The Mulanje Masterpiece

Opportunities present themselves in any and all moments and it is the desire and willingness to accept these moments turning them into realities that transforms one’s day and even one’s life. This was the story of my life this last weekend as I was asked if I wanted to climb the highest peak in southern Africa. Quickly and excitedly, I jumped on the offer hoping to make the climb a success story to retell starting on Monday morning.  

With the weekend now booked and the execution of the trek in place, all that seemed left to worry about was the psychological process of prepping myself for the long haul. In past experiences where I’ve accepted the challenge to backpack or hike up the face of a mountain, I’ve often become disinterested, exhausted, and emotionally distraught. Something about exerting excessive amounts of energy and muscle into climbing from point A to point B has never appealed to my senses. Even for whatever value the view possessed or the bragging rights declared. Would this climb end in abnormal fashion for me?

Friday afternoon arrived and I escorted the children out the school door and off for their weekend. In a hurry to pack, I began exchanging thoughts with my adventurous side contemplating what to bring and what not to bring. The real clincher was deciding how warm I wanted to pack. After all, it had been over 10 years since I stepped foot on an African mountain. I threw in a pair of sweats, a sweatshirt, and my handy dandy Camp MiVoden rain shell amongst the essential shirts and shorts just in case. Observing my nearly full pack, I surprised myself by how fast it filled up.

The Mulanje Mountains

The Mulanje Mountains located roughly 100km east of Blantyre rise majestically up into the sky. What makes them so eye catching are the massive granite faces that stretch outwards in all directions extending to great heights. Even more thrilling are the faces that shoot straight up without the support or existence of foothills. The peaks grow from normal ground level to gigantic mountains in the sky immediately. This would prove unfortunate for us, as we would have to hike up from a lower elevation than desired.

We arrived Friday evening just in time to set up camp at the base of the mountains and begin making supper before the sun laid to rest for the night. We feasted on a braai (Africaans for cooking meat over a fire similar to a barbeque) and passed around humorous stories for undemanding enjoyment. The night would not last long for we needed an early wake up to set us on track on making it to the hut located at the base of the peak that reaches the summit.

The plateau and the remains of the deforestation.

Sabbath morning we set out up the hill at 6:31. Two hired porters carried out packs while we barely managed to carry ourselves. The first couple of kilometers of the hike wrapped around one face of the mountain leading us across a stream several times that had multiple 20ft+ waterfalls and small pools to cool off in. The path eventually led us up onto a plateau where everything looked liked it had recently been burned to the ground. Indeed that was the case. In an effort to eradicate the Mexican Pine, an invasive species to the area, every grass, shrub, and bush had been exterminated. The plateau appeared as a valley in comparison with the many peaks that surrounded it. In one corner nestled away from high winds and heavy hiker traffic was a Chinese establishment housed with minors and mineral enthusiasts. A recent discovery of “rare earth” as it is called has beckoned the Chinese to reap, steal, and profit from every ounce of precious mineral they find and you can believe that not one penny is ever going to further the people and economy of Malawi. A likely story indicates one or two Malawian government officials are getting paid off to keep their mouths quiet while the china men are running away with Malawi’s wealth.

Tropical ferns and bushes.

The jungle in the ravine.

The leg of our two-day journey took us across the plateau and down a ravine filled with immense tree cover and jungle ferns. Swinging from branch to branch came irritated monkeys as they screamed amongst one another. Subsequently, the path led us up the opposing side of the ravine and up over a saddle between two higher peaks. The view from the saddle was incredible! What was even more astonishing was the hut that now came into sight way down in the distance and across the next plateau.

The mid-camp hut from atop the saddle.

We arrived at mid-camp around 12 noon. After an exhausting but visually rewarding hike we were done hiking-for the day. The cabin rested against the base of the highest peak. The view from the deck ironically resembled the view Hitler was given when the German military surprised him with a beautiful mountain top mansion in the secluded mountains of Austria for Christmas for which it was named the Eagle’s Nest. I pulled out a mattress and basked in the sun for what seemed like eternity. Oh how it felt soothing to soak in the rays and have my feet off the ground. Time passed in a hurry and soon the sun had set over one of the westward peaks. The small cabin began to howl as the wind picked up speed. Now, it was cold enough for a sweater and sweats.

Sunday morning arrived before I would have desired it to begin and we were up, once again at 6:30, starting the final leg of the hike-to the summit. The beginning stage of the hike was rather enjoyable and fairly straightforward. In no time had our clearly marked path turned into a jumbled game of follow the red painted arrows atop the many boulders that now covered the face. Past the tree line and ascending above the cloud line, we marched up over, under, and around small, large, and gargantuan granite boulders. The temperature dropped with every breath and the vegetation dwindled with every step.

The view in one direction from the summit.

