Kwathu ndi ku Malawi

I dislike the term "first world." The taste it leaves on my tongue. And I dislike the term "third world." The terms are outdated, perhaps derogatory, and only divide, not unite populations. Most political scientists would now agree.  I don't live in the third world- I live in the world. And although the United States may think they are, they aren't the first, the greatest, or the indomitable.  What makes the purity and simplicity of this village life in Malawi third and others first? May the meek inherit the earth. When the last shall become first.  Some book recommendations for those interested in diving into these concepts more: Things Fall Apart Poisonwood Bible Smoldering Charcoal Heart of Darkness Africa: Altered States, Ordinary Miracles Dead Aid Development as Freedom ^^Photo: The multiple children playing just outside my house near the porch.

Malawi. Malawi is an experience that we see. He stands by the paved road every day. He watches as mini-bus after mini-bus full of humans crammed in as if they were cattle pass by. He runs after each one, hands full of today's produce- onions, tomatoes, cabbage. All will go bad in just a matter of days and can no longer can be sold. He prays for passengers in need of the products he has. His eyes have long lost hope. But wait, here comes another bus, filled to the brim. He makes one sell. A bundle of tomatoes for K100- about $.40. The next bus comes and drops a passenger. No sale. And the next 20 buses come with no sale. The day is winding down but yet another bus approaches. He runs up to it but they drop the passenger and then slam the door in his face. His eyes drop and he sighs. It looks as if his heart just broke. The heat beats down on his dark face. It's time to walk home. Home to 5 children and a wife. Tomorrow is another day.  Malawi. Malawi we cannot or d...

I’m sitting in a beautiful new office at my secondary school donated by the people of Japan typing yet another blog on my computer all while looking at the internet on my iPhone while I discuss, or I should really say listen, to the plight of one of the smartest teachers at my school. He speaks with frustration and despair over the poor situation Malawi and many other parts of Africa still find themselves in. It has been fifty years since independence and yet Malawi and it’s people, especially the rural population, are still very poor. And as I sit here discussing development theory with an iphone and laptop in front of me, I realize just how inadequate all my book knowledge is when it comes to really understanding poverty and development. I am able to carry on an intelligent conversation due to my degree in international policy but ultimately what do I know? What do I know of a society where cycles of poverty repeat over and over again to the point where even t...

The dichotomy that exists in a day: A child yells out my Malawian name as I ride by on a bike smiling and waving. A man won’t leave me alone in the market insisting I give him money. Expectant mothers sing and dance about being healthy during their antenatal visit to the clinic. I pass by yet another funeral on my way home from a trip to the market. In a crowd of people, I recognize a friend, and they recognize me, and I realize this is becoming my home. Children scream and mothers push and shove into a small room to all try and get their children tested for malaria. My neighbor’s children dance with delight when they get to draw water for a treat. A meeting starts 2 hours late. A meeting doesn’t happen.  I cook a successful meal actually enjoyed by my friends and neighbors surprising them that yes, Americans can cook. A bat flies around in my bedroom at night as I try to sleep. Solar electricity lights up the clinic and staff hous...

“Are you going to blog? Do you have a blog?” I had every intention to. But where to begin? What to say? It’s been three months . . . how can I capture it all in paragraphs and post it to a website? Post it to a form of technology so foreign and probably never even seen by the majority of those who live around me. I guess what I can do is start with some words written by Barbara Kingsolver (pg 265-266) in her book The Poisonwood Bible . In her story of life in the Congo one young character in the book says: “Mother has nagged us to write letters home to our classmates at Bethlehem High, and not one of us has done it yet. We’re still wondering, Where do you start? ‘This morning I got up. . .’ I’d begin, but no, ‘This morning I pulled back the mosquito netting that’s tucked in tight around our beds because mosquitoes here give you malaria, a disease that runs in your blood which nearly everyone has anyway but they don’t go to the doctor for it because there are worse things like ...