The final morning in Kenya dawned and I felt my heart sink; I knew I'd be leaving a piece of my heart in Africa. Again. We ate a delicious breakfast at the main lodge and gave the mongooses one last bit of loving. Once belongings had been packed in the car, we drove across the Mara a final time. We had just enough time at the airstrip to purchase a few last-minute souvenirs before saying farewell to Moses and Anthony and boarding our little plane. Goodbyes with those two were harder than with any other people we had encountered. Maybe it was because that was our last location. Maybe it was because they were the most bubbly and outgoing. Either way, it physically hurt to realize we'd likely never see them again. With heavy hearts, we left the Masai Mara and headed for Nairobi. Since we had a ten hour layover, my cousin rented rooms again at the Four Points hotel. This would allow us a place to freshen up and reorganize our bags before our final departure later that evening. To kill time, we decided on one last adventure in Nairobi. Mamba Village. A driver from the hotel brought us to a souvenir shop on our way to Mamba Village, the crocodile park. At the park, a guide taught us about crocodiles, turtles, and ostriches. It was a memorable experience, just for the crocodiles alone! Back at the hotel, we ate a delicious dinner at the restaurant before returning to our rooms and finalizing everything. At just after 8pm, we brought everything down to the lobby and waited for the shuttle to the airport. Thinking we had allowed ourselves enough time, we quickly realized that the lines at the airport could present a problem. There were long lines to pass through security to get inside of the airport. There were long lines to check-in with the airlines to obtain our tickets. And the line for passport control? That line never moved. At 10:30, a mere 25 minutes before take-off, we were still waiting in line at passport control. Someone urgently announced that any travelers flying to JFK in New York needed to go to the neighboring terminal. It was pure chaos. We rushed as fast as we could to the next terminal. This meant having to go through security all over again, but, luckily, passport control in the new terminal was moving much more quickly. We bounded up the escalators and through the airport's main security. Once through, my daughter and I walked briskly to our gate. When I realized just how far off our gate was, that brisk walk turned to a full on run. It was after 10:55 when we reached the gate, only to find a final security check-point. I was nearly in tears out of fear. We were late. The plane would leave without us. An airport worker, seeing my distress, quickly assured me that we would make the flight. We got through the last security gate and boarded the plane. We arrived at our assigned seats only to find that they had split us up. My daughter was instantly in tears. It was after 11pm at night. We had been going nonstop all day. No. We had been going nonstop for TEN days. She was tired. She was scared. And now she was separated from me. All of the nearby passengers immediately leapt to our aid and offered to switch seats if need be. In the end, we sat together for the long journey home. We arrived in New York the next morning to virtually a ghost town. Thinking JFK would be chaotic due to the virus, we were instantly proven wrong. It took less than five minutes to get through customs. When we got to the terminal for our connecting flight, it took less than five minutes to get through security. We had a six hour layover in an empty airport. And the plane? Less than half full. My daughter and I had an entire row to ourselves. Finally, at about 4:30pm that afternoon, we arrived home. And what a harsh reality we came home to; while we had joked about the coronavirus and toilet paper in Kenya with locals, physically being in America was a much different experience.
Similarly to my first experience in Africa, this trip will never leave me; part of my heart will always be there. I could travel the entire world and visit every continent, but Africa will always be my first love.
Kwaheri ya kuonana.
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