I have this ache. This desire. Almost a hunger to hear the rush of a minibus drive by, the chatter of Chichewa in my ear, and to see the innocent smile of the precious children. I miss the complexity of each day and the weight of responsibility. Its only the good memories that flash in front of me. All of the troubles, tears, and homesickness seems to fade away. I miss you Malawi!

Leavin' on a Jet Plane

My last look of Malawi
Chilkea International Airport

My heart broke. Tears didn't fall in excess like I had expected. The wheels lifted off, my head tilted and stretched to get the last glimpse of the country that stole my heart. My heart broke. It broke as I saw the last page of my story in Malawi fall shut. My heart was crushed when I realized that moment was the goodbye to all the new faces I met and grew to love, goodbye to the children that raised my blood pressure, goodbye to now familiar sights, sounds, smells, and actions, goodbye to a piece of my heart that I will never reclaim. I entered Malawi as a somewhat non-confident, naive, searching, broken teenage girl. That girl disappeared at some point over the last ten months. I can't put an actual date to it but it just seemed to happen. As I stepped onto the plane that once brought me to Malawi I realized that she was forever gone. In her place was a confident, strong, brave woman of God. This year has forever shaped and changed me into who I am and who I will become in the future. I have learned how to fall and pick myself up, how to trust that there will be light at the end of the darkest tunnels and how to roll with anything thrown my way in life. Africa was the greatest possible thing that could of happened to me!

Farewell Malawi

The end is here. My heartaches when I think about leaving. Don't get me wrong I am excited to go home and be with my family but the thought of leaving all the good things in Africa breaks me in two. America is so constantly busy and full of shortcuts. Africa on the other hand has a challenge to break through each and every day. Its slow paced, personal and full of warmth. The fact that complete strangers greet you on the street as you walk by and expect a full length answer is testament to the differences. America now seems cold and heartless to me. It seems like its the dreamland to everyone outside of it but its full of people who don't know the true meaning of sacrifice, survival and service. This year has opened my heart and mind to so many aspects of life and its hard to see this chapter of my life close. Tomorrow I board a plane and say goodbye for awhile to the continent of Africa. We've had this goal in front of us this whole year and now that its here its hard to accept. Its hard to say goodbye to this chapter no mater how exciting the next one may be. So many goodbyes have been said in the last 24 hours and they all seem so anti-climatic after 10 months of thriving and experiencing life together. Each and every person I met and impacted my life will always hold a special place in my heart. I think God that He placed them all in my life to help me fall in love with my year here. I've learned so many important things this year but I guess the one I feel is the most important is that this is only the first stop for me. God has huge plans for me and I am so excited to accept and succeed at those plans no matter where the location may take me!

Time

Have you ever watched a sand dial drain? I feel like we are pieces of sand falling to the other side and no matter how hard we try to hang on to time it continues to slip past us. We can do nothing to make time last longer. Then when I think about it, do I really want to make time drag on longer?

We have now been in Malawi for a little over 8 months. That means it’s been 242 days since I’ve loaded things on an airplane and began the three day journey to the other side of the world. It’s been about 5808 hours since I’ve been in America, let alone Spokane. With all of the calculations it makes me realize how long it’s actually been.

When I look back on my time here things seem to blur together with a few significant memories standing out. However it feels like I’ve always been here. This is my home and my life. Then I look forward and our time is quickly draining away. I will put my stuff back on a plane on June 1. That means we have a total of five weeks left as teachers, and 46 days left in Malawi. My year of growth and finding who I want to be will be over. My year in Africa will just be memories and journal entries. We will just become teachers that our kids talk about, and annoy the next ones by quoting what we did. My home will once again have to adjust back to Washington. I will have to learn how to drive non-aggressively, how to use a cross walk again, how to say “I’m good” instead of “fine” when asked how I am, how to not stare at fellow azungus (white people), and that you can buy everything you’ve ever wanted to eat from one grocery store and you can’t barter to get prices lowers. So many changes it kind of scares me. How will I fit back into life in America? How much has this year really made me change? Can I go back to how it was before I left, or do I even want to try?

