Change

I wrote this MONTHS ago, but forgot to post....


I was told that being a student missionary changes you. Honestly, I'm not sure if I'm different.  I don't feel terribly different. I don't look different, aside from the scars from mosquito bites that I refused to quit itching, the tan and freckles I got from the tremendous amount of sun I got all year long, and my long hair that is begging and pleading to be cut (and I definitely didn't get any taller while I was away.....).  I've been tempted to believe that I haven't changed, but I'm not convinced that's possible. I'm sure I must have learned more or changed more than I realize right now, but I am unable to identify exactly how. But these are a few of the things that I did learn in Africa:

NEVER underestimate the power of a friendly greeting.

Happiness is found in helping others. Every. Single. Time.

When someone says hello, stop and talk. Don’t brush it off. Take the time to give the person your full attention. Value them.

“Maybe next time” is a much better response than “no” to somebody who is trying to sell you something. Hope is something that everybody needs.

Be respectful, in every situation.

Take time to relax. The slower pace of life in Africa is refreshing. It was hard for me to deal with it at times, but it lent time for relaxation, which was very refreshing.

I don’t have to be the one to get the best picture of everything I experience and see and still enjoy myself to the fullest and realize how extremely blessed I am to experience such wonderful experiences.

Being selfless and considerate NEVER goes out of style. It’s always classy.

If somebody cuts in front of you in the queue, let it go.

You need other people.

Getting packages or letters in the mail from loved ones is the most exciting thing in the world.  It is just as exciting if the package is for your friend and not you. Being excited for others and what they have is good for the soul.

Character is important and will make more of an impression on others than anything else.

Life is not about me.

“Zikomo” - meaning “Thank you” - is a word used in every conversation in Malawi. Some could argue that it’s overused, but there is no such thing as overuse with a word like this.

Beauty is everywhere. To find it, you simply have to look for the positive and the good in everything.

Like the cheerful lady in the post office who is always laughing, joyfulness is an attitude one can choose to have every single day.

Giving away tangerines to the little girls in your compound is worth the smiles they give you afterwards, and nothing else.

Humility is the best thing to carry with you into every situation.

In life, simplicity is key. I don’t need the latest this or that, or a hundred different things, or even the coolest African curios to be happy. I can be content with what I have, because God gives me everything I truly need.

I know this is a classic, timeless one, and I did not just learn it during my time in Africa. My year did, however, enforce it in my heart and mind. The Golden Rule, from God Himself: “Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you" (Matthew 7:12 paraphrased).
It’s classic. It’s simple. I’ve heard it all my life. It seems that more often than not, I don’t think about it and realize what it really means - I know I don’t always reflect this philosophy in my life. But as I’ve interacted with different people and observed different situations, I’ve come to realize that it holds way more value and importance than I’ve given it credit for. I could go more in depth about situations where I recognized the lack of this principle and it’s useful potential, but that would just be redundant. Following this golden rule in life has endless possibilities. It is so helpful is so many situations. Watching people not use it or use it has caused me to think twice about making a conscious effort to incorporate it into my daily life.

God is so good, and this past year has shown me that in many ways.  Being a student missionary was a life-changing experience for me, and I’m so glad God worked it all out for me to go.

Gone with the Plane

My luggage glared at me, sitting in the middle of the living room of my house, packed and ready to go. My whole family was home, despite the fact that it was the middle of a weekday. Time was all too quickly ticking down to the moment where we would all pile into the car and drive to the airport to send me off to Malawi for the next nine months. It was then that I realized I didn’t want to go to Malawi anymore. I had just returned from a summer away from home after a very busy school year. I was tired. I wanted to stay home and see my family for a while. I didn’t want to go teach. I didn’t want to say goodbye and leave. But my plane ticket was paid for and I had students, eager to learn, waiting for me in Malawi. So, with a heavy heart I said my goodbyes and boarded the plane, desperately fighting the tears that threatened to spill over the borders of my eyes. What happened to the excitement I had felt months earlier when my childhood dream of going to Africa as a student missionary started to become a reality? Maybe it would have better been left a dream, I thought to myself as my flight took me miles and miles away from everybody I knew and loved.

