Sunset.

I’m sitting on our front porch, watching my last African sunset. Ahhhh. I love you, Africa. We will see each other again, I think. This trip has been amazing. And encouraging, inspiring, heartbreaking, surprising, all that.  I love the COTN staff/children and our writing team. I seriously haven’t laughed this hard in a while. Unfortunately, all this laughter has probably confirmed the stereotype of loud, obnoxious Americans. Sorry, America, but once you’ve heard Kristen roar you will understand the laughter.

Feeling all nostalgic, I keep flipping through the children’s stories I have heard. A boy I interviewed yesterday lost both his parents to malaria when he was five. His two younger siblings were sold into slavery. His uncle saved him from a similar fate, but then forced him into manual labor. He escaped two years later and lived on the streets until COTN partnered with him. Now he’s a junior in high school and plays the drums in two bands. His whole face lit up when he started talking about his music and plans to record.

My heart breaks and leaps when I hear these stories. It’s such a roller coaster. I hold back the tears when they talk about their early days, and by the end, I’m bursting with pride. These children are so brave, so strong, so courageous. I wonder if they realize how much their stories reveal God’s thing for transformation. It’s impossible to talk to them and not feel hopeful.

I will miss these children like crazy. I will miss laughing with my girls and learning Chichowe. [editor’s note: she means Chichewa.] (I know like five words, people! Which means you can now expect some Chichowe [Also known as Chichewa. –ed]  mixed in with espanol!) I will miss the Malawains and their wide grins. I will miss drinking orange Fanta and all the grazing goats. Yup, I will miss you, Malawi. True story when they call you the warm heart of Africa.

–Sam

My Heart.

So the first leg of our journey has pretty much come to a close (well, for Sam and Heather, the trip has come to a close. We are very sad that they will not continue on with us).Tomorrow, Laura, Melissa, and I head off to Uganda. While I am so excited to go to Uganda, I am very sad to leave Malawi. I have been in a weird mood all day knowing that tomorrow we will leave while trying to make the most of this last day. Malawi truly has a massive piece of my heart and it will be sad to say goodbye again.

Monday and Tuesday we went to Chiwengo. As some of you know, I was an intern in Chiwengo last summer. I was stoked to be able to make my return to Chiwengo and see all the children that I spent two months of my life with (and anyone on my team probably could have told you that because I did not shut up about Chiwengo—sorry team ha). I was so anxious to get there. The night before we left I could barely sleep I was so excited, just like a little kid who’s going to Disney World…Wait, I still can’t really sleep the night before I go to Disney ha. Anyways, we set off late Monday morning on our two hour drive to Chiwengo. I studied and tried to remember every turn, every mountain, and every tree as we drove, taking everything in on this familiar drive. It felt like I was driving home. So after what seemed like an eternity to me, we finally arrived at Chiwengo. And I was so happy. It was so good to see the smiling faces of those who touched my life so much last summer, of those I continue to pray for to this day, of those who captured my heart and still haven’t given it back. Last summer I left not knowing when I’d return or if I would ever see those children again. I dreamed of coming back, and it finally happened. I couldn’t believe it. I spent those short two days at Chiwengo soaking everything up. I wish I could have spent more time there and really gotten the chance to sit down and talk or play with the children, but I really only had enough time to say hi/have a short convo and maybe grab a quick picture. Oh, but it was so good to at least see them and see how well they are doing. I am so proud of all of them. I loved that they remembered me and hearing them call me “Aunt” again. Saying goodbye this time was practically as hard as the first because I really do not know when (or if) I will come back. But I will hold on to those two days until the next time I get to see those children. I will hold on to the sound of Lemani’s voice when he says “Auntie Kristen,” the way Doreen’s entire face lights up when she smiles, and how you can feel that Chimwemwe never wants to let go when she gives you a hug. Gosh, those kids still have my heart after a year and a half.

So yes, Malawi, we must go our separate ways once more. And while it tears me up inside because I have no idea when we will meet again, just know that you will always have my heart.

–Kristen

Hot Ant Pancakes

The morning began as usual.   We trouped down to the dining room, seated ourselves at the round table and dove in.  Menu for breakfast – pancakes and papaya.  It was Rebecca who first spotted the antenna poking out from the box of tea.  Her hand stretched out in hopes of flinging the box before the creature could emerge but it was too late.  Out jumped a giant cockroach, as big as linebacker.  The six of us jumped back from the table, plates in hand as the cockroach skittered across the table.

The Malawian staff laughed at our antics but promptly shooed the cockroach outside.  Settling back down in our seats we had a good laugh and went back to smothering our pancakes in peanut butter and honey.  Melissa calmly points out as she leans over her plate fork in hand, that there are ants in the honey and proceeds to pick them off her pancake with the fork.  Ahhhh….life in Malawi.

