So, how was your trip?

I've only had to answer this question once since we landed on Tuesday early evening, and thankfully, the person who asked had read the blog. Such an innocent question with no possible answer.

One of the things that is standing out so strongly is how tidy everything here is. I don't think I have seen one little kid since we landed. And there seem to be no people walking on the street... it's damned cold, so I guess that one kind of makes sense. Everything is tucked away nicely. We live in a world of boxes here, everything behind a wall, a window or a door. The shops are all indoors, there is no one selling goods on the street, or from a basket on their head, or running up to the cars and buses to offer a bag of plums, or perhaps some socks or peanuts or a flashlight or a calculator... in Kenya you can buy just about anything you can imagine out the window of your bus.

I was talking with a friend yesterday and she said that I should write down what I am feeling and noticing while the re-entry is so fresh... it's really powerful, she said. Powerful is not a word I could use to describe how I am feeling. Stunned is more like it. Getting off the plane and into my car was the most natural thing in the world and yet it blew my mind. Smooth roads, traffic lights, it's all so civilized. And I fit right in. Was I really bouncing around in overcrowded matatus barreling down dusty pothole ridden streets dodging cattle, bicycles and babies only a few hours ago?

We had a 10 hour layover in Amsterdam on our way home. Now there is a city of contradictions. Quaint, beautiful, historic, charming and seedy and desparate all at the same time. We visited the Ann Frank museum which was so... It really rattled me to know that we were not only looking at history. Ethnic cleansing is alive and well in this world. When will we learn?

The weather, the long flight and the contridictions of Amsterdam lead to a mini breakdown on the train back to the airport. Quietly crying looking out the window, I noticed that I didn't see Schipol Airport listed as one of the upcoming stops. Until the train pulled away FROM THE SCHIPOL STOP, that is. Damn, we missed our stop. And of course we hadn't left ourselves much of a window. The crying stopped and now it was toe tapping anxiety. It was pretty dicey, missing our plane was a real possibility. Especially because we seemed to be on an express train traveling efficiently AWAY from the airport. When the train eventually did stop we sprinted down the platform to catch a train going back from whence we had just come. The door closed seconds after we got on the train. Then, once in the airport we had to find the locker where we had stored our backpacks and race through the airport to our gate. We did make it as the plane was loading.

And here we are. And I would go back in a second. We've been trying to figure out what it is we loved about it. Because frankly, in and of itself, it's pretty unappealing. Sure it's sunny and warm and the tea fields are lush and green and beautiful. And the birds sing so sweetly and the kids are gorgeous. But the poverty and the dust and the touts are pretty in your face.

I think it is the feeling of usefulness and purpose all the self help books talk about. We made a difference there, however small. There is no end to the ways one can contribute there. At times we were paralyzed by the scope of the need... we would just shake our heads and say, "They're fucked." And then we would concentrate on building desks or learning about the needs of a widows group, or give a soccer ball to some kids. Fredrick's baby girl has a chance because of us. The boys at Musingu Highschool have a chance because of Terry's Rotary group. Julius can plant because of the jewelry that you bought.

So, my job is to do the best I can with what we have been given. Which is so so much. I slept last night under a down quilt and spent $70 on one meal for my family. And I have never wondered, even when I was a struggling young mom, whether my children were going to eat, or go to school.

I hope I can still have compassion for our Cadillac problems here in the west. I hope I can feel grateful, not guilty for all that we have here. I hope I don't become a self righteous do-gooder. And I hope that I don't ever forget and slide into apathy to protect my heart from completely breaking.

For now, I'm turning to toast and cheese, brownies and sudoku.