From Staying In to Setting Off

Yesterday unfolded more quietly than expected.

With protests announced across Nairobi, we were advised to stay close to home, not knowing how the situation might develop. So we settled into a slower rhythm at the apartment, homeschooling, making (and eating) plenty of popcorn, and the children enjoying an episode or two of Checker Tobi.

We did venture out briefly, just a short walk away, to meet my cousin for lunch at a delicious Vietnamese restaurant. Julius also managed to squeeze in a haircut, and we discovered a lovely souvenir shop that I will definitely return to before we leave.

Despite the limitations, the day passed quickly and peacefully.

This morning, however, felt like a complete shift.

We started early, heading back to Kawangware to meet another friend, a bright young woman studying mathematics and chemistry, who has just completed her first year at university. She now has a break until September, when she will continue her studies near Kisumu. It’s a place that keeps coming up in conversations lately, almost as if it’s quietly calling us there.

And soon enough, we were on the move again.

After a quick stop at my cousin’s house, we headed to the airport and boarded a small plane bound for Lodwar, in the northwest of the country. The aircraft was noticeably smaller than our previous one. Assunta thought it looked almost like a bus, especially with its compact seating at the back. As we flew, the landscape slowly transformed beneath us. The lush green surroundings of Nairobi gave way to dry, expansive terrain, marked by riverbeds that looked as though they come alive only when the rains arrive, before disappearing again just as quickly.

Stepping off the plane in Lodwar, we were met by a strong wave of heat and wind. One of the plane’s engines remained running, keeping the cabin cool for the next passengers already waiting to board. The noise was intense, and the children were completely fascinated.

The airport itself was small, so small that the children stood there wide-eyed, taking it all in.“I’ve never seen such a small airport,” they said, full of wonder.

Emmanuel, a seminarian from the diocese, greeted us and drove us to the guesthouse. Along the way, we passed women wearing beautifully beaded necklaces, their colours standing out against the earthy tones of the landscape.

Arriving at the guesthouse, one small detail brought immediate relief: air conditioning. After a short rest, we set out again, walking up a nearby hill with Emmanuel.

From the top, the view opened wide. We could see across all of Lodwar, stretching along the Turkwel River. Emmanuel pointed out the different buildings, a large school with over a thousand students, a novitiate with 24 novices, and the bishop’s house, currently empty while he is in Italy.

Up there, the wind was constant, offering a welcome coolness. We sat for a while, taking it all in, the vastness, the quiet, the unfamiliar beauty of this place.

Back at the guesthouse, as we walked to the courtyard, we heard soft singing coming from the chapel. The sisters’ voices carried gently through the space, drawing us in.

Later, as we sat playing cards, some of the sisters came to greet us and warmly invited us to meet the others. We followed, and what we found was a moment of pure warmth, smiles, songs, and a kindness that needed no words.

Julius, by then, had reached his limit, so he went of to bed and fell asleep almost instantly. The rest of us ended the day over dinner with Father Denis and Emmanuel, talking about the days ahead and learning more about the great work of the diocese. www.caritaslodwar.org www.dioceseoflodwar.org

It had been a long day, full of contrasts, new places, and unexpected encounters.

And once again, we went to bed feeling grateful for all that we are able to experience.