COMING TO BERLIN

Coming to Berlin was not what I expected at all. The journey started long before I arrived in Germany. It started at home, packing my life into three suitcases. Yes, three. One suitcase was filled with clothes and essentials. Another held personal belongings that felt impossible to leave behind. And somewhere between them, I packed Kenyan tea because I love my tea, especially for breakfast. Looking back, it sounds funny, but it felt completely normal. When you're leaving home and you don't know when you'll return, you hold on to the little things that remind you of who you are. My flight was at 2 a.m. Saying goodbye to my family that night was harder than I expected. There wasn't much left to say because the reality of leaving had already settled in. Still, walking through the airport knowing I was about to move thousands of kilometers away felt surreal. My first stop was Istanbul. I remember arriving at the airport and being amazed by how huge it was. I walked through endless corridors searching for my connecting flight to Berlin, surrounded by people from all over the world. Everything felt exciting, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that the real challenge had not started yet. That challenge began the moment I landed in Berlin. It suddenly hit me that I was far away from home. Really far. At first, I hated almost every minute of it. It was the last days of summer when I arrived, so I had a short period to enjoy the warm weather. Berlin looked beautiful. People were outside, parks were full, and life felt vibrant. Then autumn arrived, and honestly, it wasn't too bad. The temperatures felt fairly normal to me, and I adjusted quickly. But then winter came. And unfortunately for me, it was one of the coldest winters in years. My first winter ever. Nothing could have prepared me for it. The darkness felt endless. Some days it seemed like the sun had completely disappeared. The cold didn't feel normal to my body at all. I missed warmth. I missed familiarity. I missed understanding things without having to think twice. But before winter became difficult, there was one thing that fascinated me. Snow. As someone who grew up in Africa, seeing snow for the first time felt unreal. For years, snow had only existed in movies, photographs, and Christmas cards. Then one morning I looked outside and saw everything covered in white. The trees were white. The rooftops were white. The streets looked completely different. For a moment, I felt like I had stepped into another world. I remember walking outside just to experience it. I picked it up with my hands, watched it fall from the sky, and stared at it longer than I probably should have. It was beautiful. At least in the beginning. A few weeks later, when I was slipping on icy sidewalks and standing outside in freezing temperatures, the magic kinda faded slightly. Then December arrived.

And somehow, December changed everything. If there is one thing I will always miss about Germany if I ever leave, it is the Christmas markets. The atmosphere is difficult to describe unless you've experienced it yourself. Everywhere you look there are lights, decorations, music, food stalls, and people gathering together despite the freezing temperatures. Christmas songs play in the background while families, friends, and couples walk around carrying warm drinks in their hands. Mostly gluwein. For the first time in months, I started appreciating life again. I started noticing happy people around me. The smell of food filled the air. The lights made the city feel warmer. The music made the dark evenings feel less lonely. Even though I was wearing what felt like ten layers of clothing and my nose was completely numb from the freezing air, I found myself enjoying the experience. A cup of Glühwein helped. And when I didn't feel like drinking that, I would grab a coffee or tea from one of the stands and simply walk around taking everything in. For a few hours, winter felt magical. Of course, winter wasn't the only challenge.

There was also the language. Having to hear and speak German every single day felt exhausting in the beginning. Simple things like going to the supermarket, asking for directions, or understanding announcements suddenly became stressful. I remember sitting in German class feeling completely lost. For the first time in my life, I genuinely felt dumb because I couldn't understand what was being taught. Sometimes I would zone out halfway through the lesson because nothing made sense anymore. Everyone else seemed to understand faster while I sat there wondering if I was wasting my time. I kept asking myself: "What if I never fully learn this language?" "What if all this effort leads nowhere?" That fear stayed with me for a long time. Honestly, German class was one of the hardest parts of my experience. Then there was something else nobody prepares you for. Loneliness. Living away from my family for the first time in my life hit harder than I expected. There is a different kind of loneliness that comes with moving abroad. Everything around you is unfamiliar. The people are different. The language is different. The routines you've known your entire life suddenly disappear. The funny thing is that I never cried. Not once. Instead, I questioned everything. Maybe that says something about me. Rather than becoming emotional, I became numb. I started distancing myself. I ignored calls from home sometimes because hearing familiar voices made me miss home even more. I didn't want to hear the voices of people I loved because it reminded me how far away they were. At the same time, something unexpected happened. I became more social. If you know me, you know I'm naturally an introvert. Back home, I often kept to myself. But in Berlin, whenever I had the chance, I talked to people. Classmates. Strangers. Anyone. Maybe it was my way of coping. Maybe I was searching for connection. Or maybe I simply didn't want to feel alone. Another challenge I never expected was food. I'm someone who likes taking risks, so before moving to Berlin I didn't pack much food from home. I assumed I would arrive and immediately love everything people ate here. That wasn't exactly what happened. At first, supermarkets felt unfamiliar. The snacks looked different. The brands were different. The taste was different Even simple grocery shopping felt confusing because nothing felt normal to me yet. I cant count the number of times I had to throw away flavours of jogurt flavours I dint like Soda tastes different Am quite selective when it comes to food and flavours, even back home, am the child who always my my had to cook a different plate of food, my my mum tolerated this, just with me but not with my other siblings , when I say I don’t like it totally and I skipped meals when there was no substitute of something else for me to eat. So overtime I adapted. But here there is no one to entertain that anymore, my mum is thousand miles away But over time, I adapted. I stopped focusing on what I couldn't find and started appreciating what I could. I discovered breads I enjoyed. Snacks that became part of my routine. Meals that made cold days easier. Slowly, food stopped feeling like another reminder that I was far from home and became something I genuinely enjoyed exploring. Looking back now, I realize that all of these difficult moments were shaping me. Because moving abroad is not always pretty Instagram photos and aesthetic café videos. Sometimes it is confusion. Sometimes it is homesickness. Sometimes it is isolation. Sometimes it is language barriers. Sometimes it is questioning whether you made the right decision. Sometimes growth looks like sitting alone in your room wondering what you're doing with your life. And sometimes growth looks like showing up the next morning anyway. I think that's the part people don't talk about enough. Looking back now, I wouldn't change any of it. Not the loneliness. Not the difficult classes. Not the cold winters. Not even the moments when I wanted to give up. Because every challenge taught me something. Berlin didn't become what I expected. It became something much more valuable. It became a place that changed me………………….

And somehow, today marks one whole year of being abroad. One year since I left home, stepped into the unknown, and started building a life somewhere completely new. And I don’t think I could have chosen a more meaningful day to share my very first Letters From Abroad blog. Today, I’m not only celebrating the year I’ve spent in Germany — I’m celebrating myself. I’m grateful for the girl who had the courage to leave. I appreciate myself for every difficult day I pushed through, every unfamiliar situation I figured out, every time I had to start over, adapt, learn, and keep going. I’ve grown so much in this one year. I’ve evolved in ways I didn’t expect, and I’m becoming a version of myself that I’m genuinely proud of. I’m grateful for the opportunity to experience life beyond what I knew. For the places I’ve seen, the people I’ve met, the lessons I’ve learned, the beautiful moments, the difficult ones, and everything in between. And if this is what one year abroad looks like, I can’t wait to see what the next chapter holds. So here’s to one year abroad. To growth. To becoming. To new experiences. And to all the stories I haven’t lived yet. This is my first letter from abroad. And I have a feeling there are many more to come.