Safe travels!

Today I am going to pick my brother and brother-in-law from the airport and could not be more excited!  I am grateful this Thanksgiving for so many things.  I am routinely grateful that my basic needs are met.  Gratitude I hope to take with me far beyond this experience.  I am grateful for friends around the globe.  And I am grateful for family.  I am grateful for their support.  And I am grateful that we can take a family vacation Malawian style, the Griswalds have nothing on this family vacation.

As I have traveled the day and a half to get to the capital to meet them I found myself telling everyone about their coming visit.  Malawians are keen on asking many questions and sometimes I like to offer too much information to satisfy their inquiries.  A classic case of the over-share.  My transport from my remote village, off the grid, started by standing in the back of a pick up truck.  We broke down 3 times in the first 20 miles.  I then got to town and hopped on the back of a semi-truck, which was transporting maize.  This was the perfect ride.  It was beautiful out.  I was basically sitting on a giant beanbag soaking up the African rays.  However, about an hour into the ride the truck breaks down.  I am in the middle of nowhere and start to walk to see if I can hitch a ride.  About a mile into my walk an ambulance pulls over to the side of the road.  They offer me a ride.  I go to get in the back of the Toyota Land Cruiser and see that there might not be room.  Side note: there is always room for one more when it comes to transportation here.  Mini-buses that should carry 12 people regularly carry 30.  This ambulance is no exception. 

I go to get in and the ambulance is transporting a patient, which is a little bit of a surprise because ambulances here are used for many different purposes.  I try to decline the ride but they are persistent I come with them.  I climb in the back and sit on the floor on top of my backpack.  Trying not to invade this sick man’s space.  I look up and see a man in military garb.  We make small talk.  I keep scanning down to see if the man is okay and see that he is in handcuffs.  I then piece it together.  The man is lying on a mat in fetal position, in handcuffs.  This is the conversation between me and the officer:

Me: Oh, you are transporting an ill prisoner?

Officer: Yes, he is not okay.

Me: Sorry to hear that.

Officer: Yes, he is mentally disturbed so we must take him to the regional hospital.  He is mad.

Me: Okay…

Officer:  He is psychotic and has become very violent.

Me: Oh but he is sleeping now. Is he sedated? (naïve me!)

Officer: No, he is very tired because he had a psychotic episode today.

Me: ah…

Officer: Yes, he was very violent.

And cue 5-hour car ride.  I was ready to react…somehow.  When the man woke up and stared at me I tried to look but not too much.  To appear neutral yet natural.  Yeah right.  I can’t hide my feelings of awkwardness very well.  Something for the most part I have come to accept about myself.  But then he started to struggle to sit up, in a manner that took a while without the use of his hands.  My body tensed.  I looked straight ahead.  Hoping that yet another awkward position I found myself in didn’t escalate to an interesting documentary of sorts.  And then the man started to lull back into a sleepy state.  Slowly he began to inch closer to me and then finally rest his head on my shoulder.  I kept thinking of the least of these and that how we treat prisoner’s matters.  How we treat the infirmed matters.  How we treat the mentally unstable matters.  Three-in-one was resting his head onto my shoulder.  And then as we went over bumps and up the escarpment he kept slipping and slipping. And soon his head was resting on my lap as he snored through his slumber.  All the while I was hoping the car ride would end and that it would end with me at the rest house where I could take a hot shower and not end with handcuffs strangling me.  We did arrive.  We arrived at the mental hospital to drop him off.  It was a free ride that resulted in me being in the closest contact I have ever had with a criminal. 

I was able to take a hot shower, although the light bulb broke and I was literally showering in shards of glass.

So maybe my family will get to experience the ease of travel in Malawi.

Safe travels this Holiday Season!

Tailored

I recently finished helping to coordinate a tailoring training with the women of our HIV/AIDS support group.  Although it was incredibly challenging to organize a training at the village level it proved to be well worth the effort.  We had a small celebration in which they received a certificate, a coke, and fried dough called a mandazi.  Also, on their graduation day a peace corps friend of mine came to lead a session to teach them how to make reusable menstruation pads, known as The Pad Project.  It is discouraging to see how normal natural things can result in making life so difficult from a lack of resources. One of the many things I never thought about in regards to the developing world.  So the women were so excited to put their new skills to practice to fulfill such a practical need. 