We climbed up and around the last part of the peak and behold, finally, there before our very eyes, laid the summit in all its glory. Blowing furiously in the wind flew a small Malawian flag attached to the summit marker. All that existed atop the peak were a few small crevices in the rock filled with rainwater and primitive lichen deposits that covered the nooks and crannies. Way above the cloud line, this ‘island in the sky’ stood erect with a clear representation of God’s architectural ability. The wind blew uncontrollably creating a rather high wind chill factor but that didn’t impede my thoughts as a gazed down and around at the vast countryside hand crafted by ‘The Great Designer’. Atop the Sepitwa Peak sitting over 9,000 ft stood a boy who at times feels he has much of life figured out to the very core. Taken back by the sheer size, beauty, and impressive nature of the landscape I realized just how small and insignificant I am to a world full of people just like me. In a moment of deep devotion, I felt surrounded by His grace and cradled by the soft comforting arms of Christ.

The group on a successful summit of Mount Mulanje.

The moment was soon erased by the chattering of my teeth and the little dance I was now performing in an effort to remain warm. We snapped a few pictures, each chugged a coke, and made the trek back down the steep path to the hut and back down the rest of the mountain to the base camp. Left was a small blister on the inside of my right pinkie toe, a few pictures, and an absolutely exhausted body, I returned home safely in one piece. To answer the question posed at the beginning of this entry, yes, indeed the journey had concluded in abnormal fashion. It was a first for several accomplishments for me but remarkably a first for the amount of joy I experienced over a short weekend that cost $11.

Experiencing Lake Malawi

This past week I found myself putting my organizational skills to good use as I began planning a trip to the lake for our extended weekend getaway. Transportation was the limiting factor to our weekend fun and it would take the most time to align as well. I walked to a nearby bus station with Kondwani a Malawian friend of mine so that he could spare me the pain of having to interpret Chichewa. Despite being classified as an English speaking country, Malawi communicates nationally with Chichewa- a branch off of what the Bantu’s spoke way back. Kondwani and I made the trek across town to the bus station for what turned out to be a catastrophe. As we walked into the vendor filled, heavily littered, and jam-packed bus yard with every kind of minibus imaginable as well as true buses peaking through above the roofs of the minibus’ here and there, we came upon a group of ill-minded men. Dazed and bloodshot they were completely wasted. All of a sudden one of them hastily walked up to me and reached his hand into my pocket where my wallet was safely nestled-or so I thought. With my reflexes and what have you I swung my arm down and clenched his hand in my pocket with the strength of my own hand. Our eyes made contact for what seemed like eternity as I gave him the death glare while internally feeling shocked and mildly violated. He peacefully surrendered and let go reeling his arm back out of my pocket and into his own mumbling  “sorry boss…sorry boss…sorry sorry sorry”.

We eventually found the bus office that services the most reliable system in terms of on-time departures according to a printed schedule. There was mixed confusion between the employees about what time the bus was supposed to leave when we inquired though and they also told us that the bus left from a different station in a neighboring city. Knowing that I probably wouldn’t be able to find the depot on the departure day, I kindly asked Kondwani to take me to Limbe so I could see where to go. We hopped aboard an overcrowded minibus or as I like to call them ‘traveling time bombs’ and took the ride with frequent stops to the depot. Kondwani graciously showed me where we would meet the bus and how to pay etc. After I was confident I knew what to do and where to meet the bus we hopped back in another ‘traveling time bomb’ and began the slow but steady trip back to Blantyre.

We hadn’t quite made it halfway when our minibus was pulled over by a road block staffed with four police officers and asked to get out. Stopped and fined for over crowdedness, the driver and his conductor reimbursed us the petty 200 kwacha and we began trekking back towards Blantyre looking for another minibus to take us the rest of the way. I am glad to say we made it back safely after only a few minor hiccups.

The next step was to reserve lodging. I googled and found a really neat lodge nine feet from the water’s shore that had great rates and awesome activities, so I made a couple calls for a reservation. At last, our enjoyable weekend would seem to work out and all the question marks in the itinerary began to transform into exclamation points of excitement. However, the next day we told our American friends about our weekend plans and they showed great interest in the lake too. They decided to join us but only after recommending a different lodge and taking their own vehicle instead of the bus. I am glad to say that both worked out well in the end, but it was my hard work and trip planning that was stripped of its purpose and discarded without even an ounce of thought. It was discouraging and a shame for me.

Friday came and we pulled into the village/tourist center in Cape Maclear mid-afternoon discovering what was in store for us. All checked in to our hostel dorm room, I walked up and down the beach to the left and to the right in search of a dive shop. It felt great to hear the unusually large lake waves crashing into the shore and splashing up my leg. The shore was composed of rather large sand particles that were painful to walk barefoot on-at least until I was able to get comfortable. Beyond where the waves reached laid more and more sand. Built upon the sand for as far as the eye could see both ways along the bay were guest lodges of all different shapes and sizes interspersed among a rural fishing village. In the midst of all of the tourism lived a bustling village that thrived off of fishing and what little farming they can do. As a side note, I would say that the locals were the first inhabitants of the land before the money came in and built up a tourist's weekend getaway. At any rate, it was quite a scene to soak in! You could be lying in a hammock on the beach reading a book and happen to look up to see the great view only to see six or seven little boys jumping up and down in the waves naked.

