Appreciating a Language I Can't Understand

The entirety of my day was a re-affirmation of how unexplainably much I love being in Kenya and how immeasurably happy I am with life right now… Sounds intense, I know. And truth be told, I don’t necessarily expect everyone reading this to understand. But if you’ve ever had that feeling of “I would not trade what I’m doing in this moment for anything,” then you should understand the sentiment with which I write.

My morning started out with the best run I’ve had since being in Kenya. I casually invited a neighbor of mine to go running with me and he agreed to join me next time. So this morning, not only did I have a good running partner to accompany me, but he was a good coach- suggesting we go farther and faster than I usually do, and talking about how there are many different routes we can go as the training progresses. This only fueled my motivation and now I have a change of scenery in beautiful rural Kenyan to look forward to.

For breakfast I successfully tried cooking French toast…a nice taste of home. And thanks to family friends- a couple who previously served as Peace Corps Volunteer in central Africa 20 years ago- I was even able to make some maple syrup from the maple-extract gift I received before leaving the States!

Around 11am, I met up with another Volunteer and the two of us plus a Kenyan social worker took a matatu (mini-bus taxi) to a neighboring town about twenty minutes away. There we met with a group of guardians of children who have been orphaned due to AIDS. This group of guardians has successfully operated an income generating activity of raising goats and is now looking to take on a larger project with a greater return. So the other Volunteer and I were there to present to them the prospect of raising pigs. Now that I’ve set the scenario, I’ll explain how this meeting left me with the most incredible feeling of “this is why I’m here”…

Upon our arrival, we were warmly welcomed with the traditional Kikamba greetings. Kamba is the pre-dominant Kenyan ethnic group in my area of the Eastern Province, Kenya…the region I live in is even dubbed “Kambaland” or “Ukambani.” The smiles and looks on the faces of these beautiful, labor-worn older women and men when I correctly respond to their mother-tongue salutation are indescribable. In those few moments of shaking the hands of everyone sitting there and individually greeting each group member, I fall in love with this country and its people that much more. The meeting was conducted in Kikamba, with the social worker translating the English explanations of pig-rearing to the guardians. I barely understood any of it, but I could pick up on a word here and there because Kikamba is very similar to Kiswahili. But listening people speak what I consider a beautiful language, I further realized the significance of being here- to hear their problems, to have them teach me their language, to try to offer solutions to better their lives and the lives of their children, and to understand another person’s life in a way that can only be accomplished through experiencing a human connection.

I know that all sounds very corny, but it’s the best and only way I know how to try to describe this experience. Following the meeting, we waited by the road and luckily caught a matatu back to Makindu in less than fifteen minutes. I say “luckily” because last week, the other Volunteer had to wait TWO HOURS before anyone passed by to give her a ride back to town. I do not doubt that will happen to me sometime in the not-so-distant future...