Trust is something I never thought about too much. I felt pretty safe and trusting living in Lincoln, Nebraska- I can count the number of times I actually locked my car. When I met people randomly, I never usually thought twice about their motives, especially if they were introduced to me by someone I already trusted. If I saw a police man or a security guard in America, I would actually feel a sense of security

Here in Kenya, you cannot take these things for granted. Although Kenyans themselves say that they too are targeted, for mzungus (foreigners) this notion is amplified.

I’ve learned that it’s hard to differentiate those who actually want to help and have good intentions from those who just want to get money from you. And just when you think that you’ve met good people and start investing your trust in them, it is then that you are the most vulnerable to getting hurt.

So it’s all a matter of trust.

My best friend here came back from a weekend we spent at another volunteer’s house and found her house broken into and everything she owned stolen. Everything. The mattress, her clothes, her computer, her family pictures, her stove, her bike, her contacts- literally everything.

It’s not like these things are irreplaceable, it’s just a matter of everything she trusted and felt comfortable about being ruined.

It is strange being somewhere where no matter what you do, you are an automatic target. They say that crime here is usually not random. Not everyone is robbed- people know not to waste their time robbing the average Kenyan. It is just a shame that a volunteer across the world to help people and they then take advantage of the situation.

The pieces are being put back together pole pole (slowly) and life is slowly getting back to normal. The memories are there, the lessons have been learned, but the trust is gone for a while.