I found Frogman’s Dive Shop but it was closed so I saved a contact number and called to make a dive appointment for Sabbath morning. The rest of the afternoon and evening I rested under the shade of a willow tree in a hanging woven basket chair suspending from a rope in a tree listening to the songs of Selah and watching the sun slowly turn orange, red, and finally disappearing beneath the horizon. What a way to welcome in the Sabbath! I felt blessed and spoiled.

The night brought forth little wind and enough heat to make it uncomfortable to sleep indoors. So I gathered a few blankets to serve as padding, a pillow, and my Ipod, and found a woven thatched bed on the shore on which to make my bed. Braving the night without a mosquito net I timidly decided to risk the chance of Malaria for a good night’s sleep. I awoke the next morning at 4:50 to the sunrise and the satisfaction of no bug bites. By 4:55 there were fifteen women on the shore with their clothes’ tubs doing laundry. It was a shocking and somewhat embarrassing discovery. By 7 I had been laying in bed long enough and the heat of the early morning had begun making things uncomfortably warm around me.

A school of Cichlids finding algae on the bottom of the dive boat.

A beautiful Cichlid.

I prepared myself for the day, ate breakfast, and headed out for my morning dive. The first of two dives was on one side of the island that faced the shore. At an average depth of 20 to 30 feet I swam with the African Cichlids up, under, and in between the large boulders that rested on the bottom. Native to Lake Malawi, Cichlids are usually found in the United States in dental office fish tanks or tanks in public viewing areas. At least that has been my observational experience with them. Some of the most colorful freshwater fish in the world, these 2-10 inch Cichlids when in a school really fill up the water with color and character. Every which way I turned there were hundreds of these things. Some were blue and black stripped, blue and orange stripped, blue yellow and orange stripped, pure black or white, and others pure orange or yellow. They were very interested in us, which was great for viewing and observational purposes. I took my camera with me and snapped photo after photo.

The glimpse of their world underwater.

The second dive was much the same as the first with the exception of a new location and more fish. It was just as fulfilling and rewarding as the first and the underwater visibility appeared to be slightly better for picture taking. Believe it or not, the dive master reached the low air pressure point in his tank before I did but we both had to ascend together so it made no difference except for an internal personal victory for me. In all, the diving was truly spectacular and being that it was freshwater I didn’t have to look out for all sorts of poisonous fish and invertebrates.

My buddy Mike!

Back on land that afternoon I began to notice a large number of children present. There were so many local children! From infants to toddlers to school-aged children there were kids everywhere. The median age for the village as a whole appeared to be in the upper 30’s sadly and the combination of a lot of happy people with a severe lack of birth control had produced a tremendously bottom heavy age structure pyramid. What looks like a promising graph for a booming economy in the near future that has the resources to care for such a rise in population has been a completely different story for this village and the rest of Malawi for that matter. Already listed as one of the poorest countries in the world and facing colossal amounts of starvation tribulations and malnutrition issues, these children are only going to get older and hungrier, worsening the already devastating situation present. The infant mortality and life expectancy rates are unfortunately off the charts negatively too due to malnutrition, Aids, and other problematic concerns plaguing the people. All three of these graphs present notable concerns that are only adding on to the already overwhelming issues Malawi is currently faced with.

Cape Maclear from the dive site.

I was determined not to let this observation ruin my weekend getaway and ruin it did not. Experiencing the scenery, both above and below the water’s surface was a treat and I highly recommend it for any traveler who chooses to brave a Malawian vacation. After all, the lake is 20% of the country so how could you not? God has provided us with a glimpse of what heaven will look like with the setting he designed and purposely placed on Lake Malawi!

Friday sunset to welcome in the Sabbath!

Rediscovering Joy

Football is more than a just a petty form of passing time amongst the Malawians. It is a backyard business dedicated to providing a steady stream of pocket change to the older teenagers who find themselves domineering amid the eager younger ones. A small semi-level piece of earth formed with even the slightest intent of being a place to kick a ball around, has transformed itself into a dynamic and competitive show down between the few who find themselves lucky enough to play in front of their entire community. It has become the venue for daily evening entertainment. A field that lacks seating, lights, and even grass is cherished and defended by the community to the very last drop of sweat. Without football, the meaning of poverty-stricken requires redefining. With football, the tables are turned as a different kind of wealth emerges; one mutually shared for the love of the game. Onlookers of all ages become one with the match as their eyes attach to the every movement of the ball. Even the businessman, who returns home after a long day at work, stops to watch the 5:00 heroics.

Football provides the avenue to which happiness can be harvested and utilized efficiently. Observing as an alien lost in the understanding of the importance of the game but in attendance with a heavy heart, brings forth mixed emotions. For one, they thrive off of kicking a ball created by wrapping and burning plastic bags together one after another around a small stone until something of weight and size has accumulated. Secondly, the passion and obsession for the chance to score the winning goal has gone unnoticed, forgotten and over looked by many. 

