Birth Control

Birth control was not something I thought I would need when I made the decision to come to Africa. Boy, was I wrong. Birth control is something my community and I need quite desperately. Otherwise, we might have a bunch of little ones running around our house in a number of months. However, contrary to some of the local gossip, the birth control is not for us volunteers; it's for our dogs.

The Therese Volunteer Community has two very beautiful and friendly female dogs named Special (named after the popular Carlsburg beer here) and Teteza (means "Protection" in Chichewa). Though Teteza is still in her pre-teen years, we are expecting that quite soon, she'll be ready to start bearing offspring, and we do not want that to happen. Special, on the other hand, is in the prime of her life, and the guys in the neighborhood know it. About two months ago, Special was in heat, and we had every male dog in the Karonga area coming to see if Special wanted to "play." Right away we saw the intentions of these boys, so like any caring parent, we locked our little girl in the house and wouldn't let her go out at night. We also heard that we could go to the public hospital and pick up some expired birth control injections, which would still work on a dog. Several members of our community went to the hospital to inquire about the birth control, but none were successful. Luckily, keeping Special inside and throwing rocks at every male dog that even looked at our house kept her from getting pregnant. Unfortunately, from what I've been told, dogs go into heat about every 21 days until they become pregnant. So about three weeks ago, the boys started coming back around. Special hated being inside, and she would usually end up going to the bathroom in one of our rooms. Most often, it was the room where we store our food. She has a particular liking for peeing on our potatoes. We NEEDED to get some birth control for her.

We all made a commitment to go to the hospital and see if we could convince them to provide us with the injection. We have several friends who are nurses here who had already expressed willingness to inject Special once we got the injection.

About two weeks ago, Molly and I were heading into town to pick up some snacks for a party with the MIRACLE staff. On the way into town, the brothers had to stop at the hospital to check up on one of the students. As the brothers got out, I looked over to Molly and said, "Should we try to get the birth control." She looked back at me with a silly, somewhat hesitant smile. We both knew we needed to get it, and so we decided to go for it.

We walked into the hospital, giggling about what were were about to do, and found our way to the pharmacy. We knocked on the door, and after a few minutes, a receptionist of sorts came to the door. Molly explained that she was looking for some birth control and was wondering if she could get it there. The receptionist said she would have to get a pharmacist, so she went back to another room. A few minutes later a man came out to see what we needed. Molly explained again what she was looking for, this time using depoprovera, the name of the birth control injection. The pharmacist asked, "What do you need it for?" Both of us looked at each other confused, and Molly responded, "Birth control." The pharmacist knew that, so he tried again by asking, "Is it for service." Now slightly more confused, Molly and I looked at each other not knowing how to respond. "What do you mean," we asked. The he said, "Is it for service or personal use?" Aha! We still didn't know what service meant, but personal use sounded like it was what we wanted so we went with that. (One of the volunteers before had explained that we wanted to use it on our dog, and they said that wasn't allowed, so we were avoiding that explanation.)

The pharmacist said that we would have to see someone else about that, so he told us to follow him. He brought us back outside the hospital and led us toward the maternity ward. He pointed to a woman in blue who was standing in front of a long line of women with their babies, and she was weighing each of the babies. Neither of us wanted to interrupt this woman's work just so we could get birth control for our dog, but we decided just to ask her where we should go, and see what happens from there.

The nurse led us inside the small building she was working outside of. When we walked in, we found ourselves in a narrow hallway crowded with women standing and sitting in all open spaces, waiting for someone to respond to whatever their particular needs were. The nurse had us follow her to a door marked "Family Planning," and knocked on the door. The door opened, and the nurse instructed Molly to go in. Not wanting to leave Molly alone in some little room in a public hospital in Malawi, I followed Molly inside. We found three nurses in the little room. They greeted us and then asked us how they could help us. Molly explained what she was looking for once again, and the nurses looked at us both with questioning eyes. One of the first questions the main nurse asked while pointing to me was, "Is this your husband?" Molly looked at me, smiled and giggled a little bit, and responded "Yeah!" Her tone suggested more of a, "Sure, he can be my husband if that's what you're looking for." Malawi is a deeply Christian country and to say that the two of us weren't married would be a good way not to get birth control. The two of us shouldn't be having sex if we weren't married. This is very true, but we couldn't tell them that the birth control was for our dog. I remained mostly silent for all of this.

The nurses laughed and smiled a bit, one of them making some kind of joke in Chitumbuka from what I could pick up from nonverbals. Then, the main nurse asked Molly a number of questions:
Nurse: "Do you have a baby now?"
Molly: "No"
Nurse: "Do you want a baby now?"
Molly: "No"
Nurse: "When do you think you would like a baby?"
Molly: "...Uuhhhh...I don't know...mmm...5 years?"
Nurse: "Why don't you want a baby now?"
Molly: "We're not ready yet."
Nurse: "So you want to practice family planning"
Molly: "Yes."
[The nurse pauses, smiles, and looks up at me.]
Me: [In a very confident and self confirming voice] "Family planning is important."

Molly just about burst into laughter at my ridiculous comment, but she did a good job of containing it. I giggled a bit after I realized how silly that response was, and I'm laughing now as I write about it. The nurse looked at me as if I was brainless.

The nurse saw that we were looking for birth control, that we didn't want to have a baby, and that we wanted to practice family planning. Both Molly and I agreed afterward that the nurse knew we weren't married, and we figured they saw that we were just excited to try to get birth control, which means they probably thought we were doing you-know-what.

Finally, the nurse agrees to get us the birth control. Success! Or so we thought. The nurses exit the room, leaving Molly and I to laugh about what had just transpired, what we got ourselves in the middle of, and how to go about the rest of the situation. We even came up with alias names so that it would be harder for anyone to identify us. We decided on Desmond and Molly Jones, inspired by the characters in Obladi Oblada by the Beatles.

Soon after, the door opened again, and the main nurse returned with a box of the birth control injection. After setting the box down, the nurse immediately went for the windows and began closing them, probably to provide some privacy. Molly and I glanced at each other with frightened looks, knowing what that meant. Quickly, we both spoke up, "Uhh! We...have a question!"

We explained to the nurse that we have a friend who is a nurse and we were hoping that we would be able to take the injection home so that our friend could give the injection. We told her that Molly was a little nervous about getting the injection and so she wanted the comfort of having a friend do the injection. The nurse was a little bit confused so we explained it again. Once she realized we were asking to simply take the injection with us, she told us that they only do the injection there and they can't allow someone to just take it. Disappointed, we decided we had pursued this as far as it goes. We told the nurse that we weren't comfortable enough and that we would come again later. We then both ran out of the office, out of the maternity ward, and back towards the car, laughing, giggling, and smiling about what we had just done. We're curious still about what kind of news about this event will spread. As we were walking away from the maternity ward, Molly heard someone call her name. She works with many women in the villages through the Women's Empowerment Program, so it's a good chance that one of those woman were in line and saw the two of us coming out of the Family Planning office. Hopefully, they didn't infer what we were doing there, but if they did, and if word gets back around to our places of work, we'll probably have some explaining to do. The positive thing is that all of our co-workers know that we don't want anymore litters of puppies, and they know the lengths to which we have gone to try to prevent Special's pregnancy. As ridiculous as it is, it won't sounds too uncharacteristic for us to explain to them that we were trying to getting birth control for our dog.