Traditional native dresses that the school made for us :)

That was nine months ago. Now, in the blink of an eye, I’m gone. A whirlwind of programs, dress fittings, potlucks, packing, presents, and goodbyes rushed past me as I tried desperately to make the most of each moment I had until the plane threatened to take me away. All too quickly, the days ran out, suddenly the rush was over, and I’m gone. Those same suitcases, filled with different items now, sit in my room, awaiting the next leg of my journey home. I know I packed everything, yet I still have that terrible feeling that I’ve left something very important behind. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready to leave. I wasn’t ready for my time there to be over. What about all the things I never got to do, never got to help with? What about my students? Already, I am kilometers and kilometers away from the people I know and love in Malawi, and I don’t like that fact. I’ve figured out why I feel like I left something behind. My heart is no longer in my chest; it’s in Africa with all my friends there. This whole leaving business just feels so incredibly wrong.

Needless to say, I’m glad my dream became reality. I am so thankful that I’ve had this opportunity, this experience, this joy. I would not trade the past nine months for anything in the world. I’m going to miss everybody more than I can describe, I already do; but I will see them again, if not on this planet, then in heaven.

Pool Time

Julian - always ready to swim!

Three days a week, as part of our Physical Education class, we take the students down to a hotel and swim in the pool. The kids love it, and it is a great way to cool down on the really hot days. (It came in really handy when we had no water for a week and could at least get wet by jumping into the very chlorinated pool!) 

Six of the seven students, ready to walk to the pool.

We make the students tread water for 10 minutes each day.

Gift concentrating on the perfect jump into the shallow pool. He had so much fun!

They specialize in having two people jump at a time, with one person always backing out at the last minute.

Alyssa wearing a life-jacket that's bigger than her to learn how to swim. She doesn't use the life-jacket anymore. :)

The pool is circular, so we often have them swim in one direction to create a whirlpool.

They love it because it's fun. We love it because they get exercise and burn energy.
And also because it's fun :)

Julian & Lety - Very enthusiastic students!

Taking a little rest :)

Julian and Claudio waiting for the girls to finish changing so we can go home.

Each Christmas, the students put on a little swimming show for their parents - the Swimming Gala. This past Christmas we had each student demonstrate a different stroke, or for the younger ones, another skill. Gift showed us how to kick and Alyssa demonstrated holding her breath underwater. We also had a competition as to who had the best cannon-bomb jump, among others. The parents were the judges and used number cards to give their score. It was great fun and very entertaining! 

Gift demonstrates how to kick.

Students waiting to demonstrate different strokes.

The photographers.

The spectators & judges.

In our last package from the university, Laurel and I each received a rubber duck. We had no need for rubber ducks, so we took them to school and on our last day of swimming, we had relay races that involved pushing the ducks across the pool without touching them. That was by far the best day of swimming this school year!

Lillee & Alyssa - couldn't swim because they both had colds.

Julian.

Brenda.

Claudio.

One of the two ducks. 

Cheering the teams on....

Claudio again. 

Breanda again - I love this picture!! :) 

Bianca & Lety 

Bianca, Laurel, Lety, Claudio, Brenda, Julian 

Lety. 

Team 1: Laurel, Claudio, Brenda 

Team 2 - Bianca, Julian, Lety 

Bianca. 

The whole class.

Chichewa

Random person: “Muli bwanji!!”

Me: "Um… ndini bwino! Zikomo! How are you?”

And that’s the extent of my conversational skills in Chichewa, the local language here in Malawi. Often, the greeting will be a little bit varied, with another word in front of the “bwanji.” I have no clue what they mean. People have tried to teach me, but I don’t pick up languages quickly at all, and in my work, I don’t get much practice.