Recently recognized however, the game that provides unity and stability must be shared with other societies as a remedy for deprived pleasure. When was the last time we found simple joy out of something so little? Even when we throw the flimsiest of frisbees to one another we complain about the roughness of lawn or the tree that seems to have been placed right in the way. It’s time we join the sidelines and allow the boys and girls of Malawi to teach us their ways. To educate us on their system of increased happiness, purposeful in play but tolerant in teaching as I blissfully discovered today!

Hope for a Better Life

To be involved with Student Missions providing care for the sick, words of wisdom and a promise of a better future to the weary, an education to the pupil, and a listening ear to those who find comfort and self-worth in the midst of a hard lived life, is to be a disciple of Christ’s character to the people of Malawi. Looking past the little prosperity that exists most notably in the form of brand new stylish black tinted Mercedes-Benz sedans or Limited Edition Land Rovers with rich creamy caramel leather interiors, exists an over-abundance of sickness, starvation, and deprivation that remains a reoccurring theme in the heart of Africa, Malawi.

In a society that has demanded allegiance to customs and commitment to traditions, rests an unwavering influential movement to undermine poverty at it’s worst and starvation at it’s core via the creation of a theoretical economy founded on the premise of ‘hope for a better life’. Although both parties share the mutual goal of having a better life, differences in beliefs and approaches to accomplish the task have caused escalating issues in society. The tension created between two non-agreeing parties has led to the development of what seems to be an air pocketed economy. An economy that stands erect like a sound building, appearing to be rock-solid and unyielding, paving the way in healthcare, possessing agricultural developments that are leading to nutritional improvements, and utilizing government regulated and supported programs, but this has not been the case. In all actuality, the economy through the eyes of a college student lies cracked and fractured, mangled by the roots of it’s problems and plagued by the existence of numerous notable air pockets. These air pockets, better understood as the inability to establish a well working civilized system of industry and commerce, unintentionally crafted by the opposing parties with a desire to preserve habitual customs important to society and the motivated entrepreneur with eyes of a capitalist. Air pockets have created a frail infrastructure only to be evaluated and deemed unsafe by any small or large market businessman that chooses to risk what he has in hopes of achieving ‘a better life’. The charm of modern technology and fascination for a higher standard of living have clashed with existing societal customs to produce internationally recognized issues among many African countries, especially in Malawi.

A society cannot function healthfully when there is no foundation to support the entire general public. The infiltration of many vehicles over the past five years has caused the higher-class citizen to reap the benefits of faster and safer transportation while the majority of lower class citizens remain in despair.

It is through the work of many humanitarian agencies and non-profit organizations that we find the purpose to continue to fight for ‘a better life’ for the people of Malawi and beyond. It is here that the meticulous and steadfast work of the Seventh day Adventist Church for over a hundred and forty years includes me, as my story of being grateful for our church leaders and the work they have accomplished has given me a sense of genuine and humble dignity begins.

Not too long ago Trent and I were making our way back home after a long but rewarding day in the classroom. As we left the compound of Blantyre Adventist Hospital, we began walking along the concrete parking lot parallel with the street, ready to cross, when we were stopped by a young woman in a red Land Cruiser. The young woman whom I’ll call Jen for privacy reasons shielded her eyes with her sunglasses and wore her long beautiful brunette hair in a classic looking ponytail. The few hairs that had managed to escape the grip of her ponytail wrapped around her slightly freckled forehead in a way that conveyed unhappiness with life as it stood. After graciously offering to give us a ride to our destination through the driver’s side window she pulled over into the parking lot for what seemed like a heightened interest in us. It was not until after Jen stopped the vehicle that I realized that she spoke with a distant but familiar accent. Jen was American and for one of the first times in over a month, both Trent and I understood her sentences the first time they were said. 

We began conversing like most Americans would on our purpose for being in Malawi, of all places. Jen was here with a humanitarian food aid project based out of St. Louis Missouri, distributing highly nutritional bags of food to underprivileged children in rural villages across southern Malawi. I could sense a genuine interest for others as I listened to her explain her work. We dove deeper into our first conversation and it didn’t take long to discover that she was a recent graduate from Whitman College in Walla Walla, Washington. Just across town from Walla Walla University, the Whitman campus joins forces with WWU in several academic and volunteer events each year including Service Day projects and musical performances. There exists a shared general interest in each other’s campus, perhaps more so for WWU students who like to use their facilities to study in during dead week before finals. Because all three of us attended college in beautiful Walla Walla, it gave us something in common that allowed our friendship to grow.

That was a day to remember because a new friendship spontaneously but purposely commenced. After we met, Trent and I spent much time exercising, eating out, watching movies, and exchanging embarrassing stories. It was as if Jen was the missing link to our fulfillment of fun that heightened the reward currently being experienced. After all, there is a reason why God destined us to associate with the opposite sex.

