Halloween!

Though most people here have never heard of Halloween, our community didn’t pull any stops in celebrating the sugar-loaded holiday. Thanks to several packages from friends and family, we had an entire Halloween Celebration Kit, full with candy, Halloween stickers, small pumpkins and gourds, Halloween decorations, Halloween cookie cutters, and more! We even picked up some locally available supplies to make cookie icing and popcorn balls. The night culminated with each of us taking five minutes to throw together a costume, meet at our front door, and go trick-or-treating. (I dressed up as our night watchman, who almost always wears a muscle-tee. tucked into his slacks, with heavy shoes, and a HUGE flashlight.) Since I’m a pretty big sugar addict, and my sugar intake hasn’t dropped too low, I ended up being the only one who didn’t get sick off of the cupcakes, cookies, icing, and sugar we all ingested. It was just like we were little kids again!

Coke: Inhumane?

I just got home from an entire day in town. Once again, we had to go to the bus depot to get soft drinks. Tomorrow is our Christmas on Campus celebration, and we would have a lot of unhappy campers if we didn’t have any pop. Unfortunately, the Coca Cola Company doesn’t have the most effective means of distributing minerals (what they are called here) here in Karonga. In fact, if there aren’t any sodas in town, you can plan to waste away an entire Friday waiting at the bus depot for the weekly shipment to come in.

My friends and I arrived in town around 9:30AM, and our first order of business was to check if there were any cases of Coke available anywhere. There weren’t, so we headed over to the bus depot. There would be a truck coming in sometime today, and we could get in line with our empty crates (minerals here are sold in glass bottles, which carry a heavy deposit) and wait for the truck to come in. Last time we did this, we left the depot around 3pm. This time proved to be just about the same.

So here’s my issue with Coke: couldn’t the Coca Cola distributors of Karonga find a better way to bring Coke to the people who want or need it (For some people here, selling sodas is a major part of their livelihood.)?

For me, Coke is a familiar treat, something I enjoy having here because it tastes like home. By no means do I need Coke. But I do think Coke is a good thing. It’s very delicious, refreshing, and enjoyable. It’s a gift to our senses, giving an extra little kick after a hot and tiring day. Unfortunately, I find the way it is distributed here absolutely despicable.

In order to walk away with a desired amount of Coke, an individual must wait all day, standing mostly in the hot sun, in a crowded and dirty bus depot, just waiting. Then, once the line does open, everyone who is hot, tired, and unhappy already, fights to get their empty cases into the fenced off cage where the Coke is kept. Then, they push their way over to the manager who takes in their money for the new cases of Coke. The process takes hours, is extremely stressful and tiring, and to me, is entirely inhumane; the people trying to get the Coke are treated like animals. Furthermore, an individual who desires to have Coke must waste an entire day just sitting. They lose the opportunity of that day to use their creativity, to use their energy, and to use their intelligence to make something great of that day; they become a slave to the Coke.

As I mentioned, I’ve enjoyed the occasional Coke during my time here, but I find the way these distributors treat their customers to be unjust. And for me, that’s not worth a Coke.

I already had a few issues with the global practices of the Coca Cola Cooperation; this just added to the pile.

A Good Day

Yesterday was quite a day! I was absolutely exhausted at the end of it.

I invigilated (aka proctored) a final exam from 8AM to 10AM. It turns out to be an extremely exhausting job, especially when you find out after you have passed tests to about 80 students that you don’t have enough tests for the 11 remaining students, when at least 30 students ask you what the word “depleted” means, when you have to walk back and forth between two classrooms, and when one of the questions asks about “six 50 kilogram bags” (Apparently, the word “six” next to the number “50” made it really confusing.). Then, before lunch, I worked on the shelf that I’m building. I then had lunch, and before heading to MIRACLE to teach a class, I put in another hour and a half on my shelf. I ran right over to MIRACLE and started my class. This class was focused on responding to the challenges of HIV/AIDS, and living positively. It was an extremely awesome class to facilitate since I was able to foster some really great discussion on the topic, but it was extremely tiring. Then I went to the internet to try to figure out some of my loan stuff. My loans from UD are absolutely massive, and having the grace period for half of them end in a few days is pretty stressful. The power went on and off a few times, and I ended up achieving virtually nothing. I then had to make it back to the house to meet with Sarah and Emily to put some finishing plans on our Christmas on Campus celebration happening on Saturday. Then this week happened to be our week to have dinner with the brothers, so we ended up having 7 guests for a romantic candlelit dinner (The lights were still out.). Finally, we did dishes, and I was ready for bed. Oh, and did I mention the 110 degree heat during the day?

At last, I walked out onto our veranda, heading towards the door for our bedroom. Noticing a slight difference in the lighting because of the black-out, I glanced over to the sky above our backyard. My eyes froze as they caught the stars piercing through the pitch black sky. I stopped in my step, turned, and stood with my jaw dropped. I was in absolute awe of the stars, once again. After a few minutes of standing, I walked down to the hammock at the end of our veranda. After such a tiresome day, laying in a hammock, gazing up at the star-speckled sky, and enjoying the cool night air was a perfect gift.

Discontent

I was recently asked to write an article for the Newsletter the Marianist Volunteer Program sends out every few months. They asked me to write about my experience so far, and as I sat down to reflect on how things are going so far, I found myself rather dissatisfied. I just submitted the first draft of the article, so I’m not sure how much it will change before it is actually published, but I do feel it is appropriate to share some of the thoughts I touched on in the article.

