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Love Is In the Air...

Love is in the air in Blantyre...

Of course I'm not referring to myself!

This weekend, I had the extreme honor of being the Best Man in my friend, Kondwani's wedding.


So... throw all your preconceived ideas about a wedding out of your head and travel on this excited journey with me!

The day started out bright and early for me on a hot Saturday morning at 5:30. As much as waking up that early is like a quick slit to my neck usually, I was so excited about the day that I woke up with no problem, and was ready for all that the day had in store for me.

I've heard so many stories about what to expect and stuff... but, honestly in order to really know what I had gotten in to, I just had to do it.

I realized early in the morning that I had better just throw my watch to the side, because it would be pointless. We had strict instructions to be there NO LATER than 7:00 am. Well... I sat on my porch waiting for my ride at 7:15 am, with a 30 minute drive to the church ahead of us. I was getting all worried and stuff... but, it was no big deal. In fact, we went out of our way to pick up the groom's grandparents before we ever made it to the church.

After spending the morning with the groom and other groomsman in a nearby house, getting interviewed and deciding what our wardrobe would actually look like for the day, we headed down to the church a few minutes before the ceremony was scheduled to start (which was 9:00 am).

At about half past 9:00, the bride and rest of the wedding party came bee-bopping up to the church, and within another 15 minutes or so, the music started thumping, and the party had started!

Malawian weddings are the bomb!!

There's none of this marching solemnly down the aisle to music whining from a pipe organ. OH, NO!... We quite literally danced down the aisle to some gospel/R&B/African music with the base maxed out and the speakers about to pop! It was this white boy's dream come true!



I had spent the last 3 days in rehearsal perfecting my dance steps that I would have to perform in front of an excited crowd of people I didn't know. When I rounded the corner of the door that I was hiding behind, and started my jig, everyone started yelling.


It was KRUNK!

Now... as the "Best Man" in a Malawian wedding, I pretty much just had one responsibility: Whipping sweat from the grooms head.

No lie...

It was definitely needed too. We were wearing really thick suits, and the temperatures were just above 100*F most of the day. I think I sweated off about a gallon or more of sweat throughout the day. By the end of the night, by hankerchief, along with my suit, was ready to be wrung out like a dish cloth!

So... throughout the ceremony, it didn't matter what important thing was happening, I would stand up in front of everyone and dab the beads of sweat from my dear friend's head. It was one of the most awkward things to me... but, completely expected from everyone else.

After about an hour and a half of sitting in a small, hot church building, the first scene was complete. And, once again, we danced out of the church the same way we danced in.

After the wedding, traditionally, everyone in the wedding party hops in a train of cars and literally parades around town, honking (hooting) their horns (hooters) for everyone to know they are married and celebrate with them.

After that, we were already getting a little worn out. So, it was rest time. The wedding party ended up at a relative's house for some traditional Malawian cuisine. We sat there for a few hours eating and waiting for the newly weds to receive some quick counseling from some experienced people... even though the reception was scheduled to start an hour earlier. No rush though... it's Malawi!

Well... if you thought that the ceremony was happenin', you soon realized that it was more like a funeral compared to the reception. I haven't been to a party like this back home!

The hall was packed with a few hundred people waiting for us to dance down the center aisle once again. This time, however, our dance steps were a little more scandalous!



I'll just go ahead and hand in my resignation now...

Once we were in our proper places on the front stage, the action started.

For the next 3 hours or so, non-stop streams of people danced to the front of the place and threw a constant flow of money at the bride and groom! I really think that we should do this in the States!! Or at least do it at my wedding...

Different groups of people would be called out over the overly amped sound system that was thumping with the latest tunes, and you would dance to the front with your pockets full of Kwacha.



One of the coolest things was watching people that don't have a whole lot of money to be throwing around, dance up to the front with the biggest smiles on their faces and throw their money with utmost joy! There wasn't a person in the place that wasn't gettin' down with it.

Meanwhile, I sat on the stage with the rest of the sharply dressed wedding party, occasionally getting up to move my hips a bit (much less frequently than I would have liked)!

Then at about half passed five, the party began to wrap up, us dancers danced our last dance out the door, and I hopped in the car heading back to my place with a huge smile on my face, and an amazing experience that I will remember for a lifetime!