But I try. When locals greet me in Chichewa, I try to respond correctly. My responses are almost always met with a friendly high-five/handshake and laughter. Huge smiles assure me that they aren’t offended by my lack of Chichewa knowledge. Being a person who likes to know what’s going on around her, I surprisingly don’t mind not knowing what people just said to me. I don’t mind the laughter at my response. Strangely enough, it makes me feel a little bit more connected to them. I try, and they seem to appreciate it - and then it doesn’t matter that I said the wrong thing, that I didn’t know what on earth they said. We just laugh and enjoy the moment together. That’s the important part of conversation. It’s meaningful to know the language of the people you are serving, but it’s just as important to make that connection with people by being friendly.

Street Vendors

Welcome to Malawi - where there are many people on the streets hoping to see you the crafts that they make: necklaces, bracelets, cards, pens, paintings - you name it, they have it. Of course, because I’m white, several of these people are always trying to get me to buy their products. Half of the time, they’ve seen Laurel and I walking to the hotel with our students for swimming class, so they don’t try to get us to buy in the mornings if they see us. Afternoons are another story. Some guys will follow you down the street for several blocks, making conversation, pushing their necklace collection in your face, trying to get you to stop of buy something. Some won’t be quite as pushy. Others aren’t pushy at all. Some are desperate for you to buy something, anything from them, and start talking about how they have no money for food. I struggle with this one. What if they don’t actually have money for food? One man didn’t want to let me leave with just one item. One man was happy with me buying one carved pen and said “God bless” as I left. But there is this one man who is my absolute favorite. Winston sells paintings that are actually quite nice. He had asked if we wanted to buy paintings the first few times he saw us with the students, but then, like the others, learned that if we have the kids with us, we can’t buy anything. 

The next time he asked me was when I was walking down to a small store to buy a few staple kitchen items. He saw me and asked, “Madam, you don’t have the students with you today. Can I show you my paintings?” I told him that if he waited for me to finish in the store first, I would look at them. He waited for me, and I looked at his paintings. He didn’t give me any sob stories about how he had no money, but instead thanked me for my support after buying one of his paintings. People here would probably say that I paid a lot for his painting, and I probably did. I didn’t try to bargain the price down much. But that was okay with me, because he was respectful.

Now, when I’m walking down the street, I look for Winston. I saw him the other day, with one of the other guys who is a little more pushy with his items. Winston didn’t even ask me to look at his paintings. I bought a few things from the other guy, and before I headed on my way, asked Winston if I could look at his paintings when I came back. He said he would wait for me and I walked away to do my errands. When I came back an hour later, he was still waiting for me. I bought two paintings from him them, for a great price because I am “such a good customer.” Then he gave me a gift painting. 

Whenever I walk down one particular section of road, I seem to always hear, “Hello teacher!” from one of these guys. They are all super nice, and they are all my friends. But Winston is the only one I know by name, and I never try to bargain down his prices too much. I love the people of Malawi.

Sidenote: It’s always interesting to buy from one man when others are in sight. If you buy something from one, you’re definitely going to buy something from another, right? Most of the time I don’t buy, but when I do….

Graduation

Back row, left to right: Laurel (teacher), Lety (8th), Bianca (8th), Brenda (9th), me.
Front row: Alyssa (kindergarten), Claudio (5th), Julian (6th), Lillee (Year 3).

The last day of school is complete. Graduation is over. Therefore, I would like to take a moment to brag about my students. I am so proud of each and every one of them. They have worked hard this past year, putting forth effort to do their best, even in subjects that they don’t like or struggle with more than others. One of our eighth graders hated Language at the beginning of the year, and by the end of the year she told me that she loved it. My students have done well, despite my ability to explain some concepts in Math or Science and my complete lack of knowledge when it comes to teaching. Watching them learn has been a new and wonderful experience. God really came through this year and helped my students learn. Now, as they all advance in their studies, I pray that they continue to learn and do well. I am so grateful for the privilege I have had of teaching these students.

Congratulations, students! I couldn't be more proud :)

We're all a bit crazy...

Regardless of what these pictures show, we all love each other and we're all friends!

