Solo

For as long as I can remember, even back in the days when I'd lay in the grass and convince myself I could feel the earth spin--way before it was age appropriate, I've been longing for my soul mate.

The life I planned when I was eight hasn't exactly panned out the way I'd envisioned.

 Next week I'll be 27, unmarried (and with absolutely no prospects on the horizon,) no children, no career or real career history, no drivers license, and unsure of my next step. Still getting acquainted with myself and this crazy thing we call life.

Please gentlemen, contain yourselves. 

Then there are these absolute truths: 

You can't control life or, anything 

It's about the ride not the destination

Good intention paves the road to hell

Blah blah blah...

Moral of the story is the same as it ever was, yeah? 

Live a good life, be intentional/mindful, work towards living your dreams, and react at all times with love.

 I'm working on these, especially the second and last part.. But how disappointing is it when we have seemingly the perfect plan that all turns to shit?

Peace Corps was never something I would have seriously considered even just a few years ago-- just as now,  I realize that children and parenthood aren't a real option for me. The one thing I'd never doubted, never considered was living a life without was "that person." 

Peace Corps has been a lot of things for me. I've been broken down to my very foundation and learned to build myself up again. It's been a practice in patience and love and really working towards understanding--it's stripped me of my overwhelming anxiety and fear. It's helped me get past a heartbreak and it's given me like-minded friends, advocates, activists, and people who challenge me into my finest state of becoming while also supporting me at the same time. Perhaps most unexpectedly, it's given me a respite from my history of serial monogamy. 

The people I've loved, or nearly loved have shaped and taught me everything-- except to fully realize and appreciate the beautiful singularity that is me. I can be radically happy and in love with life without experiencing romantic love. Maybe even more so. 

It's not that I've been afraid to be alone or that I haven't seen myself as a strong independent woman. It's just always been so easy for me to really, fully see you-- know you, and inevitably fall in love with you, and, you know, swoon.

This is the first time in my life I'm really considering what it means to go it alone, and it's appealing.

Being alone generally isn't a lonely thing for me. It's more like a spiritual revival.

Of course I'm not writing anything off, and of course I'd love to find someone who challenges me, and fits me spiritually, physically, emotionally, and encourages my passions. I'm just not sure I'd have to sleep with this person to feel fulfilled. Though, seems like a bonus.

I know most people come to this thought process when they're 16 and afraid they won't find a prom date, "maybe I'll end up alone." But it's honestly never something I considered before, especially in a positive light. 

It feels like a revelation.

The things they carried...

Notable things I've seen strapped to men's bike racks:

A squealing pig

A goat

A chicken(s)

A dead cow

Suitcases

A coffin

Pipes and metal roofing 5-7 feet long (clear the roads or you WILL get clothes lined.)

Huge bundles of firewood 3-5 feet high

Huge sacks of charcoal

Huge sacks of maize

People

Notable things I've seen women carry on their heads:

Huge bundles of firewood

Obviously, massive buckets full of:

    Fish

    Water

    Rice

A single flip flop

A single flip flop with a rock ontop 

A single bar of soap

Recently purchased veggies

A purse strap

The bag part of the purse

Coolers

A stack of bricks

School books

A water bottle

A large ax laying sideways 

A gardening hoe

Welcome to the village!

Rain on the hot tin roof

It's hot season.

On the lake shore, more specifically, in Karonga hot season is synomous with dehydration, early menopausal night sweats, chronically empty water filters,  Nalgene upon Nalgene, or just the simple and classic--brutal. 

I've never been one to mind the heat, but it's been interesting to live in a place where you can't escape it. No fans, air conditioning, or freezers into which one could stick his or her head (or his or her undergarments)--but hot damn we do love a nice cross breeze. 

Baby doll, Karonga is hot. 

But I like it.

There have, however been some rare summer days when the rain clouds roll in and the mirages and heat filled hallucinations die down, replaced by cool breezes, the unexpected splash of tiny drops through your shutterless windows, and the varying speeds of, "ting, ding, ding," of the rain hitting your roof.

I love the sound of rain on my hot tin roof. I could spend lifetimes of afternoons curled up with tea, a book, and the inconsistent splatter of a mid-hot-season rain storm.

If nothing else, its a hellofalot better than the damn birds clanging around up there.

The Pad Project

Many of you fine folks have asked what you can send me, here in Malawi and I finally have an answer (beyond chocolate, deodorant, and cheese..)

I have two girl's groups in my community as well as two youth groups that I'm working with, and many discussion topics and project ideas to tackle. One relatively easy, but possibly life changing project that I'd like to do with young women is the Pad Project.

The Pad Project is a sustainable and really effective way to keep girls and women active in school, their communities, reduces shame and stigma around menstruation, provides opportunity to educate about the female reproductive system, by teaching women how to make reusable, sustainable, pads.

This might not seem like a big deal, but commercial products are often too costly for women and girls in Malawi to buy, there is a lot of shame and privacy surrounding the topic of menstruation, and the inability to deal with menstruation  in a reliable way leads many girls to miss large amounts of school or drop out entirely. Having a simple, reusable pad can make all the difference.

If I can provide the resources, I can teach girls how to make their own pads, give them patterns, and they can use resources around them to make more pads and teach others. All of these materials can be found locally-- but on a peace corps budget I can't afford the volume of supplies that I need to support my projects.

The process is really simple. I have directions, patterns, and a sample pad that I've made. Here are the resources needed for the girls:

Needles

Thread

Scissors

Metal snaps (to button the pads onto underwater.)

Paper, (so I can make more patterns to give out.)

Absorbent fabric 

If you are interested in supporting this project please send any of the above resources, especially the metal snaps and sewing materials.

I will in turn send you photos of the girls that you've helped  and possibly some fan mail from Malawi! 

Thanks for supporting women, girls, education, my time here in Malawi, and international development!

My address:

Chilumba Rural Hospital 

PO box 131

Attn: Ame Burke Peace Corps

Chilumba, Karonga

Malawi

When reading the news becomes to heavy for your heart

There's this

A Rose By Any Other Name..

You may know me as Amy, Ame, Burke, or the bee's knees..

But in my beloved home district of Karonga, Chilumba city, and my overall area of "the  jetty," within the general village of Chifyu, though more specifically my area within Chifyu, Dambiro (yeah, took me about a hundred years to understand where the hell I live let alone explain it to others.) 

I'm known as the following:

Emily

Emmie

Annie

Emma

Ilana (my Peace Corps predecessor)

Naomi (also my predecessor)

Chikwegza (my village name--my land lady and essentially my village mother's surname.)

And most popularly of course, AZUNGU often followed by "give me peanut butter!"

Depending on my mood and perspective I find this lightheartedly delightful, or disheartening that people still don't "know" me. Either way, whenever I'm not being called azungu, my heart strings are tugged just a little by the knowledge that people are trying.