These boys are my new best friends...

Special note: I had several comments from Malawians that I was the best Azungu (white boy) dancer they had ever seen! I should figure out a way to work that into a resume somehow...

If you want to see more pictures from the wedding, click here!

Zamathokozo (Thanksgiving)

Celebrating Thanksgiving in this setting is going to be an experience that I won't forget.

I know they are chickens... but it's the closest I'm gonna get!!

Of course, they don't celebrate this wonderful holiday in Malawi (or anywhere else in the world on the day that we do... just in case no one has told you that yet. I was pretty old before I knew that, so don't feel bad).

Maybe this year I will actually stop and take this special Thursday seriously.

Each year for me, the "thankfulness" aspect is always a little overshadowed by the super abundance of food (which I would love to wrap my mouth around right now). But, it seems like the majority of us kind of loose sight of what it's about. It's sadder still that most of us fail to be thankful every other day of the year for the amazing blessings we enjoy every hour of every day.

This year, I'm thankful for...

My Education...
This is something that I think every person in the West takes for granted. It's sad that because we are so sheltered from the rest of the world, we fail to see what an incredible thing it is to have an abundance of education literally at our finger tips. We are without excuse.

My heart breaks each time I talk to someone here that would give anything to be able to get a secondary school education. I don't think I ever realized how enabling an education is for someone... and how disabling the lack of can be.

I'm not sure why God chose to bless me the way He has with this, but for that, I am Thankful!

My Family, Friends and Supporters back home...
I have been blessed more in the last few months of my life than I have in a long time by people back home. From letters of encouragement, to care packages, to stories about how my experiences are effecting people around the world... I have been blessed! It is amazing to see how God can work in such amazing ways.

The Simple Things in life...
I'm thankful for things like Silence. For knowing what it feels like to go to bed in a village as soon as the sun goes down, because there is just nothing else to do once the light is below the horizon... and then waking up as soon as that light comes back up on the other side of the earth.

For showers from a bucket at 5:30 a.m. that wash all the sweat and dirt from the previous night away through the transparent reed walls that surround me.

For sitting around the porch with friends watching the rain flood our yard (and house in my case) on cold afternoons.

For learning how to cook from scratch all by myself... and after spending a few hours over the stove, to sit down and enjoy a meal in the solitude of my living room.

My Health...
While watching countless numbers of people wasting away in front of me... coughing uncontrollably... hungry... in pain... you realize really quick how fortunate you are to wake up each morning with a clean bill of health.

Even more... I have been here for 2-1/2 months, and have yet to have as much as a little stomach virus! That is just way more than a blessing!

Food Security...
I'm thankful that even here, I have all the food that I could ever need. I have never lived a day of my life in want of food.

I'm also thankful for food variety. I never realized how much of a blessing it is to grow up with the ability to taste foods from all over the world. The majority of people around the world eat the same "staple food" day in and day out, every day of their lives. It is a foreign concept to think about eating something different every day of the week.

Communications...
I'm thankful that with the click of a mouse or the ring of a phone, I can be in contact with the people I love in an instant! Just a few years ago, this wasn't possible for people moving to a place like Malawi. It definitely makes life much better when you are away from people for so long.


So... this year, I want to actually be thankful to the One that supplies me with more than I could ever imagine. I want to recognize not only the big things, but the little ones as well. I want to give glory and honor where it's due.

So, I take time to just sit back and remember and laugh and praise God for being so good!

It is well
Moyowo
With my soul
Ngwabwino
It is well, it is well with my soul!
Moyo wango ulitu bwino!

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Language & Adaptation...

Perhaps I'm a bit of a pushover... I don't know. But, it seems like every since I have arrived here, I have been trying my hardest to try and speak like people I am around.

It happens with everyone...

To the Canadians I say "Ehh?" and "Sorry" (vs. Saarrrry in Texan)

To the Brits I say things like "torch" (vs. flashlight) and try really hard to speed up my speaking so I don't sound "too slow".

To the Germans I try to change my voice inflection a little... but, who am I kidding, I probably sound like an elephant to them!

I have managed to convince a good number of people that I am from anywhere except America.