I must quickly point out that this breakfast is in no way typical of our meals.  The staff treats us incredibly well (homemade fajitas with flour tortillas from scratch!  Sooo good!)  We tell them every day that they spoil us and it’s true.

Phrase of the day:  Msaiwale – Forget me not.

–Heather

There is so much more to do.

There is so much more to do.

It’s overwhelming, meeting the children who have been transformed.  And inspiring.

But there is so much more to do.

When they hear that we’re visiting to write about COTN-Malawi, to tell America and the world about God’s work that is being done here, they are excited and eager.  They present us with children whose lives are the most improved.  They praise God for the blessings He has brought each and every child COTN has reached.

But there is so much more to do.

They do not complain—they dream.  They talk about the children they still hope to reach.  They talk about the schools that still must be built.  They talk about the clinic that still must be stocked.  They talk about the supplies that still must be bought.  They talk about the children who still must be sponsored.

There is so much more to do.

They ask us to share their stories.  They ask us to gather support.  They ask us to put into words the magnitude of a problem, the enormity of the need, and the gratitude of the children whose lives may have ended if not for COTN, and those whose lives end still.  And it is incomprehensible —breathtaking—the enormity of how much more there is to do.

To have one shot at telling about a person’s entire life, to have one opportunity to inspire people or lose their attention forever, to find the perfect word to honor the efforts made by those here in the name of God, to be the one to do something as vast as this…

It is stifling, discouraging, humbling, terrifying, baffling, impossible—what God wants us to do.

But still, we have the stories; medicine that arrived just in time.  A family of children living lives of plenty beyond their wildest dreams.  A baby who should not be, but is, still alive.  They are not the works of men.  We are not doing this alone.  So we take up our mission, with honor.

Because there is so much more to do.

Pictures!

Pictures take a long time to load, so I’m going to see how many I can post here before our ride arrives.

Did you know?

1.  That if you click on the pictures to the right of each individual person it will take you to a page of only their posts?  (But don’t ignore the rest of us, because.  Seriously.  We’re entertaining.)

2.  I found an exceptionally reliable wireless connection that is located in an exceptionally creepy, dark place?

3.  The favorite food of most Malawians is nsima?

4.  Babies in Malawi don’t generally wear diapers–not even cloth ones–not even to church?  (Want to know how I know THAT one?)

5.  That I am the bravest on the team when it comes to spiders?  (Keeping in mind that I am talking about an exceptionally large spider.)

6.  I like writing lists?

7.  We’re going to Chiwengo tomorrow, and will be there overnight?

8.  Kristen used to be an intern in Chiwengo, which she speaks of as if it were the promised land, while alternately degrading bucket showers?

9.  The currency in Malawi is called the Kwatcha?

10.  That Chambo is a fish, and Chamba is something very different, and if Sam keeps mixing them up she could end up in jail very soon?

11.  Laura is good at accents and uses them to diffuse tension?

12.  That Heather keeps a cool, practical head in spider-related crises?

13.  That we’ve instituted sayings such as Bubble Time and Planet Sam?

14.  That Rebecca, education consultant, is an honorary team member?

15.  That a guard dog appointed himself Rebecca’s protector and follows her around campus?

That is all for now.

–Melissa

Story Time

Malawi pace is different than US pace. Since our writing workshop was scheduled at 2 pm, the team was all sitting in the dining hall at, well, 2. The first kids didn’t arrive until 2:45. By 3:00, around 60 high-schoolers had voluntarily arrived at school on their afternoon off. Which pretty much rocked.

Heather and I taught the fiction workshop. At first, I was super nervous. Would our lesson make sense? Had we forgotten to include anything major? Did the kids really want to be here? Eeeee!!! Then Heather and I prayed, and my insecurities dimmed enough for me to recognize the amazing-ness of this moment: I was on the other side of the world talking about one of the most universal passions: storytelling.

As the lesson began, I realized three things right away: I love writing on a chalk board because I feel oh-so-academic, the kids were leaning forward and asking questions, and hand motions always help with translation. In fact, my hand motions kept getting bigger and bigger until I was literally acting out “tension” by having Heather keep me (the main character) from reaching my goal (the doorway). Heather is hardcore–that’s all I have to say about that.

Then came the sharing portion of the lesson, where we asked volunteers to write a short story and then read it aloud to the class. As I listened to the kids’ various subjects (i.e. HIV, hunger, hope), I thanked Jesus again for stories. Sometimes they are the only things big enough to hold your feelings, to help you wrestle and ask questions. This is as true for me in the US as it is for a teenager in Malawi. Yup, stories are universal, and I am SO thankful these teens are now a part of mine.