Though I’ve finally gotten into my job as a teacher, I still feel that I’m lacking my purpose here. The US has plenty of need for teachers, especially ones that aren’t working for money. So why come all the way to Africa? Furthermore, I feel that a Malawian teacher could probably do my job better than I could simply because of the fact that they grew up in this educational system, they are familiar with the curriculum and the testing, and they know and understand the culture of the students. These things all put me at a disadvantage for being able to teach my students well. At Chaminade, when I’m trying to teach different concepts in Social Studies, I am constantly wondering if the examples I give make sense to the students. And at M.I.R.A.C.L.E., the technical college for young people in destitution, I feel entirely inadequate to lead discussions about issues like HIV/AIDS and malnutrition, which are things I have only read about in textbooks while my students deal with them everyday. At times, I wonder what I’m doing here.

As a Christian, I believe that regardless of where I am or what my job is, I have the mission to share Christ’s Love with others. And as a Catholic, I believe the best way I can do that is by allowing God to transform me into a part of the Body of Christ so that I may then be the hands and feet of Christ, of Love, in this world. So there is some direction for me. But how do I do that here?

Over the past several years, I have come to believe that personal relationships are the most effective way for me to bring Love to others. So this should be easy then.

Not so much. In fact, I think my relationships with people here is a major reason why I’m feeling so discontent. I have not yet begun to develop personal relationships with the people here, and so I’m lacking opportunities to fulfill my mission of bringing Christ to others. Yes, it’s still early in the game; I’ve only been here for three months. But I know I’ve been holding back.

Back home, I love meeting and getting to know new people. But here, it’s proving to be more challenging. I’m finding I’m not as excited to meet and chat with someone, and I think it’s because I’m not as comfortable in those situations here. The culture here is different. The way people think and respond to things here is different. Even the way people speak English here is different. All of those differences make interacting with people much more difficult, and, in my three months here, I’ve simply limited my submersion into those difficulties. I’m realizing that, during my time here, I have effectively tip-toed around the challenge of developing personal relationships with people from a different culture. I thought that by simply being here I’d be forced to immerse myself in those types of relationship. Instead, I’m finding it much easier to dodge those situations than I thought it would be. I’m not embracing the challenges of the situation, and, as a result, I’m not receiving the benefits of doing so.

So am I glad I came here? Heck yes! I’m getting to see and explore a part of the world I probably would have never come to had I not made the decision to volunteer here. But is it all worth it? Well, it will depend on my willingness to step out of my comfort zone and embrace the challenges of developing relationships with people I might not fully understand—and I have yet to show that.

Late Night Adventure

I was pretty tired last night, so when Molly, Sarah, and Emily asked me if I wanted to go to Planet K Dot A last night, I passed, informing them that I hoped to go to bed soon. They left around 9:30PM or so, but I actually didn’t end up going to bed until 11PM.

Then it was approximately 1:32AM when I woke up to my cell phone ringing. Emily’s number was calling me. I fumbled to answer it. Fighting to break through the grogginess of sleep, I could make out Molly’s voice explaining to me that the car was stuck and asking me if I could go wake one of the brothers to come help them get out. The car battery was also dead, and they would need a jump. “Okay,” I said, and I hung up the phone.

After a minute or two of laying in my bed trying to motivate myself to get up, I put on some clothes, grabbed my cell phone and a torch (aka flashlight), and headed over to the brothers. I woke up Br. Adoka and a few minutes later, we were on our way. The only problem was that we didn’t know where we were going. The girls didn’t know where they were exactly.

After several phone calls back and forth while Adoka and I drove around looking for a stranded vehicle, we finally crossed paths with Sarah who led us back to the school truck.

The battery was indeed dead, and the left rear wheel was a good three feet down in sand. After switching batteries, we tried pushing the truck, but to no avail. We then tried to tie ropes from the Bro’s car to the school car and pull it out. That didn’t work either. Adoka suggested we go back to Chaminade, wake up 10 strong boys, and bring them back to carry the school truck out of the sand. It was about 3:45AM at this point, but this was the best shot we had. Leaving the car in the middle of some village till the morning was not an option. We drove back to Chaminade, woke up some boys, and brought them back to the car. We vaguely explained to them the situation, leaving out where the girls had gone, and emphasizing the help they would be.

In a few quick minutes, we had the car lifted out, and we were on our way home. It was 4:30AM by the time I got back into bed. The best part of it is that the road the girls took, which ended up being an absolutely treacherous road, was intended to be a short cut; talk about irony.

Shelf

I’m building a shelf to put right near our front-door so that each of us can have a place to store different things such as notebooks, textbooks, quizzes, and other teaching tools. Today, I started cutting the wood for the shelf. The pieces of wood that I am using are actually two doors that were removed from the large, closet-like shelves in our bedroom. The doors wouldn’t stay closed, so Adam and Ryan took them off. Now, they will make a very nice shelf to put by our front door. And since we don’t have a circular saw, I’m making all of the cuts by a hand saw. Oddly, I couldn’t help but feel great as I slowly but surely cut both of the doors in half. Each cut took me about one hour, which is about as far as you can get from efficiency. But it didn’t matter. I know that a circular saw is far too expensive to own here. Furthermore, I’m finding it very humbling to use nothing more than my hands and a sharp piece of metal to inch my way through the heavy plywood.

One of the other volunteers was so kind as to take this picture for me.

Thursday Night Entertainment

Tonight’s activities started with a request from the Headmaster to drive into town with the school car and pick up a truck-load of police officers. The Form 4’s leave campus tomorrow for the last time, and there have been some rumors that they would cause some trouble on their last night at Chaminade. Though there was no fracas last night (“fracas” is the word our Headmaster overused to describe the trouble early this term), driving through town (for my first time ever, and at night) with 8 armed police officers in army fatigues was quite an interesting and somewhat stressful way to start the night.

