Inauguration

                                                                                                                                                                                                                   
                                                                                                                     February 1, 2013

I stared at Jamie. My stomach dropped and nausea filled me.

“Yes, Shallena, $4000.00 US dollars are gone,” replied Jamie.

“That is my car, my independence! That’s tile on my broken concrete kitchen floor! That’s a washing machine! It must have been the painter. He’s the only one who had time to look through all our stuff and find where we had hidden the money.”

We called the administrator, because it must have been someone hired by the hospital. He and the business manager came to my house to hear the case. Assuring me they would take care of it, they left. For two days I heard nothing. Then I thought to call the police. Jamie phoned the admin, who said it had not been done yet. Why didn’t we do that right away? Frustrated and angry, we went to the police. They also came to my house, but I’ve not been convinced that much was done about it.

Two days later, I fired the girl who was cleaning my house because she was lying to me. She worked three days.

The next night Jamie’s boots disappeared off of the porch. In order to see those boots, a person had to walk up to our doorstep. That caused me to feel the most violated, because we are the most vulnerable when we sleep.

The next day I was unpacking one of our bags that was left here when we stayed for a month in Blantyre. Inside were the few children’s toys I had brought along. But where are the watercolor paints? They’re not here! No way, no they didn’t. Someone took my children’s used watercolor paints!!! They have crossed the line! I am furious!

Up walk two guys from the electric board. “We are shutting off your electricity because you didn’t pay your bill.”

“I didn’t receive a bill.”

“You didn’t pay the bill. This is your second notice.”

“No, it’s not! I have lived in this house one week! This is not my bill.” By now the gardener had walked up, hearing the heat in my voice.

“Okay, madam. We will not turn off your power. Only you must speak to the business manager about this bill.”

You better believe it I will, Buddy.

The next day I decided that it was enough. I was livid, and I haven’t felt that way in years. At the peak of my fury, the administrator knocked on my door. “Hi, Shallena.”

“Hello.” My voice was flat.

“Everything okay?”

No, everything was not okay and I let him know it. He listened, and told me that I was not alone in my feelings, everyone goes through this and it will pass.  He told me that someone would come to spray the house (which hasn’t happened) and I told him that would do no good since I don’t have screens on the windows. He sent maintenance up to clean their junk out of our garage and the next day to put screens on the windows. When I first got here someone told me that people will wait to see if I get angry before they do anything. I responded that I didn’t think that would happen. What did I know? 

With that inauguration to our home at Malamulo, I definitely trust people less. Yet after my uncharacteristic fury was spent, I felt so much more at peace, and somehow began to see the plight of the people a little more. I wonder why? But I am grateful.
--shallena