Graduation cake

Our 8th graders - Bianca & Lety

Zebra Prints

Zebras are very beautiful animals. Their stripes intrigue me and the journey of each line across the zebra’s body is unique. Each stripe travels in no specific pattern. Stripes curve, end, continue, branch off, or run parallel to another, all the while following its own path. Looking at zebras, it can be easy to see differences in the pattern of their skin, and it can also be difficult.

Looking at humans, it can be easy to see differences in people, and it can also be difficult. But not two people are exactly the same. No two zebras are exactly the same. Like human fingerprints, zebras have their own pattern that is unique. Each print is gorgeous. Each is special. Each person is unique. Each person is valuable.

God’s creativity, to create millions of zebras and billions of people who are each different, simply astounds me. God is so big and so amazing.

Daily Entertainment

Every week I have my students do a report on a different composer. As I was introducing the composer for the next week, I mentioned that he was from the Romantic Period. Though I had explained the different periods of music at the beginning of the year, my students had forgotten and were now wanting to know what the Romantic Period was, since all they could envision were red roses, white fancy dresses, and public displays of affection - not quite their cup of tea. So I started writing a timeline of musical periods on the board, explaining them as I went. And of course, when I started on the Baroque period, the inevitable joke was made: “If it’s not baroque, don’t fix it!” Julian, the clown who had made the joke, started laughing hysterically and was immediately joined by all the other students. Having heard this joke thousands of times, I was not so amused and only wanted to roll my eyes. I tried to decide whether it would be beneficial to scold him for speaking out of turn, but, as everybody was laughing at the genuinely funny joke, I could not help but to let it go and laugh with them. 

***

The day before a Language test, I was helping Julian and making sure that he understood everything that was going to be on the test. As I’m talking, he pipes up, “Oooh!! Do you want to hear a joke?!”
“Not right now Julian, we’re working on Language. What’s the verb in this sentence?”
“I have good news and bad news.”
“Julian, Language, what’s the verb?” I tried to get him to focus again.
“The bad news is, I accidentally broke your bike,” he continued.
“Julian!” 
He was determined to tell his joke, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. “The good news is, you now have two unicycles!” 
More hysterical laughing, from everybody. It was another few moments before we got back to Language…

***

One gray and rainy day, one of our students was cold. Another asked him, “Do you have hippotermia?”
In case you’re wondering, that would be the African version of hypothermia. 

***

A student asked a question about President Roosevelt as she was working on her history assignment.
Laurel needed some clarification before answering and asked, “Which Roosevelt? Teddy or Theodore?”

***
Lety was working on a history assignment: “What was the code name given to the atomic bomb?”
Julian: “Boom boom.”

***

Julian, talking to me: “If I had to describe you in two words, they would be crazy, and delusional.”

Well… I’ll take it!!

***

I could go on and on... Our students are priceless and wonderful kids - not to mention they’re so funny - each and every one of them. Not a day goes by where we aren't entertained by SOMETHING. :)

You know you're in Africa when...

….you see cars parked in the MIDDLE of the street and on the sidewalks.

….you see a goat leg and half of a mouse while walking along the lake shore. Barefoot on the beach? I think not!

….you see a mouse skewered, fried, and intended for lunch. Yeah, no. I’m on a diet called “I’m not eating that.” Street food is always interesting...

….the package from your parents literally looks as if it went through the front lines of a battle in the 18th century.

….the power goes out right as you put your food in the oven to bake.

….random people call you “Madam” or even “Mom.”

….you spend a week at the lake, in the sun, and come back with a considerable tan. And then somebody comments on how white you are. #whitegirlproblems

….locals chase you down the streets trying to sell you their cards, paintings, pens, necklaces - anything, you name it.

….these same locals find out where you live and come to sell you their products.

….at the lodge you order toast and fruit for breakfast and it doesn’t show up in front of you for another hour.

….you discover that the reason the water tanks aren’t full is because the company that pumps the water found a dead body stuck inside and blocking one of the water pipes due to flooding that occurred when the cyclone came through. #nowords #boilboilboil

….instead of talking about the weather, you talk about whether or not you have electricity or water. 