The tailoring group of 10 amazing ladies have a sewing machine to share and use for free.  The group has made some items to sell to start generating some income.  In which a portion will go to the HIV group to help purchase supplies for homes based visits and the remaining portion will go to the individual that made the goods.  I hope that these small funds are able to improve the quality of life for the women working and also for those that are homebound. 

Getting the sewing machine to my village was a logistical nightmare! 

I traveled to a city in the North, called Mzuzu, to buy the machine.  I was making great strides to be prudent.  The sewing machines here are massive.  They are foot powered manual beasts.  If “the beast” were a car it would be a Buick compared to a modern day swinger machine you can buy at your local Wal-mart. This was one of those ventures that made me realize how scarce resources can be here.  I purchased the machine and the men at the store carried it to the bus depot so I could start my trip home.  We get “the beast” into the back of a mini-bus and we are on our way.  The conductor of the mini-bus said that I was going to need to pay for the whole row of seats because people were not going to fit.  I agreed.  But then he continued to cram people into the 12-passenger vehicle.  So when people began to pay and we were on our way out of the city I announced I would only be paying my portion.  Sometimes I can be stubborn.  Everyone on the bus agreed that this was fair, except the conductor.  Everyone on the bus began talking at the same time to resolve the issue.  I then was asked to get off the mini-bus.  I think he was bluffing and thought I would cave and pay.  I called his bluff and got off.  Sometimes I can be stubborn.  I was then walking down the street, more like waddling.  Because this machine is a beast.  On top of it I am balancing a package, which I am transporting for another volunteer.  I was struggling.  In time I make it to a staging area to catch another mini-bus.  But this change of buses sets me back which means I will have to spend the night in another stop over city to avoid traveling at night.  I was annoyed. And defeated. But stubborn…no…let’s say determined.

The next day I gear up for another mini-bus ride.  I properly negotiate a deal.  We get to the town that is nearest to my village and unload the machine onto the pick-up truck that will go to my village.  Within no time the mini-bus drives away.  With the package I was taking to the volunteer.  Not on my watch. 

I begin sprinting down the street after the mini-bus.  Yelling for people to help me.  Another man started running with me and said he can call the driver.  People were yelling…The white woman is running!  Thanks for the heckles.  I begin to cry while running (a new experience).  I felt so responsible.  Care packages here can really brighten gloomy days.  I then see the mini-bus driving towards me.  I am standing in the middle of the road in a lean to.  Sometimes I can be stubborn.  The guy that was running with me said that driver/thief came back because he called.  So I owed him money. I said, “I am not giving one more Malawian one more kwacha! (kwacha = currency, exchange rate $1 = 380 kwacha).  A small amount…I can have a flare for the dramatics. The mini-bus stops.  I then have this exchange after I retrieve the package. 

Me: You stole my package!

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: You stole!

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: You are a thief!

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: I should call the police

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: You don’t understand what I am saying.

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: Ugh

Thief/Driver: (Blank Stare)

All the while there was a man named Alipo (his name means present) who was tagging along for this episode.  He was standing behind me and kept saying “This is NOT REALITY!” 

At one point I responded…This is REALITY!

After I walked away I was talking with Alipo who kept saying…”This is not reality.”

And finally I said, “Alipo, this is reality”

And his response, “Well, this is not the reality I choose.”

The bottom line is we do not get to choose reality.  Reality exists.  The reality of life here is raw and…real.  As in your face as it is I think of two things. I recognize that I am still ignorant to so many of the problems that are hidden from onlookers.  And two: as difficult as it can be to be exposed to complex issues at least it is a reality that lives and breathes.  It is not a reality that is conjured up inside of a computer or on social media.  I am not looking at the world through a device.  I feel it and smell it and live it.

This is reality.

We may not be able to choose it but maybe we can change it, maybe we can mend it, and maybe we tailor it. 

                                                                        Tailored.