Ten times.
Ten times travelling to Kenya since 2015, and eleven years since I first arrived in Kisumu. I never imagined how important that first trip would become, or that it would stay with me forever. I certainly never imagined that I was about to find a place that would become such an important part of my life.
The first time, I went as a volunteer. I went to help, to teach and to give something back. I thought I would be the one giving, never imagining how much I would receive in return.
I have written about my experiences many times over the years, but this time feels different. I no longer feel like I am going to volunteer. In fact, not long after my very first trip, I started to feel like I was going home.
Of course, I will always try to help in every way I can. I will always do whatever is within my power for them. But the purpose of my trips has changed completely. Now, I go because I miss them. Because they are part of my life. Because Korando, and all the people there, have become my family.
What started as volunteering has become a part of me. Korando is no longer somewhere I travel to; it is somewhere I belong.
It is where people know me, where I am welcomed, where I laugh, where I feel comfortable, and where I can simply be myself. It is where I feel truly loved. It is where I have watched children grow up and change so much over the years; where relationships have survived distance and time; and where I have found a family I never expected to have so far away from home.
It is amazing to think that some of the children who were babies when I first went are now teenagers, with their own dreams, personalities and plans for the future. I have watched them grow, learn and change, and being able to witness that is one of the most beautiful parts of coming back.
They say home is where your heart is, and what a truth that is. Half of mine is in Kenya.
Every time I go, I am reminded of how much they give me. They give me love, laughter, perspective and memories. They make me appreciate the simplest things and remind me of how fortunate we are in our own countries. Most of all, they remind me of something we so often forget: less is more.
And then comes the hardest part: leaving.
I don’t think I will ever get used to saying goodbye. Every time, I start feeling nervous a few days before I leave because I don’t want that day to come. Then there is that moment when the last hugs are over, when I get into the car, look back one more time, and realise that I am leaving people I love — my family.
And it hurts. A lot.
But I have also learned that there is something incredibly beautiful about that pain.
What a privilege it is to have goodbyes that are so difficult.
The sadness of leaving is simply the other side of the love I feel when I am there. I am always reminded of those words: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” And they couldn’t be more true.
How lucky am I to have a place to return to? To have found a home so far away from home, and to have two families on opposite sides of the world.
So, to my Kenyan family:
Thank you for welcoming me every single time as if I had never left. Thank you for every hug, every laugh, every conversation and every goodbye. Thank you for giving me so much more than I could ever give you.
Like I always say: it is never goodbye. It is always, see you soon!
Asanteni sana, familia yangu ya Kenya.
Nyarkorando, nawapenda sana!! 🫶🏿✨🇰🇪
Angela