….the people at the post office have never heard of the Federated States of Micronesia, and have no clue what to do with the letter you asked them to send there.

….local teenage boys lightly rub your arm because they want to know what white skin feels like.

….”luxury” means anything but luxury. Oops. That was a long bus ride.

….the air conditioning unit in your hotel room doesn’t work.

….every smile melts your heart. Unless it’s from a drunk person who wants you to go home with him. Then it’s kind of creepy.

….the week during rainy season it doesn’t rain at all is the week that you literally have no water. And by no water, I mean no water. No showers, no nothing. 

….you wake up to the dogs barking at monkeys in the trees in your yard.

….avocados fall from their tree and hit the metal roof right above your head, in the MIDDLE of the night.

….you can’t remember the last time you even saw a haystack.

….you have four weeks off from school for Christmas break. Can I hear an “Amen”?!

….the really loud music played on the bus continues throughout the entire night.

….the next bus plays ten songs over and over again for the eight hour ride.

….you can’t tell if people are so enthralled with you because you’re white or because your home country has a black president. #America=Obama #samething #noIhavenotmetObama

….you buy deodorant at the store and you can’t decide if it would be better to actually use it or not.

….you no longer have to make the choice between flushing the toilet or washing the dishes. You don’t have water for either.

….on the 30 hour bus ride to South Africa, the air conditioning doesn’t work and you practically die of heat, and on the way back to Malawi on the exact same bus, the air conditioning works so well you freeze the entire trip.

….you pay two rand to use a bathroom that is a complete mess and has toilets and sinks that don’t work.

….orchestra rehearsal gets out early because the power goes out.

….the Friday and Monday surrounding Easter Sunday are holidays = NO SCHOOL. Another “Amen” please!

These were collaborated from all the countries I’ve been to in Africa. I’m sure that not all of these are Africa-specific, but they are definitely true here!

Cheers!

Bus People

I got on the bus and a whole new sea of strange faces met me. Not that there was anything bad or scary about the faces, I just didn’t know the people the faces belonged to. Laurel and I found our seats and I tried to remember why we had chosen to take the bus to and from South Africa instead of flying. Flying would have been a whole lot easier, and nicer. But, the bank account said no, and here we were on the bus. And this bus was completely full. There was no option of having two seats to myself for the overnight ride. Now, this wasn’t a problem, really, I just was not excited. And, to make matters more interesting, OF COURSE Laurel and I were the only two foreigners (white people) on the bus. We stuck out like sore thumbs, not that this is a new concept to us.

We stopped at a gas station, and I got out to get some fresh air. As I was getting out, I saw a white South African who had just arrived to check out the bus. He saw me and immediately made sure that I was okay and that everything was going fine. That was nice.

But everybody on the bus were still strangers to me. I didn’t know them, and being the shy introvert that I am, I did not readily initiate conversations with everybody or anybody around me. I simply sat in my seat, listening to my music and ignoring everybody else on the bus. After almost one hundred hours spent on buses on this vacation alone, not to mention the way-too-many hours spent on buses when we traveled at Christmastime, I was definitely used to my fair share of being surrounded by strangers in confined spaces, but I still didn’t appreciate it.

Though, as time passed, I began to feel a whole lot differently about these strangers. They began to feel like friends. If I didn’t know where to go at border crossings, I would look for these strangers to see what I was supposed to do and where I was supposed to go. As we walked through no-man’s land at one border crossing, the lady next to me started talking with me. And, as the hours passed, more and more of the Malawians on the bus started asking us questions. Why were we, two white girls, going to Malawi? What had we been doing in South Africa? How long had we been in Africa? Did we like Malawi? When we finally did arrive in Blantyre and got off the bus, one fellow traveller even welcomed us home.

A lot of the bus rides that we took ended this way. It felt like we were all friends. These people were no longer strangers, though their names were still a mystery to me. I don’t know what they do, what they like, or anything about them, and I hardly talked to them. Yet, at the end of the thirty hour bus ride, my initial sentiments as I boarded the bus in Johannesburg were gone. The shared experience of the bus ride and border crossings seemed to break down unknown barriers, and suddenly we were all the same. We were all residents of Malawi, traveling back home.

