John Denver performing “Leaving On a Jet Plane.”

I’ll be in the air soon, back to ‘Merica!

Florence + the Machine’s “Shake It Out” is a powerful, emotional song for me. I’m not sure why, but the lyrics shake me to my core and make me reflect on my time in Kenya. Below are the lyrics and above is the video. I encourage you to listen to the video and read the lyrics to get a semblance of what I’m trying to convey. Happy listening!

Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play

And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawn

And I’ve been a fool and I’ve been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I’m always dragging that horse around

Our love is questioned, such a mournful sound
Tonight I’m gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues drawn
But it’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

And I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart
‘Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
And given half the chance would I take any of it back
It’s a fine romance but it’s left me so undone
It’s always darkest before the dawn

Oh whoa, oh whoa…

And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t
So here’s to drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope
It’s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat
‘Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Well what the hell I’m gonna let it happen to me, yeah

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

One of my favorite (and most silly poems) is from Lewis Carroll’s “Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There” (aka “Alice in Wonderland”).

Although the poem doesn’t necessarily relate to me leaving Kenya and coming home, I like to say, “‘the time has come,’ the walrus said,” a lot before I leave somewhere. I’m not sure why, maybe it’s just because it’s silly, but here’s a copy of the poem in case you have no idea what I’m talking about.

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright—
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done—
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun!”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead—
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it would be grand!”

“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head—
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat—
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more—
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings.”

“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed—
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”

“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
“Do you admire the view?

“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf—
I’ve had to ask you twice!”

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none—
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.

I’m about to delve into a topic that is quite sensitive and uncomfortable; one must tread lightly upon it.

It is always the hardest to provide commentary on topics that no one wants to hear about because it is simply easier to ignore.

I’m not standing on a soapbox, demanding attention; I’m writing this as a manifestation of a year’s worth of frustration, guilt, a sense of ineffectiveness and a feeling of despair because change will not occur overnight, if at all.

The gap between the rich and the poor is not a new cause for concern or topic of debate. Since Biblical times, people have faced this moral struggle. Of course, with the advent of the Industrial Revolution, the gap became larger and more obvious as capitalism and materialism permeated society. The “need vs. want” mentality became blurred as people saw hard work as the tool of upward mobility and material possessions as a means of social status/class.

The struggle for wealth is not limited to the West or other developed nations, and certainly the struggle continues with the marginalized communities in these developed nations. But as a witness to a very upwardly mobile middle class in Kenya, the gap between those living in Lavington, Westlands, Karen, Langata, Muthaiga, etc. (posh suburbs of Nairobi) and those living in Kangemi, Kibera, Kawangware, Korogocho, Mathare, etc. (the largest slums in Nairobi with Kibera, topping the list of largest slums in all of sub-Saharan Africa) grows wider and deeper every day.

The disparity between an affluent American and a poor American is less jarring and shocking compared to an affluent Kenyan and a poor Kenyan. An affluent American will live in the suburbs, just as an affluent Kenyan; a poor American will live in the ghettos and a poor Kenyan will live in the slums. Yes, both the rich and the poor have designated areas of a particular town or city, but the poor American is still far better off than a poor Kenyan.

At first glance, sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between rich and poor Americans, especially among the middle-class Americans. Chances are both sets of Americans have access to all of the amenities one needs for a healthy, prosperous life: Clean water, health care, electricity, personal transportation, smartphones, etc. Unfortunately, a first glance of a poor Kenyan is usually pretty obvious: Ragged, dirt-stained, threadbare clothes and worn-out shoes, if any at all. And a first glance of a rich or middle-class Kenyan is where the disparity is obvious and jarring: Intricately coifed hairstyle, high heels, “bling” and a Range Rover or similar luxury vehicle.

I’ve seen more Range Rovers here than anywhere in the US, despite what the celebrities, athletes, cast of “Jersey Shore” and the various “Real Housewives” display. I’ve also seen more people walk without shoes and go hungry than anywhere in the US. I realize that life in many places is very polarizing, the haves flashing what they have and the have-nots longing for what they do not have, but the effects of a materialistic society are exacerbated in marginalized areas, such as parts of Kenya and specifically, Nairobi.

Perhaps I’m more aware of the disparity because I am in an unusual position here: I am a minority. Yes, I am white and yes, there are white Kenyans and other ex-pats, but unlike the white Kenyans and ex-pats, I do not live in a mansion or ostentatious flat; I do not drive or own a car and am not on a high-paying salary. I am a volunteer, living simply in a foreign land. Yet I am perceived as affluent at first glance because of the color of my skin.

I realize that people must be desperate enough and sometimes, courageous, to ask a complete stranger for money. But what is off-putting about the tactics among some in Nairobi is that they almost expect an mzungu (white person) to hand over a couple hundred shillings. I have had several instances (and one involved the same man over the course of a few weeks) run from across the road over to me and ask me for money. To that I respond with, why did you seek me out when there are lots of others walking around? Is it simply because of my skin color, you see me as an ATM?

I cannot dole out a few shillings here and there because that perpetuates stereotype of “the white savior” abroad and frankly, we as members of developed nations should not condone these hand-outs. I see great strides being made by a new approach to aid and emergency relief/funds to developing nations: Work alongside, not above nor in front of, local NGOs in establishing sustainable projects to benefit marginalized groups.