:) Where else could I get into something like this? :)

A little on the brighter side

Recently, many of my posts have been pretty heavy. And let's be honest, sometimes, that heaviness just gets to be too much. And honestly, though this past week has brought some twists, turns, and troubles I wasn't necessarily anticipating, there are many things starting to look up. AND THAT IS GREAT NEWS!

So some things from the past week. We celebrated Chaminade day here at Chaminade Mission on Friday, January 23rd. Traditionally, Marianist Institutions celebrate a day in honor of Chaminade on January 22nd, the day of Chaminade's death. For practical reasons, we moved it to Friday. The day was filled with great fun and sharing. Our goal in planning this day was to bring the different parts of Chaminade Mission more closely together. There are three schools running on this campus: Chaminade Boarding School, Chaminade Open School, and MIRACLE Technical College. From what we've heard and observed, these three schools haven't spent much time interacting in the past few years, and there has been a clear space between students, staff, and members of each of the schools. We aimed Chaminade Day to be a day to bring all of this people together under the Family Spirit inspired by Chaminade.

The day went quite wonderfully, starting with small groups (we called them families) facilitated by various members of staff from each of the school and including a generous mixture of students from different grade levels, different schools, and different classes. The family time was followed by a skit and talk about Chaminade. The skit was quite hilarious; we've got some real characters here. Then we started a variety show with a number performed by us volunteers and the Marianist brothers. Molly, Sarah, and I choreographed a dance, which we then practiced with the brothers. We used the song ABC, by Michael Jackson, and it was a BLAST! We then shared Mass, all ate lunch together, dance in a disco, and ended the day with a football match between the two schools. Aside from a few gliches, and the fact that all of us volunteers were absolutely worn out, the day was a HUGE success. We are all looking forward to next year when we can get the teachers and staff more intimately involved in all of the activities.

Then, on Saturday, all of us volunteers wanted to cut loose a little bit so we went out to Planet K dot A, the dance club here in Karonga, and danced the night away. We all were pretty tired, so we didn't want to stay too far past midnight, but we didn't have to try to hard to cut the night off. Planet K dot A has mirrors on all of the walls, and a number of the mirrors are a little bit broken. In the euphoric state I usually find myself in when dancing, I failed to take enough caution and put enough distance between myself and one of the broken mirrors. With one quick shimmy, a thrust-filled shake, and a passionate swing of my arms, my elbow made direct contact with the corner of one of the broken mirrors. About 30 minutes earlier, Molly had done the same thing, but since she isn't quite as passionate of a dancer as I, her injury was not much more than a paper cut. I on the other hand, had gouged a chunk of my elbow skin out an was bleeding profusely. Consequently, our night of dancing was over, and we fled the scene before I could get my blood on anyone (minus the man who grabbed my forearm because he was upset that I had stopped dancing). All in all, it was a really fun night, and my cut isn't really that bad. I will have a cool scar to tell people I got from dancing, but it's not anything that a standard band aid can't cover well.

Then this week, four of the six community members in my house went down to Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi. As a result, Kat and I were holding down the fort, and after our first one-on-one romantic dinner we thought it'd be really cool to have dinner with our cooks and their families. Our hope was to bring food over to their house and cook with them, but they expressed to us that they were "not ready" so we respected that. They did say, however, that they would be interested in coming to our house to make dinner with Kat and I, and they each brought one of their children: Speeway, who is Vicky's 7 year old daughter, and Tumpale, who is Alick's 2 year old son. They are both absolutely adorable, and it was such a joy to have small children in our house! We made a Vikcy's favorite meal, fish with cassava flour, and had a wonderful meal together. Kat and I walked them all home, and it was a great time of sharing with them. They are becoming more and more like family to me, so much so, that I don't think I can say much longer that they are like family--they are family to me. It was a great night, and the stars were absolutely beautiful to walk home under. (Oh! And don't tell the Malawian Aviation Department, but I walked across an airport runway for the first time in my life! Alick and Vicky live on the other side of the airport and we cut across the runway because doing otherwise takes at least twice as long!)

And finally, yesterday we invited all of MIRACLE staff over to our house for a social. MIRACLE has had a lot of stress going on, a lot of changes going on, and a lot of frustrations and difficulties. Going into yesterday, we weren't fully sure if all of the stress at MIRACLE would be a damper on the social, or if the social was going to be just the right thing for this time. The second proved to be true! We welcomed almost 20 or 30 members of staff to our house, and for many of them, it was the first time they were in our house, invited as guest, and as equals to us. We share minerals (soft drinks), popcorn, biscuits (cookies), and ground nuts with them. There were some board games played, much chatting, and even a good bit of dancing! By the end of the night, it was clear that all felt welcome and had enjoyed themselves. I must say our volunteer community did a great job of intermixing with all the different members of staff, moving around and chatting with everyone. It was also really cool to see the teaching staff, the support staff, and our voulunteer community intermingling so well. At the end of the night Sarah and I drove anyone home who needed it, and it was clear that it had been a great event. It set up an awesome precedent for future events, and we are excited about the prospect of bringing the MIRACLE and Chaminade staffs together with this type of event. Maybe even nicest of all, I got to have two awesome conversations with two of the women on staff at MIRACLE. Both are a good bit older than me, both have families and children, and both definitely have much more life experience than me. One of the challenges I've been facing here is figuring out how to interact and relate with people who are older than me, from a different culture than me, and who seem to have such different life experiences from me. Last night, I found ways to connect with both of these women, and I felt that I was finally starting to breach the gap between being a mere acquaintance with them into having more of a friendship with them. It was wonderful!

So all in all, it was a beautiful week! There are still some things within my community that are a bit tricky, and might only be getting trickier to deal with, but this week was also a new beginning for that in a number of ways. There are definitely going to be things that are very challenging for me to deal with, but I think there is great hope in what's ahead.

A few weeks ago, I think I mentioned that I felt like the dawn was starting to bring light to thigns around me, but that the sun had not yet shown itself. I don't want to jump the gun on saying this, but I think the sun might be showing a little sliver of itself as it's working it's way out from behind the mountains before me. I think the morning is here; it's time to start this new day.

Not yet...

So I'm not out of the stormy waters just yet. However, I do think I'm getting a better understanding of the things that are lifting me up and the things that are pulling me down. Now, it will be a matter of minimizing the experiences with the things that pull me down and maximizing the experiences that lift me up. It's hard, though, because I'm not exactly sure what minimizing the experiences with the things that pull me down means. Does it mean avoiding those things all together, trying to ignore them, trying to reconcile them, or something else. I've done a pretty good job increasing the experiences of things that lift me up, but when you still have some big things pulling you down, it feels like whenever you take one step up, you get pulled two steps back down.