Breezy Stillness

Everything is quiet, peaceful. The wind is rustling through the trees.

Thoughts of all kinds race through my head; thoughts that I can’t even label. Thoughts that leave me confused. I don’t want to think and figure them out. I make a much needed call to my mom and talk with her for a bit. Now I want a hug that only she can give.

It was a long week, though we only had school for four days. 

I’m tired. I’m a little bit sick. I need to go to bed. 

But the stillness of this breezy night keeps me up. The peacefulness relaxes me. 

The wind seems to blow away my worries and cares.

I know my bed is comfortable, and I can hear my pillow calling my name, yet I sit on the hard ground, refusing to move from this moment of silence amongst the craziness of life. 

It’s a comforting atmosphere and I don’t want it to end. 

It’s these moments of stillness that comfort me, relax me. This week I’ve had several of these much-needed moments. It’s been beautiful. Blessings from God.

Stuck

Baby Giraffe

Almost every single Sabbath afternoon we are invited by one of the families of our students to their house for lunch and the afternoon, and sometimes the evening. It is such a blessing. Each family is so much fun and relaxing to spend time with, each in their own unique way. Sabbath afternoons have become one of my favorite times of the week, to be sure.

This last particular Sabbath afternoon was spent with the Sandoval family, and we headed to a small, private game reserve to spend our afternoon out in nature observing the animals there. We watched big lizard-comodo-dragon-things rush out of the road as we came; we watched nyala, impala, and waterbuck wander through the bushes; and we played hide-and-seek with the monkeys in the trees. We also came across a mother giraffe with her cute little baby, who was taller than me. As Brenda carefully crept closer and closer to the giraffe, it was fascinating to watch the mother’s reaction turn from not being bothered by our presence to being defensive and very cautious. She flared her nostrils and pawed at the ground, muscles twitching in case she needed to make a run for it. Don’t worry, we didn’t get too close and we were perfectly safe :)

Brenda cautiously moving closer to the giraffe.

Then we drove down another road. It being the end of rainy season, there are some nice, big muddy sections of road in these game parks. We came across one and optimistically thought that by going around it, we wouldn’t get stuck. So we tried it. And we got stuck. In the hot sun. So the kids and I walked through the mud in search of some shade and dry ground to sit on while dad called some people at the gate to come help us get un-stuck.

And there we were, lying on blankets stretched across the dry ground and resting in the shade. There aren’t any elephants, lions, leopards, or the like in this particular park, so it's safe to do that there. The singing birds and the breeze rushing through the trees provided a soothing and relaxing atmosphere. Suddenly, another sound of nature joined the others, and it was not quite so relaxing anymore. A galloping sound came from somewhere, but we couldn’t tell where. This small park does have cape buffalo, which happen to be the most aggressive of the “Big Five” - and we were lying on the grass. My imagination went wild. We jumped up and desperately searched the bushes. I grabbed my camera, ready to make a mad dash for the car if I needed. As we all looked around us to find out what animal was joining us, we finally spotted them: three waterbuck that ran by without even glancing at us. Whew! A few minutes later some men came and helped get our car out of the mud, and we continued our adventure.

Stuck.

Dirty feet after walking through the mud to dry ground.

Relaxing in the shade. Brenda & Claudio.

Getting stuck in mud in a game park isn’t exactly every person’s ideal when it comes to any sort of trip - but I loved every minute of it. We didn’t see many animals, aside from some gorgeous birds, but we spent some valuable time in nature, and it was SO refreshing. And, the adventure of it all was exciting (I thought so anyway).

In life, sometimes we get stuck. We think that we can handle things on our own without the help of others and of God - and we optimistically move on. But then we run into mud and get stuck. We need God, and we need others. Thankfully, God is always with us and watching over us, and He comes and rescues us each time we get stuck.

God is just so amazing.

First class seating!

 

Waterbuck

A beautiful sunset over the valley to end the Sabbath.