Kwathu ndi ku Malawi

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...