One afternoon after a run, we decided that the best thing to do was take a trip to the pool to cool down. Walking from our home to the pool, I began introducing her to the Adventist establishment there on Kabula Hill. Still slightly concerned about what she thought of Adventists, I decided against opting out of having the rare but special opportunity to show her 'our world'. Starting with the Adventist Health office that was next door, I proceeded to show her the Malawi Union President’s home, the cardiologist’s home, the O.B. Gynecologist’s home, the pediatrician’s home, and Marantha’s One Day Church project workshop with several large trucks and shipping crates sitting out front. As I told her the little knowledge that I knew about each one, I began to notice an impressed facial expression sculpt the thoughts she was pondering. She had no idea how extensive our church was right here on Kabula Hill, despite being a close neighbor to it all. She asked questions showing a deepened interest and greater appreciation for it all as we pressed on.

Continuing across the street we entered the main gate of Blantyre Adventist Hospital (B.A.H.) making our way past the emergency entrance as we walked down the parking lot. My tour subsequently took us past the school, the fellowship room for the church, the church itself, the Adventist Lodge and Restaurant, the Union Headquarters, the Adventist Book Center, and finally the Dental office. It was truly a reward to make known our present establishment on just one small hill, in one small city, in one small country, of many others that exist in Africa and around the world as well. It made me feel honored to be apart of something incredibly influential in the lives of people and a necessary instrument in the ongoing work still left to accomplish.

The church is hard at work in Blantyre, making a difference through the work of its members in the lives of those who still don’t know Him. Providing health care, church buildings, literature, education, and the free gift in the promise of a soon return, God has empowered his willing people wonderfully. A perpetual hurricane of love and service is stirring up commotion amongst the people and gaining strength across the desolate soil of Malawi, knocking down the air pocketed walls of the existing handicapped economy.

The presence of God and His word have created a new kind of economy-one that offers a gift of eternal life and successfully meets the demands of both the traditionalist and capitalist’s wishes. The lord’s economy excludes any need for a hierarchal system based on wealth and provides sufficient equality among the people allowing everyone the ‘hope for a better life’.

Needless to say, Jen’s introduction to our church sparked a small glow in her own life. She continues to ask us questions about our belief system and I have noticed a change in what she thinks of the church and us. It has made being myself easier around her and allowed us to fabricate the ongoing relationship that I believe began because of our great God’s leading intervention. 

Finding Comfort in the Storm

One of life’s greatest gifts is a reunion between two lost friends. A reunion that marks the end of being separated and the hopeful restoration of life as it was before. This past week I was reacquainted with lost friends whom I had not seen in 10 years. We were never the greatest of friends for they lived in South Africa and we were in Zimbabwe, but the days we spent together on Safaris in Kruger National Park left a permanent impression on me. Memories of good times were solidified in my thoughts as the kind that provokes excitement to return to the breathtaking continent. Remembering their genuine and authentic hospitality that was graciously shared with my family will surely be treasured for years to come.

Now as a short-term student missionary who’s primary job description reads teaching primary school in the midst of ADRA and Maranatha directors, physicians, and other professionals in the field, I sometimes find myself caught in the sea of inferiority. The value that I posses considering past life experiences, personality, and education hold little weight in the eyes of ‘the established.’ The ones whom have finished their education and have or have not started a family. My father reassures me that the feeling is similar to being a Taskforce worker at any Academy. Stuck in a grey area between fully adult and half child, the teachers though most often won’t verbally admit it, view you as substandard and immature, while the students are required to respect you just the same as any other staff member. This was clearly evident to me in my 4 years in academy and now I’m faced with experiencing the very same feeling I once observed.

Some would say that it’s just a fact of life and one must simply let the experience run it’s course but I object whole-heartedly. My strong willed character advises me to prove my value and reach for the stars. What ever happened to trying to be the best you can possibly be? Is there a reaching point or a climax one must decide he or she has tried hard enough to attain and just let loose? Not in one million years!

Step one requires me to recognize the sin-filled situation as it exists and realize that it’s no one person’s fault. Perhaps it has been engrained in our society over the course of history and has simply been observed as a negative behavioral characteristic in humans as of late. Step two states to work hard to change the systematic procedure of treatment through not deflecting inadequacy as a personal weakness. With remaining disciplined and motivated as the limiting factor, time will begin to turn the gears of change creating a shift in the perception of my value.

It has been the reuniting with this family that has provided sufficient comfort and a glimpse of what is to come if I succeed. They invited Trent and I into their home two nights in a row and have fed us great food. They remain a solidified safe haven and a family who sees the value in us. It is the indispensible value in friendships and the promise in Jeremiah 29:11 that provides a sufficient safeguard. 

Sabbath at Majete National Park

Our quest to find Mufasa! 

As redneck as it gets.

The Shire River in the background. 

A Sabbath Celebration

The first celebration came in the form of four extra hours of sleep. Thanks to a first and second service by the church, Trent and I were able regain our rest and make it for the second service at 11:00. As we made the short walk to the church I began to hum the tune of ‘My Jesus, I Love Thee.’ The great hymn sung by the popular Selah had been running through my head this morning and began to overflow from within me. The thought of possibly singing it in church came for a short time but soon left as I figured it would be unheard of here. However, despite my foolish thinking we paced down the aisle and into one of the middle pews on the left to the piano introduction of the very song. What a treat! We even sang all of the verses-something that doesn’t typically happen. Haha!

