Little E, Z and I are on the plane to Edmonton to celebrate thanksgiving with the famjam. Leading up to this I was so anxious. When I sat down and thought about why I could possibly be nervous about this ‘vacation’ all it brought back was bad memories the last time I saw my kids packing their little suitcases and us getting on a plane back to my family again.
It was the time we all
left fled Kenya together. I remember seeing Little E standing there with his Thomas the Train backpack on, not understanding why we were packing all our stuff up. I remember all my clothes except the ones on my back being thrown by E into either the outhouse or being set on fire. I remember the chase down the dirt road as his family chased after us, throwing huge rocks at our window breaking two of the van windows. I remember having to falsely passport documents in a desperate attempt to leave the country. So stressed and panicked, that my body stopped producing breast milk for Z on the journey home. I thought at every turn someone from Ed’s family would be there to somehow stop us from leaving the country. The lengths that they would go through… my mind was producing all kinds of scenarios. Thinking they would get the police involved. Thinking when I got to Nairobi, his other sister would be waiting there. Thinking somehow they would have involved everyone they knew and I wouldn’t be safe until I got on my final flight outta the country. It was a long drive from my little village home, to the tiny airport a ways away. With stops to switch vehicles so we could see out the front window since ours was destroyed. Ducking below seats to hide from family on the way to rush to get Eli from his preschool. The long wait at the local airport for my little rickety flight to leave. The hour long flight to Nairobi, hoping against everything that the Visa people wouldn’t see I had overstayed my visa since I was originally planning to apply for permission residency but, well plans changed quickly.
Anyway, this whole little story, to say… I’m no longer really a fan of traveling. It makes me anxious. The packing process. The getting to the airport on time. The making the flight. It just feels like my body has a who shit load of extra energy that’s not normally there. I never used to be like this.
Packing used to be my favourite thing. I’d pack a week in advance and live out of my suitcase. I’d fold and refold my clothes. Making sure I had all I needed. I was super organized and had everything ready to go. But since that ‘situation’ I’ve changed. I was yelling with my kids about what clothes they could bring and how much. And I knew it wasn’t the time in Edmonton itself that was stressing me. But it was the leading up to it. And so after thinking it through, I’m quite sure this is why.
So. I don’t know how to work on it or fix it. I don’t know how to make it better or back to the way it used to be. At this point, all I can do is acknowledge it and know that it doesn’t have control over me. Know that it’s only in certain situations, mainly because I don’t travel by plane 24/7, but don’t travel back to Edmonton.
So that’s all for now folks. Happy thanksgiving 2021. Safe travels if your going anywhere. If you have any solutions, I’m open to those as well.
On The Road Again/Willie Nelson