Yet it breaks my heart and makes me question my own morals when I have to refuse to give 10 shillings to a chokora (Swahili for “street kid”) because I cannot continue to be seen as THE answer to eradicating poverty. Sure, 10 shillings is not a financial loss for me, but it usually is not a financial gain for the chokora either; if they were sent out by their parent to beg, that perpetuates a vicious cycle of lack of education, which will keep them in poverty. But if this chokora is abandoned or orphaned and is begging to survive, how do I know if he/she will use the 10 bob to buy food or to buy glue, to sniff and get high?

In most instances, both here and in the US, when I’m approached by a panhandler, beggar, chokora, whatever, I go for this approach: If you are truly hungry, take this banana or I will buy you a banana. Is this any better than refusing to hand out cash? I think so. Does it still make me question how society takes care (or lack thereof) of its most downtrodden? Yes, absolutely. But I figure food, something which all humans need, is a better alternative than giving out money, which could be used for unsavory purposes.

The conscience and moral struggle is a daily battle not only in Nairobi but all around the world. I already dread my first encounter with poverty in the US, one of the greatest countries in the world, yet there are millions struggling to survive; according to a story in the New York Times that ran on 13 September 2011 (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/14/us/14census.html?pagewanted=all), 46.2 Americans are living below the official poverty line.

When I return to the US in three weeks, I will be inundated with advertisements for the latest iPhone or the newest fashions this fall or a new line of luxury vehicles. Even as I am typing this, I feel a sense of guilt because I need (or is it want? It is hard to determine sometimes) a new computer since mine is over five years old and on its last legs. How can I justify purchasing a new computer when the one I have works well, despite the fact that the battery is shot and is now a functioning desktop laptop.

But does this sense of guilt and frustration bar me from being an American consumer again? It shouldn’t, but it comes with a heavy heart. Not only will I feel buyer’s remorse (of which I am a chronic sufferer even before my year here) and shame for indulging in a luxury because of my shift in perceptions from life here in Kenya but also because I know that there are millions of Americans, Americans!, who cannot afford many of life’s basic necessities. And here I am, due for not only a computer upgrade but a cell phone upgrade, and I feel sick about it.

How do I transition back into the consumer-driven American lifestyle? How do I justify my spending after the year I’ve had? I certainly do not know the answers, but I suppose that is one of the many purposes for the forthcoming YAV Re-Entry & Transition retreat in New Mexico this September. As my time in Kenya comes to a close, I will try to focus on living my life as normally as possible and enjoying my remaining time. A hard task, for sure, but one that I accept the challenge gladly.

This is how I feel trying to compose this post:

I’m sitting in a roller coaster car, making the initial, steep climb. I’m excited and nervous for what is in store. I know once I get to the top, there will be a brief, fleeting moment of calm before the plunge down below.

I’ve felt that I’ve been on this emotional rollercoaster for the past few weeks. Of course I am excited to come home after a year abroad to see friends and family and have that familiar feeling of “normal.” However, I also feel pangs of guilt (although it seems completely irrational), knowing that I get to go back to my home in the Western world. But I also am sad to leave my new rafikis in Kenya, along with idiosyncratic moments I know I will never experience in the USA.

Looking and thinking back on my time in not only Kenya, but throughout East and Southern Africa, a lyric from Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” pops into my head. Before I get started, yes, I can sense some eye-rolls. Y’all must be thinking, “Really, Amelia? Katy Perry? Soooo insightful.” I will be the first to admit that I am unabashedly a huge fan of her catchy, bubble-gum poppy songs. But hear me out.

“No regrets, just love.” This lyric snippet truly sums up my time on the continent.

I have seen awe-inspiring and beautiful landscapes: The source of the mighty Nile in Uganda; the Swahili coast of both Mombasa in Kenya and the intriguing, magical spice island of Zanzibar off the coast of Tanzania; the snow-capped peaks of Mount Kenya and Mount Kilimanjaro, an oddity in a continent all too familiar with climate change and sweltering, unrelenting heat; the majestic, mighty and powerful Victoria Falls in Zambia and Zimbabwe; the crystal-clear, fresh waters of Lake Malawi in Malawi; the dry, dusty and expansive Kalahari Desert in Botswana; the imposing and unique Table Mountain in Cape Town, South Africa; the fierce, stormy and windy Cape of Good Hope in South Africa; and, in the setting sun, the red sand dunes of Namibia.

I have witnessed the animal kingdom to the fullest extent on dream-like safaris with my best friends. From the hundreds of thousands of wildebeest, zebra and gazelles of “The Great Migration” in the Serengeti to the lion cubs of Samburu; from the herds of elephants at Lake Manyara to the rhinos at Lake Nakuru; leopards lounging in trees in the Serengeti’s savanna and cheetahs gorging on a kill in the Masai Mara; hippos wallowing in the Mara river and buffalo chewing their cud and licking the salt pans in the Aberdares hills. As an avid follower of the wonderful splendor of the animal kingdom, I truly saw God’s creation throughout the circle of life.

I have had adrenaline-inducing adventures from rafting two of the continents largest rivers, the Nile and the Zambezi, to bungee jumping 100 meters into the source of the Nile at Lake Victoria; from kayaking and snorkeling in the Indian Ocean to hiking to the top of Table Mountain and rock-hopping at Thomson’s Falls in the Great Rift Valley.

But perhaps the best of all of my experiences in Africa have been my human interactions. Even on my short and simple 15-minute walk to work, the relationships I have on my route are something that you don’t see anymore in the US. It is very reminiscent of 1950s America, everyone is quite happy and going about his or her own business, yet everyone greets everyone, regardless of whether he or she is your best friend or a complete stranger. The welcoming feeling, even just walking around, is something I will miss.

