5:57 (American time), 11 August, 2011

We shopped until we dropped the rest of the day; I never wanted to see a kurio shop again by the time we were finished. The best place we went was called “Kazuri Beads.” It’s a bead factory where the beads are fashioned from clumps of clay, all the way to being arranged on necklaces and bracelets. The company was started to employ single mothers, and it’s flourishing. We received a tour from clay clump to necklace, watching the women shape and paint the beads beautiful designs, passing the ovens where they were baked. I have to get my mom there someday because I know she would absolutely love it. There wasn’t a thing in that shop that wasn’t beautifully crafted. The women and men employed at the shop also make some gorgeous pottery.

After shopping, we went to the place I had been itching to go all day: the elephant orphanage. It takes in elephants from all over Kenya whose mothers have been killed, mostly by poachers, and then releases them back into the wild once they are healthy and strong enough. They also have two black rhinos, one of which is blind and will be there forever. :( We stood watching a single file line of baby elephants being brought in from the fields. Both they and the rhinos were colored red from the dirt, confusing us for a moment as we thought they were a different species. The elephants were all relatively small, and one was extremely little. The older one in front of it wouldn’t keep walking until it was sure the little one was behind it. The trainer assured us this was a common occurrence, although he didn’t mention any relation between the two. The elephants were led into separate little penned areas with a small shelter where they were fed bottled milk (talk about big bottles!). The employees sleep on a raised cot in the shelter, and must feed the elephants every three hours. However, they don’t need to set alarm clocks, because the elephants reach their trunks up to poke them awake come feeding time. That job would beat almost any other I can think of. How amazing would it be to spend twenty-four hours working with a baby elephant? I think I would die of utter joy.

While the smallest elephant was being fed, I walked over to peer down at her with her little blanket on. She reached her trunk up towards me, and the guy with the milk told me to go ahead, so I reached my hand out and touched that fabulous appendage. She took the tip of her trunk and curled it into my hand as though holding it, gently pulling it towards her, and my whole world stopped in revolution around the sight and feel of us holding onto each other. It was unreal.

We ended up adopting an elephant called Kilibasi (she is named after the place from whence she came). Kilibasi was brand new, and so didn’t have much support yet. She stole my heart in her confused state, flaring out her ears and running her employee out of the pen. Lia and I knelt staring at her, and she jogged towards us and threw out her trunk through the widely spaced bars. She grabbed my hand and tried to take it in towards her, feeling it to discover my intent, or maybe to see if it held some hidden food. Touching an elephant is like nothing I’ve ever done before. Even just watching them maneuver their trunks and mischievously try to steal one another’s leaves was incredible, let alone touching them. I can’t deny it; elephants are one of my very favorite animals. They make my insides cry with a special exquisiteness that no other animal can quite replicate.

It’s no wonder the orphanage only allows people to visit for an hour, because I think we IRES girls never would have left. As it were, we headed out to the parking lot to find a flat tire. I learned how to use the jacks that terrify me by watching Dave, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to use one after hearing stories of what they’ve done to people. Because it was too late to go fix the flat, we avoided risking our spare by ordering in a massive amount of Indian food. While we waited for it to arrive, we looked at pictures from the summer, laughing hard and hurting because it was already over and we would be parting the next day. Then we gorged to our hearts’ content on delectable food that had us running back and forth to the kitchen for more water.

Yesterday Janie, Lia, and I helped Zach with the abominable camp shopping list, spending two to three hours in Nakumatt and coming out with five packed carts that would hardly budge. Andy Booms, one of the graduate students who had just arrived back at the cottage to try and get some permits for his project, had to come and bring us more camp money while we were checking out. It was nice to officially meet him after seeing him so often in the lab; he’s super nice. We ate outside a little restaurant following Nakumatt. Lia set Janie and I off laughing over something stupid on the television we could just glimpse on the inside, and I spilled half my salad on the pants I was to wear on the plane.

Packed, at the cottage waiting for the taxi. We all order pizza, Janie and I eat the majority. Dave takes us each outside separately to get our opinions on the inaugural IRES program, and then the time is here. We load into the taxis, and I have a pleasant talk with the driver, whose name was Joseph. Then the time has finally come, we walk into the airport, go through customs, sit down to wait. Janie is going on a separate flight to Paris, and I ache with the approaching goodbye. She pulls out her ukulele, and she and I sing “Leaving on a Jet Plane” and the modified “Wagon Wheel” we had rewritten to apply to the summer. Soon she has to go, and hands us each a special little note, mine makes me cry after she’s left. Other than my brother, I don’t think I have ever met anyone who thinks so much of other people.

In Amsterdam, we had to say goodbye to Adrianna, equally difficult. I hate goodbyes; there’s no good way to go about them, because they drip with innate sadness. Thank goodness I still have Lia sitting next to me as I write for the last time; I don’t even want to know what that goodbye is going to be like. Dave and Julia will be with me at MSU, and will even be riding home with me, so no worries there.

By the time I post this, I will have run into my mom’s arms like I’ve imagined a million times on this trip home, and given my grandma a huge hug as well. I’ll probably have just cuddled Albus, be waiting anxiously for my dad to get home from work, talking to my brother on the phone, or (most likely) have been zonked out on the couch with jet leg for four plus hours. In short, I’ll be home. I’ll be home, and I will owe this summer of living my dream, of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had, of growing and learning and reveling in nature to Professor Kay Holekamp. I could never repay her for the passion that has driven her to do things that no one else could fathom, and for her willingness and desire to share her unbelievable success with others. Living like Jane Goodall was more than I ever could have hoped for.