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Out of Africa

Writer's picture: Heather KirkbyHeather Kirkby

After nearly seventy days we are leaving Africa. It’s hard to believe that a year ago this continent was sort of a blank slate to me. In many ways our stops in Africa were always preparing us for the next one. Some of that was by design, some of it was luck: from Morocco to South Africa to Lesotho to Kenya to Tanzania.



We were struck by the hospitality in Morocco, the segregation in South Africa, the kindness and beauty of Lesotho, the awe to be among Kenyan tribes and the opportunity to bear witness to family life in communities in need in Tanzania.


We stared into face of some very hard lives. Where a curable benign sickness can become a matter of life or death. Where a doctor’s visit is inaccessible. Where childbirth is no different than 1,000 years ago. Where small sums of money can vastly change these circumstances.



We saw staggering natural beauty in many mountain ranges, on the coasts, in the oceans and in plains. We saw animals and birds and plants beyond our wildest dreams.



I feel exceptionally grateful for the time we spent deep in northern Kenya. Without those tribal interactions our time in Africa would have looked very different. Many patterns and ways of living repeated across countries except for what we saw in northern Kenya. Sure, in other places we saw aching poverty in hard conditions. This was different. This was tribes living as they had lived for 1,000’s of years. Except for a few phones, and some Lakers t-shirts, little modern influence had crept in. By our terms, we would call them poor and primitive. I’m sure if they took a close look at our families, scattered across countries and zip/postal codes, they would consider us uncivilized. Our guide said a lot of people simply don’t really know these places exist. They are so difficult to reach. There is no infrastructure to support tourists or outsiders beyond a handful.



We experienced a lot of kindness in Africa. So much. Sure, safety is a bigger concern than a lot of places in the world and it’s important to be informed and wise. Sometimes the risks spooked or unnerved me, but I close my eyes now and I can remember countless tales of kindness from strangers, and from those with whom we spent more time. Below is a photo of Reuben and his sister. Reuben guided us for several days in Kenya. He was kind, curious and fun. He jumped at the chance to play Justin’s guitar and ask us all about our vastly different stuff and lives. We were lucky to spend time with him. To be honest this theme of kindness holds true since the time we left Park City in August. What a great testament re: the goodness of humanity. It gives me hope when the world feels more divided and hateful than ever. The only truly cranky or rude person that crossed our path anywhere was an Airbnb host in South Africa. Is it racist if I tell you it was a White woman? I will say I thought about race most days in Africa which is almost a 180 from life at home.



As a mother of an amazing queer kid I’m taking a deep exhale as we leave a region that denies the existence of LGBTQ+ people with fierce, horrible laws. We looked at maps, considered options, talked to people on the ground and decided to walk through the belly of the beast, with precautions.


As I reflect on our time in Africa, the feelings that keep coming to the center are related to owning the privileges of being White and Western. We have access to education, sanitation, healthcare, and so so much more. We have so much comfort in our lives. So much is taken for granted. In our final days I randomly imagined being in Park City and being appalled at all my clothes. So many clothes. So much stuff. So much space. Will I forever remember how much we have relative to what we need? How will these experiences shape my life and life choices? I have more questions and wonders than answers right now. Those stories have yet to be written.


Asante sana, Africa!!

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