I can truly say that this year has been the hardest but the best year of my life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I have felt God around me so often and seen his work first hand. I have also been drug through the dirt by Satan and forced to figure out how to keep going. Depressed, lonely, conquered, uplifted, inspired, excited, loved…all of these emotions have played a major part in this year. I have faced situations and experiences that I never thought I would encounter. After being here for over 8 months I still walk outside and I have to remind myself where I am. I am in Africa! I am a part of Africa! My heart and life has been shaped and changed by Africa!

Like most missionaries I arrived with this big hope of making a big difference and really impacting a few people. I’ve now come to realize that no maybe I didn’t save anyone this year, or completely change their lives. But I was completely changed. I’ve been forced to grow up, dream big, accept responsibility and pick up the pieces of problems and disasters by myself. The other day I was going through and deleting old emails, I clicked and opened a few. As I read through them I began to laugh. The person that I was before I came was so wrapped up and naive to the world. I was petty and childish, it’s almost embarrassing. In my eyes it’s hard to even remember the way I used to think and act before this year.

I’ve come to the point that I am excited for the next chapter in my life and the next exciting adventures God has planned for me, because up to this point He’s done a pretty good job making my life amazing. I am excited (and a little scared) to return home and try to figure out how I fit back in. I am excited to eat Pita Pit, have Starbucks and sleep in my bed, drive my car, and be with my family and friends; all the things that make Washington, home and sound so appealing and exciting. I feel like I did when I came here, ready for a new adventure but not sure about all of the unknowns. Malawi has been an amazing chapter in my life and it will be sad to say goodbye, and give me a week after returning home and I know I will want to go back.

I look forward to the day of stepping off the plane in Spokane to something that used to be so familiar to me. I am excited to be surrounded by people that I have shared so many memories and adventures with. Then I remember the people that have come in my life this year. They’ve become my second family. Our kids drive us crazy on a daily basis and I am pretty sure they’ve taken ten years off my life, but I love them! It’s going to be heartbreaking to hug them one last time and know that there is a small chance we’ll ever see them again. It’s going to be sad saying goodbye to everyone here who has taken us in and adopted us. The goodbyes have already begun and with each one it feels like our time here is being pulled closer to ending. There are so many mixed emotions with the idea of coming home. How can I process them all?

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.

“We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized, we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side, we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken. " 2 Corthinans 4:8-9 MSG Revised

Fuel Get Your Fuel

The prices soar and the complaining can be heard throughout the streets. Reports are seen on every news channel. It’s a phenomena that every American citizen is aware of and complains of daily. I can remember back when it was a dollar per gallon, one person might state. A friend might meet that statement with, well I can remember back to when it was 50 cents per gallon. The average cost of fuel in America is anywhere between 3-5 dollars. People are restricted in driving because they can’t afford to fuel up their car or people are buying eco cars that run on electricity.

It’s a whole different story here in Malawi. The past few weeks there has been NO fuel. Take a walk down to the closest BP station and you are met with a line of cars a mile long, waiting for hours to receive a couple liters of petrol. Petrol tankers arrive only a couple of days a week with a reserve supply of gasoline and diesel. Crafty business men are travelling across the border to Mozambique or Zambia to buy fuel and bring it back to sell. Who knew that being a black market petrol seller would be so profitable? As far as I know there is no end in sight and the lines, high black market prices, and pure madness is expected to continue awhile longer.

Kind of puts the complaints of America into prospective. At least fuel is at your finger tips, even though it may be a little on the expensive side.

Worms Anyone??

Several years back Upper Columbia Academy took a trip to Malawi to do some building and VBS. That year there were three different choices for mission trips; Africa, Borneo and Ecuador, and I choose to go to Ecuador. Like any group of high school students we seemed to have a silent competition going on between everyone. When all of the mission trips returned everyone was comparing their experiences, defending that theirs was the best. A few weeks after everyone returned we found out that those that went to Africa had to be tested for parasites and tuberculosis. The rest of us thought it was hilarious that they might have gotten parasites from Lake Malawi. We teased them for days, even after we found out that they were negative. That trip was known by everyone that didn’t go on it, as the one where their friends possibly came home with worms in their guts.