But, through my strivings to be someone else, I find myself longing to just scream things in Texan!

The other day, I slipped up and said the unthinkable...

Y'all.

My friends just kinda looked at me and laughed.

But, I miss my Southeast Texan drawl.

I miss mumbling "Dad gum it!" when my diced tomatoes fall on the floor, or when I don't push down the clutch far enough before I try and shift.

But, I've noticed something...

I seem to be the only one conforming.

I have yet to notice anyone willfully trying to slur every word out to its maximum length in order to sound like they are from Mississippi (sarrryy).

Everyone else just talks like they normally do, and hope that people figure it out.

It is funny, however, how messed up our language really is.

You don't really notice it until you have to try and explain it to someone that is learning...



Meet Jackson.

Jackson makes sure that no one climbs over our wall at night and tries to steal everything I own. More importantly, Jackson is a good friend.

He's trying to improve his English a little, so I got Mom to send him a nice, compact English dictionary. He absolutely loved it! The next night when he came back, he was carrying it along with his Bible as nighttime reading material, and he had made a nice little book cover in order to protect it.

I was visiting with Jackson tonight, and we pretty much just talked about words in the dictionary... not much unlike a standard Thursday night in a college town.

He asked me several words that I figured were pretty standard for me, but I just didn't really know how to explain them. Here I am... a fresh college graduate... unable to explain basic English principles to someone else!

All I gotta say is that I am darn sure glad that I was born speakin' Texan... cuz there ain't no way I'd be able to explain it to no one else.

So... next time you get frustrated with someone that looks at you funny in the checkout line because whatever is coming out of your mouth isn't quite registering upstairs... be patient. Most of the time, we aren't even saying it right to begin with.

"Rain falls... Angry on the tin roof..."

Ahh... the sound of tiny pellets from the sky, falling on the shiny metal affixed above my head.

It's finally Rainy Season.

If you have never had the chance to sit under a tin roof while it is raining, then I don't think you have fully discovered a part of your soul (OK... that's a bit overstated. I don't want you city folk to get upset with me).

Seriously... I think that it would be a great idea to make tin umbrellas. That way, no matter where you are when it starts raining, you can experience the therapeutic melodies of rain and metal. I guess the only issue would be lightening, ehh?

Right now, I feel like I just ate an ice cream cone on a hot summer day that ended up covering more of my body than actually going into my mouth. You know the feeling...

You don't want any part of your body to touch another part because they just stick together. So, you lay in bed in "anatomical position" in order to minimize the amount of sticky surfaces that will be touching each other.

Humidity... UGH!

But, there's something about the sound of those little drops on that tin roof that just make that uncomfortableness float toward the back of your consciousness.

There's something about the rhythmic feel of rain that just lets you know life will go on.

It forces your mind to stop for a second and bathe in the simplicity of the moment.

One of the things that I absolutely love about Malawi is the lack of "noise". I probably shouldn't say "lack of"... there are definitely "noises", but they are noises that I am unfamiliar with.

When I sit in my apartment in the States, I hear the constant hum of the appliances that are turned on. Stop right now and just listen............ I bet you can hear the refrigerator. Depending on how many moderately clean pairs of pants are left in my closet, I may hear the cycles of the washer. Water on... Water off... Spin on... Spin off... Repeat. Then there is the tumble of the dryer that sends the sounds of those loose pennies that you forgot to take out of your pocket, clinging and clanging through the house. The A/C is usually a constant companion when we are alone in a house. If no one is talking to you, the A/C is always there to keep your mind occupied (at least in Texas).

Now... the previous example is someone that is living "simply" and trying not to clog their mind with too much. For the rest of us... there are the conversations that are mumbling back and forth in the background coming from our TV. You probably have some music playing somewhere within a 20 foot radius of your self... and if you are a hip teen, it will probably be playing within a millimeter radius of your ear drum.

We hear the cars drive by, honking at whoever did whatever to them.

And in most cases, you're not just hearing all that stuff from your house, but you're probably hearing it from both of your neighbors as well.

It makes it a little difficult to detect those tiny drops that are repeating a rhythm that is ancient.

