Village Re-entry

Again, a blog short-cut.. a journal entry the other day.

It is August 31st, 2010. I have just returned to Chimusanya from a three week venture into Lusaka and Malawi. I was in Lusaka for a two week In Service Training and then "Mu U" (those who lived in Mwampikanya during training) ventured to Nkhata Bay on Lake Malawi in Malawi (picture above from the balcony of my room. 8 bucks a night!) for 6 days. There is a ton to recall but for now I want to focus on the re-entry into the village life and the feelings associated with it. There are some long lost feelings of home sickness. I have opened a care package mailed three months ago and have six wonderful pictures of American knuckleheads to look at. I hesitated opening the package upon first arriving to my hut becuase I was already missing my american interaction. I did not want to add to the emotion. I, out of the blue, said the fell with it and opened it. I haven't stopped smiling at the pics. Jake has the greatest grin/ laugh in one of them that made me laugh out loud. There was, after all, no need to hesitate. The pics made me feel in touch again. My mom called this morning worried cause I haven't been in cell service (no service in Malawi). I thought it was known I was going unavailable for a week, but regardless I felt bad because as independent as being in Africa can seem, it is the love, longing for, and respect I have for my family that keeps me going, and I don't want them to feel that they are not part of this and a part of me. Just as important or significant at least, I want them to know I am a part of them, for when you find yourself alone in a village you like to know that you belong somewhere. So, I find myself alone yet amongst my Zambian family. The language barrier is still there and may always be. I sit in the middle of them to show either I care or am not scared. In my house I would have a television as my friend. Here I have a pen or a book. I try to break from them, but feel as there is too little to say... a reocurring theme anywhere, not just Zambia.

Lunch has just been served and I find myself quickly back in the mix. Mambwe (the boy in the picture above. He has no idea what DORK means) has asked me for help with his math which was a good break from the solitude. The sun is setting in the clouds giving one of those Bible phrase post card pictures and I look for its comfort and connection. I still marvel at its sight, but tonight its full effect is not there. The peace and purpose I question is in question, yet I think as though it is now that when the sunset carries me, the footprints are just a little deeper in the sand. Becca and Chiza (the two knuckle heads here) are singing and that instantly makes me giggle. I look forward to a restful slumber and hope the mice don't wake me. I look forward to sleeping in. I look forward to exchanging greetings with my village friends tomorrow. They make me feel so welcome and important and I hope I can return the favor. My ankle may be broken so there is no futbol for a while which does not help the situation. Vuka is pulling a car made of empty milk cartons by a string, about as primitive a toy as you can get, yet still so relevant. That shouldn't make sense. That shouldn't entertain, but in this time of volatility it makes more sense to me than it may ever will. What is there not to make sense of? The man is in his element. What is my element? Do I have one? My Amai (village mother) has told me she will find me tomorrow. She is off to yet another funeral. The sun rises, and the sun sets. We pull cars by strings. We try not to feel bad. Sometimes we do.