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).