There have been at least four or five times in the past three weeks when I've been overwhelmed and exhausted by the instability of all this and of myself. I've wanted to just come home and not have to fight to keep my balance here. However, the thing that is keeping me going is my belief that great beauty can come from great pain. And that beauty will never come if I just pack my bags and call it quits. I do believe that I'm being presented with an opportunity to transform my ability to love, my view of myself, my view of others, and my view of God. I just wish this transformation wouldn't take so long, and I wish I had a better idea of how to respond to the challenges being presented. At times, I'm overwhelmed with feelings of being lost and alone, and I am continually doubting and questioning myself.

Last night, with the help of an overseas friend, I came up with a small game plan for my next step. To be honest, I have no idea how it is going to go or if it's even the step I should be taking. Additionally, after this attempt, I'm not sure what other options there are for me. I'm just so tired of all this. I want to get back to being the regular me who feels comfortable, confident, secure, loved, and excited about life.

Sing

I mentioned in a previous post that I joined the Church choir for Mass on Sundays. This has proven to be EXTREMELY uncomfortable at times, particularly when I don't know any of the Chitumbuka words that are being sung. It's also pretty uncomfortable during meetings when they talk about me. This last week, they talked about how I wasn't at the practice on Saturday. Then the choir director defended me because I was there at the time that the practice was supposed to start but no one else was there, and that is why I missed the practice. All of that was in Chitumbuka. Then later on in the meeting, one of the members gave a speech about how "we all should be helping Andy since he doesn't know the songs." He then talked about those in the choir who are struggling should find a buddy to listen to so that we can better learn the songs. These moments are weird, awkward for me, and uncomfortable. But then, there are the moments where we are just singing. There are the handful of songs for which I've learned the words and the harmonies. And there are the songs to which I can dance right in line with the choir members next to me. Those moments are the moments I'm singing for. The moments when the person next to me, African, black, not as educated, not as wealthy, is just the same as me. Those moments when I can show them and myself that underneath my American clothes and beneath my Muzungu skin, we are just the same. We both were created by God, we both love God, and we both want to sing and live for God. What else is there better to do in these moments than sing?

This Friday our Chaminade campus is celebrating Chaminade day. We will be having a grand Mass with all the students from MIRACLE, Chaminade Boarding, and Chaminade Open Schools. A joint choir has been created, and I'm also singing with this choir. The practices we have had so far have reached moments in which the Holy Spirit is visibly and audibly present in the movements, expressions, and voices of the choir. It rocks.

And finally, to commemorate the inauguration of President Barack Obama, Molly and I sang our National Anthem to the entire MIRACLE community during this morning's assembly. I thought it was really fun, and the students and staff seemed to be thouroughly entertained by us two white people singing our national anthem partly out of tune because we have a new president today. As goofy as we might have looked or sounded, it's moments like that that make life wonderful. Life may bring us all kinds of troubles and difficulties, but if you can still smile, if you can still sing, and if you can still dance, what else do you need?

Just open your heart and sing.

Healing; getting back to being ALIVE

So things still aren’t perfect. There are still things that bother me and upset me. But I’m trying to move on. I’m tired of thinking about and talking about the dark sides of life. I’ve been spending too much time on that, and I haven’t been spending enough time on actually being alive. I’m finding I just need to let go of those things that are bothering me. Holding onto them has just been pulling me down. I think that is how evil gets us. It uses our own stubbornness and pride against us. We just need to let go of it, move on, and look at all of the good in this life, even if only as tiny as a butterfly. This is where I think healing happens: letting go of the dark, and focusing in on even the smallest bit of light.

Today was a national holiday in Malawi for a Malawian man named John Chilembwe who fought against the British rule. He was the first person to stand up against the evil rule controlling Malawi to fight for freedom, and he sounds like he was a pretty sweet dude. In honor of him, there was no work or school today, so our volunteer community decided to go to the lake for the day. Though things in my community aren’t exactly smooth, and there are still some things that I’m struggling to deal with, it proved to be a very good day.

When we arrived to the lake, there were about 30-40 Malawians, mostly children and mothers on the area of the beach we went to. I was excited about this because I still need some space between myself and some of my community members; all these other people gave me lots of opportunity to interact with someone other than the five people in my house.

On my way into the water, I greeted one of the boys who was by himself and looked a little bit older, maybe about 10 or so. After diving in, I came back out of the water to grab one of the balls we brought. I asked the 10 year-old boy if he would like to play with me. His face lit up with a magnificent smile, and almost instantly he started walking towards the water with his hands in a ready position for my throw. We tossed it back and forth 20 times or so, and I noticed about five or six more boys swimming their way over to us. I asked Anuswe if his friends wanted to play; they did. For the next hour or so, we played various forms of catch, from throwing the ball back and forth, with me saying each of their names so that I could learn them, to trying to hit the ball up in the air like a volleyball set from one person to the next to see how many people could hit the ball up before we lost control of it; i-t w-a-s a b-l-a-s-t! Eventually, without the energy of a 10 year-old, I started to get a little tired. I backed off a bit and let them all play with the ball. Then, wanting to add something new into the fun, I found Anuswe and asked him if he knew how to do a flip out of the water. Though he nodded his head with affirmation, I wasn’t sure he knew what I was talking about. I tried to speak clear English and explain to him to put his feet in my hands and then, on the count of three, I would throw him up into the air to do a back flip. He got in the ready position, and I counted: O-n-e….t-w-oo-oo-oo….THREE! Anuswe went flying up into the air, almost instinctively doing a perfect backflip landing his feet straight down in the water. I’m pretty sure the huge grin on my face was only half as big as the beaming smile that blasted from Anuswe’s face as he emerged from the water. For the next half hour, I flipped Anuswe and all of his friends to their hearts’ delight.

Though it was nothing really that grand or special, or deep, or profound, playing with those boys was positive, and it was happy, and it was joyful. It was very simple, and it was very good. It helped me to appreciate the simple wonder of this life we live, something I have been neglecting far too much for far too long. I felt alive today, and it was good.

This Is Hard

So this isn’t that easy. The pain of loneliness I sometimes feel is an overwhelming weight to bear. At times, I wonder what I’m doing here in Malawi. Why am I going through all of this just to be here?

Well, I felt called here. I felt there was some reason for me to come here. I still believe that; it’s just that I don’t yet see that reason. Maybe I will never see it. But I do believe it’s there. And I believe that the pain I’m feeling right now is a cross that is ripping open my heart, stretching it in a way that it never has been. Let me tell you, it hurts to be pulled like this. I really do have a hope, though, that all of this work is for something. I do believe that this stretching and pulling that hurts so much will leave my heart bigger than ever. I have hope that I will be able to share more love with the world after coming through this challenge successfully.

I can’t half-ass it, though. I have to pour my whole heart into it. It’s just so hard to open my heart up to new things when it still wants to cling so tightly onto old things. It’s a burning conflict in my heart, and I’m looking forward to the day when I rise above it. I just hope that day comes soon.

