I want to tell you a different story.
My skin is white, and it sticks out here. The people say “Azungu! Azungu!” when we walk by on the street. Even little children know the phrase: “White People!”. You’ve seen the pictures, and I have too. Some young-adult white girl who goes to Africa, plays with some children for a week and shares with you the poverty, the heartbreak, and the hard conditions. You roll your eyes and scoff, dismissing the experience and the person sharing it.
I didn’t want to be that girl. I didn’t want to be that story. True as that story may be, I resisted the cheapness of how it is often told. It is a realistic story, and one that is worth sharing; life is different here, and it could be pretty surprising. I know there is much more injustice and weight here than I am seeing. That said, I want to tell you a different story:
Air, dusty as it is, that lets you breathe more deeply. A special quietness here, a peace that kind of settles on into your chest and starts untying weights you’ve been carrying. A national anthem that begins, “Oh God, grant us peace”, and a spiritual climate that bears witness to that answered prayer.
Creativity and ingenuity oiling the wheels of hard-working hands. Trash that is transformed into toys, hay into roofs, and old tee-shirts into mops. Malawians are creative! They are eager, happy, and hard-working.
Friendships made quickly across ages and colors. Lots of hugs, cool hand shakes, and spontaneous dance parties. Smiles on smiles on smiles, and people saying “Thank you – Zikomo” more frequently than seems necessary. Strangers only days before, we serve our African siblings and they serve us. We pray together, hold hands, and bring supplications to God.
There’s some of the young-adult-white-girl story here. For instance, about half the children have fungus growing in their hair, 4 USD is a lot of money here, and people eat the same food (corn flour+ water) for lunch and dinner every day. There are problems here, and many of them that I have neither the training nor the capacity to solve.
But that is not the story; It’s a backdrop to the more true story. This story, the real story, is one of devotion, joy, soft hearts, hopefulness, and peace. This is a story of unity, perseverance, and growth. It’s a story of survival, triumph, and perseverance. It’s a different story than I’ve heard, but one that needs to be shared. Malawi is God’s country, and this is the truest story.