Then when I got home, Matt and Molly were sitting outside near the hose pipe for our garden. Our water still wasn’t reaching our storage tank (which it needs to do before it comes into our house), but it was reaching our hose pipe, so they were just chillin’ outside, filling up buckets, and carrying them inside. I went ahead and ate my dinner before coming out to join them. For the next two hours, we sat around, filling up the buckets, carrying them into the house (on our heads at times), splashing each other, and even playing Frisbee for a bit with one of the bucket lids. I searched the house for every bucket we had, and by the end of the night, we filled up every last one. Though it wasn’t much more than a tedious chore, the conversation, jokes, and silliness we shared made the evening an absolute blast.

(Here's a picture of me carrying a bucket on my head. And yes, I did spill water all over me in the process. But that is less a mistake of and more a perk of carrying water on your head.)

Sweaty, Sore, and Loving It!

I just got home from class and it was great! We are preparing for their finals next week, and I had a blast quizzing them on all of the material I’ve covered with them. And even better, they were responding to my questions with ease and excitement! I’m also beginning to see how teaching is like an extreme sport: my back was drenched with sweat, my voice was sore, I was loving every second of it!

Splattered Reputation

I have been driving some of the boys to and from places like the hospital and the bore hole, and in my short time here, I had earned a reputation as an excellent driver; that was, until tonight.

Mr. Nkhata, the Deputy Boarding Master, came over shortly before dinner to ask me if I would be able to drive the school car to retrieve water from the bore hole. Having achieved success at transporting the huge container of water a few times already, I was excited to strut my driving skills once again.

Everything went well on the way there, and the boys filled up the 1000L container relatively quickly. When they finished, we loaded up the car, and I, slowly and carefully, began to drive away. The bore hole is just off the road, past a small football pitch (soccer field), and as you pull onto the road, there is a small ditch before a little incline back up to the road. Well, with the weight of the water, and with a few too many secondary school boys riding in the back, the school truck struggled to get up out of that ditch. I remained persistent and pressed down the accelerator, slowly powering the vehicle to get up onto the road. Finally, the car started moving, and got up onto the flat ground. Unfortunately, I also had to make a sharp right hand turn onto the road, and, with the engine still revving from its struggle up the incline, the car pulled forward, accelerating a bit too quickly. With the force of the turn and the quick accelerating, the entire 1000L container slid about two feet from the middle of the truck bed to the back, pressing up against the tailgate. Even worse, the boys who were previously sitting on the tailgate had jumped from the vehicle in order to avoid being smashed by the container. And, to my utter remorse, one boy had his toe jammed by the sliding container.

After some yelling to stop, I slowed the vehicle, and Mr. Nkhata and I got out. All of the boys were okay, and it was only two boys who had to jump out. Though the acceleration and turn together were enough to cause the container to slide, the vehicle itself didn’t reach more than 10mph, and the athletic boys had no problem landing on their feet. Nonetheless, I felt entirely terrible. All of the boys and Mr. Nkhata reassured me that it was not necessarily my fault. There were about twice as many boys in the back as there had been during the previous times when I have transported the water container. The added weight caused the car to have a lot more trouble getting up the incline, and when it finally leveled out, it jumped forward. Being the not-so-experienced stick shift driver that I am, I was not prepared to press down the clutch in enough time to keep the revving engine from powering forward.

The same situation happened once again as we turned onto our road off of a main road. There was a slight incline, some soft sand, and a turn. The car struggled in the very same way, but this time, I recognized what was about to happen, and pushed down the clutch to keep the car from rushing forward again; you live, and you learn.

Though my reputation as a great driver splattered away with the water that was undoubtedly spilled, none of the boys were seriously hurt, and after a little bit of ice, the one who hurt his toe felt fine.

Next time, I’m going to tell the Boarding Master only a few boys (you need at least four to do the work efficiently). And you can bet I’ll be prepared for those inclines.

Pestilential Parcels

My very troublesome pacakges finally arrived in one piece! And boy were they great! Though it took some work to get them here, they were well work the wait! Thanks Mom!

"Water is Life"

So we're going on day 10 or 11 without water coming to our house. Though you would think it's a major issue, it's not too bad. Sometimes at night we can get water from the spicket outside our house. Other times we can get it from the Maize Mill 50 meters from our house. And other times we ride with the school car or the brother's to the bore hole which is about 5km from our house.

Making trips to the bore hole (water pump) is pretty fun. When we go with the school car, 6-8 students usually come with us. The school uses a huge 1000L container to fill up water for the boys' drinking and food.

On Sunday morning, I drove the school car with the Asst. Boarding Master. It's a lot of fun to work with the boys a little and interact with them outside of the classroom. I usually get to engage with them about a few different topics, and I always come away from those interactions with something to chew on. When we've asked the boys about being without water, one of them responded, "Water is life." I think this is something we overlook in the US, and it's pretty cool being here and realizing how vital water really is. We totally take water for granted in the US. Even at Chaminade, we are quite privileged in the fact that we have massive containers and a vehicle to transport water from the bore hole to where we need it. It would be a whole different story if each of us had to carry all of the water we need back to our homes on our heads. (Below, Molly carrying a bucket of water on her head).


One other things I love about the bore hole is interacting with the villagers. It's always interesting to see how they react to not only a vehicle pulling up with a bunch of Chaminade students (both of which are quite elite entities here) but one driven by a Muzungu. The little children are always suspiciously curious of me, which is a bit strange. However, I have found an ability to inspire smiles and laughter simply by looking at them and smiling at them. One day, I had a whole group of them laughing simply because I was laughing at their laughter. And the day I accidently kicked an empty bucket, I caused one teen-age girl to burst into laughter for at least 5 minutes.

It's true, "Water is Life." And going to the water hole is full of life too!

Perpetual Summer

Last night, I was on a Skype phone call with my friend Helen. She said her mom sent her a bunch of candy. I said, “For what?” “For HALLOWEEN,” she replied, indicating the obviousness.

