Shepherd's Pie

Many things have happened this week, but I haven't got anything particularly interesting to say about them. On the other hand, my brilliant mate Eloise has got lots that is very interesting to say. Guttingly, a series of serious illnesses (malaria, followed by typhoid, followed by tonsilitis) have forced her home early, and this is her fascinating and beautiful response to being thrust abruptly back into the world she left just 5 months ago. Give it a read, and be challenged by it.

Africa Vs. the world

I can’t decide if travel makes the world seem smaller or larger. When it comes down to it, I believe that the more you travel, the more mystery is solved. Each new place, although similar or familiar to somewhere you may have been before, holds a new treasure that unlocks another key to the world and it’s functions.

This journey has introduced me to the most inspiring, strong, kind-hearted young adults, and together we explored Africa. Tightly knitted friendships hugged me like family. I’ve been so unbelievably lucky to meet such lovely volunteers who’ve been by my side through thick and thin.

Sitting on a big soft leather couch by the warmth of a wood fire, rugged up in Calvin Klein pjs’ with a Sheppard’s pie in my hand and a laptop by my side seems too much of a dream to be my reality after 5 months in Africa. 

I’m home, but I feel like I’m in a parallel universe.

I’ve been fantasising about this moment for months. What it will be like when I arrive in Australia, all the food I’ll eat, the luxurious furniture to sink into etc etc etc. But the fantasies’ themselves are disappointingly better than the real thing. The Sheppard’s pie is decent, but in my dream it was never ending. The way it sits in my stomach is not a happy feeling at all, unlike the vegetarian meals I grew to love in Mua. The furniture, whilst incredible, is so unnecessary. If I could be in my bed, greeted by the sound of Nadine sneezing twice each morning, I would take it in an instant. Mtweya, my African cat is my only comfort. She sits on my lap purring contently, seeking endless attention.  She’s well feed, fat and spoilt rotten, nothing at all like the skeletal creatures that sleekly roam the streets of Malawi.

Had I come home in July, I might have seen things differently. Unfortunately, after fighting a long list of diseases, having being in hospital for a total of two and a half weeks, and severely ill for more than half of my trip, I suppose the contributions I was giving to my placement was close to a total of zero. It soon became blatantly obvious that I was no longer in control of the situation. Lattitude decided that my health was more important: staying would be a risk. I however, thought otherwise. Alas, I lost my long lasting battle to say in the country for the remaining two months, and was on the next flight home (after many ordeals of lost/emergency passports, rescheduled flights, more illness and low funds).

Before I left, one of my major arguments to remain was the dreaded feeling that returning would be a risk to more than just my physical health. Now that I’m back, this theory has greatly increased in strength. 

I can't stand it here. I feel like I’m being squashed. Or like I’m the plankton at the bottom of the food chain. I feel so undermined and isolated.  There's just so much STUFF. It's ridiculous. The Western world is cold and consumerism reaches a whole new level. There is no creativity. No gratitude. Just want and needless desire. It’s unbearably overwhelming, I feel so claustrophobic.

I must have looked so stupid walking through the international transfers section of the airport; my eyes were popping out of my head. I could vividly remember the children’s’ faces when we took a donation of rice to the school. It was the biggest treat, to have a variation from nsima. And yet there were suddenly thousands of different options and brands of rice, chocolate, fruit - food in general! The electricity is without fail and constant in every room and there was more clothing, play equipment, medical care and accessories than I could set my eyes upon. I still can’t get my head around it. Perhaps I’m being a bit hasty in my judgements, this is an airport after all. But I can’t help but despise the atmosphere of the place.  Malawians are accustomed to hard work with little reward. The reward comes from the beauty of the land and the sense of togetherness that the country holds. 

Welcome to reverse culture shock Eloise!. 

The main thing that strikes me above all else is how quiet, lonely and secluded this side of the world is. No one cares about anyone else. There’s no maize machine whirling at 5 in the morning, no hollering deaf children or skinny dogs howling as I go off to sleep, no tribal drum beating, no joyous singing. Conversation is silent and personal. I miss having conversations with people I don’t know. It’s like everyone is following a set of rules;

Rule number one: Don’t speak to strangers.
Rule number two: Care for yourself before others.
Rule number three: You have a clique, stick to it!

Rule number four: Buy things you don’t need.  Throw them out, and repeat.

Rule number five: Get up and go! Always hurry! And when things don’t go according to plan-complain!

The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving.

As my plane rose from the runway a piece of me was left behind. Something was literally missing. That was when it hit me full in the face.

Malawi is my home.