Well its now my time to be in Malawi, and exposed to strange African diseases. Guess who should be laughing now? My luck has run out. My first African disease is upon me. Over Christmas break we traveled several times to Lake Malawi. Our first location on the lake was kind of questionable. We got out of the water pretty sure we wouldn’t escape Balharzia (the parasite in the lake). Supposedly the parasite is wherever there are snails, and of course where we were was covered in snail shells. Lucky us! So here we are about 6 weeks after swimming in the lake and the parasites have decided our bodies are pretty nice homes. One of the symptoms is skin rashes and lesions. Well since I seem to have such great luck with skin conditions; out of all the symptoms, my body has developed this one. I feel like a walking blister. Since we are in Africa and medicine isn’t as controlled here as home, getting the treatment medication is pretty simple. Yesterday we walked over to the hospital and wrote down our weights, got a few signatures and the next thing we know we have the medication to nuke our bodies and kill any extra creatures inside. Welcome to Malawi, the land of never ending adventures.

Simple Procedures

the main operating theater

The steady beep of a pulse echoes through the halls, the odor of bleach and water fills the nostrils. Pink crocs rest on my feet. Blue scrubs cover my legs. An oversize green shirt envelops my shoulders. A green net holds back the few stubborn pieces of hair away from my face. Only my eyes peer out curiously through a blue sterile surgical mask. My feet make the few anxious steps through the swinging doors, a new rush of sounds, smells, and sights rush into my senses.

Today was my fourth day of getting the chance to observe procedures in the operating theater. I haven’t seen anything rare or exotic, but even though the cases I’ve witness may be considered normal or routine in the hospital they are such a rare sight in my eyes. Each day is a little nerve racking and thrilling at the same time. Who knows what my eyes will get to witness in the next hours.

I stood back on the side of the operating table, peering intently at the side of a woman’s head as a scalpel and fingers of a surgeon do their job. She walked into the hospital today with the knowledge of having cysts removed from her neck. She is now in a deep dream world, unaware of the knife, scissors and fingers cutting and gently moving around all the layers of veins and muscles. The first cyst rested below the ear, and was removed quickly. The second cyst was closer to the front of the head, but kept escaping the grasp of the surgeon. As I stood watching, shifting weight on my feet, and trying to stay focused on the small openings into the neck I heard the words that a lot of people in medicine long for, “Do you want to scrub in.” What kind of question is that? Of course I jumped at the chance and the next thing I know I am scrubbing my hands, getting tied into a sterile gown and slipping on sterile gloves. I edged my way closer to the table and was handed a tool. My job (which does not sound very glamorous or exciting) was to hold back the skin at the top of the incision, pulling it up towards the mouth. No, I didn’t get to do any cutting or anything super significant, but with my small amount training and capabilities I was jumping inside to just be a part of it all. I was actually assisting in a surgery! Something that I would have to be in med school or working as a theater nurse to even come close to do in America. It made the somewhat mundane surgery extremely interesting and fun. We were able to successfully remove the second cysts and after a little pain and healing the woman will be as a good as new.

The room smelled of burning flesh and bleach. I slipped my surgical mask up over my nose to cover some of the smells. I stepped through the swinging door and entered the second operating theater. A older man is looking up at the ceiling, listening to the surgeon and nurse chatter back and forth and the clinking of metal tools. As I walk closer I see something I’ve only seen in first aid books, or random medical books. This man is a preacher out in Zomba (an hour drive from Blantyre), he came in several weeks ago with severe infection on his left leg. A healing incision lies on the inside of the leg. A open about wound, about 3 inches wide, runs from the top of his foot, across his ankle and half way up his shin. When he first came in, the doctors told him he will most likely lose his leg, since the infection was too far through it. The surgeon decided he would open it and see how much he could save. The infection was able to be scrapped clean from both the incision and wound. The incision had enough skin around it to just sew it back up, however the wound was too wide for any hope that stitches would solve the problem. This is now his second procedure, today the main task was to scrap the dead skin away and prepare the flesh for a skin graft. The surgeon looked at me and told me that what they are doing is pretty simple, “you just scrap until you get bleeding, and that’s your healthy flesh.” The bottom part and top part of the wound was starting to heal nicely and only had a few layers of dead skin removed before blood appeared. However the middle took a lot longer to complete the debriment. So many layers had to be removed to reach the healthy flesh that the surgeon had to deliver disappointing news. The skin graft couldn’t happen today, another week would have to past before they would try again. You could tell the man’s spirits fell and he struggled to understand why it could not happen. Unfortunately since so many layers of tissue had to be removed the wound became too deep for a skin graft to take. The blood vessels were cauterized and the wound was dressed. Next week hopefully it will be healed and fleshy enough to complete the skin graft.

