www.flickr.com

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

New Addition...

For those of you who don't watch every detail of this blog like a hawk, I wanted to let you know about a brand new addition.

The "Take Action!" section in the sidebar!

You will find a pretty long list of different organizations that I have have come across and think are noteworthy. Some of them are reaching out to the poor, others are advocating for the poor in politics, others are just a great place to learn about the issues.

As I find others that I think would be helpful to you, I will be sure and add them.

I hope you find it useful.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Meaningless Insight #3: Food

Food was one of those unknowns when coming to Malawi.

I'm pretty sure people assume that I am over hear eating berries, nuts and monkeys.

I mean... when I first got on the plane, I didn't really know what to expect either.

The reality is... I don't really eat "Malawian" food all that often. So, I'll give you a little rundown on what I eat pretty regularly, as well as what the typical Malawian diet looks like.

ME

On my first day in Malawi, I did what every other short-termer does in their orientation... go shopping. I expected that going "shopping" would be a nice stroll through the market to get some veggies and then perusing through the stock of animals to decide which one I would kill for dinner.

Oh no... this was not entirely the case at all. No one prepares us for the culture shock that always ensues. Blantyre has two well stocked grocery stores. Just when you get off the plane ready for this rugged experience of a lifetime, you walk through the doors of Shoprite and Game... your eyes get really big and head starts spinning. All around you, there are swarms of white faces, diligently selecting their items from the shelf.

Game is the name of the department store type place. It's a little pricey, not gonna lie, but you can pretty much get most things. They have computers, digital cameras, stainless steal cutlery, washing machines, and Doritos!

So, basically I'm not really doing without a lot. Granted there are a lot of things that we enjoy at home that simply don't make it over here on whatever boat it comes on, but there is enough. There are much less processed foods here. So, a lot of my cooking starts from the ground up. I love cooking now!

I do frequent the local market pretty often though. You just can't beat the fresh veggies and experience that you get at the market. I just love it!

For breakfast, most days I eat toast and some fruit or something. But, a few days a week, I will make some French toast and even pancakes from scratch. YUM!

My dinner is always interesting.

For a while, I was rockin' the spaghetti about 3-4 times a week. I was getting good at it too! Then, I expanded my horizons a bit and started trying other things. I eat rice a lot. Over half my meals have rice in them somehow.

I also do a little baking here and there. Never knew how to do that. But, I've made: banana bread, cookies, cakes, corn bread, ect.

Some of the funnier things in the food selection are:

Potato Chips: A lot of our food like that comes up from South Africa. For some reason, you just get really random flavors. My first time to shop, I bought a bag of tomato flavored chips. GAG! I ate like one, and out they went! But, some that aren't bad are: chicken and thyme, spring onion, sweet thai, and lightly salted.

Milk: it comes in a box... or a bag. Take your pick.

Also, cheese is really expensive. Oh how I miss cheese. And it even stinks more that you can't really ship it... so, it's not like I can tell people to send it to me.

Another thing you have to get used to is using the British terms for foods:

Cookies: Biscuit
Ground beef: Mince
French fries: Chips
Chips: Crisps
... and the list goes on and on...

Malawian

In one word, you can sum up practically the entire Malawian diet... NSIMA.

This is what most people eat day in and day out... occasionally substituted with rice.

So, basically nsima is kinda similar to grits. It's made from corn flour, mixed with boiling water... rendering a playdough-like patty (see picture at the top of the post). It's virtually tasteless.

You pinch off a chunk of this, using your "natural utensils", and mold it around in your hand. Then you dip it into whatever sauce you are eating with it and chow down.

Usually, Malawians make a tomato and onion based sauce that goes with it.

With that, you can have goat (mbuzi), chicken (nkhuku), beef (ng'ombe), fish (nsamba) or beans (nyemba).

Then, on the side they usually cook what they call relish or ndiwo. It's just leafy green veggies that are chopped up real small and cooked with tomatoes and onions.

Although there are slight variations on this, that's basically it.

Another Malawian favorite in the drink arena is: Thobwa.

This is basically corn mill fermented in water for a while, and just before it turns into beer, they drink it. I tried it once, but I didn't think I would be able to keep the second sip down, so I passed.

In the morning, people eat a slightly more liquid version of nsima, which they call porridge. It's got a little sugar in it.

A few other observations that I have made are that, as a whole, Malawians love two things: sugar and salt!

As a health guy, I usually just turn my head when I see that someone is about to sweeten their coffee or salt their food. If I don't turn my head, I usually open my mouth and start preaching about how that's gonna kill them. Which they are probably thinking is ridiculous considering the other things that they have to live through.

