At the beginning of the month when we found out what we would be doing during our time here in Lilongwe, Malawi, I was so excited to find out that we would be visiting Chisomo Children center where they rescue kids from the streets on Monday and Tuesday, a babies crisis center on Wednesday’s, and playing soccer on Thursdays and Friday’s with the same kids every week. I love being able to build relationships with people, actually recognizing faces and remembering names. It feels much more personal and impactful to me.
Today was soccer day. Our first time going to this ministry site I was shocked to see the poverty of the shops and houses, and the absence of grass or really any greenery in general. There was just dirt, and more dirt. And brick buildings half knocked down, covered in dirt. I’ve been in Africa for a few months now, so i have seen places like this before, but it still comes as a surprise to see the kind of environment that so many people grow up in and know no differently. Though the people of Malawi sure do make up for their sad architecture with warm hearts and welcoming smiles. As a van full of masungu’s (white people) weave through narrow dirt roads around potholes, stray dogs, and women with huge baskets balancing on their heads, everyone is waving and children are running after our van to greet us with never ending high fives. We arrive at our site and are immediately intimidated by a big group of boys warming up in a circle, awaiting their worthy opponents, or group of inexperienced American missionaries. Usually we high five 1,000 kids, do some exercises, play a few games, try to pronounce hard Chichewe names, and then share a bible story and testimony with them. But today went a bit differently. We start our game as usual, but about halfway through the first game the biggest water droplets I’ve ever seen starts falling from the sky and plopping on my arms. And then it starts coming down faster. A couple of us rush into the fan to take cover. As we’re sitting there perfectly dry we look at each other, and then look at the boys still playing the game. Then I get a crazy thought, what are we doing in here? Let’s go back out there and finish the game! I smile mischievously at Lindsay and ask if she want to go back out there with me. She says yes, so we run out and start playing with the village boys. At this point it had started raining even harder and the once dirt soccer clearing had turned into muddy rivers. Everyone was laughing and kicking the ball in every direction, unaware of who was on which team or which goal was theirs. Fun, that’s all that mattered in this moment. We could barely see with the rain pouring down our faces and thoroughly soaking us. Our teeth chattering and cold seeping into our bones. But it didn’t matter because this was one of the moments too beautiful, too special to let anything ruin it. The team had been a bit standoffish before, but now everyone was hugging and cheering each other on. The terrestrial downpour lasted for about an hour and a half. Finally we had to leave, so we said “tuanana mowa,” see you tomorrow! And faced the challenging task of driving through small river turned roads without getting stuck.
On our way back home I realized how much today represented the race for me so far. It has been about stepping out of my comfort zone, it has been uncomfortable in many many ways, but still somehow so rewarding. Ive been without WiFi or service for months on end. I’ve had to take cold showers out of a sink using a cup. I’ve cooked for twelve people over a fire. I’ve slept in my tent outside for three months straight. Ive used more squatty potties than I can count. I’ve eaten caterpillars, rats, goat, guinea pig, termites, and crocodile just to blend in with different cultures. I’ve played soccer in the freezing rain to bond with village kids. But I’d do it all again if I had the choice, because I know that this is exactly where I am supposed to be. The Lord placed a calling on my heart over a year ago and provided me with the means to leave my little city and world for almost a year to experience more of this amazing earth and the humans that inhabit it. There have been special moments that stick out from others that remind me why I am here, so many miles from my home, friends, and family. This afternoon was definitely one of those moments. I have been drawn out of familiarity to pursue the unknown, to experience discomfort, but also wonder and joy at the beauty of this life, and to be a beacon of hope and light to those around me.