I had absolutely no idea that Halloween is just about ten days away. In fact, I feel as if Halloween should still be two or three months away. To me, it feels as if I’m right in the middle of summer. Judging by the heat of the day, double practices for football should be starting soon, I should be preparing to head back to UD, and the fourth of July should have been just a few weeks ago.

I feel as if last June, I entered into summer, and since then, I’ve just kept getting deeper into it. It just keeps getting hotter. May brought me high temperatures in the upper 70s; June was mostly in the 80s; July got up to the 90s; by the start of September, I experienced my first 100-degree day; and now, in late October, I’m seeing 110- to 120-degree afternoons.

It’s crazy, but it feels like, by coming to Africa, I’ve jumped into a never-ending summer.

The New Brothers and Our Cooks

If you’ve been following my blog, you may have read a few weeks ago that some of the Marianist Brothers were leaving this community at Chaminade. Well, two of the new Brothers have already arrived, and they’re SWEET! One is named Bro. Bernard, but people call him Beams for short. And the other is Bro. Adoku, who is from Kenya, and had a reputation that preceded him. Both of them have been here at Chaminade before, and from what we have heard, the students love Bro. Adoku. Both Beams and Adoku are very young, energetic, and funny. Even though neither of them has been here for even a week, we’re already developing pretty great relationships with them. After our first gathering with them, we challenged them and the rest of their community members to a volleyball match. We played that match today for an hour or two in the hot African sun before hopping into the Brothers’ Hilux (pick-up truck) to head to the lake for a swim. We then had our regularly scheduled, bi-weekly meal with them, which concluded with an assortment of cakes, brownies, and cookies, all prepared by us volunteers, and then the most delicious homemade-ice cream I have ever had, made by Bro. Adoku; I think he will fit in just fine here.

And then, today was both Mother’s Day and our cook Alick’s Birthday. Since Vicki, our other cook, is like a mother to us here—and is an actual mother raising four children on her own—today was a very special day for both of them. Kat commanded an effort to make a cake and some brownies for each of them since they always make baked goods for us on our special days. We then decided to deliver the desserts to their home, which proved to be a little bit of an adventure. We managed to keep ourselves out of too much trouble, and we only drove through one person’s vegetable garden. We soon surprised
Vicki when she heard us asking the nearby shop-keeper where she lived. Vicki then walked us over to Alick’s house, and we took him by great surprise as we started singing Happy Birthday as we rounded the corner to his house. They both seemed quite excited to see us, and I feel that they enjoyed us dropping in and sharing a simple gesture of our appreciation for them.

All in all, it was a great day! And get this, Mother’s Day is a National Holiday, so we didn’t have any school today!

Black-Out Box #3

The electricity has been going on and off for the past several days. Sometimes, it will only be off for 20-30 minutes. Other times, it is out for 4-5 hours. Monday night it went out right around dinner time, and when the power goes out after sun-down, our house has the tradition of pulling out our “Black-Out Box” and enjoying in some unpredictable fun.

Our Black-Out Box is an old US Postal Service Flat Rate Shipping Box decorated by me with comic strips and magazine clippings. (It turned out quite nicely if I may say so myself.) During our first Black-Out, our community decided to create the box by writing down short suggestions, challenges, games, or dares for us to draw out of the box whenever the power goes out. We’ve already used it twice, both times being huge successes.

During the first Black-Out, the piece of paper that was pulled from the box told us to play “Kat’s Spice Game.” None of us knew what that meant, so Kat explained that we would gather 6-7 different spices from our spice rack. Each of us would then take turns closing our eyes as someone else holds each of the 7 spices in front of our nose. Whoever could identify the most spices by the scent wins. It sounds pretty lame, right? It actually turned out to be an hour and a half of complete fun! During the second Black-Out, we pulled the suggestion for Mad Gabs out of the box. Some of us didn’t know how to play, and after it was first explained, Molly actually exclaimed, “That doesn’t really sounds like any fun at all.” And it’s true, if you read the description of the game, it sounds absolutely unexciting. But once again, despite all doubts, we had another evening of laughter, giggling, and good times.

Unfortunately, when the power went out on Monday, a few community members had some other things they needed to take care of including a trip to the bore-hole for the school. (Our school is also out of water!) So we didn’t get to make use of our Black-Out Box. However, ESCOM (Electrical Service Company of Malawi) would not let us down; shortly before dinner, our power went out once again last night!

We ate our dinner by candlelight, a few of people sharing plates or eating right out of the serving bowls since we are still without water. And then after dinner finished, we grabbed the Black-Out Box and pulled out a piece of paper. The first one was qualified. It read “Unless there is a full moon, go to Sand Stadium and enjoy a night under the stars.” Sand Stadium is the football pitch (AKA a soccer field), which earns that name because there is no grass, only sand. Since there just so happened to be a full moon last night, we threw that one back in and pulled out another. It read “Charades!” Alright; this was pretty straight forward. We were going to play charades. But first, a few of us had some small tasks to accomplish before we started anything.

Without electricity, we had no fan-power to move the air around in our house, so the heavy heat was quickly draining all of our energy. A few people drifted off from the common room, and those who were still around were not feeling too excited about playing charades. After about a half-hour or so, we all found ourselves in our common room, and there were a few suggestions of picking something else out of the box, since acting out various charades did not sound like an appealing activity in the stuffy warmth of our house. But, no, we decided to stick with our draw, and to push through it. None of us wanted to play the spice game, and Molly had absolute doubt in the funness level of Mad Gabs, but both of those proved to be excellent Black-Out activities. We pushed ahead.

It was not long after that we were cracking up watching each other jump and gesture in attempts to get our teammates to guess our word. The Black-Out Box was once again a huge success. And it’s making me realize how valuable it is to set aside all of the “important” things we normally have to do so that we can spend some silly time with those around us. And it helps a lot when something like a black-out or storm forces us to do it. It’s funny to consider the fact that we are gifted here in the sense that black-outs happen a few times a month.

