This archive report was first published on 18 June 2020.
As I sit on my balcony, watching the rain pour down and the cool breeze blow in, I feel a mix of emotions. I'm grateful that this week has moved faster than any other since I've been here, and I'm hopeful that by the end of it, I'll be on my way back home to Kenya.
My repatriation group and I have been waiting for what feels like an eternity to be reunited with our families, some of whom we haven't seen in three months or more. We've been crossing our fingers all week, hoping that today will be the day our flight finally becomes a reality.
My second Covid-19 test results are still pending, but I'm not as worried as I was last time. After explaining the difficulties of getting tested and certified results, Kenya Airways finally relented and allowed us to get tested once we land back home. This communication was made through an official email, so there's no room for speculation – and that gives us a sense of peace.
Everyone in our WhatsApp group is positively looking forward to Friday, and some have even made arrangements for quarantine accommodation back home. We're excited to spend those 14 days in isolation, which we know will be a welcome respite from the many weeks we've been stranded here.
At least we'll be closer to home, even if we're not yet there. Despite our optimism, however, we wish that the number of people scheduled to travel was bigger – we're 35, and others have dropped out due to the steep cost of the ticket.
But we're still positive that we'll make it. Meanwhile, back home, our families, friends, and church community are all excited that we'll soon be with them, even if we'll have to isolate for 14 days first. After that, we can finally have a proper celebration.
As I reflect on the past three months, I feel a strange calm relief. It's been a harrowing period marked by rollercoaster emotions, panic, fear, loneliness, and desperation – but I've pulled through. The challenge has made me stronger and given me a chance to know myself better.
But as I sit here, watching the rain and feeling the cool breeze, I'm also aware of the things I'll miss about this place. The peaceful silence of the balcony, which has become my second home, is one thing I won't miss. But the constant noise of power generators, which has been a constant companion during the frequent power blackouts, is another.
As I chat with a young man who wanders onto the balcony, I'm reminded of the diversity of people who live here. He's not Kenyan, but he's lived in Nairobi for almost two years and knows a few Swahili words. He's got Nigerian friends in Kenya who are married to Kenyan women, and he's got a story to tell.
As I watch the news bulletin back home and catch up on social media, I feel a sense of longing. I dream of being back home, sleeping in my bed, and feeling the comfort of being with my loved ones.
Ms. Ndinda is a research manager with Transform Research Africa Ltd. She has been stranded in Nigeria since March 21.