The Mission Spotlight updates on the church in Africa that we were are all used to watching with the roof lifted by the strength of the voices was clearly evident in the service this morning. The pianist pounded the keys (literally) and the congregational leader blared into the unneeded mike as the present churchgoers lifted their voices in one accord. Forget dynamics. Every song was an understood triple forte. The energy was alive and well, fueled by an increasing attendance and general popularity of Adventism across the country, continent, and beyond.

‘Children’s Church’ or the children’s story as it is called in the States was given by a woman who shared some pictures of some African animals from an old calendar. A five or six year old Malawian girl then offered to pray the Lord’s Prayer. And the Lord’s Prayer it was. She not only recited the entire prayer but also managed to do so in English-her second language after the local language Chichewa.

The sermon was given by one of the local elders emphasizing the return of Christ. Entitled ‘When He Returneth,” the speaker revisited the life of Jesus from start to finish, emphasizing the sure soon return of Christ where He will not be threatened by the reign of Herod, judged by Pharisees, or interrogated on moral issues by church officials. He then proceeded to play two songs by the ‘Kings Herald’ on the Second Coming. For whatever its worth, they appeared to be appreciated and well liked. Debatable.

Church ended in good time as Trent and I made our way over to a Blantyre Adventist Hospital potluck hosted in the home of Dr. Tiffany Preister- the only Cardiologist in the Country. Together with the general surgeon and his family, the O.B. Gynecologist, two dentists, a senior P.A. student from Loma Linda, an Infectious Diseases specialist, Pediatrician, C.E.O, Hospital Chaplain, and Director of ADRA for Malawi and his family, we feasted on a huge selection of food from all over the world. This was the perfect Sabbath lunch to follow a great morning. What a privilege it was to fellowship with our ‘team’ of Adventist leaders-most of which are ex pats from South America, Asia, and North America. It was a humbling experience much the same for I am only a student teacher hahaha… It’s ok though. Soon I shall join the ranks of the medical world seeking to relinquish pain, provide healing, and educating those on improved health tactics. A life in the science of Medicine is all very exciting.

How Does Life Work?

This past Thursday we received a large blessing in the mail thanks to FedEx. Packaged within five small boxes laid stress reducer devices. Devices in the form of organized, bound, and colored textbooks for each student. Although the shipping across the pond cost more than the priceless treasures themselves, we have been relieved nonetheless. No more photocopying and stapling to stay organized and on track with the schedule. No more lost papers or mutilated packets. The replacement of color in the text and pictures has surely brought happiness to the classroom.  Intrigue has bubbled forth from the students in many forms; most notably through a wide array of questions.  Questions for example and I quote, “If Adam named all of the animals in the world how did he name all of the fish in the ocean? Did he make a tube thing and goggles and go down there with a piece of paper or something?” Or better yet and my favorite so far, “After you are done with college school do you just go on the street and sit there with a newspaper until you find a job or something to do?” It’s as if some of life’s greatest mysteries lie just beyond the reach of clarification.

It’s questions like these that bring a smile to my face and chuckle to my laugh as I recount the character of Eli from the children’s fictional tale You Are Special by the vibrant author Max Lucado. In the story, the main character Punchinello, repeatedly visits Eli’s cabin for comfort and guidance on minor life issues he’s been having. Eli, who portrays a comparable character with God, calms Punchinello’s worries and frustrations with the words that he speaks and the smile he chooses to let gleam. The combination of his deep, bold, resonating voice spoken with a calm but confident disposition added with his reassuring tender smile, reminds Punchinello and the reader that everything will be ok. In short, the entire story makes for a great illustration of God’s character.

As I try to relate how I think God would respond to petty issues we as humans work ourselves into or the silly words that we sometimes say, I can just picture a similar smile with a similar chuckle on His face. Able to see past the miniscule confusion and conflicts we as imperfect human encounter, He sits back and patiently awaits His turn to speak a few words of wisdom. As He begins to converse with the hurt or confounded, I’m most solidly convinced that He receives great appreciation and enjoyment as the worry and puzzlement begins to fade. The silly but sincere questions the children ask, seem to relax life in general through their honest intentions while providing an ‘at ease’ mood to the setting. It is only because of our shortly longer-lived lives and wiser intellect that we recognize the humor amongst the insignificant confusion. When the students scratch their head’s in utter bewilderment while glancing upon a chuckling teacher, it is ‘that smile’ and ‘that chuckle’ that begins to make a transformation in the children’s understanding. They begin to understand the uncertainty in uncertainties and why there are questions that cannot be immediately countered with answers. One intelligently faceted design in life is the experience that opens doors and unlocks the mysteries to the questions asked during earlier years. This has been my on going blessing as a result to receiving the instructional materials.

Thursday Aug. 30

Today began just the same as every other day this week with an early morning wake up call from the annoying alarm on our pay-as-you-go phone. You know, one of those phones where the packaging they come in is worth more than the actual phone itself. Complements of China and the C.R.A.P. industry. Since adapting to the new time zone, getting up in the mornings has become a difficult choice to make.