Good Soil

Each week, one staff member provides a reflection on a Scripture reading for the students during our all-school assembly. This week was my week to do the reflection, and I must say, I scored with the reading I was given—simple, straightforward, and saturated with symbolism. The reading I had to provide a reflection for was Matthew 13:1-9: the Parable of the Sower.

I focused my reflection on two of the symbols: the seed and the good soil.

It is clear in this passage that when Jesus speaks of the sower, he is speaking about God. And when he speaks of the seed the sower spreads, Jesus is speaking about God’s Grace and Blessings. In this story, those seeds fall everywhere. They fall on the path; they fall on rocky ground; they fall on good soil, and they even fall among the thorn bushes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think God was a pretty careless gardener. But that’s not the point. Through this story, Jesus tells us how no one is excluded from God’s Grace and Blessings. God’s Grace and Blessings falls upon all of us, and it falls in abundance. However, this leads to my second point.

Although God pours Grace and Blessings on all of us, only some people will bear fruit. Jesus warns us of this by using the symbol of the good soil. It is only those with hearts of good soil that will bear the abundant produce of thirty, sixty, or a hundredfold. In this way, we are challenged to cultivate our hearts, nurturing them with the nutrients of virtues and preparing them to receive the abundant Grace God pours upon us.

St. Paul, a Yoga Pro

A few posts ago, I wrote about my morning ritual of stretching with yoga postures and taking time to meditate and pray so that I can better live my day with flexibility—physically and otherwise. After reading the second reading from Mass today, I feel like St. Paul must have been a yoga pro.

The reading came from Paul’s letter to the Christian community in Philippi. He writes,

“…I have learned to be satisfied with what I have. I know indeed how to live in humble circumstances; I know also how to live with abundance. I have learned how to cope with every circumstance—how to eat well or go hungry, to be well provided for or do without. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
~Philippians 4:11-13

Though at first, Paul seems a bit cocky in this passage, he makes it clear that it is not by his own ability that he has achieved this level of flexibility and adaptability; it is through the Yoga Master that Paul is able to become a yoga pro. And that’s something to strive for.

I know there are still many circumstances in which I’m not very good at living with love. When I’m hungry, I can be pretty selfish. And when I’m tired, I’m just darn cranky—ask my brothers or any of my past roommates. I think this reading is a great reminder to draw strength from Christ in those times of struggle, while also drawing that same strength from Christ when everything is going our way.

This reading also helps me to remember not to get too cocky when I am able to live with love. When you think about it, everything we are able to do has been a gift given to us, not something we constructed in ourselves. And if I have any hopes of making it to the pros, I’m going to need God’s help.

“Religious Materials”

If you are going to send a package to a foreign country, don’t instruct your mom to put “Religious Materials” on the customs slip unless the box actually contains “Religious Materials.”

My mom very generously offered to send some packages to me, and because packages sometimes get “lost” through the normal postal service she decided to send them by DHL. Based upon the recommendations of the volunteers who have been here for more than a year, I told my mom to write “Religious Materials” on the customs form, since “Religious Materials” are not something a thief would be looking for; my instructions to do so were a huge mistake.

Since I can easily see this story becoming a 30-page novel if I write in my normal style, I am going to outline the series of events with bullet points.

