Tuesday, December 8th, 2015
We were piled into the large bus, our big packs stacked unceremoniously in the back. Eyes widened as we took in the new colors and inhaled the dry air. “Welcome to Malawi,” said Blessings, our new host. He was a gentle smile, slight build, and courage that burned behind dark eyes. I thought I should feel excited, but after the 13-hour plane ride followed by the 4-hour one, all I could feel was exhaustion. We were now nine hours ahead in time, so even though the sun burned deceitfully at its peak, it felt like the middle of the night.
We arrived at a concrete house with a red deck and a tin roof, which happened to be where Blessings and his family live. Blessings told us that he was allowing us to rest that day and the next before starting ministry, and our group exchanged relieved glances. Everyone else slowly shuffled off to set up their sleeping pads and get some sleep, but thinking to avoid the jet lag, I decided to stay up until it was nighttime.
I joined Blessings’ family on the porch as the sun made its familiar arc across the sky. Only two of Blessings’ four children live at home now: Faith, who is 19, and Chisomo (pronounced jih-SO-mo), who is 17. Faith is the bolder of the two, and her English is great after years of hosting World Race teams. Chisomo is a little more shy, but she has a spunky side. (“Chisomo. Don’t forget it again,” she said when I had asked her to repeat her name for the third time.)
I finally went to bed at 9:30pm, brain overloaded from trying to take everything in. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
…
Saturday, December 12th, 2015
Learning how to do laundry by hand is a humbling experience.
I thought that I could just kind of swish my clothes around and scrunch them up, like a washing machine does, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Faith and Chisomo showed me how to take two sections of my clothing and use my wrist as a washboard. They were gracious enough to not make fun of me, but we all laughed together as they kept taking my clothes from me and saying, “No! No! Like this.” Even one of the neighbors walked by laughing, and I couldn’t help but laugh along.
…
Sunday, December 13th, 2015
“You haven’t seen anything yet. When we dance, we dance. We dance. We dance.”
His words dropped to the floor and reverberated through the room, loud in the caloric air. Voices overlapped: the one that spoke English, masculine and powerful; the one that translated into Chichewa, feminine and strong. I caught Emily’s eye and grinned, my enthusiasm mirrored in her expression.
We had found ourselves in Revival Church, and we were a contrast. Against the black eyes and colorful wraps, our differences were spelled out on our skin for all the world to see. (“Mzungu!” the children would joyfully call whenever they saw us in the streets.) These were a people who had known the ruddy earth, green trees and vibrant sky their entire lives, who were accustomed to the harsh sun and intermittent rainfall. They were a culture who loved unselfishly, who would happily sacrifice their own comforts for the benefit of others. And they were our brothers and sisters.
I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to come to church here, I thought. It’s so fun.
As Blessings’ sermon came to a close, it was time for worship again. Even though there were only about eight Malawians in the room, they filled the entire building with sound. They clapped in perfect time, everyone joining in and dropping out at the right moments, harmonies ebbing and flowing through the concrete room. They danced as one. We awkwardly followed along, smiling, immersed in their contagious joy. One of the last songs was about going to the house of the Lord, and one would grab his neighbor and dance to the front of the room.
These are a people without fear, I realized. They know the cruelty of the world, they know the trials that come with living for Christ, and they are completely unafraid.
Maybe that’s why God brought me here.
…
Tuesday, December 15th, 2015
“Does anyone have the sharing of the Word?” Expectant eyes bored into us.
“Jordan, you’re up,” Julie prompted.
There wasn’t even enough time for me to be nervous as I walked to the front of the room and faced the employees of the hair salon. “Hello. My name is Jordan, and I would like to share a part of my story…” As the words began, I felt no sudden rush of power, no supernatural peace. But my mind didn’t go blank, and I took that as a blessing. The time that it took to translate after every sentence gave me a few moments to collect my thoughts.
And then it was over. I had done it. The very thing that, a day before, I had been too terrified to do. It hadn’t been perfect, I still didn’t feel comfortable speaking, and I was still as shy as ever. But I knew that I could do it now, and that was enough for me.
…
Wednesday, December 16th, 2015
The world was dressed in red, and it looked stunning.
Red earth, red bricks, and red ribbons of water were tied about the undulating roads. Maybe because He knew that it’s my favorite color, or maybe it was because He liked it, too. In any case, I could scarcely take in the beauty that surrounded me, the earthy tones juxtaposed by the scattered trees. I couldn’t decide why, but every time it rained, the plants automatically looked more green. As we passed by, they were practically beaming their colors. I beamed back.
I soaked in the sights and gripped the handles of the bicycle taxi, trying to ignore the stares and occasional catcalls. We had skin like daylight, and there was no hiding it. The rain plastered my bangs against my face and clung to the raised hairs on my arms, leaving stars on my daylight-skin. As our line of bicycles came to a particularly muddy spot, I had to get off and walk while my driver drug the bike through the sludge. I was actually cold, and the fact thrilled me. Being cold had become a rare luxury over the past four months.
We arrived at the house and hurried inside after paying our drivers, making sure to take off our shoes before we entered. As the other girls rushed to find flannels and socks, I collapsed in a chair. I hadn’t brought any warm shirts and my only hoodie was buried somewhere in my big pack. I needed to think, anyways.
I had known that Malawi is a third world country. I had. But somehow, the knowledge was only just starting to sink in. The secretary at the elementary school that we had just returned from told me that maize, the primary crop of Malawi, wasn’t doing well this year and that in a few months, many of those children will go hungry for most of the day. The same kids with whom we had just played, given dusty high-fives, and shouted songs in the classrooms over the sound of the sudden downpour. When we reached the best parts of the Bible stories, they had cheered. Although Tara told us that those kids had probably known hunger, it was hard to grasp after seeing their exuberant faces.
We asked Blessings a few days ago what his favorite Christmas memory is. He replied that he has no fond memories of Christmas; his girls always used to question why they could never get new clothes like some of their friends, why they couldn’t afford decorations or a Christmas tree. It was how their lives had always been, he explained.
My team and Team Meek plan to surprise Blessings’ family with a great Christmas this year, but there are still so many things beyond my control. It is difficult to see the reality of poverty, to realize that the suffering that I had always known about in the back of my mind is affecting the people that are now names and faces to me. Worse than that is knowing that I could never help all of them like I would want to. But I guess that I’m not here to fix things. I’m simply here to love as much as I possibly can while these beautiful people are a part of my life.
……
The WiFi at the hotel where we go each Friday is strong enough to allow me to upload pictures, so if you would like to see pictures from El Salvador, I have uploaded some of them to my previous blog (Saying Goodbye to My First Second Home).
From left to right: Mrs. Mtete, Chisomo, and Faith
The street where I’m living for the next month
Prayer requests:
Please pray that we will adjust to the culture, that we will be protected from the bugs (which normally don’t bother me, but there are some ginormous cockroaches that bite), and that my team will have a great couple of weeks together before the team changes occur next month.
Thank you,
Jordan