Completely and utterly, in a way that I never imagined was possible until I had to leave.  Turning my back on the faces of people I love, saying goodbye to a community that had become my family and explaining to the children that I was leaving them early was horrendously heartbreaking. I tried to think of a way to describe the emotions I felt, but nothing compares to the looks on their faces or the feeling of abandonment as I walked away.

Thinking back to the day I arrived, the speed with which we all bonded still astounds me, as does how quickly a country so foreign became my home. I was filled with utter relief and warmth upon arrival, and that was something that never changed.  So I suppose the response to my departure should not have surprised me as much as it did. Warm words of encouragement were sent my way. I was overwhelmed yet again by all the people who have helped me in this journey, both in-country and out. The goodbyes, the tears, the love, the gratitude, the joy, the embraces and kisses, the songs, the letters, and the surprise of my departure flooded back to me as I waited for my connecting flight in Johannesburg. Although I was still in Africa, it was no longer “the warm heart” that I grew to love in Malawi.

I spent only five months in Malawi, yet my view of the world and life itself has changed dramatically. “If you want to make it, all you have to do is try.” Malawi has so much potential to develop. When they take matters into their own hands, then and only then can Africa and its people become a place of innovation rather than a country of charity. This is a lesson that applies to all of us, regardless of where we come from. It may be the 9^th poorest country in the world, and the least developed country in Africa, but what it does have easily makes up for what it lacks.  It’s a country where laughter is a medicine to all things and where faith is strong enough to get you through any situation. They make the most of what they have and thank God for it, resulting in a population of the happiest people on this planet who share an inspiring gratitude for the lives they’ve been given. It’s a place where a child is raised a whole community, not singular parents, where friendship and kindness is valued above all things, where life carries on, where junk is a treasured way of rebirth, where people are free.

“Africans bend what little they have to their will every day. Using creativity, they overcome challenges.”

That’s the most beautiful thing about spending a day in Africa, the simplicity of freedom. Sitting in peaceful solitude for literally hours, enjoying your thoughts and the environment around you.  I miss waking up and not knowing what will happen. I miss appreciating little things like electricity, and having to make candle toast when there’s a lengthy blackout. I miss the ecstasy and excitement and shouts of pure joy when it finally flicks back on and we can use the toaster again. I miss inexpensive goods and services. I especially miss Mandazi. I miss the friends I've made, and the people I was yet to meet. I miss the sunrises and the clear night skies with millions of stars. I miss the radiant colours of the market and the stench of the fish. I miss swimming in the huge, warm, never ending pool of Lake Malawi.  I miss the beauty of each day. I just miss the culture.

I’ve been called irresponsible, stubborn, hot headed and immature. People think I’m crazy and without consideration for my own health-a young girls frivolous dream that was short-lived despite stubborn determination.

But when I reflect on my time in Africa, I see it as a gift of growth and giving that no one will ever be able to take away from me. Malawi brought me freedom and I wouldn’t change one single thing about it. It was an experience of a lifetime and has become a part of who I am. It taught me to slow down and appreciate the life that we’ve been given. I’ve finally escaped from the prison of my own mind and opened myself up to a world of possibilities.

I plan to rest, recuperate and approach everything in a new light. I can appreciate how lucky we are in here in Australia while persevering with my passion. Nadine will continue the work we began in Mua, taking the bulk of it on her shoulders. She’ll put into place the remainder of our fundraising work and I’ll be on standby, 11541km across the ocean, whenever she needs assistance. I couldn’t have survived as long as I did without her and I admire her strength and persistence.

I may not have had the perfect ending that Nadine and I planned as we lay on the bug-ridden concrete floor, dreaming of food as we counted down the days. But since when does life ever go according to plan? There are millions of things that can go wrong, no mater what you’re doing, how you’re travelling or where you are. In fact, there are millions of things in your life that can go wrong by simply stepping out the front door. But how would we ever learn if we knew ever step that had been planned out for us? As Shakira says, “When you fall get up, cause this is Africa.” The thing to do is get on with your life. Take a risk and follow the path that you want to go down. So we put ourselves out there and took the opportunities that were thrown at us. We forgot about counting down the days and they quickly turned into weeks, then months. Suddenly, we wondering where all the time had gone.

And all of a sudden, I’m home.

I think that all anyone really needs, is a good adventure. My time in Africa is over for now, and I can only look forward to the exciting and unpredictable future, and hope that one-day, I will be back. And I’m more than ready for the next one to come my way. 

“You’re mountain is waiting, so get on your way!”

-Eloise.