One of those things that when you sit and listen, you know that it is the same sound that your great-great-great-grandpa was listening to when he was sipping on coffee during the evening showers on the farm. I'm hearing the same sounds in a village in Malawi as I do when I'm sitting in west Texas, staring at the vast Texas plains.

Rain represents so much here.

People are so dependent on the rain.

If the rains are late, or fail to come all together, it can spell death and starvation for many people.

Unlike what we're familiar with in the States, rains are extremely cyclical and tend to be really precise.

From around May until November, Rain just goes away. The place is abandoned. Gradually, everything begins to dry up. Little by little, things become tense. The ground sucks up the last bit of water... the creeks become parched... dust begins to rise and clog everyone's nose.

Then one magical day in November or so, you hear a rumbling in the distance. Could it really be true? It seems like there are a few days of tease. You hear the thunder, you see the sky light up, but nothing.

Everybody waits in anticipation. When will I be walking down the sidewalk and feel that moisture skim my hair and freak out thinking a bird just pooed on me?

Then, as if God Himself were looking straight down on you at that very moment, the drops begin to fall. One by one. Steady. Pacing. Until a momentum gathers that cannot be halted.

People scurry around like ants after a punk little boy sticks his King Kong foot into their home. For a brief moment, everyone just kinda stops to acknowledge.

I was talking with a Malawian man as we looked into the distance at a dark cloud hovering over a section of land, resembling a giant water pail. You could just see the sheets of rain falling towards the earth. His comment was: "They're being Blessed today."

I feel blessed today...

Rain comes in such a way that it forces you to cease what you were doing and recognize it...

Plans get canceled that previously seemed so important...

People that are working outside, put down their tools and take cover...

We rest.

We wait.

We think.

Just like the parched earth that months of dry weather produces here in Malawi... my soul gets the same way.

All the sudden, I get antsy. I get tired. I get restless. I know there has to be something more. I begin to feel like my life is just out of rhythm. Not in sync with what God intended.

Then the Rain comes...

I find that rhythm all over again.

I remember anew the importance of... resting... waiting... thinking.

The beautiful part of being in Malawi, is the absence of the other "noises". Right now, all I can hear is "pitter-patter", crickets chirping, and my fingers hitting my keyboard. Nothing else!

The great thing is... this is just the beginning! The rainy season will last for the next several months. A wonderful, predictable cycle of water falling from the sky and causing me to recall things of old. Things that I don't choose to think about on a regular basis. The Rhythm of life.

So... I look forward to what God is going to teach me over the next few months.

I say "Boooo" to the man that wrote the song: "Rain, rain go away... Come again some other day." That song is just lame anyway...

Apparently he never set foot in Africa...


**50 Malawian Kwacha goes to the person that can tell me what song I got the title of this post from**

A Glimpse of Hope...

This is the infamous paper that can change your life forever. One simple word, stamped in blood red, signifies a long, rough road ahead.

For the last few weeks, I have been working at an AIDS clinic called Partners In Hope (PIH).



PIH was started by a missionary doctor from California, when he began to realize that you cannot practice medicine in any form in Malawi while turning a blind eye to the reality of HIV/AIDS.

While working there, I was exposed to things that I never would have dreamed I would see in my life. It wasn't until this experience that I began to understand the depth of the AIDS Crisis a little better.

While sitting in exam rooms with a doctor, watching patient after patient sit before me, I realized how many people are really infected with HIV. Many people, because of the scale up of Antiretroviral (ARV) Therapy, looked rather healthy. If I were to see them walking around town, I probably wouldn't guess that they were HIV+. However, I saw countless people that did not look so good.

On my first day, a man that was about 30+ years old walked in. He was wearing rather baggy clothes, but he didn't look too horrible. His CD4 count was really low... meaning, he is extremely susceptible to other infections. But, when he lifted up his pants leg, I nearly fell out of my chair. He literally had close to no muscle around the bones on his leg. They were eaten up with Kaposi Sarcoma (a skin cancer caused by AIDS). Then, he lifted up his baggy shirt. The skin on his torso was sucked back under his rib-cage as if he were in a 5 year famine. Because of the lack of resources and ability to take care of himself, it was obvious that he would not be with us much longer.

A few days later, a mother walked into the exam room, carrying her 3 year old daughter, and a slip of paper that looked identical to the one at the top of this post. The little girl was wearing a nice white dress, and she was rather oblivious to what was going on.

