Signing Off From Malawi ...

Friday, 10 September 2010

 We have, in the last two days, had the following oh-so-Malawi (/Africa) experience: Our lodge ran out of water for a day. Our office had no electricity for a day. And today the city of Blantyre has no petrol in any of the gas stations. We are lucky this last happened at the end of our trip, or we may not have been able to do all the driving we did to see all of our projects.

Malawi is a country which shares both Christian and Muslim faiths. There are several mosques around. Each day there are the traditional Calls to Prayer, which are lovely and somewhat haunting. Happily, I don’t usually hear the first morning call (at sunup, which is something like 5:30 AM). But each evening, I have watched the brilliant orange-to-pink-to-blue-to-purple sunset and heard the melodic prayer.

We visited a project where GAIA provides micro loans to women, and heard the women describe for us the impact these loans have made in their lives. It was uplifting and enlightening. We heard tales of a grandmother who cares for her orphaned grandchildren and can now afford to pay their school fees. Plus she was able to buy herself a bicycle and rides it proudly to the bank to deposit into her savings. We heard several stories of women who were able to build stronger houses with good roofs for their families. And we heard stories of women who’s husbands work with them in a family enterprise. Story after story included "pay for my children to go to school" and "able to feed my family, even in the time of drought". It was a wonderful respite from the heartbreak of the previous days. But don’t be mislead - these women are still barefoot, living in a remote village, in a hut with dirt floors and eeking out a living. It’s just that they are learning to make and save a little money, which makes a big difference in a life with otherwise very very little.

I’ve been asked if I am ready to leave. The answer is both yes and no. I miss my family terribly. Guiltily, I will admit that I miss my shower (and the water pressure of home). Once home, I think I will miss my GAIA family. It is an outstanding group of folks with whom I’ve been privileged to share this incredible journey. And I will miss the GAIA staff who I’ve come to know and with whom I have so enjoyed working side by side. Alas, I don’t think I will miss the smokey air I romanticized a bit early on. I will not miss the beggars in the street, with twisted legs or hungry bellies. I will not miss the barred windows and doors. I will not miss my mosquito net. I will miss seeing the children so eager to come and greet us, eager and shy simultaneously to touch us. I will miss the delicious harmonies and joyous songs of the women. I will miss learning a bit of Chichewa and surprising Malawians when I try to use it. I will miss the lovely cadence of the English spoken by the Malawians. I will miss the "James Earl Jones" laugh of one of our drivers. I will miss seeing something new and different so many times a day, each and every day. This has been the trip of a lifetime, to be certain. Just remember - if you ever come.... just bring carry on.

As they say in Chichewa.... Bye Bye!