I Am Back

Just days ago I was looking out onto a beautifully green golf course, tucked away amongst the gnarly old oak trees of the Napa Valley with champagne in my hand.  Today I sit at my familiar old desk in Lilongwe. The same desk I used for six months throughout my internship while completing my Masters degree in social work.  The desk must have originally been an architectural drafting desk because it sits at a sloping angle toward me that leaves deep creases in my wrists from typing along the sharp edges.  The annoyance of the creases is almost a welcomed familiarity, as was the lack of power last night, the ten minute wait for my email to load, the stares on the street at my pale skin and blue eyes, the rust colored dust swirling around the bald tires of mini buses loaded with Malawians and barefooted kids watching, wondering and waving.  I am back.  Back to the reality of life in the developing world.  Back to Malawi.  To say it is a vast difference from the wine country of northern California or the wide beaches of southern California is an understatement, but that is what this is all about. 

When I walked up to the gate of work yesterday morning the ‘Samosa Man’ was waiting outside with a tray of hot samosas, a truly wonderful sight to return to.  Hugs, smiles and kind words from my colleagues greeted me at the door and just like that I felt myself falling back into the routine of life here.  I typed away waiting for the power to return and the Internet to function so I could prepare myself for work on Monday.  The thought of returning to camp on Tuesday causes a swell of happiness to rise in my stomach and make tears fall from my eyes.  The emotion is intense.  Involuntary.  It lets me know unconsciously just how much I care about the people I work with and just how badly I want something better for them.  I am trying to harness this rejuvenated energy and vigor for I know I will need it over the next six months.     

As for now, I am settling into my new place in area 6 of Lilongwe just a hill and a footbridge away from my old place in area 14.   There is no logical explanation to the way the neighborhoods are numbered here but I admit it does leave me guessing and often confused so I guess it does serve some purpose.  Cathy, my new English roommate, has left on a work trip to Ghana and South Africa for the next two weeks giving me the opportunity to leave my bags and materials everywhere around the house without feeling too guilty.  The place is smaller than my last house but feels more like a home with proper couches, drapes that cover the windows, (suppose that is what drapes do by definition but at my last place I McGuivered some drapes that not only let light in but were not long enough to cover the entire window), ceiling fans, a two person dining table and a solar powered Queen Elizabeth that waves her hand side to side throughout the daylight hours when the sun is high in the sky.  Thank you for the six inch waving queen Cathy, now let’s have some tea and crumpets.    

To be writing again feels good.  Thank you to all the supporters and people who encouraged me to continue to do so while I was home.  Hear that Mom, ‘home’-in CaliforniaJ.  I am off to run errands, pick up vegetables at the open-air market, hunt for soymilk, browse Ikea and buy cleaning supplies.  That is all true except the Ikea part.  Did you really think Malawi had an Ikea?  I am in need of a small shelf for the bathroom, something that can hold a few toiletries made from anything from plastic to metal to wicker, I don’t care.  When I asked around for where to get anything that remotely resembled that, people were at a loss.  A shelf? Seriously?  Oh Malawi…