Time To Change

So this week went pretty well. It definitely did not go without its fair share of stumbling blocks, and it also brought to the very forefront one of the most challenging leaps of faith I’ve ever faced. (When you see what that challenge is, you’ll see that the leaps of faith I’ve made in the past haven’t been that challenging. Nonetheless, this has been probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to let go of and put full trust in God.) In addition to that deep leap of faith, this week also brought a sense of peace that I haven’t since I was back in the States.

Last weekend I quite an experience in meeting the owner of a lakeside lodge/hotel who invited us to come visit him at his place, only to find he had his workers prepare a magnificent buffet of fish, chicken, and steak. We ate the dinner on a white-table cloth table, set out with fine china, on the beach looking out at the lake, which pears across to the mountains of southern Tanzania. The sun set behind us as we ate the dinner. As dinner finished, the owner began instructing one of his waiters to bring various drinks to our table and encouraged us to partake, “all on the house.” It got to the point where we said we had to drive home, so we could only take so much. It was at that point that he invited us to stay in some of his open rooms and to feel free to stay till the next morning. We took him up on it and had an enjoyable rest of the night. I had a lot of fun relaxing and hanging out with my community members. It was also really interesting to interact with this hotel owner who comes from a very wealthy family that is Malawi-born.

My weekend experience didn’t exactly end on a great note, though. I ended up getting very frustrated and jealous, and I got down on myself for feeling so. It took some conversations Sunday night and Monday night to get myself out of it. The conversation Monday night was intense, serious, scary, challenging, and ugly. As scary and ugly as it was, the resolutions I came away from it with are ones that I think I needed more than anything.

One of the major resolutions I came away with is that I can’t spend so much time focusing on, thinking about, and talking about the negative things I’m experiencing. I’ve been dwelling far too much on the things that bother me, the things that disappoint me, the things that frustrate me, the things that make me jealous, the things that make me feel bad about myself, and all of the other negative thoughts and feelings that have been rolling around in my head. I realized through some very honest and very challenging conversation that I’ve spent so much time thinking about and talking about the negative that I haven’t left room for living life. It was so hard to swallow, but it is true. And I’m tired of living that way. I want to be full of life again and rid of all this negativity. So, one of my new year resolutions is to dive full fledge into life. My new focus is on the people and activities that I can get involved with here. My goal is to come alive and be alive in every moment that I possibly can. I’ve wasted too much of the past five months being frustrated, feeling worthless, feeling lonely, feeling disrespected, feeling unwanted, and feeling insecure. I’m tired of it, and it’s time to change.

This past week, I’ve started with two wonderful things that are already giving me life. I’ve started a dance group at MIRACLE, one that I wish to also start and combine with Chaminade, and we had our first gathering and dance practice. It was a blast and totally life-giving! The second thing I got involved with is the choir at the Mass I go to each week here at Chaminade. One thing you should know is that the entire Mass is in vernacular: Chitumbuka. This means the songs too! Though I didn’t know the words to some of the songs, I could sing quickly enough with only a few of the songs, and I knew the meaning of virtually none of the songs, I loved it. I loved just being able to sing with people again, I loved how in just one day I already feel like I can hear and speak the language a good bit better, and I loved how I was mixed right in the midst with the people who live around me. I haven’t had enough of that last one at all during my time here. My hope is I can keep these positive things going, I can get involved with more positive things, and through all of these positive things, I can begin establishing the positive relationships I have been starved of during the past five months.

One of the other resolutions I came up with as a result of that ugly Monday night conversation is my need to stop focusing so much on just a few or just one relationship here. I’ve made a commitment to let go a bit of the relationships I’ve been depending on to make room for some new relationships that I haven’t been investing much into. As scary as it is to consciously decide to let go of the most supportive relationships I’ve had during my time here, I fully believe this is what I need. And as much as I don’t want to allow for some space in those relationships that I want to be closer than any other relationships, I have felt quite clearly called to do so. I think this is what I need right now. And luckily, in talking with those it affects, I have confidence that my relationships with them will remain. It’s just scary to let go of something you’ve been holding onto so tightly.

Lastly, I want to share with all of you the power of faith I have witnessed throughout this experience. For those of you who have known me, I’ve had a relatively strong faith since at least high school. Through this experience, I have been challenged to embrace that faith in a way I never have before, and I have been called to open myself to God more than I thought my spirit was able to do, more than I thought I’d ever be asked to. For the past few months, my spirit has been dead and dying. Now, I’m trying to place my trust more fully in God, and as scary as it is, as painful as it is, as difficult as it is, I do believe it will lead to new life. Though I’ve been in so much pain these past few months, by trying to let go of that pain and embrace what I know as love, I believe I am coming into a new life that is beyond the beauty of anything I’ve known. I praise God for the beauty and life that can grow out of this sometimes ugly, dark, and lonely world.

I’m going to end this here so that I can get back to being alive here. But before I go, I want to thank, once again, all of you who have extended your words of encouragement, shoulders (even if only virtual) to lean on, and prayers for renewal. This experience has been extremely difficult for me, but the encouragement, support, and prayers I have received are why I believe I’m beginning to come into the light. For this, I cannot thank you enough.

Thank you.

Thank you

Though the struggle is not over and is probably far from it, I cannot thank all of you who have extended your support to me through simple messages and prayers. It's not easy at all to put yourself out there, to let others know how you really feel and how your really are. In fact, it was scary as hell, and I've never felt more vulnerable. At the same time, I feel it is exactly what I need. In some ways, I think it's exactly what we all need. I think we all spend too much time being afraid to be who we really are, flaws, inadequacies, imperfections and all. And by doing so, by being afraid to be who we really are, problems and all, we limit the intimacy we are able to share with people.

So thank you. Thank you for letting me be me, and for responding to me openly and honestly, with care and with challenge.

I haven't yet reached the light of day, but thanks to many of you, at least the sun is starting to rise.

An Honest, Even If Ugly, Update

[I wrote this blog on New Year's Day.]

Before you read this blog, I want to warn you that it is more personal than any of the other blogs I have written. This blog also strays from the upbeat topics that I have typically written about during my time here in Malawi. If you aren’t interested in reading a reflection and description of some of the personal challenges I’ve been facing, please feel free to skip this blog.

Though I would prefer to avoid any potential pity posed by writing about the serious struggles I’m facing, I feel that it would be a lie to anyone who reads my blog to continue posting about things like trips to the bore hole, or encounters with snakes, or any of the other intriguing experiences of living in Africa without first acknowledging the severe difficulties that have become entangled in every moment of my time here. This blog will acknowledge those difficulties. Also, this blog will hopefully open me up to continue writing about my experiences here, difficulties and all. In truth, part of the reason I have not written any blogs in the past two months is because I haven’t known how to write about the various things I’m doing here without including the negative things I’ve been feeling here.

