Connect: I Am Because We Are
Over the years, I’ve come to notice that the moments that shape me most are rarely the ones I plan. They tend to happen in between, through conversations, introductions, small decisions to stay in touch. The kind of moments that don’t seem significant on their own, but somehow, over time, begin to form a pattern.
Ubuntu, a word originating from the Bantu languages of Southern Africa, is often expressed as: “I am because we are.” I used to think of that as a beautiful idea. Something abstract. But the more I move through the world, the more I begin to see it as something much more practical, almost tangible in the way it shows up in everyday life.
Tomorrow, I will visit a maximum security women’s prison in Nairobi. Not because I planned it that way, but because of a series of proactive interactions that began years ago. It didn’t happen all at once. A panel at a conference, a follow up conversation that led me to a nonprofit, saying yes to joining that Board, driving an hour to meet a Board member face to face instead of on Zoom, that Board member introducing me to someone connected to Justice Defenders (an organization in Kenya), accepting an invitation to see their work in action. Each step small, easy to miss on its own, together, led me somewhere that was not on my roadmap.
Seventeen years ago someone shared a quote with me that has stayed close ever since: “I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. Therefore I will not refuse to do the something I can do.” For a long time, I held onto that as a reminder of personal responsibility. A quiet push to act, even in small ways.
But lately, I’ve started to see another layer. Yes, I am only one. And yet, none of us are ever acting alone. Every “something” exists because of a web of people, those who opened a door, extended an invitation, shared an idea, or simply stayed connected. The path is never entirely ours. It’s shaped by the spaces in between.
As we travel the world as Two Nomads our philosophy has always been to immerse ourselves in the local culture. At first glance, it might seem like we are outsiders, foreigners in a distant place. But we’ve come to learn, again and again, that the connection already exists, we just have to go find it. Once our destination is confirmed, we ask friends if they know anyone we might meet. One introduction leads to another. Conversations unfold. And by the time we leave, a new set of relationships has been revealed.
Our time in East Africa reflected that in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. It included our work with NABU, volunteering at a school, an afternoon in the Kibera slum viewing local art, visiting an after-school tutoring program, immersing ourselves with clients and the communities around them and time inside a maximum security prison.
What I’m beginning to understand is that belonging isn’t something we earn by doing more or proving ourselves. It’s already there, woven into these moments of connection. We are part of something larger whether we recognize it or not. And maybe the work is simply to discover it. To say yes when something small appears. To trust that even the smallest thread might lead somewhere meaningful. I don’t know exactly what tomorrow will bring. But I do know I didn’t find my way there alone.
