"I'll Come Home When I'm 50!"

Been thinkin' a lot lately. Thinkin', thinkin', thinkin'. Then I changed my mind. Then I changed it back. Then I started thinkin' again. Thinkin', thinkin', thinkin'.

And what, pray tell, have I been thinkin' about? Stuff. Life stuff. Career stuff. Future stuff. Present stuff.

Like, where is my home? That question always has multiple answers, I guess. I was born in Cairo, Illinois, so that's my original home. I lived in Washington for 13 years, so in many ways, DC feels like home, I guess.

And of course, America, writ large, will always be my ULTIMATE HOME.

But I don't have a "home" of my own, really. No piece of real estate that I can claim as my base, bought and paid (or paying) for, lock, stock and key. Sure, I've had a hell of an adventurous life lately, but somewhere along the line, I never really embraced the wisdom of establishing a postal address of one's own.

Truth be told, I guess before 3 years ago this October, I used to always think that wherever my sister Julie was would always be my home base. I'd naturally have a life of my own, and a (rental) place of my own (because, really, who needs to fool with storm gutters and mold and flood insurance and such??). But whenever I needed to go someplace to let down my guard, relax, and just be, I just knew it would be wherever Julie was.

Geez, this is really starting to sound retarded!! I mean, here I am, old as Satan's armoire, and instead of talking about sharing my life with a husband and/or a kid of my own, in a place of my own, I'm whining about not being able to hang out with my big sis! Am I a total emotional amoeba, or what??

Anyway, this riff stems from the main reason I've been so quiet lately. Just over a month ago, my boss asked me to consider staying in Kenya a third year. Which was kind of funny, because when I was back in the States over Christmas, I'd asked her to be a reference for a fellowship I wanted to apply for. Which, if I got it, would begin in September. Which means I would have to leave Kenya by August at the latest. We were both pretty clear on that trajectory. She agreed to write me a reference letter, so I pretty much assumed she knew I was mentally disengaging from the program.

But a lot of things happened last month. A reporting workshop I led in Kibera really recharged my batteries. It got me back to the original reason I started doing this work, because lots of young African journalists really need the help and support. Then a few weeks later, the Pan African Media Conference I mentioned in a post a while back gave me a lot more to think about. Basically, there are scads of reasons to believe that the East African region is about to experience a tremendous metamorphosis when it comes to journalism. Oh, I could easily walk away, because I miss...

....home....

...but then I started thinkin'. THINKIN', THINKIN', THINKIN'. Then I changed my mind. Then I changed it back. Then I started thinkin' again: "Is "home" a geographic location for me? I have plenty of friends and family who love me in America, and I'm sure many of them would let me crash with them for a while, but where is my "HOME"?

Well, for one more year, it' s the Oasis of Graciousness, in suburban Nairobi. Strap yourself in, dear readers. Something tells me it's gonna be a hell of a ride. After all, I turn 50 in 2011....

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! Now THERE'S a hell of a way to make a triumphant return, half a century old, with a pretentious, fake-assed expat accent, and nowhere to live!! Can't wait!!