“Oh how that extra bit of sleep would feel superb,” says my tired side.

“But there is a warm shower that awaits your presence,” replies my motivating conscious.

In an effort to make the decision, it seems the choice has already been made. Up it is, and stumbling across the room into the bathroom becomes the second wake up call.

As difficult as it appears, the revitalizing power of water energizes my bushed body and adequately prepares me for the long day ahead. Now into the fourth day of school, the short walk around three hundred yards is accomplished without even the slightest thought. Upon our early arrival we are greeted by an even earlier arrival from some of the students. Entertaining the children before school begins should be worth half a days wage in and of itself. Bouncing off the walls, the kids desperately need something to do. Luckily for me, I just happened to bring a small white board in which the kids begin to draw pictures of Trent and I. Yes, they made Trent look buffer and more handsome than me. Haha. But it’s a good thing they were only cartoons. Wouldn’t want the truth to be displayed publically in front of class this early on… Hehehehe ha… Ha.

The administering of class work juggled in time with grading becomes a full time job as I try to keep up with the students. Since their textbooks have not arrived yet, photocopying in advance with last years textbooks and workbooks has led to an increased stress level. An extra part of the job has now been added: Making sure there is sufficient amount of work for the students to keep busy with. Photocopying doesn’t simply require walking into the next room to copy a few pages. No, it involves a half-mile walk to a local business where I kindly instruct a local which pages to duplicate and how many copies are needed. As I lesson plan the days ahead and monitor the pages left in their packets, I begin to wonder how things would play out if I lacked the maturity to care? If I didn’t do the extra work to calculate how many pages I need to walk a half-mile for to have someone copy them for me? It seems, far to often, that difficult tasks are passed up or looked over in our society and left for someone else to take care of. That little difference between ordinary and extraordinary has become nonexistent. The little ‘extra’ required to make a task run smoothly has evolved into a personal choice instead of the normal thing to do.

In my mind, I applied this lesson to all areas of life. The ultimate goals would be to have the motivation to do everything required of me with sufficient energy and a happy attitude. I have tried to prevent even thinking about the idea of settling for something easier. Replacing it instead, with how fast and how well can I get the job done. Needless to say, as irritating as photocopying can be, it has been neither the worst job nor the most taxing. Just a thought.

The school day ends with an hour of swimming at the local Mt. Soche Hotel. The kids love the water and it entertains them to compete in who can do the best belly flop. For the record I have declined participating. Before long the kids are dismissed and the afternoon becomes an uncharted adventure for Trent and I. During a bickering battle with a taxi driver to take us to a local supermarket, we met the husband of the only Cardiologist in the country who is an Adventist and he offered to give us a lift. Besides stocking up on life’s basic essentials-bread, milk, pasta, and oatmeal we were able to get to know one of our neighbors and create a relationship that will continue to grow as the year progresses. It was a ‘Win Win’ afternoon.

The later half of the afternoon provided itself with time to visit one of the local orphanages. Open Arms as it is called, houses children from 0 to 6. Neglected abandoned and left for dead, the children are brought there either as orphans or by parents who lack the funds to care for them and are looked after by an excellent team comprised of local Malawian men and women as well as 5 or 6 volunteers from Germany, France, and the U.K. Talk about dedication. I don’t think I could see myself successfully baby sitting tottlers while also keeping my sanity. When twenty two-year olds all chip in in a mass ensemble of Beethoven’s Great Scream and Cry Symphony in Ears Ringing Major it is no joyous masterpiece. Ouchiwawa!

Trent and I spent an hour playing a pick up game of soccer with two of the older kids. I passed out stickers to some of the little ones and pushed others in a swing. The happiness displayed over an hour of attention and a few pieces of decorated sticky paper could not compare with much else in life. It was truly rewarding and I will definitely be returning in the near future. 

The First Day for School... Or Was It?

The first day of school was surely to be a train wreck waiting to happen. In fact, the day began before the sun ever had any inclination of arising. Awake at 11:00 PM after going to bed at an early 7:00 and still feeling the immediate effects of jetlag, I laid in bed staring up into the apex of my mosquito net. An invincible blockade for some, a weightless in-the-way nuisance for others, but an important piece of material for the sustainability of health. The locals fear the seeming inevitable mosquito buzzing through the night. Transporting its malaria virus from one to another like a child who’s good at catching his or her friends in the popular playground game ‘Tag’. I could sense the frustrations of the mosquito as it flew full force back and forth into the net, in hopes of a Sunday night Delicacy. After all, good looking men do have some of the sweetest tasting blood around. I began to feel safe, protected by my new found friend, when all of a sudden the buzzing sound grew to a larger choir. There was more than just one. Wide awake, I began to cringe. Multiple times, I checked the only possible entrances. If just one snuck in, doomsday could be upon me. After minutes of tirelessly worrying, and with a growing sense of faith, I relaxed my muscles down against the warm cotton sheets and waited for any sort of sleepiness to kick in. I would have to wait until 4:00 am the next day. When I did finally manage to drift asleep, the rest didn’t last long for I was up before I knew it to begin the first day.