–Sam

High School Dances

Tonight we were asked over by the kids from the Secondary School while they hung out in the school dining hall.  We’d just returned from Chitipi Children’s Home and were settling in for some serious writing when Heather passed a group of teens on her way to interview a staff member, and they asked the aunties to come over.  (Hint:  the aunties were us.)  Being the only one without an immediate project, I wandered over to say hello.

Turns out, they were holding somewhat of a dance in the hall.  Also turns out Junior High/High School dances are somewhat universal in their appearance, no matter what country you’re in.  Such as:

1. The boys and girls congregate in entirely separate areas.
2. The boys dance together under the pretext of showing off for one another, while shooting glances at the girls to see if they are impressed.
3. The girls are impressed, but give no indication that this is the case.
4. No one can agree about what constitutes “good” music.
5. Several girls deliberately wear similar outfits so as not to stand out and be considered [insert slang term for outcast here].
6. Girls dance in a giggling circle, but only after being coerced by bolder (and generally, older) friends (or in this case, azungu aunties).
7. People resort to outrageously silly dances to make up for their lack of dancing ability to the point where the pretext of actual dancing is abandoned.
8. A few students take their dancing very very seriously, and indicate this by dressing like popular musicians.  You can tell who these students are, even if you are not at a dance when you meet them.
9. Someone finds a ball (basket, soccer) and a fracture group becomes absorbed with playing with it.
10. I am glad that I am no longer in Junior High/High School.

Sincerely,

Melissa

Headlamps to the Lake

As you’ve read, yesterday we ventured to Lake Malawi. Beautiful, Lake Malawi. It was about a two-hour drive. And though we were planning on being back before dark, I threw my headlamp (flash light, worn on head) into my bag just in case our plans turned out differently. I’ve learned from past experience in Africa, that though you have one thing planned, often something completely different can happen. I’ve also learned that vehicles on this continent aren’t the most reliable. And I also heard my husband’s voice inside my head telling me to always be prepared—though no, he never was a Boy Scout. So, no big deal, I bring a headlamp along to the lake at 10:30 in the morning.

We’re sitting at lunch—the five of us girls on the writing team, our new-found friend Rebecca who is serving as an education consultant here with COTN, the COTN-Malawi Venture Coordinator, Henry, and another COTN staff member named Pike. We’re sitting at lunch at a beautiful resort, outside right on the water—talk about a day off. I reach into my bag to get my camera and I see my headlamp, chuckle to myself and put it on my head, announcing  to everyone, “Don’t  worry, guys, I brought my headlamp just in case.”

Of course, they all begin to laugh (oh, the inexperienced, I tell you). They look at me like I’m crazy, wondering why on earth I would ever need a headlamp in the middle of the day at the lake. All of them, except Rebecca, that is. She reaches into her bag and pulls her headlamp out. “I bring mine everywhere, too!” she shouts, defending me. “You never know what will happen in Africa!”

They all get a good laugh out of us, though I show no shame of my preparedness. Isn’t this what a good leader is all about? Sheesh. Our day continues, we enjoy the view, and spend time on the sand. On the way home, we stop at a nearby market to buy souvenirs. Though, instead of leaving the market at 4:30 p.m. as planned, we actually don’t leave until about 6 p.m. due to Henry having a sign made at the last minute. (Yes, I’m blaming it on him though he’s not here to defend himself.) We eventually pile back into the van, but Henry reveals he has to make one more stop to buy some rice for meals back at COTN—it’s cheaper where we were at than it is closer to the city, where COTN-Malawi is located. Okay. Unbeknownst to us, while Henry buys the rice, the headlights to our vehicle are left turned on. About 20 minutes later, when it’s time to get back on the road, the car won’t start. It’s the battery. So, here we are, at some random shop in the “country” of Malawi, Africa with a dead battery. Thank God, Henry finds someone with jumper cables. And right as they are about to use them, what do you know … the power at the store and all the lights surrounding it go out.  And it’s really dark.

Wow, sure would be nice to have a headlamp right about now.

Oh, wait.

So, I can’t say that there weren’t any “I told you so” lines from Rebecca and me as Henry and Pike leaned over the engine with two headlamps fastened to their foreheads. In fact, those will continue for a long time. But I will say that I was pretty proud of myself—ready for any adventure to happen in Africa and almost expecting it. I don’t think any of them will tease about a headlamp at the lake again. And I know my husband will most certainly be impressed.

–Laura

Henry using jumper cables with the use of a head lamp.