A Sense of Where I Am

I just finished A Sense of Where You Are, a book about basketball and Bill Bradley by one of my mainest men, John McPhee. The title comes from a profound excerpt in which Bill Bradley explains his mastery of the 'over-the-shoulder-shot:'

He went on to say that it is a much simpler shot than it appears to be, and, to illustrate, he tossed a ball over his shoulder and into the basket while he was talking and looking me in the eye. I retrieved the ball and handed it back to him. "When you have played basketball for a while, you don't need to look at the basket when you are in close like this," he said, throwing it over his shoulders and right through the hoop. "You develop a sense of where you are."

McPhee, like the sage that he is, quietly presents this line as the focal point of the text.

It is a great place from which to consider my first week (back, in a way) in Kenya, my first week in Nanyuki, my first week of work in an office and the last days in which I can claim Neil Young's "Old Man" to be personally relevant:

"Old man take a look at my life, 24 and there's so much more..."

It is great to be back in Kenya, albeit in a totally different ecosystem, latitude and context. I'm glad to dust off my Swahili, drink chai, hear glossy ibis and "mzungu!," buy a new pair of Batas and follow the Premier League again.

Nanyuki is a pretty hilarious place, one that continues to surprise me as I see more of it. So far my favorite spot is our corner fruit stand, where offerings change hourly, I am always in the way, fresh fruit salad is available while you shop and prices are calculated on a large, plastic-covered calculator.

Work is excellent, thought-provoking and intense, but totally rewarding and exciting. I miss the tangible rewards of food production but it feels good to hunker down and make incomprehensible idea web/flow charts again.

As for the first quarter of a century, it has been quite a ride. I hear you have to get serious when you turn 25. For me, it will come on the shores of Lake Turkana, close to where we all began.

What's next?