While most of my blogs probably don’t indicate it, I’ve really been struggling here. For the past five months, I’ve been immersed in a continuous struggle that has only become more challenging as the months have gone by. The struggle began with the mere adjustment to a new place, to being away from home, my family, and my friends. As I look back, that part of the struggle was a cake-walk compared with where I am now. The next part of my struggle stemmed from the difficulty I have had in developing relationships with people here. I couldn’t seem to connect or relate with my co-workers, and the behavior script set by the staff here discouraged any type of personal interaction between students and teachers; for example, chatting between students and teachers was explicitly identified as “dangerous,” and we were directed to maintain “social distance” at all times. This was not the place for someone who not only thrives on, but survives on personal relationships with people. The challenge then continued with my volunteer community, which has continually struggled with not only establishing a common mission, purpose, and vision for our presence here, but has more intensely struggled with establishing a common respect for the individuals who make up this community. We have struggled to get along, to say the least, and have failed to support one another, to say some more. From there, my struggle has only gotten more complicated, more personal, and more debilitating.

When I made the decision to move myself to the other side of the world for two years, I expected that where I was going, I would find things that fed me, nurtured me, excited me, and sustained me. Instead, I’ve only found things that drain me, frustrate me, and hurt me. I also expected to find a purpose for my presence here. I expected to find the value of a university educated, American, 22-year old coming to serve one of the economically poor populations on the planet. Instead, I have failed to find a purpose and value of my presence. Furthermore, I haven’t even found a meaningful way to serve the people I meet here. Since I’ve barely even had any meaningful interaction with people here, how in the world could I be serving them? With this lack of purpose, absence of value, and failure to serve, I’ve felt virtually worthless here, beginning shortly after my two month mark here, at which point I finally got my feet on the ground. Since then, I’ve only felt more and more useless and more and more disappointed in myself. After all, I am a very capable person, so why shouldn’t I be able to identify some purpose to my presence here? Why shouldn’t I be able to see the value of me being here? Why can’t I find ways to offer myself to others? Why am I not fed, nurtured, excited, or sustained by anything I’m involved with here? Why am I so discontent with everything?

These disappointing questions have only led me to get more and more down on myself. Without the academic success I’ve enjoyed my entire life, and without the numerous meaningful clubs, organizations, and groups I’ve been a part of over the years, I’ve become more insecure about myself than I have ever been in my life. This insecurity has led me to doubt almost everything I have believed to be true about myself and has caused me to become more selfish and jealous than I’ve ever been in my life. It has gotten to such a point that I now become angry with the two best friends I have here when they spend time together or do something together. I’m jealous of their relationship, and I feel as if I’m in competition to be close with them. The fact that I’m jealous only leads me to further disappointment in myself. And that disappointment in myself has led me to easily become frustrated with those around me, especially my community members. All of these things are uncharacteristic of who I’ve always thought I am, and I’m now finding myself question whether I really am who I thought I was. This leads to even more disappointment in myself, that I can’t continue being the person I want to be, the person I believe me to be. I’ve gotten so frustrated with the fact that I’m not succeeding here, that I’m not even getting by, that I’m struggling to even merely be me. With all of these things, my mood has been dark and down, at best. My attitude has been beyond negative. And my actions have been void of the energy, love, joy, and spirit that make me feel alive. I’ve been broken. I felt dead.

There are probably more details I could describe about the intense mental, emotional, and relational mess I’ve been in. But I think, by this point, I’ve made the picture clear.

About two weeks ago, a week or so before Christmas, I hit an absolute low, or at least, the lowest I’ve ever felt. Thankfully, my friend Molly was here and able to help lift me up. She also allowed me to honestly acknowledge the struggle I’m facing. She sat, and listened, and allowed me to bring to surface the mess I’m in; she enabled me to get this mess out from inside of me. I do believe it is because of her, and because of the guiding words of a few dear friends, that I’m able to write about these things here. Again, I would prefer not to broadcast this internal struggle for the whole world to read; I don’t like the pity it calls forth, and I don’t like the burden it places on others. I also don’t like admitting that I’m flawed, that something isn’t okay with me. I’d rather not let the world know that I feel messed up emotionally and mentally. I’d also rather not let the world see that maybe I don’t only feel messed up, but that maybe I really am messed up. However, I am pretty sure that I’m not the only person in the world to have gone through something like this; I’m not the only person to have felt these things. I’m also pretty sure that what makes a situation like this go from bad to horrible is when the person in the situation holds everything inside, and doesn’t seek help. So maybe, just maybe, by sharing this part of my story, I will enable someone else to feel free to talk about what they’re feeling, even if it’s ugly, and even if they don’t want anybody else to see it. In my experience…in this experience…things only get worse when you hold onto it all by your self.

Two days ago, I hit another rock bottom. I was jealous and angry at my two best friends for doing something together, for being happy while doing it, and for doing it without me. The blatant selfishness of those feelings drove me even deeper into disgust of myself. However, I’m quite sure that if it weren’t for one of those best friends, I would have already self-destructed in depression. The fight is not over for me, and this morning, as Molly and I continued to discuss what I’m going through, we began to consider whether I’d be better able to fight this fight back home; or maybe more accurately, we began to consider whether staying here will only continue suffocating me. The thought of going home without living through this experience scares me. I have no doubt that doing so would only increase my feelings of disappointment, lack of confidence, and feelings of jealousy, guilt, and failure. But if staying here continues to kill my spirit the way it has for these past five months, I need to take that option. I can’t stay here and continue to suffocate. Right now, the option of going home is on the table for me. But I’m not taking that option yet.

Today was a new day; it’s a new month; a new year. And, perhaps providentially, I woke up early this morning, and I could not fall back asleep. My soul was too unsettled to slumber. By God’s Grace, I looked outside my window to see a sky hinting of magic. Tired and worn down, I decided I needed sleep more than a pretty sky. Fifteen minutes passed, and my mind, body, and soul still sat unsettled. I decided to get up. Maybe a peaceful sunrise would be a good start to this new year. I put on some pants and laced up my shoes, grabbed my camera, and walked out the door. When I reached a clearing that allowed my eyes to absorb the scene above me, I found myself staring at a sky stirring with vibrant pinks, fiery oranges, and bottomless blues. I have n-e-v-e-r witnessed a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g as BEAUTIFUL as what my eyes found above me; it W-A-S beauty.

I believe I have hit a point of brokenness where I have nowhere but up to go. The only question lies in my openness to allow God’s love for me fill my heart and set me back to flight. My hope is to do that here, in Malawi, so that I can come home to the US in a year and a half telling a story of a death resurrected to a new and brilliant life, very much like the dark night last night burst into a brilliant day this morning. However, I won’t let this situation crush me. Yes; this is a new year and a new start. And with the start of this new academic year here at Chaminade, there is great potential for me to get up off the ground and set my wings to flight. But, if I find myself still starving for life in a month or so, I can’t stay. I will have to go home, and I will have to find a way to let God heal me, restore me, and bring me back to life there. That is not my hope, but if I must, I must.

For you, who have taken the time to read this, and who have shared your care and compassion with me, THANK YOU; as my housemate Kat said to me today, there is no way for someone to get out of a situation like this without the help of another human being—there is no substitute for the support of another. By reading this, you have given me support. All I ask more of you is for your prayers. I’ve been surrounded and consumed by a lot of darkness lately; any petitions for light to come into my life might just be transformational for me. I also ask that if you ever feel feelings like some of the ones I have described above, please find someone you can talk to freely about them; there is no substitute for the support of another.

