Moving Abroad is never a decision taken lightly. Whatever your motivation for leaving home turf for a new life overseas, nothing makes you question your decisions more intensely than a crisis, be that personal or global. Since I’ve lived away I’ve experienced a death back home, a war, a severe bout of postnatal depression, the experience of raising 3 kids under 15 months, and now, a pandemic. Living abroad during a crisis tests your mettle. Will you run and hide or will you stand up and fight? Because sometimes the experience of living in a foreign country is a challenge, a daily battle to retain the balance of normalcy that fits your emotional requirements whilst keeping the experience full of fun and positives.
We choose to live abroad for differing reasons: for money, for fun, for new experiences. Few of us move abroad to spend time away from our family and friends. Leaving my loved ones behind is the biggest daily challenge of my life. A near-constant ache of missing and a kernel of guilt. Guilt that my UK family are missing us, guilt that my children are growing up without their grandparents, aunties, uncles and cousins.
The experience of COVID-19 in Kenya
When Covid-19 hit Kenya the borders were closed in days, and to date, it is still not possible for us to return home. In those initial days, we struggled with the decision to fly to the UK or not. There were so many factors to consider.
Health and Healthcare in Kenya
Health and healthcare in Kenya aren’t as efficient or as available as the UK. Our decision to remain had to take into consideration the implications of us getting sick. The very real idea that if we got ill there wouldn’t be a bed or medical care for us. As the pandemic numbers rise this becomes a more real threat. And the secret fear that we made a mistake morphs into an ever-escalating active worry.
Safety and security in Kenya
In a country where people earn a dollar a day, the loss of a job is a short road to starvation. As Kenya shut down, people lay off staff, tourism ground to a complete halt and the unemployment figures skyrocketed. Unlike the UK where those without jobs are furloughed or at least supported in their basic needs by the government, Kenyan people have no backup support system. Kenyans have little or no help from the government and no savings. As we look at a potential 24-hour lockdown and closure of supermarkets it’s a crippling truth that many people will face starvation. People living hand to mouth don’t have the ability to buy stores of food, water or medical supplies. I don’t know about you but if my family was on the brink of starvation, I’d do anything I could to support them. And for some this includes robbery and rioting.
Kenyans aren’t violent people but times of crisis drives unusual behaviour. In those first few days of COVID-19 we worried about our safety even as we sympathised with the general population. But sympathy doesn’t pay the bills. It is a harsh truth that in Kenya more people have died from hunger and malaria than COVID-19. The number of victims of rape and domestic abuse are soaring and the situation is only going to get worse.
Complete isolation from our family
I keep thinking ‘why aren’t I at home? I thought that when my mum told me she had COVID-19, I thought it as my grandmother hides inside her home unable to get out, I thought it as my brothers are laid off work. I’m so lucky that no one I am close to has become seriously ill, but ‘what if’ is a record that plays on repeat. How with they feel if they are sick and I am not there? How will I feel if i cant reach them? Did I make a mistake? What kind of person am I?
Changing the narrative
In the last month, I decided to move to temporarily move to Watamu, a small coastal town in a province that has low COVID numbers.
After months of lockdown and home-schooling, months of second-guessing and self-reproach, I thought it in my families best interest to grab a change of scene. It’s been a good decision while Nairobi remained unlocked and we could return home at any point. Today we face into a Presidential address that may lock us out of Nairobi, lock us out of our home and lock me away from my husband.
Today my husband and I wrestle with difficult decisions. The weekend was spent trying to work out whether we should return to Nairobi with the children, even though where we live is becoming a corona hotspot. We decided to stay but my husband had to remain in Nairobi for work. If Nairobi locks down today then Marvin will have to stay indefinitely and we won’t be able to reach him, potentially for months. It’s my son’s birthday on Saturday and he might spend it without his dad. I know I am lucky to have the option of spending my days on the beach away from the worst of COVID. But just as the decision to remain in Kenya felt impossible, so does the decision to stay in Watamu. The whole experience is coloured with guilt and fear. Guilt that my husband is back home working to keep us safe whilst being exposed to the virus himself. Guilt that my children are living without their dad. I am questioning the lack of a support network and adequate medical care out here in the wilds. I can’t figure out if I am being responsible or running away from real life. If I am keeping my children safe or using this as an opportunity to live a coastal fantasy.
My culpability is complete. From the eternal question of should we be raising our children in Kenya, to the less usual, should we have flown home during the pandemic? However, the pandemic exacerbated my sense of accountability but it didn’t create it. The whole experience of raising children abroad is an epic saga of questioning my responsibilities. At the end of the day, I feel there are no right or wrong answers. We do what works best for our family. I do what works best for my children’s safety and my mental health. As we debate whether to self-isolate here in Watamu it brings to mind a conversation with a friend over needing to do what is best for you. “When I start waking at 2 am with a tight chest, shaking from a nightmare, I know it’s time to lock back down, to self-isolate”. As I look towards months of homeschooling come September I know the only solution is the one that keeps my children’s eduction ticking along but also keeps me from climbing the walls. As I ponder the consequences of staying in Africa for the last 9 years, for staying in Watamu during COVID, I know that the best solution, the only solution, is the one that keeps you sane.
The post The challenges of living abroad in times of crisis appeared first on The Expat Mummy.
