Why?

                                                                                                                                December 8, 2012

Fog rolled across the land in seconds before rain pounded the earth. In the distance we could hear the drums and sounds of dancing. My children squealed with delight and twirled in the refreshment sent from heaven.  

When the rain slackens, the frogs sing and the ants march. Two days ago Jedidiah inadvertently stepped into a swarm of marching ants, biting as they climbed him. He screamed, begging for help. The ants reached his naval. As we wiped him down, he smiled sweetly and spoke of happy things. I love the innocence of children. He had no need to dwell on the hurt.

Now he and his daddy are having “church” upstairs while I sit with my sleeping, precious girl. I hear his sweet voice singing, “Rejoice ye pure in heart!”  A crop duster drones by, and I hear the sounds of many new and melodious bird voices. Across the valley I see clouds just above the hills.

Why are we here?

Yesterday we bought bananas from the women who sell them very close to where our future house is. Jamie asked, “How much for this bunch of bananas?” The woman said, “250.” Jamie replied, “Okay. Here’s 250.” The women smirked at each other. I didn’t like it. I said to Jamie, “They just overcharged you.” He said, “But they’re good bananas.” It is true that my children like them, but I don’t appreciate dishonesty.

I met a woman who has worked in India and has been working in Africa a few years. I said to her, “I think India would be a very difficult place to work, because honesty is not a core value of their culture.” She said, “I find that to be truer in Africa.” 

When I spoke to Ken, the builder who is working on our house, he asked me, “For how many years will you stay in Malawi?” I responded, “Five. But if my husband is still needed here, we may stay longer.” He replied, “Five. For you, it is enough!” Then we spoke of the other missionary family here. He said, “For them, five years is not enough. They are good people. They help many Malawians. Five years is not enough.” Oh! I’ve been here ten days, and they already want to send me back! What have I done? I’ve wanted to have a house without holes into which to move our family.

Why are we here?

Yesterday a man came to the guesthouse. He placed wooden souvenirs by the front door and waited. He said that he made them himself, but we did not buy any. He waited all day there by the door, until I felt sad for him.

A few days ago we were walking down the street. I saw a young girl walking with her mother. Both looked so happy, but the girl’s bald head was covered in awful looking sores. I shuddered.

We went into the town of Makwasa yesterday. The people sat in the dirt selling vegetables and fruit. A little girl had a brown dress full of holes. She and her dress matched the dirt, except for her big smile. I wondered what color the dress had once been.

Two days ago I met Patty, a woman whom someone wanted me to interview to be my house-helper. She hardly looked at me and didn’t understand much English. When we shook hands, her hand felt dirty. I was told that I must teach her how to be clean.

So why am I here?