Grace period

So, my 3 months of "site lock down, go make friends, integrate, assess my community's needs, come up with some rockin' project ideas, identify people to work with, and try my damnedest to figure out Malawi" are officially over. IST, (Peace Corps training,) wraps up our generous 3ish month grace period of no expectations and suddenly demands qualitative results and concrete work efforts.

Welp, I am intimitated. 

It's no secret nor will it come as a surprise that many Peace corps projects fail. Hard. 

Crash and burn, baby. 

And while I'm sure that is incredibly frustrating, and will be slightly embarrassing, I don't find failure particularly scary. There is so much I still don't understand culturally, which will lead to the success or downfall of my efforts. There's so much to learn about need, and priority--and honestly I expect I'll fail a few times, and I've already accepted that. 

It's also not about looking or feeling stupid or out of place, (that's my everyday life as an azungu in Malawi) or even unsuccessful.. It's something about initiating projects in my community that scares me. 

It's like I recognize all of this incredible potential and this seemingly infinite possibility in Malawi and my immediate community but I am my own mental and physical roadblock in achieving successful development work. It's about finding a starting point, diving in, making real change. Faking it until we are making it, as they say; but, Im suddenly feeling unskilled and unprepared to lead. It scares the hell out of me. 

In PST I learned that all of the things I was scared of or anxious about were totally attainable, or not so bad. (Not even the man eating spiders or inevitable diarrhea) So, I know that I am capable, I know I'm strong. I don't know why jumping full force into this whole Peace Corps thing is wigging me out.

I guess for the first time in my life I'm  doing something that I really believe in, and something that I feel really matters and it's all completely self-initiated. What I make of my time and my service is all on me.. And it all starts now.

Unconscious racism

All the things I've wanted to say already spelled out for me:

Feast or Famine

My former site mate used to refer to Peace Corps as a constant experience in "feast or famine." And while he shared many gems of wisdom about the Peace Corps experience such as, "You actually dedicate 5 years to Peace Corps, 2 years of service but the experience takes 3 years off the tail end," or "the best way to deal with iwes is with a stick," I think he really nailed it with the feast/ famine analogy. 

Village life is probably an acquired taste for most Americans. Life moves slower here, we are without constant distractions, there's a strong sense of routine, it takes about double to triple the amount of time to complete a task as it would with appliances, people and animals rise and set with the sun, hygiene is..questionable. It's fairly different than any way I've lived in the US so far.. And I've had a diverse-ish range of experiences:

The poor kid

The church kid

The divorced parents kid (aka the every other weekend kid)

Camp counselor

Poor college kid

Intentional community volunteer (aka suburban mouse goes to the city)

Now, Peace Corps Volunteer

And despite the fact that most of my experiences have had an element of living simply, (often in hopes to be sustainable and ethical)--none of them have been quite as... intense? as my Peace Corps experience.

I think I've finally hit my first real low point in my time of service. Right on cue according to our handy dandy "Cycle of Vulnerability and Adjustment," which is essentially a rollercoaster diagram that predicts our mental stability and happiness at any given point through out our 27 months of service. It's like a big, "FYI: you're life will most likely suck at some point within this 2 month range and then again in another month or so!"

Courtesy of Peace Corps, of course. 

Peace Corps starts us volunteers off living in one or two villages with our homestay families. We spend all day every day in classes and trainings together until we go to site visit and get the first taste of, "Oh shit! This is what this is really like.. And I'm doing it solo." Then we come back and console ourselves with our friends before eventually packing up and moving to our sites for real. 

PST was hard for me because I never got a moment alone to process, decompress, or just not have to interact with another human being. Moving to site was equally as hard because the support net we had built within each other and begun to cling to was suddenly gone, or at least a hell of a lot harder to access. We went from living on top of each other to not seeing one another for four months until we reunite at our next Peace Corps training, IST. 

And so, the cyclical "feast or famine" nature of Peace Corps is born, and no doubt continues throughout the duration of our service.

Unlike a majority of my classmates, I broke the cardinal rule of staying at site or within my catchment area (25 km) for my first 3 months at site. For the record, I see and understand how vital this rule is and why it exists. Nonetheless, I applied for three different programs and was accepted to each. First, I spent a week at Malaria Bootcamp where I learned more about malaria and took an incredible amount of resources home for better prevention work. I came back to my site for 2 days before I left again for Operation Smile which was a two week long endeavor where medical professionals volunteer from all over the world to come and work with patients who have primarily cleft lips and pallets, preforming free surgery. From Operation Smile I went straight to Camp Glow, a girl's empowerment camp and led a session about women's health, menstraution, and pregnancy. 

It's been a whirlwind of learning, awesome experiences, bonding and some fucking great and transcendent-like moments. I actually enjoyed myself dancing. It happened. Though, it has also been almost a month straight of nonstop interaction with Peace Corps vols and other expats. And I mean morning to night. 

Along with some of my peers and classmates who I dearly love and was so happy to reconnect with, it was also a time to say goodbye to some of my closest friends in PC, proximity and otherwise. 

Ever since I came to site, and met them, I've been saying goodbye to some of my Karonga brothers.  It's shaped my experience in an odd way as they have been preparing to leave and for the transition process the whole time I've known them, while I have been figuring out how to survive here.

It was the long goodbye, complicated by the fact that they are just such high quality men, full of PCV Malawi wisdom, and I became close with them, (about as close as you can get in two-ish months, ya know.) I was able to spend a good amount of time with them right before they left, as our time in Lilongwe overlapped almost perfectly. It was beyond lovely.

Despite the fact that this was anticipated, and I'd known all along, saying goodbye and the echoes of those goodbyes has proven harder than I anticipated. It's still beating me up a little bit every now and then. Its just hard to have lost my life lines to America. What's so great about that place anyway? (I know, I know.. Cheese.)

All that jazz, plus some pretty heavy emotional dealings in Lilongwe that really brought me down, and the longest case of stomach illness that I've ever endured, left me feeling wrecked. But on my way back from Glow, I met up with a few other volunteers in their travels to or from Op Smile, Glow, Lilongwe, restocking, whatever--in Mzuzu. It was wonderful. The previously intense social atmosphere and touch of the emotional insanity from Lilongwe was nowhere to be seen. It was then that I realized how much it was going to hurt going back to site alone, especially sans my now dearly departed brothers.

And the feast or famine analogy resurfaces.. (Though maybe frenzy or famine would be more appropriate in this case.) And while it doesn't always rear it's head in the form of social interaction, it surfaces all the time in a variety of ways, with PC surveys, needs and requests, good food options, (boma, restock, city life, baby) trainings, travel--especially travel. 

This is the life we live--all or nothing.

On the flip side, it is of course unfair to refer to village life and rocking it solo as famine. But everytime I leave for more than a couple days it is terribly hard to reacclimate. I love my life here in chifyu, I love everything about it, but it's also easy to resent it when you let yourself remember the rest of the world outside of this beautiful little Karonga bubble. 