The taxi drivers, askaris (security guards) and kiosk owners have become some of my most constant friends, as strange as that may be. I see them every day, sometimes several times a day. Although we don’t exchange very much conversation, it is a comforting feeling to know that you are not just an unnoticed person in the masses.

I have two new Kenyan families. Phyllis, our YAV site coordinator, has served as everything from mom to boss to party planner to cook. The whole Ochilo family has been one of our families away from the US. My host family, the Odindos, have included me as another daughter and I have two new sisters, Nyasie and Ndiga. My host mum, Mama Dorothy, never fails to make sure I’m eating and always provides a delicious, sweet treat. I hope I can serve as both the Ochilo and Odindo host family in the US if they ever need a familiar face.

My rafikis in Kenya have been an eclectic bunch, just as all friends should be. From my core group of the YAVs, Amy, David and my roommate Tricia, we have had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Our unwavering bond of friendship is something akin to a sorority or my camp friends. You can be your natural self around them. You can open your heart and express your mind without judgment. From intense ping-pong matches in Zanzibar to seeing “The Hunger Games” three times at the cinema (after waiting an agonizing three weeks after it premiered in the US); from having our first Christmas away from familiarity, friends and family to nursing each other back to health from various ailments; from cheering on the Kenya/Uganda rugby squad against England and toasting with cold Tuskers to lounging on the beach in Mombasa and Zanzibar; from our girl wine nights to our nerdy nights of playing card games by candlelight, our friendship in Kenya will continue even in the US. It’s just love, total YAV love.

Ben, our honorary YAV and fellow mzungu tourist, was always ready for an adventure. I’m very fortunate to have him as an excellent travel partner and we conquered nine countries in a month’s time. We both had the best of times and the worst of times on that journey, but I know we both have no regrets and would do it again in a heartbeat (if our funds allowed!).

My host sisters, Nyasie and Ndiga, have welcomed me into not only the sisterly realm of friendship, but also as true friends. They never hesitated to invite me to tag along to get-togethers or youth group outings. Although we haven’t always been able to hang out as frequently as we would have liked, I know that there will be more opportunities and this is not kwaheri (goodbye, just tutaonana (see you later).

Fiona, our first true rafiki, has never, ever forgotten about us. Always keen to show us the Kenyan way of doing things, such as making chapattis and ugali, she has also always been one for doing mzungu things in and around Nairobi. Her friendly, warm and welcoming demeanor epitomizes the Kenyan motto of “Karibu.” She never failed to assist a poor mzungu in figuring out which matatu to take or how much something should be at the market. She invited me along to worship at her church and introduced me to other great friends. I know that, just as with my host sisters, this most certainly is not kwaheri; I would not be surprised in the slightest if Fiona, star scholar and journalist, finds her way to the US for grad school and more.

Oluniyi, Kelly, Mike, Gen, Angela, Natasha, Michelle and Joanne all know how to have fun and I will miss their jovial attitudes. From parties at Pride Rock to dancing the night away at Gypsy’s and K1 and enjoying microbrews at our favorite haunt, the Brew Bistro, they (along with the YAVs, my host sisters, Ben and Fiona) have helped mold my social life in Nairobi. It would have been a very dull year without my rafikis!

Hudson and Martin not only happen to be my two most reliable taxi drivers but also two of my best and first Kenyan friends. Martin is always laughing at my jokes, no matter how corny they may be, but he can also lay a few jokes down as well! Hudson, well, he really has been a best rafiki from the start. Like Fiona, I always consult him on how to get places via matatu or ask him if he knows how to get something cheaper at the market, etc. When we go out, he keeps the riff-raff away. We trade movies and laughs, share food and drink. He’s not just a taxi driver, he is a spirit guide for Nairobi. Without his insight and suggestions, I’d be lost.

Although most of my colleagues are a few years wiser than me, their relentless hospitality, hilarity and professionalism has made working as the communications coordinator at CWS Africa office so much more enjoyable than I ever could have imagined.

Andrew and Njoroge, our logistics gurus, have helped me on numerous occasions with translating, making sure I have enough clean water to drink, allowing me to stop the car on long trips for rest stops (often resulting in a literal “bush bathroom”) and providing fun commentary on any and all sports. Rachel, our wonderful office coordinator, served as a big sister and friend and I am so happy that her new baby boy is here and healthy. She helped me immensely with arranging safaris and accommodation, a true lifesaver. Carol, Irene, Mary and Sarah served as more Kenyan mums for me; very helpful and always making sure I had what I needed for field trips, especially when it came to food! George and Michael and I always had something to talk about, whether it be sport or terrorism or politics, especially American politics; I felt as though I was a political pundit sometimes in the office! Sammy and Kiragu, along with Andrew, are our office mzees (elder men). Sammy, ever concerned, hospitable and welcoming, always checked in with me to see how I was doing. He truly cares about everyone in the office, especially the volunteer interns. And Kiragu, well, he reminds me so much of my own Pop-Pop—from their facial expressions and gestures to the type of hat they wear, he has been an invaluable influence on my time at CWS. I am thrilled to be his mzungu daughter as I attend his real daughter’s wedding this weekend.