• Early September: My mom offers to send me some packages with a few necessities such as my malaria medication, some extra t-shirts, and some other things, as well as some gifts to give the students during the Christmas celebration we are planning and some treats/snacks for the house.
• Mid September: My mom confirms the packages were sent by DHL, and they should arrive in a few weeks.
• 25th of September: I receive a phone call from DHL Karonga notifying me that I had a package waiting for me to be picked up in Karonga.
o I later receive a message from Ryan Dugan that customs in Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi, wanted to speak with me.
o I receive a text from my mom telling me two packages are on hold in Lilongwe; she’s not sure why.
• 26th of September: I receive my package from DHL Karonga full of delicious snacks and treats for our house.
• 27th of September: I speak with a DHL Representative named Steve from the DHL office in Lilongwe. He informs me that I have two packages labeled “Religious Materials” that customs has put a hold on because they want to know what types of “Religious Materials are in the package.
o I tell Steve that I’m not sure what all is in the packages. I tell him that they were sent by my mom and they did include some prescription medication, but that the rest was probably religious books, teaching materials, and maybe some other things to be used by the Catholic Secondary School at which I volunteer.
o He informs me that customs needs to know what exactly is in the package, and he asks if he can have permission to open the boxes.
o I ask him if I can try to contact my mom to find out what is in the boxes.
• Due to the challenges of communicating across continents, I am unable to contact my mom.
• After a weekend out of town, I finally get a hold of Steve again on September 30th. I give him permission to open the packages. My friend Steve tells me he’ll give me a call back after he opens the packages.
• October 1st: Steve calls me and informs me that there are no “Religious Materials” in the package. (I kinda saw that one coming, and I’m feeling like an idiot for telling my mom to write that on the customs slip.)
o I ask Steve, “So what does this mean.”
o Steve replies, “Well, there will probably some duties to be paid.”
o Since cell-phone time is very expensive here, I tell him, “Okay. Can you find out how much the duties will be and call me back?”
o Steve agrees to do so.
• October 3rd: Steve calls me back and tells me the fees customs wants to charge amount to 54,000 Malawian Kwacha. That equals about $385.71US.
o I think to myself, “Holy !@#$!!!”
o I tell Steve that I’m a volunteer and there is no way I can pay that.
o Steve is very understanding, and suggests to me that maybe I can come down to Lilongwe (an exhausting 8 hour journey from Karonga) and meet with customs.
o I tell him it will be very hard for me to leave campus, and I am not sure if I can get transport all the way to Lilongwe.
o I ask Steve if there is a phone number at which I could call someone from customs, and he tells me he will have to look it up.
o I agree to see if I can find transport to Lilongwe while Steve agrees to look up a number for me to call.
• October 7th: I call Steve to tell him I’m not sure if I have transport to Lilongwe, and I ask him if there is someone I can speak to from customs.
o Steve tells me someone from customs will be coming into his office in a short time, and he will call me back.
o Steve calls me back and tells me he has a customs officer with him.
o I speak to Mrs. Jemombo, a customs officer.
o My cell phone continues to run out of units and our phone call gets cut off several times.
o I am able to convey to Mrs. Jemombo that I cannot afford the 54,000 Kwacha fee.
o Steve calls me back and tells me that Mrs. Jemombo has left, but that he can meet with her again and try to negotiate the fee.
o I thank Steve for his work, and ask him to call me back after he meets with her.
o Steve calls me back and informs me that he was able to negotiate the fee with Mrs. Jemombo, working her down to 12,000 Kwacha per package. This is still much more than I would like to pay, but I consider it a victory and tell him I can pull together the funds.
o Steve asks me if I could come to Lilongwe to pay the fee. However, it has to be before the end of the weekend since the customs officer he has been working with is transferring to another location on Monday.
o I tell him I will have to look into transport and will call him back when I find it.
• October 8th: I am able to find a ride to Lilongwe, and I call Steve to tell him that I will be there tomorrow afternoon.
o Later that day, my ride falls through, and I have to call Steve to tell him that I can no longer make it to Lilongwe.
o Steve asks me if I can make it to Mzuzu and pay the fee at the DHL office there. (Mzuzu is only about a 4 hour journey.)
• October 9th: I call Steve and tell him I have transport to go to Mzuzu to pay the fee, and I will be there Friday afternoon.
o Steve asks me to call him when I get to the DHL office in Mzuzu so he can confirm that I make the payment.
o I make plans to take a mini-bus to Mzuzu, to withdraw the money from an ATM with my ATM card, and then pay the fee.
• October 10th
o 5:30AM: My alarm goes off and wakes me up.
o 6:08AM: I board a mini bust to Mzuzu
o 10:57AM: Just as the city of Mzuzu comes into sight, I realize I had forgotten to take my ATM card out of my desk.
 My ATM card is still in Karonga, and I do not have enough money to pay the fee.
 I try to come up with ideas for what I can do. My first thought is to go to Western Union.
o 11:17AM: I go into a shop and buy some cell phone units—I figure I’m going to need them—and I ask the shop owner where I could find a Western Union
o 11:34AM: I walk into Western Union and explain my situation to one of the tellers.
 My first plan was to call my mom and have her forward me the money. The teller reminded me that Chicago is 7 hours behind Malawi, and the transaction wouldn’t come through for another 4 hours when the Western Unions open there. Now what am I going to do?
 I ask her if I can have my friends in Karonga wire me some money.
 The teller asks me if I know Sarah or Emily. I’m amazed and tell her I live with them.
 It turns out the teller is named Emma, and she is friends with two of the other volunteers who live with me!
 Emma tells me that I could have them wire me money through Western Union, but I will be charged a pretty sizeable fee.
 She then suggests having my friends deposit the money into an account with the National Bank of Malawi in Karonga so that, with her help, I could withdraw the money from the National Bank Branch there in Mzuzu. In this way, I wouldn’t get charged any fees.
o 11:57AM: I contact the volunteers in Karonga and explain the situation.
o 12:39PM: The volunteers reply, informing me that they can make the deposit, but that it might not be until 2PM.
o 12:45PM: I explain to Emma that my friends will be able to make the deposit, but that it might not be for an hour or so.
 I ask her if there is somewhere I can get lunch while I wait to hear from them.
o 1:30PM: After eating lunch, I hear confirmation that the money has been deposited.
 I meet back up with Emma who then escorts me to the National Bank where we will make the withdrawal.
o 2:15PM: After waiting sometime in line, we find out the money has not come through.
 I call Kat, the volunteer who mad the deposit and she agrees to look into it
o 2:22PM: Kat calls me back and tells me that the Bank in Karonga is offline, so the deposit hasn’t made it into the system yet.
 Emma agrees to wait with me until 3Pm when the bank closes to see if the Karonga branch comes back online
o 2:58PM: Still no money, so we give up for the day. I decide to stay in Mzuzu for the night so that I can settle the issue in person.
 Emma offers me a place to stay at her house.
 I gladly take the offer.
 Since Emma has to return to work until 5PM, she arranges for a ride to take me to her neighbors house until she gets off.
o 3:26PM: I meet Emma’s neighbor named Rachael. Rachael actually lived in Karonga for several years and is a Roman Catholic who was in the choir and a liturgical dancer for the Masses at Chaminade Secondary School. Her father still lives in Karonga. Rachael has two very adorable daughters, and we quickly pass the time chatting and getting to know each other.
o 4:45PM: Emma’s niece Desire comes to pick me up from Rachael’s house, and shows me to Emma’s house. Emma arrives home shortly, thereafter, and we spend the evening watching movies, including one Nigerian movie that proved to be very good. Emma also had numerous visitors who probably came over to meet the Muzungu visitor from Karonga.
o 10:32PM: Emma shows me to their spare bedroom where I sleep the night.
• October 11th
o 7:00AM: I wake up and share breakfast with Emma while watching an Usher Live Concert DVD.
o 7:45AM: We depart for the bank to make our withdrawal, hoping that the branch in Karonga came back online.
o 8:17AM: We make a successful withdrawal of the money, and I make my way to the DHL office.
o 8:45AM: I meet Blessings, the DHL manager in Muzuzu, who graduated from Chaminade Secondary School in 2000. He was the Headboy (equivalent to a Student Council President in the US, only with many more responsibilities) of the school. I pay the customs fee, and I head back to the bus depot.
o 8:53AM: I speak with Steve who confirms that the packages will be on their way to Karonga once the accounts department confirms my payment.
o 10:33AM: I board a mini-bus back to Karonga after exploring Mzuzu for a while.
o 2:01PM: I arrive home to the volunteer house in Karonga, greeted by a strip of toilet paper tape stretched between our porch pillars with a sign reading “Cross the Line for Success!” Molly, Kat, and Emily all came running out cheering and clapping and gave me high fives as I walked through the front door that had a specially made sign reading “Welcome Home!”