In fact, I came to a realization that my coping strategies here are always things that help me escape or take me farther from Malawi. They link me back to America in an attempt to erase my Malawian reality, the very same that I'm trying to experience and be present within-- you know, the world where I am dead set on building a life?! And while I know this has value sometimes, I've decided that I need to find my happiness and my coping strategies here. I need to be grounded here and not always clinging to America, Americans, or anything we've created for mindless entertainment, though all of those things have their merits and times where they are good and effective choices.

And so here I am. On the upswing of my downward slope of a diagram that can apparently and frustratingly tell the future. Damn my predictability.

I appreciate the fact that you made it through what I hope is my whiniest post yet, and for all the love, positive vibes, energy, prayers, astroprojected hugs, whatever being thrown my way. I know that y'all and the universe are in my corner, that none of this is all that bad. 

You've just got to feel all the feels once in awhile, you know?

Becoming

I've always felt like I live in a state of becoming, and that the real world existed just past my finger tips. For the first time in my life I solidly feel like I am who I am, I know who I am, and I'm not seeking or working toward becoming someone or something. 

(I swear I was 1/3 an English major.)

It's a shame that it took me until I was 26 to be comfortable and unapologetic about who I am, embrace it, and love it. Me. 

I was talking to a friend the other day and casually said, "I feel the best about myself now than I ever have before." She just kept repeating, "Damn, that's a good thing to say." I hadn't even thought about it before I said it, but I reexamined it in my head and it was true, deafeningly so.

That's not to say that this time in my life is one without struggle, emotional break downs, or my occasional tendencies towards melancholy, but it's a point where I've finally ponied up and laid it out for that formerly anxious little girl:

This is what I want out of life

This is what is important for me to achieve

This is what I'm proud of

This is what I need to let go of

These are the tendencies that make you unhappy

It's okay not to know what's next

Let things happen

Mostly though, it was learning to let go. 

Letting go of old embarrassments, old loves, and old soul shattering pains. 

Or maybe it was the embracing- myself- my quirks, insecurities, and limitations.

And of course I'm always working towards becoming the best version of myself, it's just finally I'm aware of who I am and that right here and now, as is, I am just okay! 

Gorging on beautiful things this morning

XVII (I do not love you...) 

Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

How Malawi is making me a better person

Without a doubt, and without a choice, Malawi is making me a better person.

Life is just different here, and so, I'm forced to adapt and relearn not just how to survive, but how to live--it's an interesting challenge figuring out how to be true to myself and my values while respecting and living within the often restrictive bounds of Malawian culture. It's easy enough to figure out how to get by in Malawi- minibuses, Nsima, soya, chitenjes..the hard part is figuring out how to make this my home. How will I ensure that these two years are fulfilling? Can I actually make real connections and relationships? How do I combat loneliness, culture shock, depression when they creep up? How can I make sure my work and projects are meaningful and sustainable? How can I find things that nourish my soul, challenge me, and cause growth? How will I deal with being separated from those people I love most in the world for two years? Really just.. How do I make this home?

If I were a super hero I'd be Captain Anxiety-- with the ability to figure out all possible scenarios in the matter of seconds, leap to conclusions in a single bound, make lists and plans like a champ, stress about things out of my control to a point that causes natural disasters, panic when winging any type of travel, and of course stressexpress all the feelings!! While I see this side of myself slowly fading to the background, I am eternally thankful for it, it's shaped me and has helped me make pretty consistently good choices. It also helped me prepare for my life in Malawi. I had gone over the worst possible scenarios in my head, all of my fears, and mourned all of my losses ahead of time. Now I'm here and the reality is a million times better than I could have ever expected. What a delightful surprise.

Despite all that, how can I get myself to fully accept my choice and live in the present? How to wrap my mind around the fact that this is indeed my life, and not to escape to a westernized fantasy in my mind?

I've mentioned before that it's really hard for me to think of this experience in terms of two years. I've always had my eyes and heart focused on the future, looking forward to the next thing. It's a difficult trait when determined to live an intentional lifestyle or when trying to be mindful and really experience every moment, so acknowledging that, plus a combination of people already asking me my plan post Peace Corps has forced me to take a beat and really think about my first four months in country, where I was, where I am, and where I'm trying to go..

Frankly, when it comes down to it, and I think about my time here, I can say that with the exception of my year in Baltimore, I am the happiest that I've ever been--in my whole damn life. What a realization! While my goal isn't merely "constant contentment" I think it's a pretty powerful sign that I'm on the right track. 

I'm already making real relationships both professionally, and with friends. I have a family that's taken me in, I have children that run full speed to greet and hug me whenever they see me approach, I have friends who I go and visit, I have friends who come over to garden with me or swim in the lake, I have two amazing counterparts who care and want to learn and pass on skills...I have friends with whom I can't communicate with, but instead we giggle like loons tripping over broken language together. 

It took me far too long into my adulthood to realize that my main drive and motivation in life is relationships. For me it's the most beautiful, fulfilling, and almost magical thing. Feeling like I have real friends to confide in, rely on, spend time with, and be silly with has solidified a place for me in the community. It's made me a real person rather than a ghost wandering around Malawi looking for a purpose.

Along with being anxious, I'm also cautious. Anything with real risk and consequence involved is something I have to seriously consider before I take any action.

 Malawi has taught me how to be brave. I have said yes to approximately a thousand different things already that I would never have done previously or would have stressed about for days. There is nothing as liberating as realizing that you can do things you hadn't thought you could previously.. And that you are the only thing holding yourself back. I feel so strong, so powerful, so capable...there isn't enough language to express the gratitude I feel for this.

Malawi has a slow sort of lifestyle. I feel guilty and indulgent for being able to live this way sometimes, and while this might be the most ironic statement of the century, I fully believe it's such a privilege to be able to live this way. The whole reason this exists is because of a lack of modern convenience and technology. It takes forever to do anything, but that's the beauty of it. Every chore, every practice you must give your full attention to, you experience every second of every day. There is no distraction, no instant gratification--only the moment, the task at hand, and the experience. Yes, sometimes dull, but it's changed my understanding of how to interact well with the world. Everything becomes a meditation, a privilege, an experience rather than a chore to get through.

Since I'm on a role listing all my places for growth, my tolerance for being and lack of patience is atrocious. And by that, I mean I am the least patient person I know. Seriously, I'm terrible..I'm a clock watcher even in Africa (ever heard of African time? Whats the point?) Turns out, I'm also not a natural at learning Chitumbuka. What I've learned from the amayis who watch me struggle through broken phrases and wrong tenses, from the iwes who try repeating the same thing over and over hoping it will suddenly click in my mind and that I'll finally understand, from my coworkers who will explain and explain and explain the same thing over and over, from the nice man who I've asked his name about 53 times..patience is a practice in kindness. I've been given so much  kindness, and love from every single person I've met in Malawi. It has been everything to me, it's the reason I'm succeeding--mostly it's shown me that I need to learn to mirror that patience that's been given to me back into the world.

