes and commercial businesses, but kept as natural as possible.  It was also surprising to us, though we learned very Swiss, that the parking lot near the highway was at least one or two kilometers away from the restaurant on the far lakeside.  In North America we would see the parking lot right beside the restaurant.

 

Our breakfast was certainly keeping us going but by mid afternoon we were a bit peckish.  What could be a  better excuse to skip lunch but stop for a bite and beverage. The unusually hot weather (30 + degrees) chased us into the shade of a patio where we had local beer and wine.  We went into the Konditerei/Patisserie next door to chose something from the incredible selection of tasty and beautiful choices.  Ahhhh.

 

As the sun began to slip behind the towering mountains in the back yard, we relaxed and collected ourselves.  By dusk, the evening was still warm so we sat outside and enjoyed an authentic, Swiss raclette dinner.   I had died and gone to heaven.  After dinner we all took Emma for a walk into town and I could admire first hand the charming chalets, wonderful gardens and overflowing window boxes as well as the interesting and unique items in the shop windows.  It wasn’t only the closed shops that kept me from buying anything, the prices did that for themselves! We came across an open air jazz festival and dining tent but we were ready to get home and tuck in.  We met friends of Carmen and Dominik, a young couple and their small baby home from their expat stint in Houston Texas and the baby’s maternal grandmother.  They had all loved their experience in the US and were hoping to return someday. We chatted about the joys and challenges of expat life.  As they had only just returned, they were experiencing, and struggling through their own reverse culture shock.  The young mother/lawyer passed along a url about coping .  I haven’t had a chance (or need yet) to read it, but its quite handly.

 

Monday morning dawned cool and slightly overcast.  Our hosts had been busy planning the perfect itinerary and after a wholesome and hearty breakfast we headed out past Davos, through forests and fields dotted with post card villages with old stone churches and  along vertiginous switchbacks.  We were heading towards the Julierpass and as we approached the peak, we stopped for a cuppa in the restaurant, passing the round table in the corner reserved for locals, and were startled by how cold (not cool) and windy it was.  But singles and groups of hikers of all ages were making a brief stop here before carrying on (or up).   At this height, we could get a closer look at the many avalanche protection fences ringing the top of most of the peaks. Despite the chill and autumn feel, the land was speckled and ringing with cows grazing in their summer pastures and we saw the occasional ancient cow herders sheds with their mossy stone roves.

 

Next stop, St Moritz, the winter playground of the rich and famous.  We wandered the tiny web of streets admiring the high end exclusive shops, including at least a dozen of the top watch brands (9 of the top 10 being Swiss).  Here the homes have cooper eavestroughs and downspouts! Lovely to look around, but too rich for our taste, we back tracked along the aquamarine Silvaplanersee  to have lunch at the aptly names La Bellavista restaurant. By now it was hot enough to require an umbrella over our table and we enjoyed wonderful food in a magnificent setting.

 

Replenished with our meal and refreshed after a brief walk along the shores of the lake, we were ready to head on.  As we headed to Guarda, Carmen’s favorite village and once the home of Alois Carigiet and her famous young character Ursli,  Carm and Dom took us past huge stone and brick aquaducts which looked old and like they could have been lifted from a Harry Potter movie.  Thirsty again, we stopped for a beverage.  Driving like this requires attention and quick reflexes.  A prescription for cappuccino.

 

We retraced only a couple of miles before we turned off the way we had come to take one of two short cuts back to Klosters.  The fastest and most direct option is for the car, with passengers, to board the train that goes through the mountain in a tunnel to the other side.  It would have been interesting, but despite the risk of breathtaking scenery overload, we chose option two, the Fluela Pass.  We were not disappointed, lush green valleys, verdant evergreen and deciduous forests, rocky hillsides and snow-capped mountains.  Breathtaking indeed.  Pinch me.

 

After all the food, excitement and driving in one day, bitings of cheese and charcuterie and a fresh peach torte was the perfect ending to a wonderful day.

 

Our last full day in Switzerland and the day that Carmen and Dominik’s shipment from Nairobi was due to arrive.  We had another great breakfast.  Emma got picked up by Bardot and they were off for a fun day of hiking and possibly errands together.  Dominik took us to Landquart where we could catch a direct train to Zurich.  Naturally, it arrived exactly on time.  We sat upstairs in an immaculate rail car and waved Domi off, exactly 2 minutes later.  Even though we were seeing the same scenery in the reverse order of our arrival 4 days earlier, we were mesmerized.  The only startling thing was the 10 euros for a tiny cappuccino and cup of tea! We skimmed along beside the shores of the Walensee, we passed below steep rugged hills sides, we crossed sparkling, rushing rivers and we slid through lush farmers’ fields.  In one of those fields, along one of those rivers, I saw five herons together.

 

We arrived in the huge and efficient Stadelhofen train station and easily stored all of our luggage (even the camera bag!) in a locker.  Then we spent the afternoon wandering around the historic and noteworthy sites of Zürich.  We walked along the very high end Bahnhofstrasse, a bigger, busier more cosmopolitan version of St Moritz. We stopped in the austere St Peterskirche.  The current building was consecrated in 1706 as the first church built under Protestant rule but now part of the Evangelical Reformed Church of the Canton of Zürich. Until 1911, the steeple was manned by a fire watch. Restoration work was carried out in 1970 to 1975. The steeple’s clock face, the largest in all of Europe, has a diameter of 8.7 m. The bells date to 1880.

 

Next we saw the second of the four famous Zürich churches,  the Fraumünster Kirche (lit. in English: Women’s Minster, but often wrongly translated to [Our] Lady Minster) built on the remains of a former abbey for aristocratic women which was founded in 853 by Louis the German his daughter Hildegard. Today, it belongs to the Evangelical Reformed Church of the Canton of Zürich. The choir of the abbey includes 5 large stained glass windows designed by artist Marc Chagall and installed in 1970. Each of the 5 has a dominant color and depicts a Christian story.  Equally impressive is the 9m tall stained glass of the North transept, created by Augusto Giacometti in 1940.

 

Then we crossed the Limmat River and stopped for a cold beverage before continuing onto the Grossmunster Kirche. The third of the great four is a Romanesque-style Protestant Church. It too is part of the Evangelical Reformed Church of the Canton of Zurich.  Construction of the present structure commenced around 1100 and it was inaugurated around 1220.