It was quite the adventure, and I hope I never have to do anything like it again.

After it all was finished, I asked Steve how I could avoid a situation like this in the future. He said, “Well, nothing that was in the packages was really an issue for customs. Most of it was simply foodstuff. The real issue was that what was on the customs form for declaration did not actually describe what was in the box. Next time, simply articulate what is in the package, while making sure that it doesn’t add up to more than $20-30 worth of materials. As long as it’s under that price, customs won’t care, and nobody is going to be interested enough in it to steal out of it.”

If I had only been friends with Steve a few weeks earlier.

Farewell Dugan

Ryan Dugan left Karonga today. He's on his way to Tanzania, and after a brief stop in South Africa, will be heading home after 14 months in Africa.

Though I only spent 2 months living with Ryan, he has had a heavy impact on my experience thus far. His words of advice, counsel, support, and humor have gone a long way to make me feel at home. Particularly, I will never forget the way that he cared for and supported me while I was sick for my first two weeks here. He offered so much to me during that time, and treated me, from the first day, as if I was a member of his own family. For that, I cannot thank him enough.

I was extremely sad to see Ryan go, and he will be sorely missed in our community. However, it truly was a gift to have him here for these two months, so I cannot neglect to apprecaite the gift that he has been to me.

Thank you, Ryan.

Planet K Dot A

Though we volunteers are working hard to serve our community here and engage the people and culture of this place, we also need some recreation and fun time to energize our service. This Sunday, the school threw a going away party for Ryan Dugan, who left today after serving here for 14 months, and a welcome party for the four of us who are new to this place.

The party went smoothly and was quite enjoyable, concluding with a small amount of dancing and some cold beverages. As the dancing ensued, one of our fellow staff members suggested we go out to Planet after the party finished. Planet K Dot A is the one and only dance club in Karonga, and it is a place that the volunteers have enjoyed visiting with fellow members of staff.

After a quick run home for some food and hydration, we loaded up into a pick-up truck and drove into town. We arrived at Planet around 8:30 or 9PM, and after getting a few drinks, we took over the dance floor for the next three hours.

In my short time here, I've already developed a strong fondness for Malawian music, so I was happy to hear a good bit of it there, but the Planet also plays a good bit of American hits. For those of you from UD, you can picture Planet K Dot A as the equivalent of Tim's only a little bit cleaner, a little bit classier, and with mirrors all over the walls. (The mirrors proved to be a great deal of fun to dance with.) One other thing you will find at Planet K Dot A is the very forward Malawian men who are quite aggressive in dancing with Muzungus (white people), male or female. At times, it felt like a sporting event trying to dodge, distract, and displace the local dancers who were getting a bit too personal; nonetheless, it was a good time!

Below is a self-captured photo of Molly, our friend Chimwemwe(means Joy in Chichewa), and myself dancing in front of the mirrors.

I think I have a hot.

Yep...I have a hot.

What's a hot you may be wondering...

Well, it's much like a cold: running, stuffed nose; sore, itchy throat; a nasally voice; and much less energy than normal. The only difference is that it's 110 degrees Fahrenheit outside, unlike the below-freezing temperatures that normally usher in the common cold. And now, it's even a bit worse because the heat make you sweaty, and I want to do anything but the normally comforting activities of cuddling up in a warm blanket, eating some hot chicken noodle soup, while sipping on some hot cocoa.

Luckily, it's not that bad, and I am starting to feel better already. Nonetheless, a hot is definitely just as annoying as a cold.

Adaptation and Change

Every morning, I wake up and spend about 15-20 minutes doing yoga stretches. I’ve known for some time that I’m not a morning person, and my yoga/meditation time is my way of waking myself up and preparing myself to respond to the world with love rather than a bunch of grumpy grunts and moans. I need that time. Without it, I’m tight and stiff, lacking energy, and unhappy when others ask something of me; and I don’t just mean physically.

This morning, I had a very interesting conversation with my housemate Kat over breakfast. We were discussing our reasons for coming here, our priorities, and our hopes for being here. We talked about aspects of community living, simplicity, living in solidarity, and the actual work that we are doing. It got me thinking a little bit about flexibility.

All of us have hopes and goals for our life. We have responsibilities and work that we aim to accomplish. These things don’t necessarily have to change. Our hopes, goals, responsibilities, and direction of work can all remain the same over long periods of time. In fact, they can probably go without changing over our whole life time.

To live in community with people, however, requires constant adjustment to those people. Community living demands adaptation. In a community, people must be open to change; for if they aren’t, something is bound to break.

Living simply and in solidarity with the people around us also requires flexibility. It requires a constant openness to adjusting our style of living to match more appropriately with those who share this earth with us. We can’t simply determine how it is we wish to live and then set off living that way. Instead, we must be aware of and willing to conform to the needs of those around us. Otherwise, we’re not really living in solidarity with them—we’re just doing things our own way.

This brings me to my final point.

Aren’t we all in community with each other? Don’t we all share this earth together? Doesn’t what we do affect many others?

So how flexible are you? How willing are you to adjust to those around you? Are you aware of their needs? Are you willing to conform to those needs?