Even if I wasn't actively working on being more patient..my constant Malawian mantra is, "I'm going to be so fucking zen."  There's no choice in the matter as so much is beyond my control, all I can do is float along and try and make some positive changes along the way. Yes, I might have a chicken in a plastic bag jammed against my thigh in a mini bus for 3 hours along with three open buckets of some ripe dead fish next to my feet..But damn, I'm going to be zen. Yes, I'm hours late, and my counterpart and community STILL haven't arrived, but I'm going to be zen. Yes, service is down, can't send in my application that's due and I can't connect with any other American, but now is a time that calls for mastery of zennery. Yes, the iwes are saying there's a snake in my chim, but now is a time for zen+bravery+machete action. Yes, I'm presented with a plate of Nsima, dead caterpillars, and cooked mice (fur and all) but I'm gonna eat it and I'm gonna be zen about it.

Honestly, I'm in situations that would have stressed me out all the time in the US, but there comes a point where you accept the ridiculousness of your current situation and have to ask yourself.. What's the point of being stressed?  

I can't tell you the amount of times I've been upset or frustrated about something but as soon as I go outside  ..It's like all the woodland creatures, blue birds, and anthropomorphized bits of nature come together to brighten my day. Seriously it's either way too beautiful, I have awesome interactions with kids, the community, or another PVC and I can't stay in my funk. Even if I'm determined to be pissy. I'm always laughing and smiling unexpectedly. Sometimes Malawians will see me and get so excited to interact/ use their English skills I'll have a myriad of hilarious or bizarre interactions. For example, the other day a Malawian saw me for the first time. As he was riding his bike towards me, makes some serious eye contact, and screams at the top of his lungs, "I'M FINE THANK YOU!!" To which I responded, "right on brother" between my giggles. 

Also Malawians are the kings/queens/genderneutralleaders of smiling and laughing, they are quite possibly the happiest most pleasant people on this planet. I dare you to come here and not be charmed.

Before I came to Malawi I had a definite "us and them" mentality which is something I would never have admitted, before--especially to myself. I must have had this idea in the back off mind that "they" were so different than me, no one would be happy, everyone was constantly struggling to survive, that extreme poverty would be tangible, that i have had such different life experiences real relationships would be impossible, and that I would consistently be racked with guilt, embarrassment of my origins, and a sense of hopelessness for change and the future. While I think this paragraph deserves a whole entry to itself to explain in full, Im happy to report that in all of those ideas, I couldn't have been more wrong. 

While I didnt consciously think any of these things, after I got here, I learned that I'd actually had all of these hidden ideas and expectations of Africa from the news, history classes, previous experiences..from every half formed though or interaction or article is encountered before I got here. I was dead wrong. Thank god for that. I see people and their experiences as individual lives and struggles and not a homogeneous lump of people facing poverty and AIDs or whatever else we think about Africa. I finally am coming to understand that universal human connection, and hopefully I can relay these ideas and experiences with the dignity they embody and deserve.

Lastly, the natural beauty here will never get old. I'm a sucker for it.. I still haven't gotten over the novelty of, "I'm in Africa, doing my dream work, living in my dream location, falling in love with everything and everyone, And being accepted with open arms by Malawi in return."

I love everything about this article

I have so much to say on this topic-- but don't have the time at the moment. 

Learning how to live intentionally absolutely changed and shaped my life. It's why my blog is named life intentional, and it was initially my time in Baltimore and my experiences with food that sent me on a journey to truly think about each choice I make. I'm sure I'll be writing a long in depth post about this topic sometime when I can find the time.. And have enough battery on my phone.

It's also funny how much my life revolves around food here in Malawi. I'm completely dependent on what foods I can find locally in the markets, I have to make a plan every day for meals, I have to calculate the time it takes to make a fire, and how slow the process of cooking is under these circumstances. And so much of my happiness and daily satisfaction comes from being able to create something healthy and delicious.

Anyway, good article. 

3 months on lock!

I've been in Malawi since March 4th. I spent about 2 months living with possibly the best matched host family ever, in Dombolera, Kasungu. Now I'm finally at my site for the next 2 years in Chilumba, Karonga for a little over 3 weeks. 

I have a seemingly never ending list of things I want to accomplish, projects I want to start, and people I should meet up with.. But it's hard to know where and how to start. This isn't a job or position I can just slip into, this is completely based on my own initiative. The idea is to access the needs of the community and then plan and implement projects accordingly. Additionally, make them sustainable damn it!

Whhhhhat? Okay makes perfect sense in a development standpoint, and ethically, and everything--but shoo it is a lot of pressure. Wouldn't want to waste your tax dollars or the good people of Malawi's precious time.

Many volunteers have been lucky enough to be matched with counterparts and advisors who have actively aided them when they first arrived at site, taking them to meetings, introducing them to the chief, showing them around, helping brainstorm possible projects--but I've had to seek mine out as I haven't seen him since he dropped me off for site visit. While that seemed like a bummer at first, it's given me a lot of independence, freedom, and space to do things at my own pace and to follow my own desires and ambitions. I've met already someone at Chilumba secondary school who will be an incredible counterpart and many potential counterparts at the rural hospital. Counterparts are key to your success- they have the language, cultural understanding, and standing in the community that can make or break projects. 

Everyone is curious about how I'm spending my time..

Most days I go to the local market to buy whatever fruits and veggies I can find. Food doesn't last more than a few hours here with the heat and lack of refrigeration.

 I also spend a lot of time outside. I've planted a garden, I do lots of home improvement projects, I do my dishes and laundry outside, I cook outside on my porch over charcoal for every meal, (baking is an exciting adventure with no stove or electricity) this enables me to take care of my own business and speak with and greet my neighbors constantly. 

The first three months at site Peace Corps asks us not to work, but to focus on integrating into the community, and to learn-- it's like I'm Johnny 5.

I've come up with some goals to get me through my first few solo months (/ year?) there is a famous rollercoaster that peace corps volunteers experience during their time of service with extreme highs and lows throughout the entire two years. Mental health is a real thing to be aware of and deal with during PC. It's just a reality and I've come up with daily goals to help me cope, not stagnate, and not become depressed.

Solid rules:

*Leave my house every single day--try to explore somewhere I haven't been yet, if feasible

*Find and eat vegetables everyday 

*Interact with other human beings face to face for 3 hours a day--even if we can't speak to each other and end up sitting there awkwardly in each other's presence, it's worth it. 

*Do at least one thing that makes me feel like a productive and worthwhile human being 

Optional/ Do it if I can:

-See the lake

-Learn new a Chitumbuka word

-Eat a piece of fruit 

-Connect with another American

-Read or write

They seem simple and probably dull, but they have kept me happy, sane, and feeling like I'm doing something right. It would be so easy for me to never leave my house and just read books like a chain smoker.. But I really want to challenge myself, I want to make this experience worthwhile for me and the people here in my life. I want to not let myself fall into old harmful patterns that I lived out in the states...

Okay but I know what you're actually asking. "So, like, are you doing any work or just sitting around?"