Now into my third day of only cold water in the shower, the memory of shivering pains were engrained within my head. Oh how I wished for even a luke warm dunk of the noggin. Further more, I have regretted taking every steaming hot shower for granted. After a quick rinse, soap, and rinse again of the hair, I was outta there like a chicken on caffeine…What? Bounding through the curtain for my towel I was certain that the relief of warmth was well on its way. And it was.

The trip to the school classroom took place an hour before school was to commence, 7:00. Finishing touches on the week’s lesson plans as well as last minute tidying up became a top priority for me. All day Sunday, Trent and I spent a larger portion in the internet café/printing office/photocopying business Biltel. Page by page we instructed the copy man on what to replicate.

Students arrived early for their first day, like most of us all did. The atmosphere was quiet, tense with uncertainty and anticipation. I was first to break the short silence. “Good morning and welcome to your first day of school.” Before long, all seven students were comfortably seated at their desks. A short devotional was given as well as the layout for the rules and guidelines of the classroom. From many failed attempts before, I was not going to let disobedient behavior slide right by enforcement. Especially within the first week. The rules were fair and just. Stressing the importance of RESPECT seemed to go over well too. Each student fully understood the power behind achieving this simple task. It was like they had had the opportunity to see it’s power working in their lives all around them. For now, it was a chance to catch my breath and move on with the first day’s schoolwork.

The school uses a curriculum called A Beka. Based out of Pensacola Florida, the American system has posed no real noticeable issues with the culture and society influenced by British rule. Perhaps one of the greatest blessings that I have not fully appreciated yet is the self-teaching mechanism built into the curriculum. With in-text explanations along with sufficient examples, the need to prepare, understand, and present is not necessary-for the most part. Who remembers how to do long division with remainders and all that jazz? I own a Ti-89. Forget it. Hahaha. For now, I will continue to assist the puzzled with the answer key in hand and my brain for what ever it’s worth.

Arrival!

Filled with excitement and sleep deprivation we finally arrived in Malawi. Now I shouldn't say "finally" because it suggests that our trip went out of the ordinary and took extra time and heart ache. In fact, it was completely opposite. Much to our surprise and I'm sure yours too, we made it with no major hiccups along the way. The only delays came in SFO when the departure screen read "waiting for a plane" and departing at "12:38 am" instead of 11:11 pm, and a 2.5 hour delay on the tarmac in Addis Ababa. We boarded the plane on time in Addis but came to find out there were some British folks that wanted a ride as well. 27 of them to be exact. With the ground control's watch set to "African time" we sat for a little while and waited for their arrival. 

Customs in Lilongwe couldn't have gone any better. My passport was physically abused as two enormous and powerful pounds came slamming down with the 'Seal of Malawi' stamp.  Continuing around the corner 25 ft, we came to baggage claim and found all of our checked luggage rushing around the corner on the carousel. Our bags were there within 5 minuets of deplaning. Beat that Alaska Airlines with your 20 minute delivery promise! Maybe the western world can begin to take lessons from Africa? Even the carry-on duffle I had to check in Dulles because it was over 15 lbs (it was 42lbs hahaha) arrived safely. 

From the airport we rented a cab "in style" as we walked with Amurican Swag out of the terminal and into the cab. Well, thats not how it occurred through our eyes but to the 250 other taxi drivers and other locals waiting it probably did. 500+ eyes gazing on us, we stuffed the small toyota to the top and squeezed in for the 30 minute ride to the bus station.

From the bus station we boarded a coach bus bound for Blantyre. The hostess treated us with some "Fanta orange water." It wasn't just Fanta to her. It was "Fanta orange water" hahaha. I thought it was entertaining as she asked each row up and down the aisle. The ride soon became dark as the sun did not set at 9 as customary in the states but rather 5:30. Dark=6:00 sharp. And I mean dark. 

For the rest of the ride I sat and watched out of the large windshield as we came barreling down the narrow, shoulder lacking, paved road. With every passing car came a short panic attack as the oncoming vehicle looked to be in our lane. However, remembering that Africa drives on the opposite side I was overcome with sufficient comfort for the time being. We drove through at least 8 police road blocks during the 4 hour 45 minute air conditioned trip. With each road black came a flashlight waving us through. Thank goodness. Who knows what they would have tried to tax us for. (The local physicians have told us the Malawian Police look for any little thing to tax on; i.e. the length of a reflector sticker on the bumper of your car. Yikes!

 

Settling into our studio for the night, we dosed off for 12 hours and 50 minutes. Yep! Completely missed First and Second Serve as well as Sabbath School. Our alarm clock came via knocking on the front door by our neighbors. We had a 1:00 potluck appointment and he wasn't about to let us miss that too. 

This afternoon we socialized with a few of the local adventist families and their students and reflected upon some of the past SM's here. Hahaha... 

School begins at 8:00 on Monday and there is much lesson planning ahead.

From Blantyre Malawi, good evening and good night!