The twin towers of the Grossmünster are regarded as perhaps the most recognized landmark in Zurich. In keeping with the Romanesque architectural style, Grossmünster offers a great carved portal featuring medieval columns with grotesques adorning the capitals. The church now features modern stained-glass windows by Swiss artist Augusto Giacometti which were added in 1932. Incredibly ornate massive bronze doors in the north and south portals were added in 1935 and 1950.  Fascinating to me where the stone windows designed by Sigmar Polke, who sliced semi-precious stones so thinly they became transparent and then assembled them in such a way as to give beautifully colourful windows.

By late afternoon, we were tired as we wandered through the fruit and flower stands in the Rathaus market on our way back to the train station.  We stopped in the police station to see Augusto Giacometti’s magnificent murals (1923 – 1925) which adorn the vaulted ceiling and the walls. Then we gathered our luggage at the station and boarded the train to the airport to pick up the rest of our luggage and took the hotel shuttle to the Hilton for the night.  We ate supper in the hotel restaurant overlooking the city and went to bed early, ready for an early morning start, a long flight and Canadian re-entry.

 

For four glorious days, we recharged ourselves. Carmen and Dominic were such gracious hosts I had been exhausted and overtired, emotionally stretched taut and ready to snap. .For four days,   I mentally parked in neutral. I did not have a to do list. I did not organize itineraries.  I did not navigate traffic or determine routes.  I did not menu plan.  We went to bed when we were tired and got up when we woke refreshed. We walked, hiked, chatted, read, ate, drank and simply relaxed together.  I have found that it seems to work that way with really good friends.  Its easy. And it was heaven. Emotionally, it was a safe and comfortable harbour, no shoals or hazards for which to remain vigilant.   It was the perfect way to decompress, to relax and take a deep breath, before we re-entered Canada, before we hit the ground running.  We were able to re-acclimatize to 1^st world living, in a country that while different from Canada with its mountains and picturesque villages dotted with resplendent window-boxed chalets and quietly proper and reserved citizens, it was also similar with its 1^st world amenities and infrastructure, education system, incredible cleanliness and safety and its respect for nature.

 

 

 

How do I thank people like Glenda and Carmen and Dominik, who enabled our experience to be one of such fond memories, who took care of us, who offered and provided what we needed when we didn’t even know what those needs were?  How can I even begin to express my appreciation for not only what they did, but what they were always willing to do.

 

It takes me back to those days when Alistair was in the hospital and to the weeks following his death.  The ripples of our lives.  So many people, family, friends, neighbours and strangers did so much for us.  Some of those people we could show our gratitude in word and deed, we said thanks, we did and will reciprocate the meals and the gifts and we are be ready to help them with willing hands and hearts.  There are others, known or unknown, for whom we may never be in a position to reciprocate or say thanks. The lesson I learned then, that I am again reminded of, is to pay it forward.  To be generous with my time, my words and my thoughts, with those I know and even with those I don’t know. It can make an incredible difference to someone.

 

We don’t always know the ripples or impact of our words and deeds, but to my expat clan, my Nairobi tribe (expats and locals alike) I would like to thank them for all their gifts so generously heaped upon us. Gary and I look forward to ‘paying you all back’, somewhere, some time.  We look forward to hosting our dear friends at the Balm.  We anticipate wonderful reunions around the world.  One door has shut, and a hundred more stand open.

 

THANK YOU.

PS Stay tuned, more posts of Africa to come.

One me, of two hearts and two minds

“All I wanted to do now was get back to Africa. We had not left it yet, but when I would wake in the night, I would lie, listening, homesick for it already.”  Ernest Hemmingway

Paintings, pictures and wall shelves have come down.  Gary has patched the holes from the nails and hooks I have smashed in.  Kikoys, blankets and carpets have been washed and put away, in preparation of the move. Our move back to Canada is fast approaching and I am a potpourri of emotions…….

The movers arrived this morning. I feel my heart being poked and stretched, like its being teased into a 1960’s bouffant hairdo, big and unnatural.

I think of what I will and won’t miss and what I am and am not looking forward to at home.  So much of what I will miss involves my sense of wonder at the sights, sounds, smells and touches of Kenya that will forever tickle my memory and tug at my heart-strings, making my eyes tear up and my face smile.  The same sensation I get, only a hundredfold more, when I think of Alistair.

I will miss the eucalyptus trees, their ghostly silvery trunks soaring.  I will miss the cascading kaleidoscope of Bougainvillea, and the trees with their flamboyant flowers bursting in colour like botanical fireworks and in shapes and sizes sprung from the pages of a Dr Suess story book.  I will miss the fever trees, their slim shiny yellow trunks gracefully opening like an umbrella of lacy greenery.

As I have said before, houses in Nairobi have neither heating nor air conditioning and therefore no insulation.  I will miss the sound of the rain pattering in a light rain, pounding above us in a storm.

I will not miss the grinding poverty, the unemployment, the underemployment nor the pervasive corruption.

I will miss Samson and I will never pick up a rake again, something I will probably do a million more times, and not think of this gentle, quiet hard-working father tending our yard and gardens.

I will miss our great big car and the short drive to Nairobi National Park and all the other wonderful parks that we went to, to see the incredible animals in their natural habitat, vividly living the circle of life.

I will miss Jane, coming to the house in the morning, in Kikuyu style, running the house and bossing around Samson and Nelson and anyone she can, cleaning and doing laundry and simple meals, as well as having my healthy light lunch ready for me to pack up the next morning before I head to the office.  I will miss ironed everything; clothes, tea towels and especially sheets. I will miss not doing housework!

I will miss the Gem, possibly the most beautiful house we may ever live in, with its spacious rooms and comfortable porch.  It has been a wonderful house for entertaining, making everyone so welcome and comfortable.

I will miss the dazzling panoply of bird life, their colourful plumage, their variety of birdsong.

I will miss cheap avocados, peppers and other vegetables and restaurants in houses, with tables set up indoors and out.

I will miss the hills and  dramatic mountains and fierce volcanoes and I will never forget the incredible skies with their never-ending ever-changing breathtaking display.

And I will certainly miss having Max and Cece next door and Carmen and Dominik around the corner.  Skype and Facebook and Whatsup will have to suffice until we meet again.