I have had the opportunity of being able to witness and help in a total of about 20 procedures, so far. From the simple removal of an abscess, to c-setions, removal of a ovarian cysts, endoscopies, cistoscopies, head trauma, and getting to collect the tissue for a biopsy on section of the esophagus. I don’t think I have the discipline to become a surgeon, but being able to see these procedures has strongly secured that my career choice is exactly what I want to be doing the rest of my life.

Cultural Differences

I have been exposed to many different cultures and lifestyles in the past 5 months. Malawi culture, obviously, but also Hindu and Muslim and a few others. Two nights ago we were asked by our coordinator here if we wanted to go to a Muslim wedding reception. We jumped at the chance. We've gone to Muslim's home for Eid earlier in the year so we are aware of huge parts of their culture but this was all new. We got dressed up in our nicest clothes we have here and headed off. The invitation told us to be there at 7:30 sharp. Like all of Africa and most Indian and Arab culture, time is a lose term. We were the first ones to arrive, people didn't start showing up until 8:30. Woman after woman walked through the door, dressed amazingly( it felt like we were at a fashion show) all in their beautiful Saris and dresses, we felt very under dressed. We all sat and waited some more. We waited a total of 2 hours until the bride and groom showed up. They were truly beautiful, dressed in rich colors and perfect fabrics. As soon as they sat down it became a feeding frenzy. Everyone dashed for the buffet tables and scooped up as much Indian food as they could. In typical Indian style there are no silverware so its all with the hands, it can get quite messy. After 20 minutes of consuming food we noticed the room had grown more empty. Apparently Muslim wedding receptions are all about the food. You sit and wait until the wedding party graces you with their presence and then the food is shoveled in and away you go. A true example of eat and run.

Adventures in Zambia- Merry Christmas

The past 8 days have been filled with many hours of driving and hours of exploration and adventures. Last Friday we loaded up a little Toyota Sprinter(Sputnik) and pulled out of Blantyre, heading for the Zambian border. We crossed through the Malawi countryside, through the Zambian jungle and cities, all to reach Livingstone. The home of the great Zambezi river and Victoria Falls. Here are a few stories and adventures we encountered that I wrote on the way.

Malawi- Zambia Border: Dec 17

We made it! Its official, we are now in Zambia. The border crossing was slightly confusing and frustrating but not as bad as we thought. We pulled into the Malawi gate and parked out little Sputnik car, at the gate. The officers kept telling us we needed a gate pass, but not how to get it. We were finally directed to the right office and began filling out the exit papers. Since we’ve been here for 5 months our tourist visas have expired and our temporary work visas have been in processing since October. We were given receipts and letters from the immigration office explaining that our TEP’s were processing, so we could leave the country. The immigration officer at the border was so ignorant and irritating. He kept telling us that we didn’t know what a receipt was and that we didn’t have the right papers to cross. He refused to call our immigration worker that gave us the papers and refused to read the letter that had his boss’ signature on it. I finally slide him my receipt and he accepted it for both of us. Such a joke!

Zambia-Victoria Falls: Dec 19

Today I accomplished something that many may dream about but never get a chance to do. We not only saw Victoria Falls, but swam at the edge of the several hundred foot drop. We pulled into the park and were met by beware of baboon signs and the thunder of the falls. The mist ripples through the trees. The fact that you’re are so close to all that natural power and wonder is amazing. Since its December the water level is decently low and clear. Even though the falls is not at its full potential it is still so majestically beautiful. I can’t even imagine David Livingstone’s thoughts and excitement when he found such an incredible piece of nature for the first time.

