Planes, Trains and Rollercoasters

Well... I'm here. After months of planning, preparing, shopping, vaccinating, e-mailing, fund-raising, praying, packing, and crying, I'm here in Lilongwe, Malawi. And my eyes have already been opened.

First let's tackle the journey over here. Suffice it to say, I learned I am not cut out to be one of those amazingly brave solo travelers! My journey included a red eye to Paris sitting in what we in the flying biz like to call “Crying Baby Row”, a minor break-down in a bathroom at Charles de Gaulle Airport upon realization of how alone I was, a 16-hour layover in Paris which included navigating the metro and avoiding pick-pocketers, another 10-hour red-eye to Johannesburg and finally a 1.5-hour flight to Lilongwe which to tell you the truth, I don’t even remember. BUT, at the end of it all, there was a WUSC staff member holding a sheet of paper with my name on it, and (thank the Lord)... all my luggage.

The day I landed safely in Lilongwe was the day I was also introduced to 3 other Canadian volunteers: Rachelle, Margaret, and Jamie. We had made some contact in the weeks before our departures, but it was great to put faces to the names. Over the first few days these girls were my saving grace. Thrown into this crazy situation all together, we were able to vent, worry, de-brief days, miss boyfriends and generally get to know each other. 4 girls in their early 20s, all having decided to move to Africa to volunteer for several weeks obviously have a bit in common, so we all got along very well. Our very first night, jet-lagged, exhausted, probably in need of a shower, and generally over-whelmed, I enjoyed my first taste of African food, chicken and nshima… and liked it a lot (nshima is ground maize). Food really hasn’t been a problem, the problem for the first week or so was simply a lack of appetite on my part (which I’ll discuss more later).

Week 1 was a whirlwind. Because we had to wait for 3 days for more Canadian volunteers to arrive to begin orientation, WUSC had planned a couple day excursions for us to “experience the real Africa”. And experience the real Africa we did. On Monday we visited a children’s program called the Fountain of Hope, directed by an inspiring guy called Moses Njobvu. The program provides schooling and Bible lessons to children in the morning, as well as a porridge breakfast and nshima + some type of protein lunch, with 45 minutes outdoor playtime in the afternoon, ending shortly after so many of the children who have walked for miles to attend can get home during daylight. The program location has a beautiful new building, funded entirely, I believe, by a couple in Canada who believe in what Moses is doing. The new building is home to a kitchen, storage room, and TOILETS (which are certainly a luxury in most of Africa), as well as tables and benches where the children learn. Before the building was established, the children learned under the shade of a tree, a common sight in Africa. We spent most of the day there, being sung to and singing our own ‘Canadian’ songs back to the children (a request which came as a surprise to me and the other girls). I quickly thought back to my summers at Mini-Yo-We for a song or two we could teach them. We also helped serve lunch, one of the most memorable moments of my visit. The food is cooked entirely by women from the community who come every day to volunteer their time. Such a group effort! If only we in Canada would look after our neighbours as the women of the Fountain of Hope do. Not to mention… stirring a massive pot of boiling nshima is HARD work! Playing with the children after lunch was both hilarious and heart-breaking. I came to the realization that children are the same everywhere. They love attention, being chased, and learning new games (although teaching duck-duck-goose with my limited knowledge of Chichewa was difficult). Of the 170 children who attended that day, 100+ were orphans, more than likely due to the Malawi’s HIV/AIDS epidemic which as infected over 12% of the adult population. These children are un-waveringly protective and caring of their younger siblings, as evidenced by the astounding number of young children, some as young as 6 or 7, with their toddler siblings slung on their backs, so they too might experience school and a full tummy.

Tuesday was another overwhelming day, with a visit to Dzaleka Refugee Camp about an hour outside of Lilongwe. One of the highlights of this day was meeting Alice, who drove us to the camp. Alice is the project officer for WUSC’s Student Refugee Program and she is also my ‘host mom’ here in Africa. The camp is home to some 11 000 refugees, and that number is growing. Most are from Rwanda, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of Congo, as well as Somalia an Ethiopia. Interestingly, we learned from our guide, Belize, that the Ethiopians have almost been treating Dzaleka as a travelling pit-stop during their migration to South Africa, they are not necessarily refugees needing protection. First we spoke with the 20 or so lucky students who have been accepted to WUSC’s Student Refugee Program and are preparing to write their TOEFL tests and begin at a Canadian University next fall. They had many questions about Canadian University life, Canadian weather, and lots more. It’s very exciting to think about the possibilities that lie ahead for those students, and made me appreciative of my university career that I basically just walked right into, without care or concern. Following our discussion, as I mentioned, one of the students, Belize, walked us around the camp. I received lots of “Mzungu! Mzungu!”’ (white person!) from all the young children, as is the custom. It’s hard to think of any word other than “slum” to describe the refugee camp, as harsh as that sounds. Row upon row, shack upon shack, there seemed to be no end to the number of people living in poor, cramped conditions. Most of the camp, however, normally has electricity. (Electricity in Malawi, by the way, is also a luxury. Almost every other night the power goes out for 1-2 hours around dinner time. I’ve heard rumours it is due to the government cutting back, and selling some power to neighbouring countries, while Malawians are left in the dark, literally).

The week continued with orientation Wednesday and Thursday, and we were kept quite busy. I experienced my first mini bus ride and lived to tell the tale. (Mini busses are those tiny VW vans that literally cram in 20 people and various wild animals, etc. They are also my transportation to and from work each day). While the days were busy, I did have some trouble with jet-lag and homesickness at night, when I was forced to lay in bed while adjusting to my new sleep schedule. For the first time in my life I experienced what can only be described as panic attacks. I missed home and my family, my boyfriend, my friends, and generally feeling normal and anonymous (something I cannot feel here, no matter how hard I try). These “waves” of anxiety were quite disturbing, as I came into this adventure with an open mind, feeling as though I would be pretty good at the whole transition, and thinking I was a pretty adaptable girl. Not to mention, I have a university education in health and development issues which I figured would prepare me for seeing the worst. Yes, it prepared my mind. No, it did not prepare my heart. When these feelings would hit me, usually at night, I wanted nothing more than to just head home. “3 months” I thought, “How will I EVER get through 3 months???” I felt very, very trapped and alone, despite having connected with people back home once or twice via email at this point, and having the other volunteers around me. I had no appetite, and felt oh-so-tired. I heard from friends and family in Canada that these feelings were a normal part of culture shock, but that did not make living hour-to-hour, minute-to-minute any easier.

My lowest point was last Thursday, when the girls and I were separated to begin our work in different areas. At first I wondered how I would get by without the other girls to vent to, but the hospitality and security I have felt since moving in with Alice, her husband Nelson and their children Chisomo (9), Mphatso (7) and Peter (1), has been a large contributor to the decline in my loneliness and homesickness. With the help of a Bible study I’m doing on having FAITH, I’m learning to take each day as it comes, or else the bigger picture gets too overwhelming for my home-sicko heart to handle. Of course I still miss ‘home’ and everything that encompasses, but I can’t believe I’ve been here almost 2 weeks already. I have started work and I am working my way into a routine- slowly but surely.

My next post will tackle week 2: work. I apologize for pulling a JRR Tolkein for this first entry, but I had a lot to cover!

Love to all,
Jacqueline.