 

I will not miss the horrendous traffic or roads nor the endless hours in the car, but I will miss the endless, constantly changing circus that goes on at the side of the roads.

I will not miss the smell of green brush burning.  I will not miss no heating central or otherwise, on those cold June, July and August nights.

I will not miss dirty products in the grocery store, and staff that stand around, in your way, chatting, providing no assistance and doing no apparent work.

I will not miss days the same length all year round.  I will not miss cars passing on hills and corners, but drivers always let you back in and chickens, sheep, geese, cows on the road.

There are, as well, things I won’t forget.

I will not forget the sick young animal being left to die – circle of life is acceptable, understandable, but as a human, this was heartbreaking to watch and perhaps a little too close to home, so sad and so lonely.

I will not forget the sight of a gigantic cow in a mkokoteni (cart) with five guys pushing it.  Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

I will not forget the kindness and generousity of friends (old and new), and how they made our lives easier, fuller, more joyful and fun.

I hope I never forget the view of the Masai Mara plains, either stark in its emptiness or full of animals migrating across it.

People ask me how do I feel about returning to Canada?   That’s tricky too.  Obviously, I can hardly wait to see Spencer, no, to touch and hold Spencer, to see him and hear him and touch him, in person.  That will be the best.  I am looking forward to putting my head down on my pillow at the Balm to wake up to smell the fresh air as well as farm smells, to hear the county birds as well as tractors.  I am itching to get working on our 27 year project again, to get my hands dirty, to ache with muscles sore from a day of physical work, for my brain to be tired from dreaming and envisioning.   I can’t wait to see family and catch up with friends, the IBM GNOers, the lit chicks, the Curves ladies, the Jubilee contingent, neighbours. I smile when I think of Tusker and Sydney meeting for the first time.

From the reading and discussions that I have had, I am aware too of the very real possibility of reverse culture shock.  I have heard of people getting overwhelmed in grocery stores or feeling guilty about the wealth and waste. That may happen, but I am pretty sure I can manage it.  But what I am not sure about, what fear I am even nervous to share, for fear of being misunderstood, or worse, offending, is the apprehension of living a small life. I have no illusions about my unimportance, my life is small, I am not a ‘player”, I am not an executive, I don’t make decisions that rock the world.  But despite of or perhaps because of all the changes, challenges and adventures that life in Nairobi has afforded us, its been exciting.  Yes, its been sometimes scary, lonely, discouraging sometimes, but for the most part, its been beautiful, wonderful and exciting. I have felt alive here.  I have found things and places, near and far, strange or simply different, to explore.  Many days are different from another. The newspaper brings odd, unreal and questionable ‘facts’ and stories: 34 people killed by snakes at a lake in a year, spells being cast on all the children in a school bus, politicians who are not corrupt.

I want to go through life with child-like wonder in awe of my fellow beings, the earth and its incredible wonders and the universe. I hope and pray that I will always remember and be thankful for the gifts that living in Kenya has given me. Asante sana.

Tutaonana and not kwaheri Kenya.

 

On your mark, get set….

We are counting down, in single digits now.  I guess that’s the strange thing about an assignment.  We moved here, but we always knew there was an end date.  At first, we counted up (we have been here three weeks, five months, a year) and then, at some point, we started to count down, six months left, three weeks, five days.  Even when we started counting backwards, it was a long ways off.  We expected visitors, there were trips and excursions to plan, new local places to see and restaurants to try.  But the past three months have flown by at an astonishing rate.  I was in Nigeria and Ghana for work, we went to Rwanda to see gorillas, our last visitors came, then we were off to Italy and we have just come back from Jordan.  Yikes! It’s quite dizzying.

The final stretch, in addition to a hectic quarter end at the office, has also been filled with a couple of local excursions (Brown’s Cheese) and a moving to do list that could rival, well, probably not a state visit, but is certainly of gargantuan proportions.  Thank goodness for spreadsheets, with tabs for a) questions, b) before we leave to do’s, c) inventories at depreciated value, d) inventories at replacement price, e) once we get home to do’s, f)items to sell and g) one for gifts.  Documents for the three of us have been scanned and forwarded.  Arrangements to terminate services done. Reference letters for the gardener, the housekeeper and the driver have been written, printed, signed and distributed.  Plants have been given away and we continue to try to ‘eat ourselves out’.  It has kept Gary and I both busy and focused.

Being bird nerds (hardly knowledgeable enough to be birders), we have enjoyed many a morning, late afternoon and evening watching the birds: the screeching laugh of the Hadedas, their scimitar beaks stabbing the ground for bugs, especially termites, the rainbow coloured varieties of tiny Sunbirds, their delicate beaks poking out nectar, the singing Bulbul and the formal tropical Boubou in his evening dress,  the Olive Thrushes (a Kenyan version of our big Canadian robins) dipping, diving and splashing about in the bird bath and the gossiping chatter of the diminutive Cordon Blues enjoying the seeds we have put out for them.   We have been surprised and delighted when the migrants pass through; the magnificent Turacos sporting their opera capes, black velvet on the outside, red satin on the inside and the rare (for us) clacking, awkward Hornbills.  In the midst of our congested (physically, mentally, sometimes socially) lives, these creatures force us to slow down, take notice and appreciate them. We breathe deeply.

A few weeks ago, unconscious that it might possibly be one of the last evenings that Gary and I had to be by ourselves in the yard of the Gem, we sat under the soaring and delicate trees of our yard.  At the time, I was only vaguely aware that these occasions were counting down as we each shared the activities of the day.  But as we became more in synch with the rhythm of the fading sun and diminishing traffic, we became quieter, listening to the birds, watching for the bats.  We chatted about what we have enjoyed so much in our two year African adventure, what we will miss, how grateful we feel for being given this experience, this chance to rehabilitate and reconstitute ourselves.

And as we did so, a hornbill and then another, landed on the tree beside us.  At first, they hopscotched about, from limb to limb, eventually settling on a branch 30 ft above us.  We watched as one kept hopping closer to the other, who would then hop a few inches further down the branch, until there was no room left.  There the two, huddled together, shadows merging into one,  remained.  We watched.  They didn’t move.  It seemed they were settled in for the night.  We watched silently.  And as we did, barely discernible in the evening shadows, something silently floated down.  I held my hands outstretched as a downy feather settled on my hand.

