It’s the last month of the race and we are so lucky to be able to end the race in such a great place. We are staying in Zomba, Malawi and everywhere you look you see mountains. It is beautiful here, just as dusty and dirty as previous months but I am loving it here. Our contact is an older man who I would claim as my grandfather in a second. He is such an upbeat, loving, and understanding man. When he translates our sermons he jumps around and makes super funny noises.
Pastor translating for me
Singing some worship at the church
Worship. They pass plates around on your head while dancing around to symbolize bearing each other's burdens
Staying in his house with him and his wife is seriously like staying at your grandparents. It is strangely cozy here with their comfy couches and chairs with doilies on them. They also always make sure we are taken care of (having enough food, clean clothes, hot baths, toilet paper, and peanut butter). We have more luxuries this month then we have had in a while. There is a sink for starters! Running water, electricity, a fridge (haven’t seen one of those for four months), a television, DVD player, beds, table and chairs. I am most appreciative of the sink. I don’t have to brush my teeth in a bush or use a pitcher to wash my hands!
The church we go to is on a hill overlooking the town and the mountains/plateau. It is like the peasant from Emperor’s New Groove says: when the sun hits the hills just right the mountains sing! Oh how it is true here. We have been doing a lot of preaching and teaching this month from the Word and hanging out with the teens/playing volleyball with them. Ministry has been really relaxed, but I have been enjoying speaking and encouraging others more than I have before.
Story time:
We have taken two truck rides and both have been memorable. The first one was so dusty that you could literally see the dirt in your hair and on your clothes. People wearing black were wearing brown and a guy even joked saying that his skin was going to be like mine with all the dust. The truck also didn’t get up hills very well so the guys would all jump out and push it/just get out to lighten the load. On this particular ride we all crammed into the bed of a pick-up…all as in the 7 on my team and at least 15 Africans. I was basically in some guys arms the entire ride who I never even met…I don’t know when that got normal, but personal space doesn’t exist in travel. Then the truck started leaking water and we had to stop on the side of the road while they let it cool down/fix it.
boys walking to catch up with the truck. they just roll dow the hills with the car off
The second truck ride, which was the next day, was in a smaller truck. There were less people, but it was just as crowded. The entire ride there and back a group of choir girls from the church sang. It was cool at first, but ughhhh you can only take so much of African worship until their voices make you cringe…imagine listening to Prince singing ‘kiss’ over and over again (they sound a lot better. I am trying to paint a picture of the headache formed). We drive on back roads, meaning dirt roads, to avoid cops because of how we crammed people into the truck. On the way home the tire blew out so we had to stop on the side of the road to replace it with a spare tire that looked as if it was going to pop on the first sharp object it touched. Pastor called another truck for some reason and this one had back seats so four of us crammed into it (everyone else in the bed). It was a beautiful truck with clean, comfy seats, electric windows, locks, a radio, gauges that worked, seatbelt lights…sounds normal to you all reading this…we seriously sat and marveled at what we were sitting in.
The choir ladies
photo shoot while waiting to get the tire fixed. That is Dan, Pastor's grandson (I might take him home with me)