I go to the rural hospital most days and often help with checking kids for malnutrition, ARV clinics, family planning, HIV and AIDS, TB counseling sessions, or hang out in the maternity ward. 

Why the hell do we choose to procreate? Seriously though, when I saw my first rural hospital in training, I was so scared. It seemed like the waiting room for hell . Lines and lines and lines of sick mothers and babies and the elderly waiting. Pregnant women giving birth on sheets on the floor with no pain killers.. I just was so overwhelmed with what a rural hospital was and what it looked like. It's still.. Unnerving at times, but it's not scary or alien anymore like it used to be. I'm excited to start projects there... My first being building hand washing stations. There is no soap to be found nor places for any of the sick patients to wash their hands. I'd also like to start nutrition classes especially for HIV patients, and do some cooking demos. Eventually I'd like to have my friend Matt come do a cross site visit and help me plant a perma garden at the hospital.

I'm also going to Chilumba Secondary school and running a girls club, helping teach the life skills classes (my first one is on stress management) and doing Grass Roots Soccer. I'd also like to implement a perma garden at the school, (again with Matts help,) the pad project- giving girls methods to deal with their periods, and some malaria projects. 

I'm happy with where I am right now, and happy about the future projects I have planned.. But they won't happen for months and months.

On that note, I'm incredibly happy here; that's not to say that I don't get lonely and feel isolated and question what the hell I'm doing sometimes. I still can't think of this as a two year experience or sometimes I lose my shit. I live this experience day by day and in that way I am loving it. I miss my friends and family back home and in my Peace Corps family, but I am really trying to build a life for myself here, because it is my life for 2 years. 

Frankly, it is a beautiful, confusing little adventure!

The north

Few things I've experienced have been more beautiful than my trip to Northern Malawi. 

Picture vast and sprawling.. greenery, forests, mountains covered in mist, waterfalls cascading off mountainsides, baboons, looking down over the lake, virgin untouched land. 

Think paradise.

Now think 26 people crammed into an 18 person seater minibus for 8 hours. Think peering out of the window from a tiny gap underneath someone's deodrantless arm pit, lack of any personal space whatsoever, and your spine unaligned for hours.

Yeah. Traveling in Malawi sucks. 

Or rather, modes of transportation in Malawi suck. Scouts honor, I will never ever complain about a packed greyhound bus or airplane again.. Even with crying babies, turbulence or traffic jams. Especially when I had two grown men sitting on my lap simultaneously during this trip. There were also chickens. Sometimes there are goats or pigs. 

You just have to laugh. (Because if you don't, you might cry.) At least my bus didn't break down and no one else's bodily fluids touched me. 

Turns out my expectations and standards have lowered significantly since moving here.

Malawian food without diarrhea? Great meal! 

Minibus ride without getting peed on? Success!

Only 2 new unexplained bug bites today? Hell yeah!

Only one mysterious creature making noise in my room/ crawling on my mosquito net at night?

I most likely won't get bitten and die!! Woo!

Okay, I'm exaggerating, but only slightly. I've known a few too many volunteers who've been peed on, on a bus and I'm still relatively new here..

What was I even talking about? Oh the north. It's incredibly beautiful. Really, words can't do it justice.

On my way to Karonga, (one of the northern most districts of Malawi, baaaasically Tanzania) I had nervous excitement growing in the pit of my stomach; I was feeling giddy and loopy, disoriented and so happy, all at the same time. It was just so damn beautiful. The feeling, was exactly the same as when I've fallen in love--aka I feel like a complete and total loon. But, I can't deny, its nice. Everything was right in the world..

Most importantly, I was on a real, bonafide adventure. It my first taste of freedom and independence since coming to Malawi. 

Cha-wemi my friends.

In Karonga, I don't quite live on health center grounds, in a rural village, or on a main road, but those descriptors are all close enough that you could picture any of those scenarios and you'd basically be right. My house is wonderful. 2 bedrooms, a porch, a living room with some furniture, a  store room "kitchen"..and outdoor kitchini, bafa, and chim! While I don't have electricity, my house is wired for it and I have a tap in my yard, so I won't have to walk and carry water on my head, score!

The best part? It's a ten minute walk to the most beautiful place in Malawi, the lake. It is nothing short of breathtakingincredibleoverwheingbeautythatjustwontquit. It's awesome. 

Seriously, there just aren't words to describe how lucky I am or how beautiful the surrounding areas are.

Anywhoo...

Mzuzu is my closest biggest city, and so far I loooove it. Also all the volunteers in the north are incredible, welcoming, and (Chitipa volunteers are some of my favorite people!)

So, I've been procrastinating on this post forever because there is so much to say about that experience, my Sitemate, my house, the village, the landlady, the people, my access to resources, my feeling and emotions, and tons of other things.. But mostly because I've been processing what happened on the way back to homestay.

The long and short of it was a wake up call about: where I am living, gender issues, poverty issues, the upcoming election, the support I can expect to receive from Peace Corps, the way the Malawian government operates, what being a white woman is going to look like in Malawi, and how to deal with major intimidation tactics on my own. I don't want to get into specifics, but basically I and a few other volunteers were detained by Malawian immigration, threatened to be arrested-and were held for hours in hopes we'd pay off the officers. Why? We didn't have the visa and passport page proving that we were here legally for 2 years. Why didn't we have it? It stays in  the Peace Corps safe in Lilongwe. Why?..great question.

 It was a very scary experience and left me aware.

So much more to come! I've started a few posts and am slowly adding to them over time! 

Coming up soon:

Malawi pros and cons

What an awesome care package looks like

The most stressful week ever

And soon, my new life in Karonga!

I know, I know.. You're waiting with breath that is baited.

I love you all.

OH! My new address:

Chilumba rural hospital 

Attn: Amy Burke peace corps 

PO box 131

Chilumba, Karonga

Pros and Cons

Welp, just like in any healthy functioning relationship, I've decided to scrutinize all the flaws and place all the good stuff on a pedestal in order to create the MALAWIAN PRO CON LIST Ame style:

Neutral:

The overwhelming BO. Holy hell, when I first got off the plane and into the village the concentrated smell of body and lack of deodorant made me literally gag. Now, I don't notice it, really. Not even a little. I haven't really seen anywhere you can buy roll on/ stick deodorant in Malawi yet (this doesn't bode well for my 2 year stay,) but I've also not been able to explore or shop much. I also have the makings for a pretty good natural deodrant. Thank you coconut oil!

Living in a fish bowl. Nothing I do or say goes unnoticed. There was a joke in PST (pre-service training) where our staff would refer to knowing crazy details about our lives from "bush radio." Well my friends, it's no joke. I can go to the market and buy tomatoes and two days later someone I've just met for the first time will mention my market trip and ask how those tomatoes were.  Today a neighbor checked on me because she had heard from someone else I might not have bought enough vegetables. While it is sweet, and helpful that people are looking out for me..  Everything I do is HILARIOUS. From speaking the native language, to washing my clothes, planting a garden, interacting with children-Malawians like to laugh at the azungus for trying to live their lifestyle. The constant watching could easily become annoying and even detrimental at some point. If anyone sees men stay over at my house or sees me drinking, my reputation is shot. But, this could also save my ass-if everyone is looking out for me, they might be willing to save me from snakes, thieves, and village boredom. 