We have been where we were meant to be.

We are not alone.

We are going where we are meant to be.

 

When all the guests have gone

When all the guests have gone and the roses are drooping, petals dropping from their lavish expenditure of beauty, and only the chrysanthemums, their less flashy but steady, homey welcome still brighten the house, a quiet hum falls.  It is a hum that saddens me.  All of this is coming to an end.

The move to Africa that was our escape, our running away to lick our wounds and hopefully heal, has brought us an adventure that we couldn’t then imagine, an adventure of growing in our hearts and souls, an adventure of loving life again and exploring an exciting part of the world. And as Africa worked its magic on us, we were eager to share it with others.  Our visitors all gave us something to look forward to as we anticipated their visits and eagerly planned itineraries that included our favorites as well as something new to explore together.

Spencer was our first, and most special, visitor.  I have already written about the wonderful time the three of us had, exploring by car, the Masai Mara, Lake Baringo and Amboseli as well as lots of our favorite day trips to Hell’s Gate, Lakes Nakuru and Naivasha, Kitengela and others.  It was a reminder of the holidays the four of us used to take, away from the everyday world of routines, expectations, pressures and interruptions.

Six months later, after our brief visit home, Gary’s sisters visited us for three relaxing and leisurely weeks.  By then, we were very settled into the Gem and getting in synch (though not completely relaxed) with the rhythms of Kenya.  Caryl and Glenn’s visit brought gales of laughter.  Lorne and Tammy’s visit brought high energy, and excitement while Jenn and Al’s visit brought curiousity and treasures of the heart and Canada.  After all these visitors we had a chance to travel ourselves as we continued to explore Kenya and Africa.  We have been to South Africa, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Botswana and Tanzania. For Christmas, we spend an incredible two weeks criss-crossing Egypt. I have been to Ghana and Nigeria for business. We have seen Mountain Gorillas in Rwanda. All of this has been previously chronicled.

Our time in Kenya is running down.  I was offered an extension to the end of the year and while it was very tempting, it is time to return.  The massive project that is the Balm is calling and Gary is itching to get going on the 72 projects that await. I will continue in my role supporting Central, East and West Africa from Canada.  The hours will be tough but it is only until the end of the year.

I am surprised at the things I am trying to squeeze in and the small regrets for things that will have to remain undone. I keep adding to my draft blog post of things I will and won’t miss.  I look at things differently and snap all kinds of photos of everyday things that I may never see again. I have new eyes again. This time has been bittersweet.

Therefore, it was a most welcome surprise that we had one more set of visitors. Jim and Ann, the delightful English couple we met on the Nile have just left.  We have spent two wonderful weeks with them, after Ann tentatively sent a note a couple of months ago, asking delicately, if we were serious about our invitation. My immediate reply of YES, YES, YES, sealed the deal.

During their two weeks, we did many of the tourist must sees including Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage, the Giraffe Centre, the Masai Mara (where Ngerende upgraded them as the only guests to Lakeside and had 8 staff attending to their every need, Thank you Daniel, Jonah and the rest of the Ngerende team.  We did our favorites, Lake Nakuru, Kazuri beads, Trio Carpets and Spinner’s Web.  In addition to Jane’s good home cooking, we ate at Rudy’s (he closes this month), Zen Garden and the Talisman.  We also did two new things now added to our favorites list. They are Aman ya Juu and Treetops Lodge in the Abedares (previous post).

But perhaps the most special part of Jim and Ann’s visit was getting to know them.  After all, we had met them less than 6 months ago and spent only 5 days with them on the Nile. We are looking forward to more  reconnections on both side of the Atlantic.

Our cup overflows.

 

and the penny drops….slowly

My sister spent Dec 30, 2010 at the hospital with Alistair.  Gary, Spencer and I were looking forward, somewhat anxiously, to his return home on Jan 1st.  Suzanne wanted Gary and I to have a night to ourselves before a different roller coaster ride began.  Unfortunately, that was the night he began his rapid descent into hell.  But before that happened, it seems they had quite a conversation.  She felt his thinking was so mature as he shared his thoughts on his family and the importance of them, of being together and of the joy of simply things like the shower he had so enjoyed that morning.

Two weeks later, Suzanne shared her conversation with Alistair as she spoke movingly at his funeral.  “Mom is hysterical” was one of his observations.  I was a little hurt, but I thought I understood.  He was referring to me in those last days.  When the doctors told Alistair, Gary and I that Alistair had leukemia, it was a huge shock.  We thought he had the flu, an infection maybe.  This was stunningly terrible news.  My heart lurched, my eyes watered as I thought of my baby.  I tried to hold it together, not for me, but for Alistair.  We had to be positive, to be brave.  Eventually, once the type of leukemia was diagnosed, we learned that Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia had the best success rate, though being male and being older were higher risks for his recovery.  Spencer knew of a professional hockey player who had had leukemia.  Some stats indicated a 94% chance of full recovery.  My mind struggled with all the data and information.  We were given a binder of information and were trying to re learn ordinary tasks like brushing teeth (which would have to change as the result of his gums weakened by chemo) as well as learn how to give needles.  So yes, I was probably hysterical despite my best efforts.

Gary, on the other hand, was exactly what Alistair needed. He was there, really there, for Alistair.  They sat together in Alistair’s hospital room for hours.  They would talk sports or movies or games or watch the TV or nap.  Gary was simply ‘present’.  He was not concentrating on taking care of Spencer or the cats and turtle at home, not worried about the documentation, the forms, the shuttling back and forth or keeping family up to date. He was not worried about how we were going to juggle two full time jobs, Spencer’s sports and Alistair’s medical requirements. He was with Alistair.  That was the only thing on his mind and in his heart.  There would be time for the rest later.

I understood Alistair’s comment and I for a long time, if I am honest, I was a little jealous of Gary, jealous that he had been what Alistair needed.

But the penny has dropped. It has taken almost two years, a new country and meeting lots of new people. I have come to recognize that I am hysterical, as in hysterically funny. When I am at the office, some people actually brighten up when they see me.  They know I will make them at least smile but probably laugh. Not only do I see this, but they have been kind enough to tell me that as well.  People have commented about blog posts too, telling me that they were laughing out loud at some of my outrageous adventures or my outrageous recounting of adventures and everyday activities. I enjoy people, I like engaging with them and I have fun with them. And finally, perhaps most appealing to my boys, I try not to take everything too seriously, I can (on my good days) make fun of myself, actually laugh at myself.

