I grew up in an area where nature was not considered a destination but a way of life. The river lulled us to sleep. The trees gave us some secrets as we sauntered to the shamba. We lived among the hills, valleys and birdcalls.  

Wonder was not part of our vocabulary. It was never a necessity. Everything that surrounded us was part of our routine while heading out for grazing, fetching firewood, or even swimming on the hotter days.  

There was a waterfall quite close to home but even visited it wasn’t highly regarded. In fact, it was just a place where water falls. It had no special name, which was just the way we liked it, as it allowed us to cool off, wash our legs, and let our voices blend with the roar echoing around.  

Now, just descripted without any embellishment turn it into a gated tourist site or an amusement park. Cameras became a long traveling necessity in order to truly capture the raging waterfall. Ironically Enough, people traveled extremely far just to stop where, to soul search, as I could just pay to be free. This roar was ever present, and all that needed to change was me.  

As we so often say “a single oak” has not altered at all, but the beauty surrounding it is unfortunately hard to come by.

There are moments when I question how many locations such as this we have passed and left behind—fragments of beauty we failed to appreciate at that point of time in our lives. What number of rivers, hills and forests still silently wait for us to recognize them?  

If you have stayed away for an extended period of time, perhaps the feeling of reddish-brown soil beneath your feet, or the pungent scent of rain falling on parched land is something you have forgotten. But nature always has a way of remembering you.  

It’s time to return but not for a trip, rather, for a complete immersive experience. Not to snap pictures, but to breathe in the reality surrounding you. Perhaps the earth still cradles your name in its arms, even if you do not recall how it resonates. 

 

Agnes Irungu