World AIDS Day

No one ever wants to talk about the unspoken word.

HIV. AIDS.

In Malawi, it was once known as the "American disease". Or the "witch's curse". Everyone was afraid to speak up, because they were afraid that they would be accused of being bewitched, of infidelity, or of doing something godforsaken.

But out of this fear, I saw something beautiful happen when watching a group of villagers who were HIV+ care for one another. I remember I visited a few patients' homes with a few others who were HIV+. One was incapacitated and could not move or breathe. I remember being gripped by fear of what to say and what to do. But her friends sought her out, helped clean up her home, brought her water, contributed what little money they had, and prayed for her. They comforted her in the darkest times.

Let's stand in solidarity and fight the good fight. Get tested. Seek ARV treatments. Say no to unprotected sex. Reject discrimination.

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves,
for the rights of all who are destitute.
Speak up and judge fairly;
defend the rights of the poor and needy.

-Proverbs 31:8-9

Remember the Malawians who are among the poorest in the world.

Remember the orphans.

Remember the girls who are often taken advantage of by the Sugar Daddies.

Remember the people whose stories touched my life: Chikhadzula, Nankuku, Annie.

My article is published online!

Read about my experience online http://www.startwithwater.org/page.aspx?name=featured

Malawi's hospitality

These past few days have been eventful, fulfilling, and tiring. I spent two days in Lilongwe and met old friends throughout my time. I saw Peace Corps staff and spent much time catching up with them. I also ran into another RPCV at a café in the morning and we chatted away. I met up with another Malawian friend whom I met from Duke, Wazi. He’s now back in Malawi working for the Ministry of Finance.

Early the next morning, I had to haul my katundu again back to downtown Lilongwe. It took me about 45 minutes this time. But on the way there, some guy on a bike slammed into my arm and fell. He kept looking at the drops of blood on his hand, then at me, then apologizing “Sorry madam”. Now I have a big, fat bruise on my arm.

I got to Dedza where I did my homestay training when I first arrived in Malawi. Oh, it was such a heartfelt homecoming. As I walked into the village, streams of kids ran around me and followed me to the Odala household. I was awkwardly sitting with about 50 kids staring at me, waiting for me to make a move. Slowly neighbors and friends came to greet me while I waited for my grandmother to come. I finally got up and decided to walk around and just as I did, they said “Amayi is here”. I turned the corner to see her looking for me and when she saw me, she couldn’t stop smiling and saying “Elaine-ee!” She kept saying “Alendo! Alendo!” (Guest! Guest!) and how people told her while she was farming that she had an alendo waiting for her. She kept wondering who she was and was so ecstatic that I was there. After three years, we finally met again. She wanted to prepare me a chicken but I told her I was in a hurry so she made me chips and eggs for old time’s sake.

Then I took a minibus to Ntcheu, which took forever. Because of the fuel crisis, we had to switch to 3 different minibuses just to travel 90 km. But finally I arrived and stayed with a good friend of mine, Isaac Talimire. He used to be a teacher and neighbor at my old site. In fact, he shared the other ”half-house” I stayed in and took such good care of me. This time around, he still took good care of me and was very happy to see me.

I wanted to go to Blantyre the same day but transportation takes so long in Malawi and I didn’t want to travel while it was dark, so I decided to stay with Talimire. The next morning, I was going to Zomba to visit another health worker friend, Andrew Chikhadzula, who had transferred from my old site. Because of the uncomfortable experience the previous day, I wanted to hitch a private ride. But after standing for 2 hours, I figured no one was going to pick me up so I finally took the minibus. On this ride, the minibus broke down about 5 times in one hour because the oil was completely out, so we switched to another minibus. When I finally got to Zomba, I had to take a bicycle taxi to my friend’s house about 12 km away. It was actually kind of nice to sit on the back of a bike and enjoy the scenery with the wind whipping through my hair. His area was much more remote than the last person I stayed with. He didn’t have a door lock; he opened his house with a machete. We ate dinner in the dark and his neighbor graciously offered his place for me to stay since my friend did not have sleeping accommodations for me.

My last stop was at P.I.M., my old site. I left Zomba in the morning, had to get off in downtown Zomba to exchange money since I was running out of money, then hopped back on a minibus. This minibus took longer than I expected getting to Limbe but finally I arrived in Limbe and had to board another minibus to go to P.I.M. But I wasn’t sure where I was going to stay because the administration at the site told my friend (former counterpart), Davie Makanani, that they didn’t have room for me. But my friend graciously said that I could stay with him. He made room in his food storage for me to sleep in where his chickens were also residing. I was really grateful that he went out of his way for me to have a place to stay and took me on his bicycle to the places I needed to go. He even said “A few days is not enough. You should stay 2 weeks!”

I’m really so thankful for Malawian’s hospitality. It’s living in these villages that have shown me what genuine hospitality looks like. My friends, who had little and didn’t own much, went out of their ways to ensure a comfortable bed for me to stay in. I think that some may even have given up their own blankets to ensure that I stayed warm at night. I know it’s not easy to accommodate guests, because you have to prepare their bath water, their meals, and their rooms, but they do it with such willing hearts. It was when they sacrificed for me that I realized how true hospitality really looks like. It wasn’t like they could just roll out a couch for me to sleep in, pick up some McDonald’s for me, and hand me a towel to jump into the shower. They really don’t have much, but they took me into their homes anyway and made me a part of their family. For that, I’m truly grateful for their kindness and graciousness. Even though I’m living the village life, I couldn’t ask for more. This is why they call Malawi "The Warm Heart of Africa".