Lack of indoor plumbing, electricity, washing machines, wifi...instant gratification. Yeah, I mean it's not convenient, but it forces me to really focus on and live in every single moment. I appreciate the silences and the processes of every day tasks rather than doing them mechanically and without purpose. It helps me live intentionally and well. It also takes away most of the distractions that I'd made such a big part of my life. It's a beautiful way to live, but it's also intimidating. I have to really spend time with my thoughts and my "self". What if I'm uncomfortable with what I find? 

PROS:

The best fruits. Guavas, pineapples, coconuts, papaya mangoes, oranges, bananas, watermelon, massive avacadoes.. Best of all is this alien looking green fruit that I love called ntopia!

Sleeping under a mosquito net. Yeah, I feel like a princess, or a fetus back in the womb and I dig it. I'm not ashamed at all..like, I reallllly like it. Also it keeps out spiders, mice, snakes, scorpions, and malaria.

The stars, they're incredible. You will never experience stars like I get to see every night. They are so beautiful and crystal clear with no light pollution what so ever. I can see the damn Milky Way!

Free range chickens and eggs. Like actually free range. I asked a Malawian once how they know which chickens are theirs, because they roam free everywhere, all the time. The secret is apparently where they come home to roost. If the chicken is roosting with you, it's yours! 

The kids. They are amazing, and funny and incredible, and transcend all of the usual challenges and complications of interacting with me. Honestly, it's rare when I don't have an army of little iwes attached to my hands and arms, fighting to sit next to me or try to sneakily touch my hair or skin without me noticing...I know guys, it's weird, but the white doesn't rub off, neither does the tattoo. It's part of me.

I am stronger than I thought. In PST there were many times when I questioned whether or not I could do what I was committing to, or truly live the lifestyle this requires of me, but almost every day I challenge myself and am happy with the results. I'm an anxious and scared person by nature, but I refuse to let those things hold me back. I feel confident that I'll fully experience my time here and that I will thrive in Malawi. I am more and more proud of myself for handling new and uncomfortable situations and overcoming my fears.

No one is seeing me naked. I have a wicked sweet tan from my hairline to my cleavage, and mid calf to my toes. The rest of me (or most of me) is BLINDINGLYWHITE. It's jarring. 

CONS:

No one is seeing me naked. This is listed twice for what I assume are obvious reasons. Life is intrinsically less fun when you're the only one seeing yourself naked..especially when it only amounts to solo bucket baths in a grass hut.

Racial profiling. I'm sure this will eventually be it's own blog post, but it's so strange to be on the other side of it. I'm stopped by immigration and police, all the time. There are tons of assumptions made about me every day because I'm a white American in rural Malawi. Mostly, that: I have money, I am married with children, I have come to give people things-books, toys, money..etc, I am well educated, I will teach English, and I'm weak by Malawian standards. It's sometimes funny, but often frustrating.

Some crazy high percent of Malawians are stunted. This is bad for development especially cognitively, but it's bad for me because I'm too tall for everything! My homestay bafa, doorways, our kitchini, the chim... I can't tell you how many times I run my head into my family's thatched roof and am walking around with straw poking out of my hair. Actually I can tell you, and it's at least twice a day.

Disposing of trash. Haven't seen a trash can since I've been here. There are no plants or ways to dispose of trash, so people dig pits in the ground, throw garbage in the pits, or light it on fire. Luckily there is about 90% or higher less processed goods here. Packaging is very minimal comparatively to the US.

The creepy crawlies: scorpions, tarantulas, black mambas, spitting cobras, man eating spiders, roaches, tsetse flies, Mosquitos, termites galore... Also the scary animals- aggressive baboons, hyenas, deadly snakes, rabid dogs.. Bats in my chim..There's also this one really aggressive duck that lives near me. He consistently rapes the lady ducks, and is always honking and bellowing and raising and lowering his mohawk. I call him alpha duck (and secretly in my head, gonorrhea face because, well, I'll post a picture sometime.) Pro- I have geckos in my house which eat a lot of bugs!! And I have yet to see a scorpion in my house. (Knocking on wood as I type.)

Access to...anything.

Malawian roads, and driving. It's terrifying. Minibuses suck.

Big week!

Tomorrow we find out where we will be placed for the next two years of our life--and on Friday we will make the trip to see our sites for a few days, meet the villagers, scope out our houses, and meet our new Malawian counterparts.

The excitement and anticipation is seriously palpable. 

Will we have to start a fire every time we cook? Will we have running water or electricity? Will we be in the mountains or lake side? Will we be placed by a rural health center or in a city near a hospital? Will we have easy access to water and transportation? Will we be close to one another? Will we be in a Muslim or Christian community? How hot/ cold is it going to be where we live? Can I integrate or will I just be thought of as some rich privileged azungu?

We know which languages we speak so we know roughly where in the country we will be ( I'm Chitumbuka, so I'll be in there north) but that's literally all we know.

Everything we have been dreaming about  and worrying about throughout our entire application process, acceptance, and PST training period is going to become a reality this week.

Tarantulas

Okay I officially take back my last post complaining about man eating spiders, especially because a fellow volunteer had a tarantula crawling on her bed net a few nights ago--and another volunteer had one in the bafa with her. The ones I'm taking about are big, but not as scary as a real life tarantula encounter. 

Seriously, I am eternally grateful for my bed net. Not only do I feel like a damn princess every night, but it keeps out the undesirables: mice, roaches, man eating spiders, malaria, scorpions...man. It's a good thing I didn't look up poisonous insects before I came to Malawi or I would be freaking myself out to unhealthy  levels. I almost wish I hadn't looked up all the snakes that could kill me...

Also, life is great and I'm loving it! More details soon to come!

Chimnastics the saga begins.

Why are there man eating spiders in the outdoor chim at night? Can't they be out in nature with the rest of the creepy crawlies?

I'd rather pee the bed than inhabit the same space as a spider the size of my hand, especially because it is a shifty little bastard and way too fast for its size. I can literally see its fangs from a distance. 

Not okay. 

Bua

Yesterday was hands down my best day in Malawi.

 It started with waking up at 4:45 and my stomach in knots because I was so anxious about Hitchhiking and trying to barter in a language that I'm struggling with (a language that is often understood but not widely spoken in the Kasungu district). I just felt nervous and sick. It turns out our initial sessions were cancelled, so we had 3 hours of free time, something almost unheard of in PST. Tara and I went and talked with one of the resource volunteers (a current volunteer who comes for a week to help teach us about PC issues, help us navigate the process, and answer questions about serving) about life in northern Malawi. I don't know if I mentioned before but I am learning Chitumbuka, so I know I will be placed in the north and most likely in one of these areas: Rumphi, Mzumzu, or Karonga. (Fingers crossed for Karonga! 3 minute walk from the lake and lots of other volunteers nearby!!)