I never would have imagined that the CWS office would be such a fun, welcoming, professional yet relaxed place to work. All members of the office helped me realize that I can do more with a journalism degree; I simply am not confined to life at a daily or monthly publication. I can provide communications know-how to NGOs and non-profits who are making a sustainable and obvious difference.

I have had my faith challenged, questioned and affirmed. I was not expecting this, although in hindsight, I can say that the test of one’s faith consists of a considerable chunk of a year abroad, volunteering in a faith-based environment. From seeing children beg to people beating each other over differences, there have been times when I wondered why there is such injustice in the world. Despite the trying times, I knew I was here for a reason. Although the reason was not always clear, thinking back, I cannot imagine doing anything else.

Through this year, I have expanded my mind about the world in which I live. This bit is hard to put into words. I like to think I’ve always had an open mind and have been a member of the global society, not simply stuck in the American mindset. I have seen the flaws in American culture and aspects from which I hope I have gained from Kenyan culture. On the flip side, I have seen where the American/Western viewpoint on human rights, the environment, etc. are appreciated there but are not quite of a concern here, a place where food security, electricity, clean water, adequate and affordable health care, etc. are much more important and pressing. I think now I will (hopefully) be able to combine the positive aspects of both cultures to influence my life henceforth.

Wow, what a year it has been! The high points have been awesome and sometimes surreal. I often asked myself, “Is this real life?” Well, I am very blessed that it is real life for me. The lows have been difficult beyond words but luckily they were very few and far between. As Ernest Hemingway once said, “I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke up that I was not happy.” I definitely agree and am fortunate to have the same sentiments.

Now it’s full-steam ahead to the finish line, just like Kenya’s 800-meter champion David Rudisha will do tonight for a gold medal. There are many fun activities I still need to accomplish here, so away we go!

“There’s no hurry in Africa!”

This popular phrase in Africa has come to define much of my time here.

In the US, we are trained from a young age to be on time, always. Actually, I remember fondly how I’ve been trained to be perpetually 15 minutes early, thanks to Douglas Freeman’s athletics program where we were told to be at practice at “Rebel Time.”

Thinking back on my first encounters with time management in Kenya (and Africa as a whole), one word comes to mind: frustration. I had been warned about different concepts of time, but as an American, some habits die hard. Luckily for me, I’ve embraced the pole pole (slowly, slowly), hakuna matata lifestyle here.

We joke about running on African time, a time that is eternally 20 minutes slow. I’ve invoked that excuse when running late, especially when meeting up with fellow Americans. My Kenyan friends chide me on my promptness yet they sometimes call out others for running on African time.

It is hard to believe that a year has gone by and now I only have two weeks until I’m back in the US, back in Richmond, back in my twin bed. (A quick aside—how ironic is it that I had to come all the way around the world to Kenya to sleep in a bed larger than a twin? I’ve slept in a twin since third grade!)

I have certainly enjoyed every minute of my time here, even when I hated it. Ernest Hemingway once said, “I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke up that I was not happy.” Hemingway has always been a favorite author of mine, but this quote speaks to me. I wholeheartedly agree. Even on days when I was disappointed or angry or sad, I always woke up happy to be here. I knew I was meant to be here.

Now that I only have 13 mornings to wake up in Africa, what do I do? Do I stay at Pride Rock (the moniker we created for our flat) and have “woe is me” feelings all day? Most definitely not. But do I have the time and/or funds to accomplish everything in the “Lonely Planet” guidebook of Kenya? Yes and no.

I have been fortunate enough to have resident status with a work permit/visa, which allows me entry into many Kenyan venues at a reduced rate; I paid 1,000 Kenya shillings for three days in the Masai Mara National Reserve when the non-resident rate is close to $40 US per day. Quite a perk of being a volunteer abroad, and I have enjoyed every time I whip out my passport to say, “I’m a resident.”

But since I still have projects at work to complete, I simply cannot tackle the ever-expanding Nairobi Bucket List during the week.

I do know that these next two weeks will be filled with lots of energy. Everything from curio shopping for some lucky friends and family to seeing the oldest, completely in-tact remains of homo erectus a.k.a. the “Turkana boy” at the National Museum; from taking tea at the Thorn Tree Café at the historic Stanley Hotel and enjoying a G&T from yet another historic hotel, the Norfolk-Fairmont; from going on a game drive in Nairobi National Park to photo safari, my days will be booked solid.

 “There’s no hurry in Africa!” Until you’ve got less than two weeks to accomplish everything on your bucket list. Get ready, Nairobi. This mzungu is going to be out and about, enjoying your hustle and bustle, honoring your legacy and contributing to your economy.

In 25 days, I’ll be back on American soil.

Gone will be the days of cars driving on the left-hand side of the road, mandatory teatime and pirated DVDs. I have been in a glass case of emotion on a rollercoaster of bittersweet excitement since I realized that I have less than a month left of my YAV year in Nairobi. As much as I love my life here, I know that it cannot go on forever and I have to go home (even for just a little while).

As cliché and trite as it may sound, it truly is remarkable that a year has gone by. I think God is the only one who knew how amazing, even during troubled times, this year has been. I will not dwell on how I will be sad to leave Nairobi—I think it’s too soon for me to have those feelings. However, I am becoming more and more excited to come home and all of the idiosyncrasies that come with it.

Many of you know how much I love sports, especially college basketball. Checking the Associated Press Top 25 poll is a Tuesday morning ritual at breakfast. I decided that I would do an “Amelia’s Picks,” a.k.a. Top 25 of what I can’t wait to get back to in the USA. Enjoy a heaping helping of what I have missed most about ‘Merica.