Immediately, I just tuned out.

I just stared at this little girl.

I had a million things running through my mind during those few minutes while she was sitting in front of me.

Did she realize that for the rest of her life, she would be on very powerful drugs just to keep from dying?

I wonder how long those drugs will give her? Will she ever become a teenager?

What's going to happen when her friends realize she is HIV+... are they going to stop playing with her?

It was rather difficult for me.

I just sat there staring at her, and began to pray to God that He would watch after her. That He would grant this innocent girl grace.



The reality is... there are thousands of people that are just like this.

They walk for miles to get to a clinic... pick up one of these numbers... and sit in line. Waiting for a drug that will supposedly extend their life.

The great thing is... within the last 2 years, ARVs have been made free for everyone who qualifies to be on them. Before this, prognosis was simply death.

But even still... something is missing. There has to be something more than a pill that we can offer to people that have just been told they have a terminal illness. I know that when I look at a young mother that is holding on to her beautiful daughter, she is not just looking for that magic pill. She desperately wants more.

That's where the Hope factor comes in to play.

I believe it is so vital here in Malawi.

One of the Malawian guys that works at PIH had this sign in his office.



It is so true... In the West, we have very strict definitions of "poverty". To us, it's just a dollar sign. People here don't really see themselves as "impoverished". To them, poverty has little to do with money. But, when you loose hope... you are truly impoverished.

It has been an amazing thing to be working in a clinic that offers more than just a cold, scientific encounter with their patients. They are looking people in the eye and smiling. Letting them know that AIDS does not have to be the end.

The staff at PIH has also blessed and challenged me in many ways.

I see among them the leaders of this country. They are bright... optimistic... and committed to serving their neighbors.

This is one of the Clinical Officers...


I spent the majority of my time hanging out with these guys though...


They train peer educators that go out to the local schools and teach kids about HIV and Christ. They are a great bunch of people!

One day... I was out with the guy to my left. I asked him why he chose to be involved in this field. He went on to tell me about his story...

His uncle died of AIDS several years back. He lived in a rural village that had no clue about the disease. So... his uncle did not receive any treatment for HIV, and it wasn't long before he was gone. He saw what it put his family through. He said that he knew right then that he wanted to educate his fellow countrymen about the disease. He also felt that as a Christian, he needed to be serving those that were suffering around him.

He has such a great heart... and was really challenging towards me!

So... I leave here with a whole new perspective on things. A new understanding of what people are actually going through when they get this slip of paper.

I pray that the things I have seen will stick with me for the rest of my life. I pray that they will motivate me to keep going when things get hard. I pray that they would leave me with no other option than to thank God for every single blessing that He showers on me.

Confessions of a Western Missionary

OK… I admit it…

I write with the assumption that you know exactly what’s going on in my head and around me each day.

I don’t really stop to think that you may not really know me. Only a small handful of the people reading this (who am I kidding… that’s probably all there is anyway) really know the heart behind each word that I write. I assume that you have sat down with me over a long cup of coffee and talked through some of the things that I have been processing through over the last several years.

Things like…

What does faith in Jesus look like?

Why does the majority of the world hate Americans?

Why do I get to choose from 30 varieties of coffee?

Stuff like that.

So… I write. And, it rarely comes across right. Such is life I guess. Such is the internet! I mean… I would much rather magically fly each person that visits my blog to Malawi and have each of you just sit down over a nice cup of tea with me and talk about this stuff. If you could bring some chips and hot sauce and perhaps a grand piano with you as well, that would just about complete my happy place.

OK… time to pinch myself and wake up! That’s not gonna happen!

So… I’ve come to realize that part of being raised in the West (or probably just being “raised” anywhere… although I can only speak from the West) is that you think you have things figured out. I mean, if you are culturally savvy, you recognize other points of view as legit in public settings, but when you lay your head down at night, you mostly just pray that people will change and become like you. Am I right?

I’m guilty… Confession #1.

Confession #2…

I really struggle with not being able to logically figure things out. I see a problem and I know that there has to be a solution. I don’t care too much for trial and error. I would rather work by myself to get it done “right”. Am I alone out here?