There you go... food.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Mother Teresa


I just got through reading the biography of Mother Teresa.

Wow... What a challenge to my life.

I never really knew what it meant to truly take Jesus at his word when he says:
For I was hungry and you have me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.

Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?

The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'

Matthew 25.35-40
This is basically what Mother Teresa based her entire ministry on (more or less).

It was so simple.

She wasn't out to change the whole world or anything... she just honestly saw in each person's face, the face of Christ. She knew that by serving the poorest of the poor, she was really serving Christ himself.

Despite all the fame that she eventually gained for what her and the sisters were doing, she still intentionally lived in poverty herself. This is what I find most fascinating. One of the things that she urged people around her to do constantly, was to "give until it hurts".

Wow!... I don't do that! I give out of my surplus. I give when it makes me feel good. When it even comes close to "hurting" I stop giving. What a challenge to people that claim to follow Christ. We need to be giving (love, time, energy, money, possessions) until it hurts.

One of the prayers that she said often, that really spoke to me, was this:
Lord, make me a channel of thy peace,
that where there is hatred, I may bring love;
that where there is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness;
that where there is discord, I may bring harmony;
that where there is error, I may bring truth;
that where there is doubt, I may bring faith;
that where there is despair, I may bring hope;
that where there are shadows, I may bring light;
that where there is sadness, I may bring joy.

Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted;
to understand rather than to be understood;
to love rather than to be loved;
for it is by forgetting self that one finds;
it is by forgiving that one is forgiven;
it is by dying that one awakens to eternal life.

The way she saw the poor was unlike most. She rarely saw poverty in monetary terms. She seemed to be disturbed more by the mountain of poverty present in the West, among the "rich", than that of what we term "Third World".

One thing she said that really stood out to me was this: "The poor represent the greatest human richness this world possesses and yet we despise them, behave as if they were garbage."

Basically, reading this book has really caused me to examine my life according to the example that Jesus sets for us... not according to Mother Teresa or even what is being preached today... but, to go to scripture and ask the hard questions.

I am still processing through a lot of this. Perhaps I will write more about some of these thoughts in the future.

But for now... I just wanted to give a recommendation for this book. If you are just looking for something to read, I would recommend it.

I also want to take this time to direct your attention to the right hand column of the blog. I have a few different recommendation categories. These are all books, movies, or articles that I have encountered and think are worth your time. Check em out if you want.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Sara + (Days on Earth ÷ 365) = 23


Sunday, January 20, 2008, my amazing girlfriend becomes as old as I am (at least on paper).

Just want to give a little shout out to her... a little, what what on her birthday, ya know.

For those of you that haven't had the blessing of meeting her, let me give you a little insight into how incredible she is...

More than anyone else I know, she reads the Word and simply goes and does it. Not just the easy parts like smiling at your neighbors and stuff either... I'm talkin about the uncomfortable ones. The parts that I would rather just skim over and pretend like they mean something else.

She takes God at his word, obeys it, and sees the fruit from that.

She is one of the most encouraging people I've ever met. I've never met someone that keeps a frown on their face when they are in her presence.

She sees injustices and does what she can to fix them.

People think that I'm roughin' it over here... her job is way more toiling on a person than mine could ever be. She saw the need for good teachers to go into the schools that all the good teachers run from, and bit the bullet and decided to be the hands and feet of Christ to the teenagers that most people have just written off in the inner-city of Bryan, TX.

She loves the body of Christ (faults and all) deeply. I've never seen someone join a church the size of Living Hope, and within 3 months or so pretty much the whole church knows who she is... not because she's out promoting herself, but because she cares about what's going on in other people's lives.

She is one of the only people that I can talk about some of the hardest things about life, faith and society with, and know that she isn't gonna just tell me what I want to hear, but she is gonna shoot straight with me.

The list could go on and on... believe me!

But, I just want to say that you are INCREDIBLE!

So, those of you that are around her today or this week, be sure and wish her a happy birthday for me, and give her the big hug that I can't give her!

Happy Birthday Sweetheart!

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Meaningless Insight #2: Noises


They never cease.

The difference between noises here and the ones at home is that at home, we create other background noises that drown everything out.

So, in the simplicity of an uncluttered moment in time, you find a wild array of things still present to beat incessantly on your ear drums.

Some of the sounds that will forever be burnt into the memory of my ears are the following...

1.) The hooting of horns on cars. (Hooting is Chichewa for what "honking" is in Texas)

I can be laying in bed late at night, and in the distance I will hear someone blaring their horn over and over again. You see, most people in my neighborhood have someone that guards their property at night. A guard makes for a handy person to open the gate for you after you've come in late. Granted, at midnight, a simple, single touch to the horn would certainly get the job done in getting the attention on the guard on duty. But, oh no! You have to press it over and over and over and over, because that guard just isn't ever quick enough! (Except for ours... Bester is always on the ball!)

