The Saga: Part 2

Well I can tell by all of your comments that part 1 of the saga was so riveting that you just couldn't WAIT to find out more?! That was sarcastic. Nobody has commented on my blog in quite a while now and I have to admit, it makes me a little bit sad. For what its worth, it totally makes my day when people comment - otherwise I have no way to know who (if anyone?!) is reading. Well screw you all anyways, everyone knows its the writing itself that's the cathartic part.

But back to the saga:

So how did I survive this crazy situation? Well, it was definitely not without a large dose of luck. Minutes after I finished writing in my journal, a local woman tells me that she, too, is headed for Lilongwe and that I can tag along with her. Still over my head about the money (or lack thereof) situation, I get into the first border-bound 'taxi' - in reality more like a 20-year old Toyota Corolla stuffed with 8 passengers - without much of a plan. When we get to the border, my new friend/guardian angel agrees to front me the money and take me to an ATM in Lilongwe where I can pay her back. Thank god! This woman's generosity completely saved my ass.

We proceed to bounce from taxi to taxi, corolla to corolla, finally arriving into Lilongwe 4 taxis and 4 hours later. Kindly, this woman helps me call David, the contact person at H.E.L.P. Malawi, finds me a Malawian simcard for my phone, some breakfast, and puts me on the right bus for Liwonde. Another jam-packed 4 hour bus ride later, I disembark groggily in Lowinde - a town that looks like the identical twin of about every other roadside town we have passed so far: dusty dirt roads, devolving cement and mud-brick edifices, women and children peddling everything from bananas to peanuts to fried bread and potatoes on the side of the road.

I had told David to expect me, and was hoping that we would find eachother on the sheer fact that we are likely to be the only two white people within a 10km radius of the town. I get out, wander a few steps, and sure enough, find David. He guides me toward another mazungo (white person), who turns out to be Jillian Wolstein, the founder and executive director of the organization. I join them for a cold coke and a plate of chips (fries) at one of the town's few restaurants, and tell them about my long and crazy journey. Long story abbreviated, I come to find out that I am sitting in this restaurant in the middle of nowhere in Malawi with two Jews from Cleveland. Ha! What are the odds. It is a seriously small world, I'm telling you.

So we take their safari-esque old school Landrover down the dirt road to Mvuu camp, where the operation is headquartered. It is pristine and incredibly remote. To get to the lodge itself requires a boat across a sparkling river, full of grumbling hippos and stealthy crocodiles. Baboons, elephants, and water buck traipse along the river banks. It is clear that we are in a national park.

Upon reaching the lodge, my fate changes for the better, and in a matter of a few hours, I have gone from rags to riches. The beautiful 4 star safari lodge sits overlooking the river, with dark wood and thatched roofs, canvas-cushioned chairs woven from wood and wicker. As a volunteer, I get to stay here for free - and due to the current overflow of people (Jillian has brought with her an entourage of 5 people), I get to stay my first few nights in a luxury chalet by the river. There is a family of warthogs that munches grass outside my door. They look like Pumba from the Lion King. The beds are soft, the water is hot, and the view of the sun setting over the river is absolutely spectacular.

But things get better when I emerge for dinner to find white linen tablecloths and a three-course menu. The only thing that could and did make me happier was when I discovered that breakfast include da build-your-own omelette bar. Build your own omelette bar?! Where am I?

The following afternoon, I get my first taste of Nanthomba school, the primary school where I will be working. I sit in on a Standard 7 (7th grade class), and help teach an English lesson. The class ended in a full-on Malawian dance party, which, in my opinion, is when these kids' personalities shine the most. The sense of rhythm here is unbelievable, and it is such a freeing and expressive part of their culture.

Last night was David's 25th birthday, and we spent it drinking and dancing around the fire at a cultural village, as a local Malawian band played and the entire village danced alongside us late into the night. I am getting some serious practice in African dance!

That is all for now. Life is good. More soon.