The temporarily, magnificently expanded edition of Team Oak and the “Saplings” (what we call our awesome WR Exposure girls, Ellie, Lorin, Lauren, and Lane) is partnering with Mzuzu Pentecostal Church this month. Our job is basically being really committed church members. We go to all the services, do activities with the youth group, and visit other members at home. We go to Bible studies. We go door to door evangelizing and encouraging (which is still a challenge, and still an avenue for God’s grace to break through to strangers and me). We preach. We clean around the property. We help with Sunday School. We visit the church’s daycare. We live in the attics above the sanctuary, which keeps us punctual on Sunday mornings.
We eat all three meals at Pastor Moses’ house, which is also on the church property. I love mealtimes because we get to spend time with Moses, his wife Susan, and their three children, Chimango, Joel, and Baby Watipaso. We sit in their comfortable family room on sofas and floor mats and eat good food: rice or n’sima every day, with meat (fried chicken! beef stew! grilled fish!), vegetables, and occasional treats like fresh juice or apples (it’s been months since I’ve eaten apples, since they’re not always safe to buy, so when we get them, it’s a treat!). But I think my favorite meal is breakfast.
Every morning around 7:30 my alarm goes off and I lay in my tent (it’s set up inside so I have some semblance of my own room and foolproof mosquito protection) trying to remember which of my clothes are the least smelly. Around 7:55 people start walking over to Moses’ house for oatmeal and coffee and I hear a chorus of squeaky little voices at the daycare yelling “Bye! Byyyyye!” at my sleepy, breakfast-bound muzungu teammates. Then I know I need to get up. Because at 8:00, Spongebob Squarepants starts.
I’ve never liked Spongebob. My sister Kate watched it when she was younger and it annoyed me. But Moses’ kids like to watch it, and the show happens to be on at most of our mealtimes, so we watch it with them. Despite never watching it in the States, it feels pleasantly familiar and obnoxiously American. Like country music, but more immature.
Over the week and a half that we’ve been here, I’ve gone from disliking Spongebob, to ignoring Spongebob, to watching Spongebob out of the corner of my eye, to acting like I’m only watching it because it’s on, to occasionally chuckling at Spongebob, to laughing and pointing at Spongebob, to asking questions about Spongebob (“Is he a sea sponge or a kitchen sponge?” “Is this the kind of show that tries to teach kids lessons?” “What’s the squirrel doing underwater?”), to this morning, when my team came to the house and saw the TV set to a news station because the kids weren’t there to watch Nickelodeon. This was the first day we actively sought to watch Spongebob on our own, bypassing informative Malawian programs and the highlights of the World Cup final to arrive just in time for the theme song: “Are you ready, kids?” Then we ate our toast, fried eggs, coffee, cocoa, and oatmeal, snickering at the misadventures of a bunch of dimwitted sea creatures.
I’m not saying I’m going to watch Spongebob when I’m back in America. But I’m also not going to speak too soon. The World Race changes you, remember? And we are only halfway through the month.
(Apologies to disappointed readers who were expecting a blog about some guy I met or Jesus.)
