During her time as a childcare and teaching volunteer in Kenya, World Endeavors volunteer Lisa stepped outside her comfort zone and into an experience that would reshape the way she thought about travel, connection, and happiness. In this personal reflection, she shares what she carried with her to Kenya, what she discovered along the way, and what she ultimately brought home.
The Price of Happiness Does Not Exist
What would you pack in your suitcase? It’s a game we’ve all played at least once, usually out of boredom.
There are people who refuse to start packing without a checklist of things to tick off, while others need the support and advice of friends or family.
There are people who leave carrying their entire wardrobe on their shoulders, as if they were moving a thousand miles away, while others believe even a backpack is excessive.
I left with a mountain of gray clouds above my head, a few scribbled sheets of paper tucked into the pockets of my jeans, and enough fears to fill all the seats in the gate waiting area.
The mere idea of traveling alone, for the first time and so far from home, made me shake like a leaf. All it took was a joke from Laban, the moment I landed in Nairobi, to push my anxiety into a corner.
Letting go of the reins and allowing the moments themselves to dictate the pace of time had always frightened me. After just a few days, “pole pole” already seemed to be flowing through my veins.
The thought of opening up and letting people know who I really am made me want to retreat as much as possible. All it took was one dinner together and a few welcoming embraces for me to start singing everyone’s names in a different melody each time.
I don’t know whether it happened in Kate’s dream, in Mary’s diary, or in Teresa’s eyes. All I know is that these twenty-one days managed to turn my world inside out.
I discovered that the warmth of a hug can untie every knot. That going off course can be part of the journey. That smiles are more contagious than yawns. That singing a Cesare Cremonini song at the top of your lungs can make your soul feel lighter. That a single tear can leave a mark on your cheeks forever. That there’s no point in running if you don’t know where you’re going. That it is possible to receive invisible gestures. That you can give everything in exchange for everything.
The truth is that I left with three suitcases and a backpack so full they were difficult to close.
It was here that I realized just how empty they really were.
Kate is an incredible dancer. The moment the first note reaches her ear, she bursts into life like a spark and captivates you with her fluid, precise movements. As if electricity were running through her from beginning to end.
We were talking about Broadway. I confessed that, in my opinion, she would become a star. Her eyes were shining like never before.
Mary is less eccentric and more reserved. All she needs is a sheet of paper and a pen to disarm you. I was standing under the veranda when I collided with her words. They felt like remote-controlled bullets. They knew exactly where to hit, leaving an indelible mark. A tattoo along your ribs.
Teresa is one of the youngest and, at the same time, one of the greatest. She has an extraordinary temperament and a magnetic gaze. She captures your attention the moment she shakes your hand and whispers “Jambo,” looking up at you from below, in a sea divided between tenderness and melancholy. With the sun on her face and a tiny shadow ready to stretch across it. As if she already knew that, sooner or later, you too would leave.
Before I left, I was convinced that being happy was nothing more than a risk. What kind of cruel joke could it be to feel something so fleeting that it slipped through your fingers like grains of sand before you even realized it?
The highest step on the podium. Kisses at the station. Graduation. Love at first sight. I believed happiness played hide-and-seek inside all those thousandths of a second, only to disappear and leave behind a void greater than the joy it had given.
When I arrived, I didn’t unpack my suitcases. I simply took out only what I needed, hour by hour, day by day.
I’m used to laying out the next day’s clothes the evening before, so at first it was frustrating to live in all that disorder. Then I realized it didn’t matter. Wearing the same T-shirt twice didn’t have to be a tragedy.
Being happy doesn’t come with a bill to pay. It is rather a trade. It requires leaving something behind in return.
You will be happy if you allow a group of strangers to become your traveling companions. You will be happy if you abandon autopilot and let yourself go. You will be happy if you find the courage to live through even the darkest and most painful emotions.
Because being happy takes courage.
Packing for my return was quicker, though no easier. The suitcases closed without any effort.
Today I am grateful because, once I got home, I realized that the only thing carrying any weight now is my heart.
So, furahi milele.