We hired a guide to take us to the top of the falls and to swim in Devil’s Pool. He showed us the different parts of the falls. The whole length of the falls is 1.7 km , 1 km is on the Zambian side and 700 m is in Zimbabwe. We hiked across the whole length on the Zambian side. We walked 200 meters on a 3 inch dam across the Zambezi River. We walked hand in hand crossing the Zambezi river right above the mighty falls. It was incredible. We finally reached Livingstone Island, in the middle of the falls. We reached the main falls and was told by our guide to just jump out in the river and let the current push us to the edge. Um wait, what? Let the current push us to the edge, doesn’t exactly sound like the safest plan. But like blundering tourists we followed our guide, jumping into Devil’s Pool. In fact the current was not very strong and we just slowly floated to the 3 foot thick cliff separating us from the 300 foot shortcut to the Indian ocean. Just another day in Africa. J

Zambia-Victoria Falls: Dec 20

Swim the Zambezi- P

Swim with crocodiles-P

Raft class 5 rapids- P

Didn’t flip while rafting the Zambezi- P

The last 12 hours have been a full time adrenaline rush. We woke up early and hopped on a safari truck from our hostel. We were joined by 3 other brave souls, out in the search of big holes, fast water, and surprisingly crocodiles. We met the rest of the people willing to risk their lives, and the crew who was willing to extract money from those that are crazy enough to risk their lives. After getting a run down of safety and other important information, we headed down to the “Mosi-oa-Tunya” (Victoria Falls) to hop on the Zambezi river and begin our adventure. Pathetically it took us 5 tries to paddle into the first rapid ( we had to enter half way through it) but we made it and the adrenaline continued for the next 8 hours and 30 km of river. The rafts with us each took turns flipping or dumping out passengers in various rapids, ours however conquered all. We did flip one person out, get stalled for a couple minutes in a hole, and flip completely vertical; but we never flipped. The great Zambezi, like most rivers in Africa, are known for crocodiles. This fact did not cross our minds until towards the end of the trip and we began seeing baby crocodiles resting in the sun. Of course where there are small crocodiles around there are bound to be big ones as well. Thankfully crocs do not like whitewater, so they stay clear of that, but they love the calm, warm water. Several times our experienced river guide told us to jump in and swim a smaller rapid (class 2-3), no hesitation I was in ready to be hit in the face with water and ride the waves. I didn’t think much about the fact that the river was home to crocodiles, until we reached the flat water. All of our eyes were peeled to the rocks and water lines, watching for splashes, we made slow movements and made sure our feet were up (not sure it would of made a difference). Thankfully no crocs were hungry today and we made it to the take out site. A gondola carried us 200 ft out of the canyon, on to live another day.

My Hope is Found

In moments of weakness I remember the little things of home that I miss. I miss the way the world seems to stop when snowflakes fall. I miss my family and the comfort and warmth of home. I miss the holiday celebrations and the excitement of being with all of my family. Its in these moments of weakness that I get so wrapped up in myself. I worry about what it will be like to return home, I worry what it will feel like to leave Africa. In the end, yes Africa has changed me and I can honestly say I will never be the same, but I did not come to Africa to cause that change in me I came to help impact other people. In these moments of weakness I have to stop and try to see the big picture and look away from myself and see that there are people hurting, struggling around me. God has placed me in Malawi for a speific purpose and its easy to loose track of that

Now for those of you that know me really well, you know that I am in love with the Owl City. He is by far my favorite band, and I get excited at any new music he releases. One of the biggest reasons I love Owl City so much because he is Christian. Even though he has a huge career and he is making a ton of money he has not lost sight of his mission in Christ and his relationship with his Father. A couple weeks ago I discovered one of his new releases; In Christ Alone. Now this is a pretty famous Christian song but as I listened to it, it brought me to tears and gave me a sense of encouragement. The lyrics pull you out of yourself and your problems, and make you look at the bigger picture. You may be going through "moments of weakness" or through hell and back, but when we stop and reach for God, our hope is found.