Trouble is… that just doesn’t work out here. I’m not too sure who’s bright idea it was for us to take the things that work well for us in the West and try to transfer that to a different culture… But, they must have just been smokin’ crack! You just can’t do that. My Western ideas are rubbish around here. That’s just the simple truth.

Confession #3…

I think that I know Jesus better than the rest of the world. The only reason I was able to type that is because I know that deep down, you probably think the same thing. So, don’t go throwin’ stones at me… I’m just being honest. Because God has blessed me in an unbelievable way with the gift of literacy (which I will never again take for granted)… and I have the resources to be reading 5 different books at the same time, with about 30 more desperately waiting for me to shut the others (which I am currently doing)… I think that, obviously, I know more about God, and can therefore please Him more than… say an illiterate person living in a remote village.

Is it getting hot in here? I’m sweating a little…

If you read my previous post, dealing with issues about discipleship, you can probably see this coming out a bit. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not changing my stance on discipleship. I still think that it is foundational. But, I am beginning to realize that true discipleship is not about throwing your opinions and thoughts on to someone else. It’s about walking on a spiritual journey together with someone else. Both of you, learning along the way.

So what… I can read! Who died and said that was the end all of life. The reality is… half the stuff I read, I don’t even come close to putting into practice in my daily life. If you are honest with yourself… you would have to agree. In the West, we like to pat ourselves on the back for being about to find the book of Habakkuk in under 30 seconds, but we can’t even begin to understand things about the spiritual world like people in Africa can. Just typing that, I know that I already freaked a bunch of people out. Those are the sections of our Bibles that we like to skip over, or water down and make them sound logical. That stuff is just as much a reality, and in my opinion, much more of a necessity, than memorizing John 3:16. Don’t get me wrong… there is a lot of “spiritual” stuff that is straight from Satan… I’m not endorsing that the church should accept that. I’m just saying that I can’t even begin to comprehend the spiritual depths of Biblical things that people around here can.

They also have much to teach us about generosity as well. I’m sure I will write much more about this in the future… but, just read Acts 4:32, and you will get a pretty good picture of what Malawi looks like. I think we struggle more with this one verse in the West than any other verse in the Bible. So much so, that as western missionaries, we do our best to try and get people to stop doing it. It really bothers us that Malawians will just as soon give all of their savings to their cousin who needs to put a new roof on his house, than to put it up for retirement. Who seems to be living more Biblically in this scenario?

In my last post, I wrote about a quote that says: “Christianity in Africa is a mile wide and only and inch deep.”

This quote was obviously written by a Westerner that needs to question their own society. I mean… I guess if you are measuring “Christianity” by the size of your church and the number of people on your worship team, you may have a point. Or maybe you are using the per capita “Bible per household” ratio. Or maybe it’s that Western kids can recite the books of the Bible at incredible speeds… yup, that’s probably the deciding factor.

Sorry… I’m cynical… It’s a sin, I know!

I believe… and I may be completely wrong… that faith and discipleship just look a little bit different here.

We need to be extremely careful when we “disciple” people, that we take off all our cultural clothes. Standing naked, except for the Word of God. There is a lot of stuff that we believe with all our heart to be “Biblical”, but in reality it is simply cultural. That stuff needs to be left at the baggage claim.

I saw a sign in the bathroom of a Christian health clinic the other day that read: “Cleanliness is next to Godliness… Wash your hands and flush!”

I heard that a million times growing up. It’s not a bad idea to wash your hands after being so close to feces… I know that. But, I think that after years of saying that, we have come to think that it is Biblical. It’s not.

If we’re not careful, we will start doing that with other, more serious principles. We will hold on so tight to things we swear to be truth… that we will think that the rest of the world has to be headed to Hell right behind everyone else that we disagree with.

Let Scripture stand alone.

I don’t know… maybe you have already figured all of this out for yourself. Me… I’ve had to learn the hard way on a lot of it.

I just don’t want people to think that I am sitting over here eating mangos with everything figured out. Other than the mango part… that is far from the truth! I get up each day and wrestle through stuff.

But… realizing that I have much to learn from the people that I thought I would be “teaching”, was a step in the right direction for me.

I confess… I’m still on this journey.