How open are you to adaptation and change? Or are you tight and stiff, unhappy when someone asks something of you?

For me, I think I need some more yoga time in my life. I still respond to the world with too many grumpy grunts and moans…and I don’t want to bind myself to breaking.

3 Baboons And 8 Hours Travelling

Today, Matt, Kat, Molly, and I had to drive all the way down to Mzuzu. We thought we were going to pick out our Temporary Employment Permits (TEPs), which are what will enable us to stay in Malawi legally. Half of the trip between Karonga and Mzuzu is through the mountains. There are some gorgeous landscapes as we drive atop monstrous mountains with Lake Malawi to the east. As we pulled around one switchback, I looked out my window to find three large baboons squatting on the side of the road, startled by the sounds of our massive coach bus, and observing us with some fright as we chugged by. The boy next to me who I had made friends with by sharing some of my M&M’s pointed to them with a smile. I smiled and chuckled, appreciating the fact that I was in Africa and that I had just seen three wild baboons on the side of the road.

We got to Mzuzu to find our TEPs were not yet there. Instead, we had to pay the money for our TEPs, which would then be sent to Blantyre. After the money arrives in Blantyre, our TEPs would be sent to Mzuzu. At that time we will need to return to Mzuzu and have our passports stamped by immigration. However, our trip wasn’t a complete waste. We did receive letters which verify that our TEPs have been approved, and those letters verify that we are safe to stay in the country.

After a short meal and a few quick errands, we boarded a mini-bus (Which we got for 700 Kwacha!!! Our best price ever!!!) and made it home by 10PM. It’s a pretty drive, but at four hours each way, it’s exhausting.

Driving Stick In Africa

One of the roles that the volunteers here at Chaminade take on is transporting students to the hospital in the school car in the evening after the school driver has gone home. Driving permits cost a great deal of money here, so very few Malawians can legally drive. Since all of us Americans have valid licenses, we get called on a lot to drive.

Tonight, there were a few students in the hospital, and the school needed someone to transport food to the students. Dugan, the regular volunteer driver, had just received a phone call from his parents back in the states; and when you get a call here from the states, it takes priority over everything else. Dugan had given me a short lesson in driving an African stick-shift last week, and he deemed I was fit to drive tonight. I got the keys from Mr. Nyangulu and recruited Emily as my co-pilot.

The trip there went quite smoothly—that is if you don’t count the ten minutes it took me to get out of the garage. My first issue was the fact that there was no light in the car or the garage, and I couldn’t tell if the gear stick was in reverse. The school car is a small pick-up truck that beeps when you put it in reverse, and so I rejoiced when I finally found reverse and heard the car start to beep. But then came my second issue. I first released the foot brake and then gradually began to lift the clutch; but we didn’t go any where. I pressed the gas a little, and the engine revved, but no movement. It took me another two minutes before I realized that I still had the parking break on; this was going to be an interesting ride. Luckily, though, things went very smoothly for the rest of our trip. The highlight of the adventure was on the way home when a massive black bull ran out into the middle of the road about ten feet in front of the car chasing an only mildly smaller brown cow. Maybe they heard I was throwing rocks at one of their friends today and wanted payback.

“That’s why we need a fence, Andy.”

As I was finishing up that last post, Ryan, Matt, and I heard a loud “Mooooo” float into our room. The noise was a bit louder than usual, but cows commonly graze past our house, so we thought nothing of it.

A few minutes later, Ryan paused and, looking out his window, said “It’s eating your hay, dude.”

Matt said, “What?”

“It’s eating your hay.”

Just this past weekend, our soon-to-be garden was covered with rice stalks. These stalks will serve as ground covering to provide the ground shade from the sun, keeping the moisture in, while also reducing the erosion caused by the strong winds we experience and the heavy rains that are soon to come.

Our friendly neighborhood cow was standing in the middle of our garden, ruminating over our rice stalks.

Matt and I threw on our shirts—it’s not proper for Muzungus to be shirtless outside (See “Shirtless in Karonga”)—ran out the door, and proceeded to chuck rocks at the cow until it meandered off our property.

“That’s why we need a fence, Andy.”

SNOW DAY!!!

THAT’S RIGHT! I HAD A SNOW DAY TODAY! …Well…kinda…

Much like a potential snow day, we went to bed last night expecting there to be classes while holding a small hope that classes would be cancelled. Also much like a potential snow day, we were told to tune into our radios this morning to hear the final verdict. I fell asleep last night aware of the work I would need to do today while discreetly crossing my fingers and hoping I would hear word that the schools would be closed.

To our hearts’ delights, we woke up to discover that there would be no school today! However, it was not snow that cancelled classes. In fact, the temperature reached near 40 degrees Celsius today (which is more than 100 degrees Fahrenheit), and the sun shined all day, keeping any sparkle of snow thousands of miles away.

Apparently, today is the day that Malawi celebrated the Muslim holiday of Ramadan. So why weren’t we confident that school would be closed today? Apparently, in Malawi, the day for celebrating Ramadan is not officially scheduled in advance. People have a good idea of when it will be, but, from what I have been told, the holiday is not declared until the morning after the moon is sighted. For the past few days, we have been without a moon, so last night, when the slightest sliver of the moon was sighted, today became the holiday. And just like a snow day, school was cancelled.

Shirtless in Karonga

I’ve been working on grading and lesson planning much of today, and just now, I started reading through some of the emails I downloaded from the internet on Monday. It got dang-hot today, so it’s been nice to remain as sedentary as possible.

As I was reading my emails, I heard Matt say “Good idea, Dugan.”

Dugan replied, “Yeah, I don’t know why I had a shirt on.”

I stopped, looked at them both, and found them shirtless.

Without saying anything, I pulled off my shirt and resumed my email-reading; they both laughed.

It’s hot, and I’m going to miss Dugan.