In Christ alone, my hope is found


He is my light, my strength, my song


This cornerstone, this solid ground


Firm through the fiercest drought and storm


What heights of love, what depths of peace


When fears are stilled, when strivings cease


My comforter, my all-in-all


Here in the love of Christ I stand

There in the ground His body lay


Light of the world by darkness slain


Then bursting forth in glorious day


Up from the grave He rose again!

And as He stands in victory


Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me


For I am His and He is mine


Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death


This is the power of Christ in me


From life’s first cry to final breath


Jesus commands my destiny


No power of hell, no scheme of man


Can ever pluck me from His hand


Till He returns or calls me home


Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand

Snapshots

Old Man Falls, Mulanje

The Blantyre girls at Malamulo
Samantha and I in the bush

Mbiza church, we rode bicycle taxis to get to
Hudson and I, one of the missionary kids at Malamulo

Hospital Day 1 10-29-10

This week I spent my first couple of hours in Blantyre Adventist Hospital. I was very unsure what exactly they would have me doing. I discovered it would be a lot of observing. This in a way is disappointing but also good, hopefully over time of observing and asking questions they will allow me to do more. Even though there were not any hands on stuff I did get to watch things that I may never see unless I was in med school in the States. The first thing I got to experience was a 12 year old boy who has been fighting cancer since this summer. He came to the hospital in June for his first surgery, where they removed his skull and removed two brain tumors (one on the inside and a mass growing on the outside of his head). It has now been about 4 months of long recovery of chemo and lots of skin grafts. Now all he has left to show for it all is a wicked scar, a soft spot on his skull, healing skin and a small wound they are still trying to get healed. He has been coming to the hospital daily since his surgery, to have his wounds dressed and cared for. It was incredible to see the healing process and what it all looked like several months back. After redressing his wound I was then taken to observe the OB/GYN doctor for the rest of the afternoon. It was amazing to watch the ultrasounds and try to understand what was in the confusing sea of gray that is portrayed on the computer screen. Being able to watch an ultrasound and hear the heart beats of the fetus’ was so intriguing and incredible. The OB doc then took me to the operating theater to watch my first procedure. I got all prepped for surgery, which here means wearing crocs, a surgical gap and hospital gown. For those that know medical terminology, the procedure was a D&C (or incomplete miscarriage). The thing that most intrigued me during the surgery was how fast the anesthesia kicked in. Since I’ve only been on the other side of it, it was incredible to watch. Before the anesthesiologist even pushed the last of the drugs into the IV the patient was out and snoring. The moment the snoring began the operating theater was a bustle of activity as they got everything ready to go. The procedure was only 15 minutes long and I loved every minute of it.

Challenges- 10/26/10

As I wake up and climb out of bed each morning I am greeted by the African sunshine, the strange calls of birds and buzzing of bugs and a possibility of a whole new set of challenges. I have never been tested and tried more in my life than I have been here. Every passing hour could bring another crisis, stressful situation or pure joy.

For the next month or so Samantha and I will be living with our oldest student Alexia. She is Brazilian and spending this year with her aunt and uncle (who are doctors at the hospital) to learn English. Her aunt and uncle left in the middle of October for leave to Brazil, leaving Samantha and I to enjoy an actual house and personal space.

However, not letting down the African reputation, everything seems to be falling in around us. The first weekend we were here we faced major flooding from the ceiling in my room. Three days later it happened again in a different room. We’ve had to deal with lazy house workers (who think they need to be our nannies), we’ve broken a vacuum, ran out of power, ran out of internet, killed the car, killed the lights in the master suit. We’re keeping our fingers crossed that the Araujo’s will come back to their house still standing.

Being a teacher bring another set of challenges. Since we have such a big age range in our classroom (6-12) it is hard to keep everything running smoothly, and quietly. We’ve had to deal with fist fights, yelling parents, depancing of children, bumps and bruises, and tons of arguments.

Even though there are moments where you just want to give up and go home, they are met by moments that remind us why we are here. Like mom’s coming up to us before school and saying they’ve noticed such a change in their children since we’ve come. Their kids use to hate school, and now they can’t wait to come. Or one of our littlest kids (Sasha or Julian) comes and crawls into your lap or tap you on the shoulder and cutely say, “Miss Cassie (or Miss Samantha) watch me (or what is this).” Those moments make it all worth it.

