On June 25th (in about a week), I'm headed back to Lwala. It's been a year since I was last there and I can't wait to see all my friends in the village. The clinic opened in early April this year, and I can't even begin to describe how elated I am to see all the progress the village has made because of it. I already know that it will be one of the most moving experiences of my life to walk in the newly-opened clinic- a clinic that as I learned last summer, was so desperately needed.
I just finished up a 9 month stay in Managua, Nicaragua working for Manna Project International. In Nicaragua, we had an international phone that we used for work. I guess I'd given that phone number to friends in Kenya, because several times my co-workers in Nicaragua would pick up the phone, not recognize Japollo or Kevohs' Kenyan accent, start talking to them in Spanish, get a really confused look on their face, and just hand the phone over to me. Japollo and Kevoh would laugh about people trying to talk to them in spanish and then briefly catch me up on Lwala-happenings before their phone cards cut out (usually 2 or 3 minutes later). And one of my favorite parts of the conversations would be when they called me by my Lwala nickname, Atoti. Hearing that name brings back floods of memories of cooking over an open fire in the kitchen hut, showering outside with a cup and bucket, carrying water from the spring in a bucket on my head, hand washing clothes, singing at night over the light of kerosene lamps, and hugging Apiyo, Onyango, Toby, Olga and Dada.
I absolutely cannot wait to return to the tiny village in the middle of Kenya, that one year ago captured all my heart and soul.
Until Kenya. . .