So four years ago, Alistair was telling me something that I was too wounded to appreciate.  Now, in a different place and time, I hear what he was telling me.  I feel his love and encouragement.  I sense myself approaching self acceptance with less disappointment and more contentment.

Alistair, message received. This penny has finally dropped.  Thank you, Bobo. I still love you too.

xoxox

A tree in Africa for Alistair

We planted a tree today, in Alistair’s memory.

We are in the Masai Mara for Easter.  We are with our closest friends in Africa, Carmen and Dominik Amrien.  They are Swiss,  and in addition to being archetypically clean and prompt, they are energetic, kind, generous, thoughtful, funny, fun and caring.  They are also Tusker’s mother’s people, which is really how it all started. Our friendship in Kenya is coming to an end, as they leave in two months. While we already have plans to visit each other, we decided several months ago that we should go on weekend away together somewhere in Kenya before they leave.  We settled on Easter weekend and we chose the Masai Mara.

We stayed at the Olare Mara Kempinsky.  It is a tented camp, but by far the nicest camping yet.  We did morning and afternoon game drives, rested and relaxed in the middle of the day and when we were not sleeping at night, we listened to hippos, baboons, hyenas and zebras as well as the peaceful sound of the rain on the canvas above us.

This morning, we planted a tree in memory of Alistair.  Its an African Green Heart tree.  We didn’t select the type of tree, we let the lodge chose it. Having found out the following, it seemed like a perfect choice.

Warburgia ugandensis ssp ugandensis, also known as Uganda/Kenya/East African greenheart or pepper-bark tree or elephant pepper tree (Muthiga in Kikuyu), is an important medicinal species of evergreen tree up to 30m tall and with smooth or scaly, pale green or brown bark, found at 100-2,200m in lowland rainforest, upland dry evergreen forest and also on termitaria in swampy forests in Democratic Republic of Congo, Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, Malawi, South Africa and Swaziland Africa.

In Kenya the species occurs widely in highland forests and riverine forests of savannah woodlands such as those found in Masai Mara. It flowers in December-January and seeds in May. The genus is named after Dr Otto Warburg (1859-1938), born in Hamburg, lecturer in botany at the University of Berlin and author of many botanical papers.

The tree is remarkably useful in many ways . . .

Medicine: extracts of most parts (leaf, twigs, stem and root bark) have high antimicrobial activity but stem bark is the most widely used by traditional healers and medicine-men and this is mostly harvested from natural forests. Various plant parts are used to cure or alleviate several ailments such as stomach-ache, constipation, toothache, common cold, cough, fever, muscle pains, weak joints, erectile dysfunction, candidiasis, measles and malaria, as well as livestock diseases, eg. trypanasomiasis. It rivals the widely known neem tree (Azadirachta indica) which is widely used in herbal remedies and claimed to cure around 40 diseases.

Food: Fruit edible; all parts have a hot peppery taste subtly different from chillies. Early Indian immigrants to Kenya, working on the construction of the railway, used the leaves and seeds to flavour curries before the chilli plant was introduced.

Fodder: Leaves, pods and seeds are fed to livestock

Fuel: The wood has high oil content and burns well with an incense-like smell

Timber: Heartwood yellow or greenish, becoming brown on exposure; very fragrant when freshly cut (also persists for several years) smelling like sandalwood. The wood is resistant to insect attack (not termites!) and very strong. It was commonly used for the yoke pole of ox-wagons. Also good for building and furnituret. Dust from milling is very fragrant and cause sneezing!

Gum or resin: used as glue to fix tool handles

Shade/shelter: the dense crown provides good shade.

Soil improver: leaves provide green manure and mulch.

Ornamental: often planted for amenity purposes

So after breakfast, with Carmen and Dominic,  Godrey the gardener, took us to the spot he had prepared. It was near our tent and as we looked at the spot, we could see topie, zebra, gazelle and wildebeest and could hear the river, now moving quickly, behind it.  What a ideal scene. Godfrey had already dug the hole and placed the seedling.  The marker was already in place as well. So Gary and I gently shoveled the dirt around the new plant.  Then Godfrey said we would bless the tree.  He poured the water over the seedling as we washed our hands.  We made a few jokes and laughed and cried. Our friends cried with us.  We miss Alistair.  The ache of the hole in our hearts has never gone away, it can’t ever be replaced or refilled. But we are not alone.  We have learned, we continue to learn to deal with it, to make the best of it, and to grow from it, as he would have wanted us to do.

 

And so it seems fitting, as we approach what would have been his 19th birthday, at a time when we celebrate the Resurrection of Christ,  that we have planted an African Green Heart tree.  The will grow tall quickly, it will help others heal and it  will have a magnificent view over a majestic land filled with God’s creatures. We have brought Alistair (and Spencer literally and figuratively) to Africa with us.  And just has he has left a bit of himself with so many of his family and friends, we shall leave a bit of him, his memory, in Africa.

Here is what the tree will look like in a couple of years.

 

Africa has helped us heal.  We have lived in a different part of the world.  We are reminded constantly of our good fortune.  We have made acquaintances and friendships.  We have explored.  We have risen, for the most part, to the challenges.  We have made wonderful, new, lifelong friends.  We have been blessed.

Planting the tree today will remain a special part of this journey.

 

view of the Masai Mara from the tree.

Love you forever, Bobo.  xoxox

Kenyan Re-entry

Anticipating something does not always mean being prepared.

We had a wonderful 10 days in South Africa.  It was a delightful surprise.  Its true, I had heard such wonderful things and was expecting wonderful things, but it had exceeded my expectations.  After 10 days of treating all of my senses, the Gem was calling.

Despite all of the 1st worldliness of SA, the dramatic allure of the coast with its majestic mountains and cliffs and playful beaches, the pastoral peace, the trendy shops, fabulous restaurants and cafes, I was ready to go home. It was not just the comfort of the familiar, but also the thrill of the unknown, the rawness of Kenya. There is something exciting or challenging about living here that I had not experienced living in Toronto.  Here, there is a question of electricity and water availability, the governments latest debacle or even of what wildlife or strange sight I will encounter on my drive to work. Even at the office, people come and go from all over the world. I marvel at the changes I have seen in Nairobi over the past 19 months and wonder what the next few years will bring.  We have seen highways built, some roads improved with lighting, other improved with sidewalks.  While corruption certainly still exists, the infrastructure is improving.  There is light at the end of the tunnel.  There is hope. It is a country on the edge, the edge of modernization, health care, real democracy, reason.  (The other side of the edge is stagnation, disease, mass poverty, ignorance and perhaps despair.)