A Taste of Malawi

A Bug's Life

Yesterday morning began with a jolt of excitement. Before coming to Malawi we had heard great things about all of the bugs, but the bugs have been staying clear of us for the most part. Not yesterday, bug after bug seemed to find its way to us. I awoke to Samantha shrieking. A big gross cockroach had decided to take up residence in our shower. It was sprawled on its back just chilling out, appearing to be very dead. She reached down to move it out when it became very alive and struggling to go after whatever had just touched its stomach. I woke from my grogginess of sleep and ask if everything was okay and all she said was "its looking at me". The nasty cockroach was staring her down with its beady little eyes. I jumped up and grabbed a toilet paper roll and our little blue pot for bucket showers. I trapped him and scooped him up. As soon as he was flipped back over, his legs began to violently move, clawing for an escape. I ran to the door and threw him out, as he had decided that my hand would be a better place to explore. As soon as that disgusting roach hit the ground it turned and ran between my feet, through the open door and back into the house. I tried once again trapping him against the wall, but yet again he escaped. We figured he had disappeared forever, since he was nowhere to be seen. I moved back our curtain and there he was, staring me down with his beady eyes, laughing at my inability to catch him. Roaches are extremely quick insects, with long stringy legs and before I could even dump him back in the pot he had launched himself out and onto my mosquito net(still hanging over my bed). Finally I was able to successfully catch him and I ran to the door and threw everything in my hands. The pot went flying, the toilet paper roll went flying, and that disgusting determined roach flew through the air. Until gravity kicked in and he hit the windshield of the Guarino's car. It landed on its back, legs flying everywhere. He quickly flipped himself over and scampered on down the car, hopefully never to be seen again. Our house was full of shrieks and laughter. In the past 24 hours we've found 2 cockroaches, 1 millipede, and 2 geckos inside our house. How they get inside we have no idea, but it sure is an adventure making them leave.

African Adventure

The Mbiza Church Family

We had been planning a trip out to Mulanje with Ethel and Mary (the Guarino family’s housemaid and daughter) for several weeks, and we were excited that it was actually happening and it would be full adventure. We just underestimated how much adventure!

We woke up bright and early around 5 am to be ready by 6 am, when Ethel was suppose to come get us. Our morning went pretty smoothly without too much adventure. We caught one minibus to the neighboring town of Limbe, then caught another minibus to Mulanje. I am going to stop right here and explain some of the wonders of Malawian minibuses. Most of these busses have seen better days and look like they could break apart anytime. Now most of these busses (they really are just vans) can carry 14 passengers comfortably, but that’s not smart for business. These Malawian bus drivers and advertiser/ money changer guy, pack these busses FULL. Instead of 14 passengers, I counted on one minibus that we rode on that there was 25 passengers, crammed into every corner.

Anyways, back to the story. Once we arrived in Mulanje by minibus we had to seek out other transportation up into the bush. Now since Samantha and I are “azungus” everyone tries to rip us off. Taxi drivers in town told Ethel that the cheapest they would go was 1,500 MK per person one way( which is a complete rip off since a minibus to Mulanje was only 370MK). So we opted for the cheaper option, bike taxi. Now these guys put a new meaning to being a fit bicyclist. They ride one speed bikes on dirt roads, often bare foot, up steep hills, across sketchy bridges, at least 100km a day. My driver for going back home told me that for example, the trip I was on was about 20 km, so he rode a total of 40 km just to get me back into town (20 km each way) and these are not 40 km of nice paved roads like back home. Once we got to the church, Mbiza church, we are instantly welcomed with much excitement. We were asked to sit in chairs at the front of the church, so everyone could see us. The church family continually thanked us for coming and presented us with amazing gifts at the end of the service. They gave us two HUGE “vines” of bananas, two huge bags of fresh peas, and dried cassava root. They also fed us amazing food. After lunch we walked probably 5 km up and down hills in the hot sun to get to Ethel’s family houses, where the bikes would pick us back up. Now Sam and I were a little under prepared and didn’t take enough water, so by the time we reached the houses we were severely dehydrated. I even resorted to drink a little water, that they claimed was safe but who knows. Of course living up to Malawi standards the bikes arrived an hour late to take us back. We left Mbiza around 3 pm and proceeded to have a fun, sometimes scary bicycle ride back in. After 40 minutes we arrived in town and proceeded to buy and down several water bottles. We got everything loaded on to a minibus and took off. Now we were placed comfortably in the minibus at first, but of course you can’t turn away a customer. So before I know it I am wedged in between Sam and Ethel sitting sideways, trying to take as little room as possible. As we got closer to town our minibus began to drive slower and with less energy, and low and behold we ran out of gas. We unloaded everything and switched to yet another minibus and drove into town. Now Limbe’s bus station is a mass amount of people and busses EVERYWHERE, so much chaos.

