Why?

Why am I here? Why Malawi? Why am I teaching spoiled missionary kids? These are some of the questions that seem to be plaguing me lately. When I thought of spending a year in Africa I saw myself at a hospital in the bush doing all these crazy things that I never thought I would ever do.

Getting my hands dirty. Making a difference.

These are the things you think of when you hear of missionaries.

Honestly I have felt like my year in Malawi has been nothing like that. Yes, my eyes have been opened to the world. Yes, I have dealt with situations that I never thought I would have to deal with. Yes, I have grown and completely changed. But how much have I changed or helped others?

We spend five hours a day with children from upper class homes in Blantyre. Few are missionaries, some are Malawian and the last few are from other African countries. They all hold something in common. They are wild. Not just wild in the normal kid way, but wild in the fact that they ALWAYS argue about nothing, they always pick fights, tattle on each other, blatantly disrespect and ignore us as teachers and just over all drive us INSANE. These children have been terrorists long before we’ve shown up and they will most likely continue to be long after we leave. So what have we accomplished this year? What difference in people’s lives have we made?

We live a pretty cushy life here. Even though it is less than we have in the States, we live in quite a bit of comfort. We have a tin roof over our heads, we’re not sleeping in a mud hut. We have mattresses on our beds, even if they are not always comfortable. We most often have power all day. We have hot water after 30 minutes of waiting for it to heat. We have so much here it really seems like too much sometimes.

I hear of other SM’s, previous or current, really living in the extreme and it makes me incredibly jealous. I wonder why God placed me here? Why not in the bush? Why not at a hospital where I can do something I love and thrive on? Why? Why? Why? These questions seem to be constantly floating through my head. I want to be an inspiration to someone. I want to get my hands dirty in the African soil and mix with African spirit. I want to experience the REAL Africa. I am tired of the sugar coated, chrome colored one.

The only solution to those questions that I can come up with is it’s my time to grow. It’s my time to find myself without the pressure of friends or boyfriends or school. It’s my time to fall in love with Africa and established a bond that will make me connected forever. It’s my time to fall in love with God and have my first real solid relationship with Him. It’s my time for a lot of things and I suppose my time to get my hands dirty will come, it’s just a matter of waiting(which is the hardest).

The Mighty Hyena Hunt

The sun seeps into the west. Mist fills the air; a rainbow stretches across the sky. The bright shapes of the day turn into dark shadows of the night. Sounds that seem to be nonexistent during the day suddenly become alive with the arriving darkness. Five brave, or slightly stupid, figures begin the trek deep into the bush. The aspiration of the newest adventure is to see how close they can get to the chuckling scavengers of African nights, hyenas.

The time has come that one more of our friends here is heading home. We made a plan to head to one of the local nature reserves and go out looking for some hyenas and have one last adventure with him. After several failed attempts to make it happen we were finally successful.

The mosquito spray was heavy in the air. Headlamps adjusted on heads, we were set. After a few steps down the path we realized something not very encouraging. Our guard/guide was drunk, o yeah and he was also holding a M16. Sounds like a good situation, yes? Walking to find hyenas with the only protection given by a drunk man that may just shoot one of us instead of wielding them off. A fool proof plan. A bag of goat skin and meat rattled in Danny’s (Marantha volunteer who was heading back home) hands. The plan was to place the meat nearby and lure the hyenas close to us, once we heard them grunting and chuckling we would be able to light them up with our flashlights(from a safe distance). As we drew closer to the hyena cave our voices drop, headlamps switch off, footsteps fumble in the dark. Our guard stopped suddenly and points up a trail. Hyena footprints mark the path to the villages that they use to cause some havoc. He left us on the main trail to place the goat meat. The guard soon returned and instructed us to hide off the trail in the bushes. Darkness swept though the bush and our eyes quickly adjusted to the shadows and movements. Our ears keyed into every sound, trying to place what was making it and how far away it was. We laid camouflaged in the grass for a good hour. The only proof we had of hyenas was a bone chilling screech that sailed through the air. The guard informed us that it was a hyena calling the other packs. However we had arrived too late and all the hyenas were out hunting. We picked ourselves up and made the trek back to the Land Cruiser, already planning the next attempt.

Two days later we all crammed back into the Land Cruiser and made the short drive to Michiriu Nature Reserve. The sun was beginning to fade along the horizon. Mist floated through the air as the clouds threatened rain. This was the night. After three other tries we knew that tonight would be the night with actual hyena sightings. We found a guard, who could walk in a straight line, and headed off to the hyena caves. As we drew near to it our voices once again fell silent. We crept in silence up a known hyena trail. We saw patches of grass that had been laid down where hyenas had recently been rolling around. We were getting closer. The guard took us to a large boulder bed and we set up watch a top 20ft rocks. As the sun sank even farther we began to wonder if once again our hopes would fail us. Just then Krystle (ADRA worker from Australia) looked over her shoulder to see a hyena 10ft away watching us curiously. As we all quickly turned to see, he scampered off into the bush off to go kill a few goats. Krystle and I soon moved our hunt up into a tree. Twilight enveloped us and our eyes quickly tried to distinguished wind rippling grass from hyenas moving. After about 15 minutes of sitting in our tree we heard rustling a couple of feet below us. Then we heard the rustle move closer to us and another sound of movement sprang up nearby. Everyone quickly flipped on flashlights, the hyenas were trying to stalk us and take us by surprise, the light caused them to turn and run. Their grunts, snorts and movement were surrounding us in curiosity. We were thankful for our lights and for the man with the semi-automatic weapon. The fourth attempt at discovering hyenas was finally successful. The next time we attempt it, we will have it down to a science.