1. Friends, family and fearless fun

I would seem like a total jerk if I didn’t put family and friends as the number one thing I miss most about home. I love my new friends and Kenyan family, but sometimes you yearn for the familiarity of the close relationships from home. I’m glad I’ll be back soon to see everyone and get the scoop from the past year.

I added “fearless fun” because in the US, depending on where you are (however it’s mostly everywhere), you don’t have to worry when it is getting dark and you are walking home. Although Westlands is a very nice and safe part of Nairobi, when the sun goes down, the deviants come out. And even though muggings occur everywhere in the world, including in our beloved USA, I do not like living in a place where (unfortunately) muggings and armed robberies are much more of a daily occurrence.

2. Dogs

You would think that I would have included dogs under family and friends. While I obviously consider my dog, Charlie, a member of the family, I miss seeing people walking their dogs through the neighborhood or seeing a dog poke its head out of a moving car. Dogs in Kenya serve two purposes: Security and status. The majority of dogs I see and hear are guard dogs, but when I do see dogs out and about, they are almost always small, yappy dogs being walked by the house help. Neither of these kinds of dogs fulfills my lack of dog time in my life here. And those are just the city dogs; the country dogs are often very skittish, emaciated and mangy. It saddens me, yet they are the most resilient creatures. These dogs fit Darwin’s theory of “survival of the fittest.”

3. Fast cars and freedom

Relying on sometimes-unreliable public transport, taxis and even your own two feet can take its toll. But as much as I’ve used this year to prepare myself for life in a bustling metropolis sans-car (I’m looking at y’all, New York & DC), sometimes it is so much more convenient to tote home groceries in your own car.

4. Camouflage

As extroverted I may be, there is a kind of comfort in being able to blend in and not feel obligated to talk to every single person I pass. Hardly a day goes by without someone catcalling or being overly creepy. It is most prominent with Kenyan men; just because I am white, they feel the need to go out of their way to say hello or ask how I am. Most of the time it is very disingenuous and I am certainly glad to be leaving this unpleasant social aspect.

I enjoy being able to walk somewhere, deep in my own thoughts, without worrying if I’m acting like a pretentious jerk just because I don’t go out of my way to greet a total stranger. I greet those whom have a relationship with me, but that does not warrant a greeting for every catcalling, creepy stranger. They should not enjoy that privilege simply because of the color of my skin.

5. Chick-fil-A & Cook Out

It pains me to hear that one of my favorite fast-food indulgences, Chick-fil-A, continues to fund anti-gay organizations. Despite the politics, I still dream of a number one with extra pickles, Chick-fil-A sauce and a nice, big, sweet tea—my mouth is watering as I type this.

Cook Out is also haunting my foodie daydreams. The ice cream used in milkshakes here does not suffice. Also, I have not found any establishment where you can get hushpuppies and onion rings with a delicious cheeseburger. #fatgirlproblems

6. Clothing options

Old Navy and Target should combine forces to make an NGO-friendly clothing line. I could be its premier model. I knew that coming to Kenya would involve some stylish sacrifices. My kneecaps rarely see the light of day, and when they do, it elicits unwanted attention. I think the next time I wear heels, I’ll end up with a broken ankle because they will be so foreign to me.

I haven’t had properly fitting clothes my whole time here; now that’s a good thing because the African diet certainly has worked, but it limits my ability to feel confident because my clothes are so unflattering.

7. Cheap, efficient travel

Though matatus and long-distance coach buses are easy enough to maneuver, Africa would benefit immensely with low-cost airlines to facilitate easy, intra-continental travel. Even better railroads (Amtrak would work wonders here where it falls apart in the US) and companies like MegaBus and Bolt Bus could employ their business models here. When Ben and I had the great southern Africa adventure, we spent the majority of our funds on the flight home to Nairobi, roughly $500 US…one-way. There are obvious reasons why there is no RyanAir in Africa yet, but that will soon change and it will revolutionize travel throughout the continent.

8. Seasons

I have been spoiled by Virginia weather. Although I’ve heard that there has been oppressive heat so far this summer, at least it is evident that there is a summer. The Kenyan “winter” is finicky and confusing, as is the long dry season, the short dry season, the long rainy season and the short rainy season. Climate change is real, and the most marginalized people in the world are witnessing it firsthand. I have no answers or even attempts at answers as how to combat this, but something needs to happen.

9. Clean tap water

I cannot wait to land in the USA and drink from a water fountain, without worrying if I just swallowed 17 million different parasites. I have been brushing my teeth with the water here simply because I refuse to use water that we could drink for something that I’m just going to swish around my mouth and spit into the drain. There are more reasons on why the bottle water craze is ridiculous in the US, which I outlined in one of my first blog postings and as a guest column in the University of Richmond “Collegian.”

10. Constant electricity

I realize that with summer time thunderstorms often cause nasty power outages, but riddle me this: When it’s an absolutely lovely day, birds singing, sun shining and then, all of a sudden, the power just cuts out for hours on end. You then realize it is Sunday, a day when the Kenya power authority often flips the switch, for no apparent reason. When your entertainment is limited because of your lack of private transportation, you can go a bit stir crazy sometimes.