The resource volunteers are awesome and seriously have enhanced this experience tenfold. They are where I get most of my information. It was especially nice because this volunteer speaks the same language, knows the potential sites where we will be placed, and was just a cool person to talk to in general.

After hanging out and talking, we went to met up with the other volunteers and got our Hitchhiking on. A Peace Corps vehicle took us in pairs (with a language instructor) and dropped us all I'm different places on the side of the road. We then had to flag down a vehicle and jump in if it was headed to Bua- an open market about a half hour away. We had to leave our instructor behind. Emma was my Hitchhiking buddy and we jumped into the back of a pickup truck after bartering a price. Ultimately, it was so much FUN!

The wind was rushing by, the weather was amazing, Emma is ridiculously cool, Malawi is just beautiful... We had a blast!

After some confusion about where we were, and how to get there, we arrived at the market with a bunch of objectives: find out prices of so many objects, barter and ask to lower prices, find a traditional healer and herbal medicines, find the local water source, locate the chim, etc. The challenge for most was to do this in Chichewa, and even more so, for me. finding someone who spoke my language.

 It was super fun. Everyone in Malawi is truly so nice, helpful, and most are really receptive to strangers trying to speak their language. We met some awesome people in the market. Then we had to find our way back to the Kasungu boma (market). Emma and I were determined to hitch and get a free ride this time, but circumstantially, we ended up taking a minibus with a bunch of other volunteers. 

I've heard lots of horror stories about minibuses: being squished, being peed on, breaking down for hours, having breast milk leaked on you.. But other than the conductor telling me he was in love with me and wanted me to be his girlfriend, it was a fun and decent ride. And Emma and I talked down the price! (Okay, Mostly Emma, she gets the credit for that one!)

We got to Kasungu and hung out in the market, went to a few shops, bought a few things, then headed back to our villages in a Peace Corps vehicle. 

The volunteers later just spent some good quality time together-listened to music, and just reminisced until we had to leave. (We aren't allowed to be out after dark, which is generally a bummer.) So I got home, did my usual bucket bath, helped with dinner, played with the baby, hung out with the fam, played cards, went to bed- then a group of volunteers who live in my village showed up at my door! 

Led by an incredibly silly Kevin and his abambo, we marched around, woke up all the other volunteers, until we had everyone (an unusually long process). Then we had a strange little pow wow and went back home.

I don't know, it was a bizarre but incredibly fun day. Everything here  just seems so scary in my head until I actually tackle it- then I realize how attainable it all is. Anyway it's almost 7 am and I feel guilty for staying in my bed so long. Time for chores! 

Hope you are having yourself a beautiful little day!

N'Phiri

I'm response to the many questions about homestay:

N'Phiri is the name given to me by my host mother, (aka my Amayi.) She started calling me N'Phiri as we became closer; it was right around the time she actually started calling me her daughter. 

Phiri is her surname and by giving it to me, my Amayi claims me. I am hers and I belong to her family. It is sweet and intimate. Few other volunteers have been given family names. I absolutely adore it. 

Her name is Judith and I am basically enamored with her. Not only is she a total bad ass, but she's so smart, funny, strong, loving and just a pillar of a woman. She left Zambia and an abusive husband, got on a bus with her children, and came to Malawi and started a new life. She worked and went to school in Zambia until her husband made her quit her job. She is one of our village chiefs, part of the village loan program, and she has her own personal IGA and garden to support her family. Her children are dead, but two of her grandchildren live with her, and one of them has a baby. This woman is so, so proud of me. It's almost intimidating. She loves to teach me everything: how to cook, words in Chichewa, new chores and work, directions, facts, and  just having me interact with her family in general. I feel so indebted to her already-and so spoiled! She boils water for me to filter and drink, warms water for my daily morning and evening baths, cooks meals and makes snacks for me to take to "school" explains.. everything, and is just generally so good to me. I just feel like there has been so much kindness and love that I'll never truly be able to repay.

 We have a list of things to learn/ accomplish while living in homestay that our amayis must check off each week. My Amayi was utterly perplexed that taking a bucket bath was on the list. She asked me rather hesitantly if Id ever bathed before, back in America. I tried to explain showering, but water coming out of a wall in my broken Chichewa and her broken English mostly only translated to "yeah, I bathe, just not outside in a straw hut with a bucket." I'm just glad she didn't ask me to further elaborate on pooping in a hole and why that was on the list.  

I've also had to relearn washing dishes. Every morning surrounded by ducks and chickens and some stray dogs I wash dishes outdoors with Dolene. First, I've had to reevaluate my understanding of "clean" as we wash with untreated water that is clearly murky and dirty. Secondly, we use dirt as a scrubbing agent to get rid of the blackened reminants of the open flame. Yes, the same dirt where the chickens are hanging out. My only real solice here is that the dishes sit outside in that Africa sun all day which kills a lot of the germs/bacteria. (If this is untrue, please don't  tell me. I prefer to live without in-depth knowledge on the subject until I have control over washing my own dishes.)

Often, I feel like the families must be annoyed with all the volunteers; we must come across as incompetent, spoiled, and weak as we are just now learning all the things that girls here learned when they were only in grade school, or younger. In some cases we lack the strength or ability to even complete the tasks.

I asked my Amayi how she felt about Americans because we are so different and have led such different lives. (Mostly because sometimes I'm just so embarrassed to be an American here.) She responded saying there was no difference between us, the village felt lucky to have us, as people we are the same, that we are family, and that she loves me. It was a significant moment for me and that shaped much of my homestay experience. 

Shumblyr and Dolene are Judith's grandchildren. Shumblyr has a son, Cliff, who is 1 year old, and from what I can understand, she is married to his father but he has abandoned her. Dolene is 17 and in school, Shumblyr is 22 and going back to school. They are also both amazing powerhouses and I am seriously lucky to spend time with them every day. They've taughte what I need to know to survive here.

 It's interesting to see how their lives have differed from mine at their ages versus when I was 17 and 22. I still see occasional signs of childhood, but mostly their futures and roles are already assigned to them. I once tried to ask Dolene what she wanted out of life- what she wanted to do or be, where she wanted to live, and my Amayi immediately shot me down saying her grandchildren would live with her and that was the end of it. There aren't options here in many cases. These girls have been little women way longer than they were ever allowed to be children, I'm sure. They all work silently and in tandem knowing their roles and responsibilities. And all of them work extremely hard.

Since their mother is dead and I am Judith's daughter, they call me " wa mama" and treat me as their mother. This is something I don't think I'll ever feel comfortable with, especially because they teach me so many things and take care of me on a daily basis. Frankly, I'd be way more comfortable calling them my sisters.. But that seems like it's not in the cards. 

