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."