11. Television

This seems a bit trivial, but I love watching the evening news, specifically NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams. If I really wanted to watch the evening news here, it would be one of the Kenyan stations but sometimes their broadcasts are in Swahili; I like to think my skills are relatively proficient, but I cannot follow along as intently as I would wish. Aside from the news, I long for the day when I can record several shows on the TV, fast-forward through the commercials and then switch to a “live” show of “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.” Trivial, yes, but when you’re particular about your viewing choices, it doesn’t seem so trivial.

12. Laundry

Hand washing and hang-drying T-shirts isn’t so hard. But have you ever had to hand wash linens or denim? One word describes this process: Tedious. Laundry here is by no exaggeration an all-day affair. Once the wash is dry, you have to iron everything, and I mean everything. I wish that we had a dryer, so I could pop towels or socks into there for a quick warm-up, especially during this chilly time.

13. Sweet iced tea

I mentioned sweet tea earlier in my post about Chick-fil-A, but a nice, cold glass of sweet tea would be heavenly here, especially during those very hot days. I wish iced tea was more popular here, seeing as the sugar and tea leaves are in their most pure state.

14. Magazines and newspapers

This kind of goes along with how I miss my NBC Nightly News; “Time” and “Newsweek” are readily available in Nairobi, however, it is not the American edition of either. I’ve come to appreciate the Kenyan newspapers, but I often don’t know the back-story of lots of the headline news. And the prices for magazines are steep, especially for “Cosmopolitan” and “Glamour,” magazines, which are usually the cheapest form of entertainment in the US. How is it that one of my favorite little indulgences can often cost more than eggs, bread, milk and a few beers?

15. Mexican food

If someone could make me a true Mexican feast, complete with jumbo margaritas and chips and queso, in Kenya, then I may reconsider leaving. However, I do not know of any Mexicans residing in Nairobi who have opened a restaurant, so it seems as though I’m ready for some Dollar Taco Mondays at Mexico’s.

16. Verizon Wireless family plan for cell phones

In the pilot episode of my new favorite show, “Girls” on HBO,  the main character’s mom says that they are still paying for her cell phone; but Hannah (main character) replies that the mom said it was cheaper for the mom and dad for Hannah to be on the family plan.

I would like to have a phone that works properly and I don’t have to top up airtime every week (or more frequently depending on how many people I’m calling and texting). Unlimited data plan and perhaps a new phone would be appreciated very much so. It’s hard for me to decide if I should keep up with the Nokia go-phone when I come back because I’m pretty sure I’m one of the last few standing with the Crackberry.

17.  Outdoor recreational spaces

Despite Kenya’s push for “going green” and the late Wangari Maathai’s crusade with the Greenbelt Movement, public parks and gardens are not very common here. Everywhere is fenced off and looks menacing from the outside. The open outdoor spaces that are available often harbor dodgy situations and people. I cannot wait until I can walk around Pony Pasture or the Westhampton Lake, free from shady situations, except for those damn geese on the Richmond campus (side note: RIP Triceragoose).

18.  The art of sales

I have grown accustomed to the art of bargaining in the market place, so it will be a bit of a shock when there is no room for negotiation when I get to the cashier’s till. But one thing that Kenyans don’t quite seem to understand is the value of a discount or sale. Maybe it’s because I come from a society where “Extreme Couponing” is the next Olympic sport of housewives, but the sales incentives at most stores in Nairobi are laughable. You’d end up saving only 50 Kenyan shillings (~50 cents) on something that costs about $5 US…not really worth clipping the few and far between coupons.

The best deal we’ve found in Nairobi has been at our favorite watering hole, The Brew Bistro & Lounge; their happy hour special at this microbrewery is buy one, get one on all of their beers (which are awesome) and BOGO on mojitos if beer is not your fancy. Kenyan proprietors, take note—Brew Bistro understands the value and the art of sales, specials and discounts.

19.  Ukrop’s, Sally Bell’s, Buz & Ned’s

For my Richmonders and Richmond transplants, y’all know there’s nothing left to say. I would sell my pinky toe for Buz & Ned’s ribs, Sally Bell’s potato salad and a Ukrop’s cupcake or rainbow cookie.

20. Pedestrian safety

Probably the first and tantamount rule from drivers’ ed. was pedestrians always have the right of way, no matter what. I wish that was the number one rule for Kenyan drivers. I’ve been clipped several times by reckless matatus, run off the road by unruly Indians in Westlands (it’s as if the cast of “Jersey Shore” taught them how to drive) and have had to sprint across the street to avoid speeding cars. I’ll be very thankful for leisurely strolls where I know I have the right of way and where I know cars will slow down and stop, however begrudgingly they may be, I’ll be happy.

21. Pop culture and technology

Let’s face it: Even though Kenya is very much online, there are so many aspects of the ever-changing social media and technology landscapes, which mold and spread the various facets of pop culture, I’ve missed out on. Everything from Pintrest to Instagram, Siri on the iPhone to “50 Shades of Grey,” the raves and rants about “Girls” to movie premieres on time (I had to wait almost two months to see “The Hunger Games”), I will be glad to be on the right time zone for current fads. This may sound shallow and materialistic, but isn’t that what our society has formed our perceptions to revolve around, always being current and hip, never in the dark and unknown.

22. Proximity

Proximity incorporates several different things I miss about the US, but it is certainly relevant. Since we have no car, we are very aware of how far away things are and how long it takes to get to point B from point A, etc.

When I’m in Richmond, I can get basically anywhere I need to be in 15 minutes by car; the only place I can get to in 15 minutes by foot is my office, maybe the nearest mall if I’m walking at a quick pace. Convenience is something that you take for granted until you don’t have it anymore.