While in SA, I felt a strange sensation I could not name.  It was a butterfly in my stomach a mosquito in my brain.  I could not tell what caused it, if it was about the past, the present or the future, if it was anxiety or longing or happiness.  Happiness to be on a road trip once again, to be exploring with Gary?  Happiness to see and feel and smell the ocean, to experience 1st world pleasures?  Was I anxious about my future, what will happen after my assignment in Africa is over?  The thrill of the ocean still shivering up my spine, when the time comes, can I retire happy to our farm in rural Ontario, both mountains and oceans a long way off?  Can my ADD and perhaps unhealthy need to by busy be quelled by country living? In the end, the butterfly and mosquito settled, but their existence remains a mystery to me still.

Pregnancy gave me 9 months to prepare, but the first time the nurse placed that tiny precious bundle of Spencer in my arms, I felt ill prepared for the lifelong responsibility ahead.  Children grow up (in spite of a million parenting errors and misjudgments) and move away to school or jobs, their lives move on; grandparents and parents pass away.  These are all natural occurrences in the circle of life and yet sometimes they can startle, shake or rattle us. Even the anticipation of a happy, long awaited reunion falls short of the excitement, joy and love. And sometimes it is the unplanned event which brings the most joy, love or energy.

And so on that Sunday evening, after our 9 days in SA, we arrived at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. The disorganization, the line ups, the pushing and butting into line, the disregard for any guidelines or orderliness mildly frustrated but did not phase me.  The expected olfactory assault from the odor of pungent bodies while we waited for our luggage to arrive did not occur either because is simply did not exist or because our luggage was already circling the carousel by the time we cleared immigration and we spent mere seconds hauling it off and heading thorough the former parking garage .The disorder of the arrivals area, still in the airport parking garage from last years fire,  and the adjacent parking lot had, since we last arrived from Cairo 6 weeks prior, deteriorated even more deeply into chaos.  Ah, the rawness of Kenya was not disappointing me.

A warm welcome from Nelson assured us that not everything had gone awry, though it took him another 35 minutes to bring the car around to where he had told us to wait. Parking ticket paid, we headed out of the airport, only to come across an unmarked detour, at 10pm.  Nevertheless, Nelson carefully navigated the various subsequent detours and back ways and got us back out on Mombasa Road, heading towards the Gem.

There was only a slightest whiff of brush and charcoal burning in the clear air.  the stars, the very same as South Africa were twinkling above. At 10 pm, even celestial Orion, so familiar in Canada, was hunting above us tonight, the three stars of his belt shining brightly. Wilson airport was quiet, the little planes quietly resting before another busy day. Traffic was moving freely on the barely lit roads.

Suddenly there was a bottleneck ahead.  One car was pulled onto the right should, the neon reflecting road triangle beside the left rear tyre highlighting the car’s presence to on coming traffic.  Several cars were pulled over on the left shoulder. Gary pointed this out to Nelson from the back seat as he was already slowing down. There seemed to be an obvious lack of people milling around and we strained to see the scene clearly, to understand what was going on.  We all saw it at the same time.  Something on the road. What was it?  An animal perhaps, not so unusual, but no, there was something else. Something, something…a few seconds and feet later, my stomach turned. A body.  Somebody was lying, sprawled in a most unreal, unalive position in the middle of the road. A dead body.

Having only seen three deceased loved ones in my life, my ninety something year old Gran, carefully composed in her casket, my ninety one year old father, surrounded by loved ones, peacefully, gratefully and gracefully saying good bye and slipping his earthly bonds and Alistair. This was not like any of those. This was raw.

How long had that body been there? Had there been any attempt at assistance or had it always been too late for that? Had an ambulance been called?  Would it ever be called, the cost possibly too prohibitive? How would family be notified? We passed by, taking in small details of the morbid tableaux.  Other passers-by, now visibly gathered on the shoulder, would be handling the situation. Nelson, perhaps wondering about the possibility of a set up ambush, kept a steady hand and said with his ever present equanimity, “We keep going.” But for a while, I couldn’t.  I broke into silent tears and for some moments, could not be consoled.  Someone has lost someone dear to them. Someone’s life has just ended.  Several lives, parents’, siblings’, children’s, will un-revokably be altered. Just like each of our lives, at some point, experiences the shock of the expected.  Do we keep going?  Do we change, profoundly or otherwise?  Or do we run away to deepest, darkest, rawest Africa?

Welcome back, Kenya calls to me.

 

 

What my heart knows, now.

My mind wanders, like an bird with ADHD,  flitting from one idea to the next, unbidden thought. It is like shouting ‘Squirrel’ to a dog.  I don’t think this is unusual.  It is the nature of our brains. Or at least mine.  Most of the time this darting and zipping occurs unheeded, unnoticed.  Otherwise, it would be exhausting and possibly distressing. If I stop to follow the path of my thoughts, it is often hilarious how I can jump from the grocery list, to dog food, to sewing a button on, to sun tan lotion, to booking a holiday, to I wonder how so-and-so is, to I need to write a cheque, to someone’s birthday, to look at that cloud, to, to, to.  Connections may be logical and obvious or tenuous and bizarre.  Are they like trapeze artists flying across the synapses of our brain, occasionally falling into the safety net of unfiled miscellaneous thoughts and ideas? Do these leaps of thought ever lead us to an unexpected aha?  Is that how aha’s work, a circumlocutious path of random thoughts and ideas that connect in some new and random course that provides us with a new perspective, resulting in possibly a new understanding?

This morning, in the ephemeral early dawn light, Gary and I were walking Tusker and Emma when I became very aware of serpentine route my mind worm was taking. Here is how it started.  Tusker’s mother Emma,  being an energetic, curious, skittish and  willful dog (and not ours), is kept on the leash.  Tusker, being more laid back, more obedient and eager to smell everything, is off leash.  For the past several mornings, the walk has been enjoyable for all of us, each in our own way. This morning was no exception. Emma was walking nicely on her leash with Gary.  Tusker’s nose was making its usual rounds, stopping to sniff everything, looking for other dogs in the familiar places.  Gary, not familiar with our morning walk routine nor my causal discipline, began reprimanding Tusker.  Here is what followed.