Thank you for supporting me.

Love,
Andy

Jump Start

So...I think part of the reason that I have had trouble posting on here is because I've wanted to write blogs about a lot of the things that I've experienced and done over the past two months or so that I've been absent. I've decided that is a silly plan, and isn't going to work because there is too much that has happened, and I'm much too verbose in my writing to effectively write about all of the things that have gone on over the past month. So instead, I'm going to try to jump start my blog writing by posting a bullet point list of things that I've experienced/done/saw over the past two months. Here goes nothing. Hopefully, posting will resume a once-to-twice a week basis from this date on. The following are the titles of my blogs had I written them.

*11/21/08-Invigilation
*11/23/08-Roofing Grass and Manure
*11/25/08-Community Breather
*11/26/08-Finished Shelf
*11/28/08-Thanksgiving!
*11/28/08-MIRACLE On Break
*11/29/08-Madame Longwe: a wonderful woman
*11/30/08-Sofas!
*12/2/08-Carpentry and Joinery
*12/5/08-The Shack
*12/7/08-"Redecorating"
*12/8/08-One Year as an Ember
*12/9/08-Hopes and Expectations Unmet
*12/13/08-A Slimy Pit of Mud and Mire
*12/17/08-Screen doors, not quite yet
*12/19/08-Kayie: Chitimba's little greeter
*12/20/08-"COME PLAY!!!"
*12/21/08-"Wash the dishes, dry the dishes, have a cup of tea!"
*12/22/08-A weekend away at the Beach
*12/23/08-Homesick; to the fullest extent
*12/24/08-At home with the fam, via Skype
*12/24/08-A 5 hour Christmas Eve Mass, in Tumbuka! Yikes!
*12/26/08-Christmas Joy
*12/27/08-Spirit Finally Dreaming Again

Long Time Gone!!!

Hey Everyone! That is, if anyone is still checking this thing!

Sorry I've been gone for so long! Things picked up a bit as Chaminade and MIRACLE came to a close, so I didn't have as much time to type up blogs. Then, our internet antennae was struck by lightning and our router got fried. It took at least a week or two to get the net back up and running, and now our connection is slower than ever; maybe this is finally a little bit more like what people think of when you tell them you're moving to a little town in the middle of Africa.

Anyways, I hope to start producing blogs again and staying in touch with all of you. It's strange, but writing the blogs makes me feel a bit more connected with everyone back home, even when I don't know who is reading it or if anyone is reading it. I'll try to write a summary blog of the past month or so to catch you all up. As most of you know, I struggle with concision, but I really will try to keep this month summary short. Check back here in a few days to see how well I did with it.

Love you and miss you,
Andy

Another Water Adventure

Our water is still out, not making it up into our tank, and therefore, not making it into our house. The builders of our summer hut need a good bit of water for the cement each day, so what little water we’ve had has gotten eaten up pretty well. Last night, Matt determined that we would need to go to the bore hole and get water for the next day. We would need to use the brothers’ truck, so we offered to get them water as well, and we needed water for drinking and cooking too. This big job called for us to borrow the school’s massive 1000 Liter container, so we called the boarding master and made sure it was okay for us to borrow it. “No problem,” he said.

Matt and I made plans to leave after our community meeting which we said would end at 9PM. Shortly after 9, we went over to the brothers, hopped in the truck, and headed over to the kitchen to load up the container. When we got there, however, we found that the container was half full, making it practically impossible to move!

We decided on a plan of action to go back home, grab all our big buckets, and then proceed to empty the massive container by dipping buckets into the top and pulling the buckets out like we would from a well. I found some rubber bungee cord in the truck and quickly mastered the skill of throwing the bucket down into the container and pulling a full bucket back up. After filling up a few large containers in the back of the truck, Matt asked if I needed a break, and I took him up on it. On Matt’s second attempt, I heard a plop followed by an “Oh, crap!” I looked at Matt and he sheepishly responded, “I let go of the cord, and so the bucket is stuck down there.” Okay, that’s understandable, I thought. I pulled a metal rod out of the truck and used it to fish for the bucket. I gave it back to Matt, and he went back to pulling up the water. About four buckets later I hear, “Shit!” as Matt starts to laugh. Before I even looked at him, I knew he had let go of the cord again. He was holding a flashlight in one of his hands, and when he threw the bucket down, he grabbed onto the small string hanging from the flashlight. Unfortunately, that string had nothing to do with the bucket, and our fetching pail was once again floating at the bottom of the huge container, well out of arm’s reach.

“You’re fired,” I nonchalantly told him.

I pulled the bucket back up, and finished emptying the container myself. I did find the humor in Matt’s mistakes, and we chuckled about it as I pulled up the last few buckets.

At some point during all of this, we saw the Headmaster walking over with is flashlight. The sound of the bucket hitting the water made a loud plop, so we figured he had heard the noise from his house and came over to investigate. He asked us what we were doing, we explained the story, and then he said “Okay,” walking away, probably thinking we were crazy Muzungus with some crazy idea.

After we got the water level down low enough, we decided to see if we could get the container into the back of the truck. With the help of the night watchmen, who did an excellent job of watching us two Muzungus make fools of our self throughout the process, we heaved the container up into the back of the truck. Alright, we were ready to go!

We saw the large lid to the container sitting on the ground, and, though we had never seen it used, we thought it wouldn’t hurt to put it on the lid. Matt hopped up into the truck bed, and I lifted the lid up to him. He tried unsuccessfully to put the lid on for a few minutes, and then all of a sudden, I heard the lid sliding and looked up in just enough time to see the massive lid fall into the giant container. Matt, myself, and the night watchmen all broke into hysterical laughing. Best of all, the top of the container was absolutely covered in dirt, so now the 50 liters or so of water in the bottom of the container were unfit for drinking. After composing ourselves, I hopped up and pulled the lid out. I tried to get it on myself, but found that the lid definitely did not fit anymore. I think the container had been used enough times that the shape didn’t match up with the lid anymore.

We were then on our way. But first, we had to dump out the dirty water that was now in the container and drop off the couple of buckets we had filled while emptying the large container. We headed back towards our house, taking our time, so as not to lose any of the precious water.

On the way, I noticed some large bugs crawling across the path. They looked like roaches, and there were at least twenty of them so I tried to steer the truck so as to hit them. Right as we drove over them, I heard all kinds of loud crunching and scrapping. My face fell flat in shock of the loudness of the bugs being crushed. I looked over to Matt, and he had the same look. How did those bugs make such a loud crunch? He then looked back, and said, “OOHHHH, that was the tree!” The container stood several feet above the cab, and coincidentally, the container crashed into the overhead branches of a tree, just as we drove over the crowd of roaches. Both of us were so amused by our mistaken thought, that we began laughing hysterically once again! So much so, that when we got back to the house and met Molly, we had tears coming out of our eyes as we continued to laughed. She asked us what was wrong, but it took us some time to compose ourselves enough to explain how what had just happened. We both legitimately thought for a few moments that the loud crashing of branches was the sound of roaches being crushed under the tires of our truck.