23. Sports

I’ve grown to love watching the Barclay’s Premier League and the UEFA 2012; football/soccer definitely has risen into my top three sports to watch, but I also miss the opportunity to play with my friends or just join in on a friendly match. I missed out on March Madness, probably one of the hardest times for me…I didn’t even fill out a bracket!

I’m glad I’ll be home to enjoy my alma mater compete in football in the fall and basketball in the winter. I’m especially excited to catch an Atlanta Braves game with a new Kenyan friend who lives in Atlanta. I loved going to the matches here, football and rugby, but I need a live-action basketball game to get me back into my sports journalist groove. The Olympics will be great to watch here, but I know I already miss the patriotic camaraderie.

24. Mountain House 

My family’s mountain house in western North Carolina is my favorite place on the planet. It’s quiet, beautiful, peaceful and serene, with nostalgia bursting through every nook and cranny. I can’t do it justice in a few paragraphs, but I know that I will be spending the majority of my self-care, re-entry time here, and that is something that makes me feel very at ease with life.

25. Not having to miss things in the US because I’m back in the US, doing everything that I couldn’t for the past year.

Masai Mara.

As I said before, Sallie’s visit was much more laid-back and mellow, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I’m lucky that Sallie wasn’t expecting to be jet-setting throughout the continent because, as it turns out, we were lucky to go on a safari at all.

I originally planned for us to go to Amboseli and the Masai Mara. Amboseli, home to very famous elephant herds and a picturesque backdrop of Mount Kilimanjaro, is a drool-worthy safari destination. I had even found a superb deal at a camp there, but, as it turns out, miscommunication with the booking office forced us to cancel.

Hakuna matata! I thought another fun alternative was to have Hudson drive us to Lake Nakuru, which is a gorgeous national park in the Great Rift Valley. We were able to stop along the Rift Valley photo viewpoints and luckily for us, the clouds dissipated right as we arrived. Nakuru was very warm, especially compared to being up on the Rift Valley rim.

I had been to Lake Nakuru before but this trip was a lot more fun and we were spoiled with the many rhinos (white and black) that we saw. Within 15 minutes of entering the park and hitting the safari trails, we saw about five dozing white rhinos. Lake Nakuru is somewhat of a sanctuary for rhinos, both black and white. How can you tell the difference between the two? White rhinos have square, flat lips on their mouth and their horns are a bit lighter or whiter in color. Black rhinos have a narrower, pointed upper-lip used for grabbing individual leaves from trees and bushes.

We cruised around the open plains, lake in the background and saw lots of other herbivores, such as giraffes (particularly Rothschild), zebras, impalas, gazelles, buffalo, waterbucks and warthogs. We were looking for lions and leopards but were unable to find them; luckily, the park rangers said that no one had been able to find them that day.

But we ended our tour with a very rare treat: A black rhino mother and calf! That was very special. Although they were quite far away, they were unmistakable. We also drove up to the “Out of Africa” viewpoint to take in an overhead look at the lake. We headed back to Nairobi and continued our relaxing holiday.

Later that weekend, we went with Tricia, Oluniyi and his friends to see the Kenya national football team, the Harambee Stars, take on the Malawi national football team in a 2014 FIFA World Cup qualifying match. It was very exciting! So many vendors were hawking Kenya memorabilia: Vuvezelas, flags, scarves, face-painting, and more. We were in a hurry to get through the queue into the stadium and to avoid those who were enjoying the football day too much; we were in our seats about two hours before kickoff.

One would think that at a football match, there would be souvenirs and at least beers inside the stadium. Well, much to my dismay after investigating the compound, there wasn’t a single vendor selling any souvenirs or concessions, except for sodas.

The match was underway and it was very exciting. It was certainly a defensive battle and man of the match undoubtedly was Kenya’s keeper; he made some remarkable saves. Luckily for us, the match ended in a draw—better than Malawi beating Kenya on its home pitch. But the lack of a win seems to have thrown Kenya out of the running for the 2013 African Cup of Nations and quite possibly the 2014 World Cup as well. It’s best that Kenya continues to dominate the running circuit and now I have the London Olympics to cheer on two countries.

The next few days were spent frantically trying to organize a proper safari for Sallie and I in the premier park in Kenya: the Masai Mara.

After several exasperated phone calls, emails and even popping into the booking office in Westlands, we were all squared away for an epic journey. The next day we were on our way to Wilson Airport in Langata (suburb of Nairobi). This is a light-craft airport, catering to Flying Doctors, safari outfits and UN and other aid-organizations. We felt very posh flying into the Mara. The flight was definitely a wild ride; I really enjoyed seeing Nairobi from the air, however, that also meant I was able to see the full scope of some of the heartbreaking sides to Nairobi, namely Kibera (largest slum in Kenya, often disputed one of the largest slums in sub-Saharan Africa), which is just across the road from the airstrip. The photos I took from the plane could not even begin to show the sprawl or the immense guilt I felt in my heart.

We landed at one of several all-weather airstrips in the Mara and were greeted by Kerore, who turned out to be our driver-guide at the Mara Intrepids tented camp. The camp is located within walking distance to the airstrip, so driving seemed a bit unnecessary. We checked in and settled into a delicious lunch before our afternoon game drive.