“What a dog Nazi.   Oh, I had better not say or even THINK the N word. Certainly politically and definitely irreverent.  I have already been chastised for using it in a similar fashion. Remember that BBC video on Facebook last week, showing the bird’s eye view of Auschwitz taken from a drone? …..Deserted, eerily quiet, a somber monument to human evil.  Imagine the gas chambers and the ovens.  Imagine the horror and fear of those entering.  Could there have been anyway they didn’t know what was going to happen.  And when it started, I would have been praying for unconsciousness.  How do you look at your loved ones?  How do you protect your children…. Alistair…. ”

The last picture of Alistair in my head, he was lying in Critical Care, surrounded by Spencer, Gary, Norm as I, as we took him off life support and waited for first his breathing to stop and then, endless minutes later, his heart to stop.

Days before, during the only time he was lifted into consciousness from his coma, the doctor was telling my 14 year old son that they needed to do surgery again to determine if necrotizing fasciitis had stopped and whether there was any infected flesh that needed to be removed.  Did he understand that?  With 18 IVs,  a breathing tube down his throat and still heavily medicated, he nodded yes.  There were risks, the doctor continued.  He might not survive the surgery.  Did he understand.  He nodded, I gasped. Was there anyone he wanted to see? He mouthed Spencer to Gary and I.  We understood.  Anyone else?  He shook his head.  Soon after, Spencer arrived. What do you say to each other?  What can you say?  Alistair was tired. We shared  happy stories, but mostly we told each other, in whatever way we could, that we loved each other, truly, madly, deeply and forever. Alistair was struggling to say something.  We couldn’t understand.  He became agitated.  We got out the laminated alphabet chart, so that he could literally spell it out.  I W-A-N-T T-O and then, he slipped into unconsciousness.  That moment has haunted me all this time.  What did he want?  What did we need to do, or say?  What did he need?  I have felt helpless and incomplete as a mother, that I could not fulfill my dying son’s request.

And then, on my walk, as my brain flitted to and fro, from the ridiculous it rested on the sublime. It came to me what he had wanted.  He wanted to go.  He wanted to leave this world, to leave his broken, never to be whole again body.  He wanted peace.  It might have been partly due to the fact that he had been young, an athlete, now in pain and trapped in a body not likely to fully recover or that he was more comfortable looking out for the disadvantaged and couldn’t bear the reversal of roles.   Or had he a glimpse of his divine life? I believe, that in his drug induced, near death coma, that he experienced paradise. Given the choice of his two worlds who wouldn’t choose paradise.

Just over a year after he passed away, very shortly after my father died, Gary and I went to see Sandy Whiltshire,  (http://www.amazon.ca/My-Gift-Light-Bereaved-Pilgrimage/dp/0967553288) a medium. (It’s another story.)  Upon meeting Sandy, she told us that her job was to assure us that our child was fine.  For the next hour, she told us things that only our family and in some cases, only Alistair would know.  It was unreal and yet credible and in the end, totally convincing.  It was unnerving and yet comforting.  It did not help the ache in our hearts, but it confirmed to us, any anyone who has heard the recording afterwards, that he is fine, that he is with us.  But at one point during our sessions, out of the blue, she turned to Gary and said, “He says thank you for letting me go.” BAM.

So this morning, walking the dog, the pieces fell into place. What my heart knows now, is that Alistair was ready to go.  Maybe he wasn’t the day before or the week before when he was undergoing chemo treatment or three weeks before, when we thought he had the flu, but on Jan 6, he was ready to go.

The profane honk of a matatu brought me to the present.  Tusker, now leashed, pulled me forward. But the tears on my cheeks tugged at my heart and kept me in that moment . What was different now, was a sense of little more peace, a little more reconciliation.

Are they random thoughts or is there some sort of calculated syncopation that draws our minds to certain thoughts, ideas? Has my mind been wandering in this direction and I have not connected these dots before? When the tree is ready, it will bear fruit.

Orange for breakfast? Pants or skirt?  I will take the high road today when so-and-so gets up my nose in that meeting today. Yes, yes, puppies, I have treats.

And so, as Nelson is always saying, we keep going.

Goddesses of the Gem

Goddess : noun

1. a female god or deity.

2. a woman of extraordinary beauty and charm.

3. a greatly admired or adored woman.

Cece, Carmen, Caryl, Tammy, Jennifer and Glenda

These are the main women who have helped me do more than just settle here, more than just live in Nairobi. They have given me gifts of friendship, comfort, laughter, sense of belonging, joy, adventure and awe. They have each given me something to look forward to. There are others who have provided gifts as well, endless opportunities to connect and share.  But my goddesses are just that, my goddesses.

Cece was my first Goddess. The first several months we lived here, first in our serviced apartment and then in our empty home, we had met very few people socially and were feeling stressed from the strain of our move and isolated. One day, Max wandered into our courtyard and introduced himself as our compound neighbor.  Cece would be joining him shortly and they would have us over.  The connection was almost instant and our first conversations ranged from one topic to another without restraint.  We laughed, complained, complimented, commiserated and comforted each other companionably. She showed me the ropes of living in our compound, in Karen and in Nairobi. The first gift was friendship.

Carmen was my second Goddess. By our first October, after our shipment arrived, within a couple of weeks we felt settled.  At least it was beginning to feel like we were settled.  It was a rather large house for the two of us. Someone or someones were missing.  We could not replace Spencer nor Alistair, we could not have them with us. But we could get a pet.  Enter Carmen.  We went to see Emma’s nine puppies and it was love at first sight, with Carmen, her dog Emma and all of the puppies.  Over the next several weeks, we stopped in occasionally to see how our Tusker was doing.  Our friendship grew as quickly as he did and in no time our relationship was no longer that of a potential new puppy owner but of friends.  Tusker has stopped growing, but our friendship hasn’t.  Carmen’s gift was that of friendship, energy and a sense of family, normalness and connection, wrapped up in blonde fur tied up with big paws, floppy ears a wet nose and gentle goofy disposition.