This is where it all begins. The sun is setting and dusk is quickly coming when we arrive. I step out of the minibus with Mary (Ethel’s 4 year old) on my hip and my bag right below my hand and her body. As I step out I see a hand brush against my bag, and I instantly reach my hand down and try to pull my bag away and I don’t think much about it. Until the lady that was sitting next to me on the bus told Ethel to check out bags because she saw someone grab a phone out of our bags. What do you know my awesome Malawian phone is gone. Now apparently Limbe is known for thieves, especially at night. A young guy came around and was trying to “help” with our bananas and received a lot of scolding and slaps from other men trying to help. He must have been known as a thief. Once we found out my phone was gone more men began to huddle around us, questioning and trying to help us find the thief. Now here in Malawi it’s ok to steal, until you get caught then it punished like everything else here, by getting the crap beat out of you or death. The men standing around us began questioning the little guy who was trying to “help” us with the bananas. He claimed he didn’t do it and told them to search him, but that didn’t change their minds. They continued to beat the crap out of him right beside us, sometimes getting us mixed up in it. It was dark, it was complete chaos and we just wanted to go home. Thankfully Shadrack( Ethel’s husband) showed up and got us another minibus that took us all the way home.

Yesterday was a very memorable Sabbath. There were so many situations that could of gone a lot worse but were survivable I know by the help of God and his amazing angels. Being in another country and faced with these situations you quickly learn to just put your trust in God and hang on, because there is nothing else you can do.

Go With the Flow

I am officially an illegal immigrant of Malawi. When you enter the country you receive a thirty day visa, stamped in your passport. Now this is fine if you’re just here for tourist purposes, but since we’re here for a just a little longer it could be a problem. Today is the end of my thirty days. When I first got here Samantha and I went to the Seventh Day Adventist Union office and applied for my official long term work visa. Well, that was four weeks ago and I am sure that my application is still sitting in a folder in the office. When we went yesterday to talk to the secretary at the Union office she was quite determined in saying that we shouldn’t go down to the visa office and extend my visa. According to her we were supposed to do our long term visa before we left, which Sam and I both tried to do, so if we went down to the visa office it would just alarm them that we are illegally in their country. We’ve given her enough time to get our official visas but she seems to keep making excuses. So on Monday we are suppose to go down to the immigration office with her and she will take care of my tourism visa, until then I am illegal. I am keeping my fingers crossed that it gets taken care of, if not if I leave the country I won’t be able to get back in(which is a slight problem).

Here’s the thing about Malawi; everything is done in their time. Everyone is laid back and have the strong mentality of “no big deal, it will happen when it needs to” or “if it’s not broken don’t fix it.” For example, the family that we are living on their property is having their house renovated. In the states it would probably take about a good 3 weeks or less to accomplish the job they are doing. Here, they are not schedule to be done till the end of October and they started in the middle of August. Samantha and I return from school and all of the workers are just sitting around talking. No one has seemed to have even heard of a work ethic. Now to be fair to Malawi, there are definitely some citizens that work hard and get things done in good time, but it seems to be quite rare. It has taken a lot of getting use to and a lot of frustration dealing with this mentality. Both Sam and I are so use to going out and getting what we need done when it needs to be done. Here we are being taught to go with the flow. Every day we are reminded that everything occurs in “Malawi time” and we can’t do anything to change that.