As I sit here at a resort in Senga Bay, Malawi, (the only place with internet access) I can hardly believe what all has happened in the last 10 days of my life. Malawi has not been what I expected. Ministry has not been what I expected. Life in the bush has not been what I expected. In fact, it has all been so much harder than I ever could have expected. But in a good way.
When you live in the bush in Malawi, Africa, running water does not exist. Instead, you walk half a mile through a cornfield to get to a well. Then you must pump your water with all the other local women. You fill up a 20L yellow jug which you then try to carry on your head, sholder, or craddling like a baby. If you have absolutely no arm strength such as myself, you will manage to get about 1/4 of the water on the ground and yourself as you take an insanely long amount of time trying to carry the jug uphill back home. I very quickly learned to adopt the buddy system where you and your friend take turns carrying the jug. I find it helps get more of the water actually back instead of on myself.
So what can you learn from this physically exhausting experience at 5:30 in the morning? How to appreciate the little blessings from the Father. Yes, it is almost impossible for me to carry one jug of water, but I seriously have so much fun doing it. At the well, while I’m waiting to pump water, I get to interact with the local women. They laugh at me as I try to speak to them in very limited Chichewa. They laugh at all the water and mud covering my clothes and body. They laugh at me while they try to put the jug on my head and it immediately falls off. Basically, there is a lot of laughing at me. But oh how I love to laugh with them.
I’m not going to lie. This month has been a spiritual battle. The enemy keeps trying to break me down and take away my joy. My tent floods every other day with the insanely long rains (I’ve since moved into a chicken coop and hopefully will no longer flood! Yeah!). One of my teammates had to go to the hospital for a couple days. A squadmate had to have surgery for an infection in her leg. The combination of the African sun and doxy are trying to slowly kill me with sunburn. And my body is constantly sore from all the manual labor. (Yall, I helped dig over 60 massive holes to plant fruit trees the other days.)
But I really am so thankful for this month. The Lord is breaking me down in order to build me up. He has given me such incredible experiences such as playing soccer on the beach (Yeah so we live right by Lake Malawi that basically looks like the ocean) with local children, praying for women in a maternity ward, such bonding and growth among the squad, and a new picture of His Fatherly love. I’ve stayed up all night in prayer. I’ve had the most incredible Valentine’s Day of my life being served by the men of my squad. I’ve cried. I’ve laughed uncontrolably. I’ve sung Taylor Swift at the top of my lungs. I’m basically a pro at the squatty potty, and I’ve learned how to eat food I never would have tasted in the States.
The African bush is hard. It wears me out and makes me long for the blessings of home. But it shows me that I can live with so much less. Two showers a week is plenty. A wet sleeping pad and pillow aren’t the end of the world. Shima has become delicious. And nothing bonds a squad like squatty potties and toilets you flush with a bucket. (If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down.)
Would I want to live the rest of my life in the African bush? Probably not. Would I want to come back at some point in my life, definitely. The Father can teach you so much more when you let go of the comforts of this world.
