Feeling Like Home

About a week ago, I was talking to my cousin in Boston and found out that we were going to be on the same flight to Nairobi. Fantastic. I'm not one of those travelers who spends weeks meticulously preparing to travel. I started packing two and a half hours before I left for the airport. That should give you a sense of my stress-free approach to travel. My philosophy is simple. There are only a few things that you really need: a passport, prescriptions, and some money. All else can be purchased if you forget it.

So after finding out that my cousin was on my flight, I immediately began neglecting details that a normal person might think are of vital importance, especially when traveling overseas. I had no idea who was going to pick me up at the airport. I wasn't even positive that someone was going to, but I assumed. And I also knew that, worst case scenario, I'll sleep at my cousin's place.

But let me continue with the list of other things I neglected. I didn't know where I was supposed to go. A hotel, someone's house, back home? I didn't bother getting any Kenyan money. In short, I packed my bags in DC and got on a plane, almost as nonchalantly as if I was catching the metro to work.

I'm keenly aware that this approach to travel isn't for everyone. I just know that these things don't freak me out (Disclaimer: especially in this situation when I could rely on someone else as a worst case scenario). Let's say my cousin missed the flight. I know that there are hotels in Nairobi, and that I can get to them. I also know that I'd be able to get in touch with someone if I needed to. That is, assuming I had money to make a call, could find the right numbers to call, and that the recipients of those calls would feel like answering a call from a random number.

You may ask, "Why go through this when you could just verify things before leaving?" And you'd be absolutely correct. I have no answer. I just don't find the situation that stressful even though I'd probably agree that I'm just being irrational. As a side note, I certainly wouldn't travel this way if I was traveling with others, unless of course they had the same sort of traveling style.

So, back to the story. My cousin and I exit customs and walk out into a sea of brown people. Hmm, this may be more difficult than I imagined. Almost immediately, we see my cousin's cousin, who for all intents and purposes is also my cousin. He asks, "Who is coming to get you?"

I laugh. "That's a great question. And I have no idea." He laughs and without skipping a beat says, "You're home. There will always be somewhere for you to go. I've got a car."

I'm not sure that I would have been able to articulate why I was so comfortable coming back to Nairobi with so little information. No who, no what, no where. But my cousin summed it up perfectly. I was operating on blind faith. I knew that I was home, and that you can never really be lost at home.

I decided to go for a walk through the sea to see if I recognized anyone. My parents arrived in Nairobi a week ago. I was pretty confident that they weren't there, but my sense was that other cousins would be involved. I did a lap around the people, and then walked across the face of the crowd as they stared at the baggage claim doors for their people. Recognition level: zero. Looks like someone had all the symptoms of someone being lost at home.

My cousin who came to pick up my other cousin says, "I think I know where you may be going," and starts to make a call. I'm still scanning the crowd when I see two familiar faces. Two of my cousins, one from my mom's side, and one from my dad's side. There we go. Just like I planned.

Greetings are exchanged. One of the cousins who came to get me asked me who the other guy on the plane was. I tell her that he’s her cousin who lives in Boston. His mom is her dad’s, and my dad’s, oldest sister. “Oh!” she whispers, “He looks like one of us.” One of us. I like the sound of that. I’m glad that one of you came to get me.

And that’s the thing. This could only happen to me here. Perhaps it wasn’t so blind of me to assume that there will always be someone in Kenya looking out for me. Perhaps my actions were an expression, although certainly a subconscious one, that I understand how my family in Kenya operates -- that there is no way that I would be alone here. In a sense, that is why I can also comfortably call Kenya home even though I’ve never lived here and speak Swahili about as well as a one-year old Kenyan baby, but with a deeper voice.

A question that comes to mind is whether I would behave in this fashion if traveling elsewhere. And I’ve put some thought into this. Knowing myself, probably. Although I probably would have been slightly less confident (or moronic) in doing so. But in my non-professional opinion, a hint of confidence while traveling can be enough to keep the predators away. And the confidence I felt coming back to Kenya would have definitely made me seem like a credible local … at least for 10 minutes or until my third lap wandering aimlessly around the airport.

You may think I’m attempting to cloak my utter neglect to prepare for this trip as heightened cultural awareness. And I suppose I could have just made a few calls before getting on the plane. But seriously, how good of a story would that make? I had a plan that was rooted in a cultural understanding. My utter neglect was a result of my cultural awareness, which, at least in my deranged, rationalizing mind, doesn’t make my neglect that neglectful. My plan was not to have a plan, and if that fell apart, to develop a plan. Think about that. Genius, I know. I love it when a plan comes together. Stay tuned.