We then unloaded the water, dumping the dirty water from the container onto our banana trees. It was pretty cool to see so much water waterfall out of the container. We then made our way to the bore-hole. Everything there were as usual, so I’m move onto the next and final experience of our adventure.

We made it all the way home to the 300 meter long drive up a sandy hill that leads to Chaminade’s campus. As we started up the hill, I noticed the engine having some trouble. I was pushing the accelerator and seemed to be in the right gear, but the truck was struggling just to get up the hill. About half way up, we noticed the temperature gauge begin to climb. The engine was overheating! We both recalled Tuesday, when we went shopping with the brothers, and the filling station attendant told one of the brothers that the truck was low on engine coolant. We figured that he had forgotten to get it changed, and we were now overheating. I stopped, turned off the truck, and we decided to roll backwards down the hill to a flat spot where it would be easier to get the truck started again. I suggested that we take some of the water we just picked up and put in the engine, just to make it home.

After popping open the hood, finding the coolant tank, and getting some water ready to pour in, we prepared to open up the cap to the tank. Matt reached for the cap but before he got to it, I said, “Wait, we should get a rag or something so the steam doesn’t burn us.” We couldn’t find a rag, so Matt took off his shirt, and soaked it with water. With me standing a few feet away, Matt reached for the cap and gave it a small turn. He reached again, and turned it a little more. The third time he reached in, the cap suddenly burst off sending engine coolant spraying 15 feet into the air. Matt instantly began running up the hill. In shock, I stood there for a moment before realizing that I should run as well. We both ran about 30 feet away before turning back to see the engine still spraying coolant up into the air. It lasted at least 10-15 seconds. And both of us looked at each other with “Holy Shit!” looks. I asked Matt if he got burned, and he was fine. I was too was standing far enough away and didn’t get sprayed with anything. At that point, we decided to call the brothers and get them to come help us out. It was past 11PM, so we hadn’t wanted to wake him, but when the car your driving explodes, it’s usually a good idea to call the owner.

About 10-15 minutes later, the brothers come driving down the hill to our rescue. Brother Paul surveys the situation and has a good feel for what happened. He showed us how to pour the coolant in, which was a good thing, because had I done it, I would have poured too much of our cold water right into the engine. Bro. Paul showed us that you need to put small amounts of warm water in so that it has time to heat up before it gets into the engine. If you put a lot of cold water in all at once, the temperature difference between the water and the engine could be too great and cause some damage to the engine.

After filling up the coolant line with water, we closed up the hood and headed back to the house. It was midnight by the time I got into bed; so much for a quick run to the bore hole.

Alive Magazine

Alive Magazine is a Marianist publication that highlights the ministries of the Marianists throughout the world. The next issue will feature a few articles about the Chaminade Mission here in Karonga, and you might even get to see and read a little bit about me.

Jan Dixon, one of the writers for Alive, has been here for the past few days, interviewing away and trying to get a good feel for what this Mission is all about. For me, she probably didn’t come at the best time, because I’m still trying to figure out what the heck I’m doing here, but I’m interested to see what, if anything, from my interview with her she will use.

I’ll let you all know when it comes out. Don’t worry, Mom. She took down our address in Chicago and always has a copy or two sent to the home of the people she interviews. I think it’s supposed to come out in January, but don’t quote me on that.

Wanna’ Go Up To The Uranium Mine?

Yesterday started off as a typical Saturday. I slept in a little bit, woke up, leisurely made breakfast, and then found myself in the hammock at the end of our veranda to do some reading. Then our Jim, who works for the Uranium mining company nearby, showed up. We asked him what he was doing in our neck of the woods, and he responded by telling us that he had to bring some food up to the mine and had two extra seats in his car. He was wondering if any of us wanted to go for the ride.

It’s not everyday that you get asked to go to a Uranium mine, so I was all in! He’d be back in a few hours, and we had to dress in long sleeves, long pants, and laced-up, close-toed shoes. Sweet!

The drive up to the mine takes about 45 minutes to an hour from our house. The road is pretty rocky, very curvy, quite a climb, and treacherous at times. Jim informed us, however, that, even in the month or so that he has been here, the road has improved dramatically. Considering the fact that the Uranium will be coming out along this road in a few months when production starts, they will have to get it into pretty good shape.

When we arrived at the mine, we had to check in with security, put on some reflective safety vests, and pick up our visitors card. Jim warned us that there are a couple upper level executives at the mine who wouldn’t be too happy to see unnecessarily visitors checking out the mine, but he said that the fact that we were transporting food, a much needed and desired commodity at the mine, was a pretty good excuse for us to be there; if we didn’t bring the food, they wouldn’t have any.

Since we were only there to bring food to the dining hall, we didn’t have much of an excuse to be peaking around, and we were there for only a short time. Nonetheless, it was really cool to actually get inside the mine campus. We drove past the actual processing mine, which is still being constructed, and headed towards the living and dining quarters. It was a bit of a shock to see so many white people—definitely the highest concentration of white people in this region of Africa—and it was impressive to see all of the heavy machinery, fancy quad-cab pickups, and state-of-the-art living facilities. Approximately 350 people live on the site of the mine. Those 350 are mainly Australians and other non-Malawians who will be working in the mine after it is constructed. Another 1300 people are involved with the construction of the mine; this is where the majority of Malawians hired by the mining company come in. Unfortunately, in three months, when the construction is completed, most of the Malawians will be out of a job. There is no doubt that this temporary job is an incredible opportunity for those who were lucky enough to find a position, but in no way will this mine provide any long term improvements in employment for the Malawian people.

After dropping off the food, we made our way out of the mine, and then stopped at the Health Center in the shanty town outside of the mine. The shanty town is where the 1300 or so temporary workers are living, and the Health Center is Jim’s assignment. In order to save face, the mining company has to provide some kind of development for the local community, and Jim was hired to establish a functioning health center. The mining company could probably care less about how it’s done, but luckily, Jim and his wife Robin, have some awesome experience and seem to be going about the process in an incredibly sustainable and developmental way. From what Jim has told us, the mining company just wanted Jim and Robin to come in and start providing some services to the people who were there. Instead, Jim and Robin are looking into what kind of health services and workers are already in the area, and then they are using those services and workers to develop the health center. This means that even after Jim and Robin are gone, and even after the mine runs out of Uranium and disappears, the local community will still have a solid health center set up and developed to sustain itself after everyone else packs up. Jim and Robin are pretty awesome people and seem to be the good guys working inside a big-time company, which, obviously, is more interested in dollars than it is in development.

Though I didn’t see too much, I never thought I’d see a Uranium mine, even from the outside, so that’s pretty cool.

“Marking Week”

After exams finished last week, we had one week to finish marking our exams and enter our grades onto the report forms. The Malawians here like to have a “Marking Week” where all of the teachers meet in one of the classrooms each day for a week to work on grading their exams. The school promotes this “Marking Week,” and even provides some light beverages and lunch. To me, however, it seems like the most inefficient way to grade exams.

