Kwaheri and Reverse Culture Shock
August 16th came around so fast that it almost felt unreal! How could I be leaving some place so fast where I already felt so at home with? It just wasn’t happening.
I’m not even sure if it fully settled in for me. We went last-minute souvenir shopping, using up the last of our stipends to get as much physical evidence of our Kenya trip as possible, then went to this restaurant called Fogo Gaucho, which was so good! I even tried ostrich for the first time, although I did feel kind of bad because I find ostriches cute. There, we had a sort of “farewell” lunch with friends and supervisors, which was very emotional; but, still, I think part of me believed I’d be working the next day! Even when we went back to ILRI, to say final goodbyes and to finish up packing, nothing was going on in my head. Our goodbyes were pretty emotional though…the experience was so surreal, as if I was dreaming. What did pull me out of this dazed state a bit were the trees: we were supposed to plant trees before we went for lunch; apparently, we took too long, so, instead, the trees were planted by ILRI in honor for us. That struck me so much emotionally; it was so sweet! Here’s mine; we allocated them based on our own heights because it only seemed fair.
I don’t think it really hit me until we arrived at the airport. It was late at night, and our supervisor and Kenyan surrogate parent Dr. Wellington and a friend of ours, Kevin, carried our bags as far as security, then bid us farewell. When it hit me that they’d be dropping us off, and Jacob and I would be on our own, only to split up in a few hours, all the realization hit in. We’d completed the internship. We were Borlaug-Ruan alumni now. And our time with ILRI for the time being was over.
It broke my heart, all too late. It couldn’t be over. I felt like I could live being there, live in the laboratory doing research. I hated ticks at first but, dare I say, I sort of began to appreciate their beauty. No, they’re not beautiful in who they are or what they do to animals at all. But their designs, especially ticks in the genus Amblyomma, are really pretty! They’ve made me call blood-sucking, disease-carrying ticks pretty; that’s a change I wasn’t expecting.
I wondered if when I got back, my family would see if I’d completely changed like it’d be expected. I wondered how weird it would feel to be back in my American home.
I won’t lie, the concept of “reverse culture shock” sounded sort of silly to me when I first heard it. It made sense, kind of; you’re not used to your home culture, having assimilated to a different one, so you’ll have to readjust. But how hard could readjusting to a culture you spent most of your life in, one that’s almost nature to you? How could home feel foreign?
As I stepped off the plane, my blood used to 70-degree Kenyan weather, into nearly 100-degree Atlanta weather, I understood. I was completely dumbfounded. Which was the right direction home from the airport? Why was the steering wheel on the left, not the right, and why were the roads backwards? Why did the food make me sick? Why did buildings look all the same? Why weren’t there switches on electric outlets? What was happening?
I had to catch myself and not tell a person “asante” after they held the door back for me. Perhaps this was laughable, but I’d never been anywhere outside of America, and now my own home just seemed like a whole new world to me.
Today, I’m still adjusting to being in America, but I just can’t see it the same way anymore. While there were some parallels between American and Kenyan cities, roads, neighborhoods, there are stark differences I didn’t even remember. It feels so awkward now. I guess it’s easy for any of us living here to assume this is it, and to take our culture and society for granted. It’s no longer my whole world now, giant Walmarts off every exit, driving on the left side of the road, the customary system, ways we write dates, the common language we use; it’s just one part of it and I’m glad I’ve grown to have this perspective. It’s easy to know about varying cultures, but to actually live in a different one and assimilate to it, then go back is completely different. I cannot even properly put this transition into words. I find myself, instead of just living my every day American life, analyzing it. This alone will be something to adjust to, but there’s nothing wrong about gaining a new life perspective! That’s one incredible perk of the internship. Maybe we’ll change character-wise, but we just don’t look at our home, our world, the same way again, and this multi-viewed perspective is extremely important. It establishes a sense of self in this big world, allows us to empathize with people of other cultures, and gets us thinking. I will never, and can never, forget my experience with ILRI as a result!
Asante! (“thank you” in Swahili!)