After the new friends came the arrival of old friends. Our friendship began during my early years at IBM, though Caryl loves the share the story of seeing my on the McMaster Campus. Despite the ebbs and flows of our separate lives, our visits over the years have us catching up and picking up where we left off, regardless of the time in between.  Caryl and Glenn’s willingness to brave an adventure to Kenya to visit us was gift alone.  She also brought three jigsaw puzzles to keep me distracted and my hands busy.  But the best was her gift of laughter.  I laughed until I had to cross my legs, until I cried, until my sides hurt.  I laughed  for laughing.  We laughed together hysterically.  I had not laughed like that since Alistair died.  It felt wonderful.  It was the best medicine and I could feel joy dripping into my veins again.

Goddess Tammy brought energy and simplicity with her on their visit to Kenya.  Seasoned travelers and explorers, she was up early and eager to see and do all she could.  She was go-go-go. An avid blog follower, she flattered me by wanting to walk along Quarry Lane, to hike Hell’s Gate, to check out the tea farm and to try ugali and sukumowiki. It was like having a younger , slimmer, fitter, more energetic version of me, keen to try anything, no convincing required. A ‘sister from another mister’, a kindred spirit. We recalled our first meeting at photography course years ago, her husband Lorne being our go between and figuratively introducing us. Despite the distance between us over the years, we too have maintained our connection, but nothing beats face to face catch up time.  A keen organizer too, she organized our weekend in Zanzibar where the four of us spent three delightful, fun packed days together. It was a gift of energy, invigoration and zest for life and learning.

Friends come and go, for different reasons. Sometimes we come across people that we feel a connection with, but for one reason or another, we don’t get or make the chance to take that connection any further.  Often office colleagues are no more than that once the office ties are severed. When we are lucky, as I have been, a handful of colleagues have become my tried and true friends with regular GNOs (Girls Night Out) sealing the kinship as we move from office complaints and gossip to baring our souls, sharing the crux and crises of our lives.  In my hours of deepest need, they were there, supporting Gary, Spencer and I in ways I didn’t even recognize at the time.  As life would have it, there were also colleagues who, for one reason or another, became friends or closer friends, after our loss. They came deeper into my life, and I into theirs for reasons I am only beginning to comprehend.  Jenn and I had been colleagues together for many years, and while never working directly with one another, our careers slalomed back and forth across each other. Our most recent connection was Kenya. Several years ago,  Jenn had been selected to participate in IBM’s Corporate Service Corps, whereby elite IBMers were grouped together and dispatched across the globe to solve problems to organizations and companies (potential IBM customers).  Jenn had been posted to Kenya for 5 weeks and fell in love with the country.  Both her son and daughter (equally high achievers) had been to Kenya and Jenn was dying to share the magic with her husband.  A 25th anniversary was the perfect occasion. We were delighted to make the Gem their base.  What I was not expecting was my next Goddess. Jenn brought gifts. Literally, physically gifts.  I have no idea how she packed them all.  Upon arrival and every time they returned from a few days away, and upon their departure, more gifts miraculously appeared.  They were gifts of such thoughtfulness and caring and of her self.  A stuffed moose with a Toronto Maple Leafs scarf and toque for Tusker,  a notebook, a beautiful painting Jenn had done of Mt Longonot (since I had mentioned our hike to the rim and my love of clouds), Hallowe’en candy, cake topping thingees in the shape and colour of tiny, tiny fall leaves, real, waxed oak leaves in brilliant colours, which I scattered on the hall table, a remembrance of Thanksgiving at home, make up (unavailable here) and a cozy red and white blanket with “from the Gem, Kenya to the Balm Canada” and a Maple Leaf blazoned on it. I was overwhelmed and deeply touched.

Another gift all of our friends visiting endowed upon me was a sense that Gary and I were ‘normal’.  Funny, I know. We had never travelled with other couples, never spent more than weekends together, so it was fascinating to see our friends and friendships in a different, maybe clearer or more realistic light.  I thought that other couples were completely harmonious and in synch in their everyday lives and when they travelled.  I assumed that as they travelled together, they enjoyed the same things, had the same circadian rhythms, shared the same likes and dislikes.  After all, they had all been married over 25 years and were still together, still partners, still enjoying life.  What I learned is that my assumptions were wrong.  Even after 25 or so years, one may be a morning glory while the other partner a steadfast night hawk, one might be able to jump out of bed, jump into the shower and be ready to go in no time while their partner needed to savour a coffee (or three) to kick start their day; one might want to do it all and see it all, while their beloved was eager to slow down on their holiday and savour the smell of the roses.   They flourished as individuals and as couples despite or perhaps because of their differences.  Our differences were not a problem to resolve, or a wrinkle to iron out.  They made us who we are, they made us attracted to each other, they made us stronger and maybe more flexible, more tolerant, more accepting of everyone’s idiosyncracies, including, (at least on my good days) of my own. Our friends’ visits allowed me to look at my relationship/marriage and realize how ‘normal’ we are, that our differences, while the specifics may be unique to us, are normal.

Only Goddesses can share wisdom like that, even unawares.

My blessings keep coming as more Goddesses enter my life.  Wonderful women continue to enter my life and shower me with their gifts. Glenda joined the IBM team in Nairobi one month after I arrived, though we did not meet for almost another year.  In the past months, thanks to Glenda, I do feel part of a tribe, a group of IBMers from various parts of the world, in various stages of their lives and careers, with different interests but with a common sense of adventure and willingness to walk away from the safe and ordinary and step into this wild adventure.  She organizes get togethers and dinners at our various homes, to celebrate new acquisitions, (furniture or appliances), birthdays, National holidays, newcomers and leavers.  She has given the gift of a sense of belonging and connectedness.

 And as of this morning, I can add another Goddess to my growing list.  Ann and Jim whom we met on our Nile River cruise will be coming to visit us in May.  Ann has convinced Jim to visit Kenya while we are still here (though I don’t think it was a hard sell!) So the remaining 5 months (that’s it!!!) do not stretch out endlessly in front of me.  We have visitors to look forward to.

Thank you to all the Goddesses, past and present, who have helped me embrace our Kenyan adventure, to move forward and to find joy again.  Thank you.  I can only hope that I can, do and will pay it forward.

xoxox