Not everyone shows up every day, or for the whole day (I only went three or four times for about an hour or two each time.), but it is usually a center for conversation. If you were to walk in, you’d usually find somebody looking up from their papers saying something, others will respond, sometimes the conversation is straightforward and informational, other times the discussion will turn into a lively debate with people standing up, raising their voices, and slamming the table as they make their points, all in friendly jest of course. It was a pretty fun way to get to know the other teachers better, and it actually made grading a lot more bearable. By no means was it efficient, but by no means do I think it is supposed to be. I think “Marking Week” is an excellent example of a major difference between African and American cultures. In the US, most everything is about efficiency. If you do something that takes more time than an alternative route, or costs more money than a different method, or uses more energy than another way, people will ask, “Why did you do it that way? This way works much better.” But here, even though the teachers are well aware of the fact that they’d get their grading done much more quickly if they each did the marking at home, or in separate places, and the school wouldn’t have to provide food or beverage for them, saving some of the extremely strained budget, the value here lies not in efficiency. The value here lies in the quality of relationship. They know that by spending the week together slowly grading papers one by one with regular interruptions of conversation will build and strengthen their friendship and bonds with one another; and it did.

"That is what praising God sounds like."

"That is what praising God sounds like."

~Molly Heineman in reference to the incredible jubilation of sound coming from MIRACLE's choir practicing just a few feet away from this computer lab. The sound hits my soul with such strength that my spirit is knocked out of this chair, sent soaring, and typing an email becomes the least of my interests.

Bricks, Water, and Sticks

Today was quite the day.

I woke up when I heard my community members unloading a pickup truck full of brick outside my bedroom window. I was supposed to be with them, but I had put my ear plugs in and failed to hear the poor attempts to wake me up. I was up now, and there was still much work to be done, so no one seemed to hold my extra 45 minutes of sleep against me.

We were gathering bricks to build a summer hut in our garden. A summer hut is the Africa equivalent of a gazebo, and they are a fairly common place for gathering to meet, discuss, or simply relax out of the sun for a bit. We needed 3000 bricks in all, and so we made numerous trips to a nearby village to pick up the bricks, which we were actually purchasing from Vicki, one of our cooks. We loaded each brick by hand into the back of a pickup truck and hauled the bricks back to our house where we unloaded them, and stacked them up. We made it through without too many injuries: one smashed and bloody finger on Molly, a gashed and swollen ankle on Emily, and all kinds of little shards of what seemed to be fiberglass in my still-all-too-American-sensitive hands; apparently, there is a tree right next to the brick pile we were pulling from that has leaves that drop the little fiberglass dust particles. We finished by lunchtime, and since we were still without water, we decided to make a trip to the bore-hole after lunch.

Matt, Molly, Sarah, and Emily all went to the bore-hole, while Kat and I took the school car to transport food to the hospital for the Headmaster’s daughter (she broke her arm earlier this week). Both trips returned around the same time, and so we spent a few more hours unloading the water from the giant 1000 L container, which we borrowed from the school.


Then, a few of us took on the task of debarking the Blue Gum branches that will provide the frame for the roof of our summer hut. The process of debarking them is grunting and tedious work, but I found a good bit of pleasure in it, and found satisfaction in the five big sticks I was able to debark.

Now, at the end of the day, we’re all worn out, sweaty, dirty, and exhausted. But at the same time, I think this day was one of the best days for our community thus far. All of these tiring and grueling jobs brought us together as a team in a way that we haven’t done yet; and I can already see how it has brought us closer together in spirit.

Who knew some bricks, water, and sticks could do just the trick?

Bringing Light In The Darkness

Last night was the farewell party at MIRACLE for Bro. Bill, the outgoing director and the welcome party for Br. Paul, the new director of MIRACLE. Unfortunately, shortly after the program started, the power went out, and since music and dancing was the primary means of entertainment, the planning committee, including Molly, became pretty nervous.

Incredibly, shortly after lighting the room with a few candles, various teachers and staff members stood up and starting singing songs of their own while dancing various traditional dances. Mr. Mhongo, the jolly deputy principle of MIRACLE, was first to take the center of the room, where he firmly and passionately sang a song of praise to God. Then Wanangwa, accompanied by the chorus of all those gathered, sang a song of farewell to Br. Bill in Tumbuka. Both songs were incredibly beautiful and touching, and I was filled with joy by the way these people were so willing to simply stand up and bring some bright and beautiful light to the darkened night.

The power came back on while we were eating dinner, and you can bet that much lively and spirited dancing of all types ensued. It was one sweaty night!

Obama!

I know for a fact that not everyone who reads this was pulling for Obama to win the election, but I do want to express the excitement I feel about his victory!

Last night, Matt, Molly, and I stayed up a little later than usual and watched CNN to get some preliminary information about the start of Election Day in the US. Because of the huge time difference, we couldn’t really get any information about any of the states before we went to bed, so we decided to get up at 4AM, and see who our new president would be.

Though I was pretty exhausted, the three of us got up to walk to the Headmaster’s office where there is a TV hooked up to a satellite dish. When we first arrived, things were looking promising for Obama, but nothing could be confirmed yet. Then, when the polls closed on the West Coast, CNN announced Obama as the winner, and the three of us rejoiced!

While I’m sure that Obama will not solve all the world’s problems, and I am confident that he will make some decisions that will not be good for everyone, for the first time in my life, I can honestly say I’m excited about the American president.

And being here in Africa puts a whole different perspective on things. Though many people may question Obama’s experience and ability to deal with the rest of the world, I have witnessed the immense optimism the world outside the US has for Obama. Furthermore, because of Obama’s unique background, he will be able to represent the United States to the rest of the world in a way that no president ever has in the history of the US. In our ever-increasingly globalized world, and from what I’ve witnessed in populations outside of the US, this is quite possibly the best step the American people could have made in electing a new president. I feel safe in saying the world would have been bitterly disappointed if Americans selected Obama’s rival, and I don’t think many advancements in foreign relations would have been made, or at least, people from this end wouldn’t have been very open to it.

I know my hope in Obama is rather audacious, but I am very excited to see where he will take the American people and the world. Here we go America; let’s see what is possible!

Dreams

Some of you may know that I have a dream book. My dream book is a journal in which I write down my dreams, whether they are something small and simple like my dream to make a hammock in the next few weeks or something grand and lifelong like my dream to make this world a better place. I believe dreams are incredibly important, and I don’t think we utilize them enough; I dream to change that in my life.

Last night, as I was getting ready for bed, I thought about my current state here in Malawi. As I describe a little bit in one of my previous blogs, I’ve been a bit discontent with things. One of those things is the zest that I find lacking in my life right now. Currently, I’m struggling to find things that really excite me here. In fact, the thing I get most excited about is when we have pizza for lunch; that’s sad. Last night, I started dreaming about how I could change that. I wrote in my dream journal, “I dream to live a life of passion. If I’m not passionate about my life, than what is the point?”

I’m now on a mission to find the things here that make me come alive. Because as Howard Thurman wrote, “…what the world needs most is people who have come alive!” I dream to come alive!