We were located right near the Talek River and the camp’s proximity to resident lion prides was obvious. We found one pride of lions lounging in very tall grass after surveying the savanna. On our way to our first pride of lions we had close encounters with elephants, topis (a kind of gazelle/antelope), gazelles, impalas, warthogs and jackals. The proximity of the lions to the grazing impalas, gazelles and topis was certainly an example of “the circle of life.”

After we had ample time with the lions, we continued a search along the riverbank for any leopards who may have been out for a drink. We didn’t have any luck on our first drive, but we did make a new friend. Allison, who had been studying abroad in Tours, France for the year, was in Kenya on an extended holiday, traveling Europe  and into Africa and was wrapping it up in the Mara. She was supposed to volunteer in the Kisumu-area near Lake Victoria, but that did not pan out…sounds oddly familiar to many times something did not pan out here the way it was supposed to in Kenya.

We had dinner together and then called it an early night since we were going to have an early-morning extended game drive with a picnic breakfast. Gideon, our tent attendant, who brought us tea, coffee and some biscuits to help wake us up before the drive, waked us up. Then we met up with Kerore and set out, on the hunt for rhinos and leopards, the remaining of the Big 5. Cheetahs were also a priority for us, since the Mara is home to the endangered species.

We saw in the distance some hot-air balloons rising…Sallie and I were certainly jealous of that, but it costs about $500US/person! Take note future husband, that would be soooo romantic.

We saw hippos in a nearby creek and then some lions lounging about. Lions are definitely the one of the most social animals in the Big 5, along with the elephants. This was a different pride from the previous day and there were three generations of lionesses and cubs. One of the cubs was nursing and receiving a bath from its mother, you could hear the click click click of all the safari-goers’ cameras.

We had a nice breakfast picnic and drove back to the camp to rest up before lunch. As we drove through a massive herd of buffalo, I had a sneezing attack that would not quit! Dr. Sallie determined I must be allergic to buffalo, ultimate #africangirlproblem.

After lunch and tea, it was time for our afternoon game drive. We were really on the hunt so to speak, and it started off very excitedly, with Kerore chattering on the Walkie Talkie. We asked him what was going on and he said that there was a Maasai stalking a lion. We seemed a bit confused because the Maasai live on the outskirts of the national reserve, so as wacky as this scenario sounded, it also seemed quite plausible.

After driving frantically around and around, we came upon only two other safari LandCruisers, so we were skeptical about what we would see. But little did we know that we would have front-row seats as we watched a cheetah, minutes after taking down a gazelle, gorge herself on her kill.

It was awesome to see this cheetah up close, but as more LandCruisers came over, it became obvious she was feeling threatened as she was eating. Cheetahs, after expending so much energy in the hunt, often have to surrender their dinner to more over-bearing carnivores, such as lions and hyenas. Cheetahs have to eat as much as they can as quickly as possible if they are to survive; the good news is that usually they will not need to hunt until three days after a kill.

After we took far too many photos of the cheetah, we continued on for our search of the leopard. We didn’t see any leopards but once again, we came across some very social lions. There they were, hanging in the tree, lazing about. We searched and searched but no luck with the leopard. We came back to camp to catch the sunset over the Mara before another food coma-inducing dinner to finish our last night of safari.

We decided to do one final morning game drive and were witnessed something most safari guides rarely see. We started off by seeing a hippo out of water, having a morning snack. Hippos usually graze on land at night and head back into the water during the day.

We drove along to a lookout point where Kerore surveyed the savanna with his binoculars. Much to everyone’s surprise, we were close enough to catch a glimpse of two male black rhinos, battling for territory.

We quickly drove down from the viewpoint to cross the river and pulled up alongside only two other safari LandCruisers. It was a very intimate gathering. One rhino, the loser, left the clearing with visible gashes from the tussle. The other seemed to be strutting and marking territory before disappearing into some vegetation.

Although we did not end up seeing the leopard on our game drives, we were thrilled with perhaps a more rare occurrence with the rhinos. It is hard to see it all on these game drives: Even if you do a week-long safari, you may not come across something!

After the morning game drive, we bid farewell to our new friend, Allison. Then Sallie and I packed up and checked out but we weren’t flying back to Nairobi until that afternoon. We had time before lunch to visit a nearby Maasai village. I did the same thing with Erica in Tanzania and was feeling a bit skeptical again, but Sallie wanted to and what else were we going to do while we waited?

Upon arriving at the village, I could already tell that this village was much more affluent than the one I visited in Tanzania. That got me thinking; perhaps the Kenyan Maasais are better at managing the tourism industry since it is relatively new to Tanzania. Regardless, we had a great time being total mzungu tourists. We enjoyed the crazy jumping from the warriors, the welcoming dances from the women and an inside-look to the Maasai way of life.

Soon enough it was time to fly home to Nairobi. This flight was very turbulent; every gust of wind sends a jolt into your system! We were happy to be back on the ground. We enjoyed an Asian dinner before watching (or at least watching some before falling asleep) “Out of Africa” since Sallie was leaving the next morning.

And just like that, my safari holidays came to a close. It was one of the best times of my life: Traveling through splendid works of God’s natural beauty, observing the animal kingdom during life and death and spending time with friends and family. I certainly am grateful for the opportunity and lucky that I had the time and funding to take some much-needed “me time” to commune with nature, and to pretend that I was on my own wildlife documentary in National Geographic.

Now, I am excited to delve into some different blog postings. Since my time in Kenya is dwindling, I have been thinking about doing some observational/social commentary. Stay tuned.