One of the more regrettable things about homestay is that I'm learning a different language than what my family speaks. This is a regional language for the northern part of Malawi so it's not as beneficial for traveling/ working in Malawi,  and it just furthers the communication gap between my family and me. That was a hard pill for me to swallow initially. However, I keep having these amazing conversations and moments with my family and when I think back and remember that we don't speak the same language I am always amazed. Human connection transcends language. It continually blows my mind.

A couple answers to the questions I've been getting:

I live in Dombolera, a village in Kasungu district, about 10 kilometers from the market (boma) and about 5 miles from the mountain/ Kasungu national park. It's interconnected to Chinkhombwe another village about 20 minutes away where most of the Peace Corps trainings take place and a little bit over half of the volunteers stay. We walk back and forth multiple times a day. It's become one of my favorite parts of the day.

My house has no furniture. It is brick with a thatched roof. There are 3 rooms, 2 bed rooms and a living room--and an outdoor chimbuzi (toilet/ hole in the ground) and outdoor kitchen with a constant fire both detached from the house. I sleep under a mosquito net every night and read by a kerosine lamp. (I may have already burnt a hole in my net. Whoops!)

Well, that's all I can think of for now! Catch you cats later.

Village living

It's been 2 weeks that I've been living in Dombolera village, Kasungu district Malawi. There are so many things..

First of all, the nights--I've never experienced such full and total darkness before. This blackness creeps in each afternoon around 6 and slowly consumes everything. Sometimes it feels almost shameful to use my head lamp and disturb it. Seriously even in the most deserted places, I've never experienced anything this complete, and I've never seen the sky so littered with stars. I can see the Milky Way. It's incredible. 

This whole experience seems so big that it's hard to know where to start. 

I guess it's important to say that this has been amazing and at times so incredibly disheartening. It really is something I have to take one day at a time and not think about long term or I freak out. Sometimes when I truly acknowledge that this is my life for two years I feel so lucky and infinitely happy, other times, it makes me panicky and I struggle with that reality. There is so much work that goes into this, so much initiation, so much room for failure, so much learning I need to take on, and so many aspects of Malawian culture that really challenge all of my big anxieties-and on the flip side so many amazing things that can come out of this, it's really limitless. That gives me hope, and slowly I begin to believe in what we are doing.

Literally every single thing about Peace Corps makes this a total crap shoot.

Right now I live with the most incredible host family known to man and spend 6 days a week going to Peace Corps training from 8-5. I study the language, get tech trainings, go to medical sessions, get approximately a billion shots, visit rural health facilities, hang out with/ check little Malawian babies (feel free to be jealous) for malnutrition, learn about nutrition/ how to cook indigenous foods (YUM!) plant gardens, learn about gender equality, HIV, gender equality,  visit traditional community healers, way more than I care to think about with rape, and that's only the first 3 weeks. 

There is so much to say about the other volunteers and what an incredible godsend they are, what it's like to live with poor sanitation, no running water or electricity, and with my host family. So much that I'll have to save it for another post!

A few quick stories for context:

A chicken flew into my bedroom through my window today.

Deodorant, toilet paper, and diapers aren't really done by the locals- it's more of a westernized thing.

A fellow volunteer stepped on a mouse in her room.

Every weekend night there's a dance circle with the girls in the village, and lord they can wooork it.

Peace Corps dedicated an entire session to the types of diarrhea we would encounter over the next two years. Among the volunteers using the chimbuzi is talked about at least twice a day. Often more. Fiber pills for the win.

Singing, dancing, and eating Nsema is a way of life here.

Smart volunteers have pee buckets in their bedrooms to avoid night time runs to the "chim"

We talk about the foods we miss way too much. (Red wine, pizza, cheese, chocolate! UGH!)

I do dishes with chicken and ducks every morning.

5:30 am is wake up time.

I bathe twice a day here but have resolved myself to knowing that I'll never really be clean for the next two years of my life. More to come on that subject later.

Lastly, the mail I've gotten is incredible and has been such a joy for me. Thank you so much!!! Please keep it coming!

Taking up Room.

I guess it's helpful to post the dates I'm writing these as they will all be uploaded at the same time. (You know, as soon as I finally figure out how to get a SIM card working for an iPhone 5!)

Despite the unanticipated problems with my phone, it's actually been pretty liberating to be so disconnected. I didn't realize how vital it was to get that space from home when doing something like this. It bonds the volunteers together like woah, it keeps you from pining about what you've left behind, it changes your focus, and helps you to really be present and live in the moment and be part of your environment..says the girl typing from her iPhone in her African village.

Anyway it's March 24th.

Today was a good day.

Every so often the volunteers will catch ourselves doing something awesome, or just enjoying how beautiful it is and saying something like, "You guys, can you believe we're doing yoga in Africa right now?" While this probably sounds ridiculous, it's still hard to believe that I'm a world away from what has always been my life. 

And while I'm still completely confined by Peace Corps, each step we take, from MIM, to our home stay village, to our site placement is an intentional baby step for us. They are actually doing an incredible job of easing us into our lives here. And slowly exposing us to new things, rural hospitals for instance. Home stay, however, while such an amazing experience, is so regulated and limiting that I know I'll soon grow really tired of my lack of control over my own life.

For instance, we can't leave our houses after dark, which is 6pm. Also, I'm a stone's throw away from Kasungu National Park  and Kasungu mountain but am forbidden to go to either because the flies in the park carry sleeping sickness, and the mountain has spitting cobras, hyenas, and Rastafarians protecting their fields of chomba. Peace Corps is pretty adamant about us avoiding both. 

Boo! I want to see the animals damn it!

But yeah, man. Ultimately, I'm in Africa.

My guilty pleasure is slipping away to read a few pages of Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings whenever I can, but those times are very limited. I've actually struggled quite a bit not having enough alone time- and not wanting to miss out on the time I do have with my fellow volunteers before I'm alone for real. But every experience and interaction is so rich and diverse, I'm lucky to have this problem. And it seems that being alone=loneliness is the cultural understanding which my Malawian friends will not tolerate.

Last thought of the evening, 

I hate how big my presence is in this house. I only brought a back pack and two canvas shopping bags with me, however, Peace Corps keeps giving us things that we can't or aren't allowed to share. I have about 7 books from them, a water filter, bike, hoe, machete, mosquito net, mattress, pillow, bag, binder,  kerosene lamp, and two blankets. I imagine we will only keep accumulating things during this time. I am now so hyper aware of all of my things, and how much space I take up. Especially because they were required to vacate one room for each of us (my entire family sleeps in one bedroom to accommodate me) and my family literally owns nothing but their houses, clothes, a few buckets, a mat to sit on to eat dinner, a few pots, and plates, and a few acres of land for growing green maize, ground nuts, and soya beans. Here I am, seemingly with everything and unable to really share it. It makes me feel very ashamed. This makes my previous understanding of inequity so real and sickeningly tangible. Except this time Im not advocating for others to have more, but for all the rest of us to have much, much less.