Goodbye Nkhata Bay *sigh*

These past few days have been blissful, even though I know I really should finish my report. The first day I got there I hung out at Mayoka beach (I was staying at Mayoka Lodge), went into “town” when there was a big football (soccer) match outside the Nkhata Bay Prison and walked around. The next day I went to Chikale Beach (tinier than I thought) where I saw people washing their clothes in the bay. It was kind of funny. Then some guys kept trying to holler at me; I think they wanted to sell me some mj. On a separate occasion, I met some Rastafarians who were trying to get Malawi to recognize their religion and legalize ganja. Then yesterday I relaxed at the lodge, then finally had my butterfish! I’ve met some really interesting people on this trip:

There were two French girls who were cycling through Africa.
Then I met another British guy who cycled from the UK down to Africa.
There were two Belgian guys who had spent 4 months in Central America, now 5 months in Africa, and will spend some more months in Asia.

It’s kinda cool meeting all these people. Only in Africa!

Today I woke up at 5 to take a 8.5 hour bus ride to Lilongwe, the capitol. I lugged about 20 kg of stuff (carrying them front and back) for about 20 minutes trying to get to the bus depot. Why did I let my parents and brothers convince me to bring the “gifts” and candy?! I only brought 2 pairs of pants, 5 shirts, and a skirt. (I bought more skirts here.) But my bags are so heavy! I hope that by the time I return to the U.S., I’ll only have one bag!

Anyway, this bus ride was supposed to be made in half the time. We stopped so many times that I had about four different passengers sitting next to me throughout. One of them kept leering over my shoulder to look out the window so that she could make sure no one was stealing her katundu. The bus was filled with wafts of body odor, usipa (dried fish), and a little bit of feces. The bus hardly stopped for anyone; everyone had about 20 seconds to run after the bus and hop on. A kid had to stop pooping so that he and his mom could get on the bus, otherwise the bus would take off without them. And of course, a true African experience is not complete without the overcrowding buses with reggae music blaring through the speakers.

And now I’m camping somewhere in Lilongwe. :)

Hello Nkhata Bay!

Today I woke up at 5 am, packed up my katundu and left Livingstonia for good. I was sad but I was glad that I was able to see one last beautiful sunrise during my journey to the lakeshore.

Five hours later, after cramming with 16 others in a minibus, I arrived at Nkhata Bay. For the first time since I’ve been here, I was able to touch the lake! And they really don’t call it “Lake of the Stars” for no reason. It’s so beautiful and peaceful. Then, as I was chatting with the owner of a hostel here, out of the kindness of his heart, he offered me a chalet room for the same price that I was going to pay for a dorm! I don’t know why people in Malawi treat me so well. First I got a free ride from the airport to Lilongwe. Then I got this nice 3-bedroom house in Livingstonia all to myself. Then I got a free month of visa extension at the Immigration Office. And now I have a freakin’ awesome chalet. I hope that my charm will keep working ‘till the very end!

Goodbye Livingstonia

I hate saying goodbyes. I’m going to miss Livingstonia. It was a beautiful place to live and I had amazing mornings waking up to a beautiful view. The people here are wonderful too. I had a great cook who made me cakes and stew and empanadas. I had a really sweet toothless night watchman who always liked to chat. Then there were the Fabulous Four I worked with, just awesome people who work hard and are committed to the people. As they bade me farewell, they thanked me for being so free with them so that they could be free with me. They thought that they wouldn’t be able to work with me because I looked like a “little girl” but they realized how mature I was and learned from me.

Sometimes I got so tired of hearing about how our world was being run by politicians who’d divert all aid money to their accounts or how chiefs got corrupted by NGO “hand-outs”. And I got tired of people asking me for money and the clothes on my back all the time. There were a lot of “Give me’s”. It was really encouraging to see that there were actually people who cared about their work and weren’t just doing it for the money. Of course there were a lot of politics (and I had never dealt with so much of it before), but they didn’t let the politics get to them. They just saw it as a mountain to overcome with happy people waving at the other side. :) This was refreshing for me.

And now I’m off to Nkhata Bay for a few days. I was growing weary of staring at the lake everyday and not being able to touch it! After playing at the beach, I’ll head down to Lilongwe and meet up with some old friends. I’m hoping to see my training homestay family in Dedza, another teacher friend in Ntcheu, then some other friends in Blantyre, including one who’s running a street children nonprofit. Finally I’ll go back to my home in Chiradzulu and see all my wonderful friends again, especially the old agogo I so loved. I hope that she’s still alive and strong at 84. I am so excited!

Happy Father's Day!

I thought I’d share my dad’s greatest fatherhood moment.

When I was about 5 or 6, we were staying in Hong Kong and my mom had just left for the U.S. Being the crybaby I was, I was inconsolable when she left. My dad did what any self-righteous inconsolable woman would do: eat at McDonald’s. So he bought me my two favorite foods at the time: ice cream and French fries. That night, I had stomach pains and could not stop crying (again). Concerned, he took me to the hospital and the doctor told him it was simply stomach gas. And it was probably a good idea to stop feeding me ice cream and French fries.

But I think that his greatest fatherhood moment with my brother is so much funnier, because he actually loses a kid.

Anyway, I just wanted to say Happy Father’s Day, Dad!