Neighborhoods here are very different from the neighborhoods in the US. Our road is very uneven, with rocks embedded in the dirt and crevices everywhere. Along the roadside are local shops, mostly selling fruits and veggies, homes adjacent to the shops and often times even connected. Babies, toddlers and preschool aged children are roaming about and playing along the roadside, a lady is putting a weave in a friend’s hair, a few men are playing a dice game, baby chicks are chirping and scampering about, looking for scraps of food. It’s so lively; an opportune time to meet others.

A young girl, on her way back to school, from eating lunch at home, started walking alongside me. I asked her name, where she attends school and what grade she is in. Her name is Faith, she attends Steps Primary School and she is in P3 (3^rd grade). Faith asked me to push the stroller and I allowed her to, knowing how it would delight her. Realizing that she probably had not ever pushed a stroller, and maybe not even seen one before, I closely guided her. It wasn’t long and my suspicion was confirmed. We walked together a ways till we reached the side road leading up to her school; she went on to school while I continued down the road.

A little further ahead, I decided I should turn around. On our way back, the children seemed to be bolder. Some still just waved from a distance, but others ran up to the stroller, waving their hands and saying, “bye-bye.” A group of 5 boys, all under the age of 5, playing at the edge of the road, approached the stroller and began poking at the wheels. I never knew wheels could be so intriguing! They soon surrounded Alexis and started waving at her and getting close to her face. She looked at them somewhat stunned, but also amused.

After a few minutes, I decided I needed to get back home. The boys decided to walk with us. Each one grabbed on to the stroller, a couple at each side and one at the back with me. I carefully maneuvered the stroller, trying not to roll the wheels over the boys’ feet plus trying not to step on the child in front of me; not to mention trying not to tip the stroller as I rolled it over the unlevel, jagged bumpy road. We had to stop a couple of times and pull over to the side to let a car and a semi-truck pass by.

Finally, I made it to our gate. The children helped me push the stroller inside the gate, curious to see where the bazungu (white people/foreigners) live. Within seconds, they were running around the outside of the house, climbing the steps to the garden and jumping down. With a little prodding, we eventually got them to leave, thanking them for their help with pushing the stroller, and letting them know we would see them again soon. Alexis seemed energized, after the social interaction with the neighbors and children, and I felt a sense of satisfaction. Just a reminder of why I am here.