There are also the horns that sing together during mid-day traffic in town. Mini-bus drivers are by no means unacquainted with that blessed instrument. Rather than sitting quietly in an extremely congested mess of angry mini-bus drivers against angelic drivers like myself, it is imperative that you honk repetitively so that everyone knows that you are present.

2.) Dogs going crazy outside of my window.

There are certainly nights that the Texan comes out in my extreme desire to call on my right to bear arms and bring a little silence to the neighborhood. The dog that resides within feet of my bedroom window is always on some form of doggy happy pills or something. She stays caged up for the duration of the day and is only let out at night. But, when you let that dog free, she is free indeed! Free to jump all over you with her dirty paws... and free to bark as much and as loud as she wants!

It also doesn't help that pretty much every single compound in our neighborhood owns at least one dog. So, once one gets going, you suddenly have a chorus of sounds from Hell.

3.) Sawing.

You may be thinking that this one is a little off. "How on earth does the sound of a ridged blade chewing away at wood end up on this list... Is this gonna be one of those save the rainforest posts?!"

Well... pretty much each and every morning of my time here in Blantyre (save the single oasis of Sunday morning)... at about 6:30-7:00, the rhythm begins. Just a steady up and down motion. It's the sound of the carpenter that builds stuff for our mission, hard at work with his hand saw or wood plane. It's one of those things that you would think could possibly have a soothing, "put you to sleep" feel to it, but it just doesn't. I toss and turn and curse the day this man was born, until I finally unveil myself from the mosquito net, pour myself a cup of coffee and repent for the horrible things I thought about this man.

4.) German children playing happily in the A.M.

This one is closely tied to the previous. Another weird one for sure... German kids... Africa. It doesn't measure up does it?

Well... I live on the same property as a wonderful family from Germany that have 4 incredible kids. They really are a great family. The kids are all pretty small... and something about kids that are about that size and the tension in their vocal cords just does not produce a wrest-conducive environment.

At about 7:00 am, just after the instrumentality of the sawing has begun... suddenly there appear lyrics. Very loud lyrics with strange accents. Playing mere feet from the sleeping giant, yet apparently oblivious to what lay behind the blue curtains in my room. They run and play happily, screaming things back and forth to each other in a language that gives me one more thing to repent of over my cup of coffee.

5.) Static Radios.

This one goes right along with the other wake-up calls. However, this phenomenon is usually rather secluded to my time in the villages... probably because God knows exactly how much I can take.

Village life exists on a whole different time table that the rest of the world. When the sun goes down, down goes the people. When the sun comes up, up comes the people... except for one particular white one. The good thing is... it feels quite natural to head to bed around 9:00 when you have no lights or anything to give you something to do. So, waking up at the crack of dawn isn't all that crazy. But still... come on.

People just don't even think about the fact that one person could possibly still be asleep. So, they talk outside of their quiet voices, slam doors, and blare their radios way too early!

There is nothing that will make you realize where you are faster than a static-filled radio blaring something in a different language right outside your window. Usually, soon after the frustration and negative thoughts in my mind have passed, I just kinda chuckle to myself... thankful that I'm in Malawi.

6.) Rain.

Early on in the rainy season, I wrote about my thoughts on rain.

Although the documentation of the actual way that rain sounds still stands true... the degree of my love toward rain (e.g. "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...") has definitely had its ups and downs. I have pretty much been the author of that song for the last month or so, as rain has visited us on virtually a daily basis.

7.) Screaming people.

Whether it's people screaming for a mini-bus to stop, people screaming to get someone's attention, or people just screaming with delight... it's there.

Screaming.

Don't get a picture of some warlike situation where people are carrying machetes and yelling "Death to the government"... that's not what I mean at all. I think people just express themselves more here. They aren't afraid to be loud. In many cases, you just plane have to be loud!

8.) "Azungu! Azungu!"

I feel like I have these words taped across my shiny white forehead! They are repeated over and over and over again as I walk, drive or stand in a village. Every kid and their dog are yelling in unison, "AZUNGU! AZUNGU!". This is the word for "White person".

Your first few weeks here are the honeymoon stage. I used to tilt my head and smile at the cute little kids that loved me so much. I just couldn't get enough of it. Then, I think around the thousandth time that word hits your ears, something clicks. Suddenly, you just have this insatiable urge to be called anything other than "Azungu".

Call me "Hey!"... Call me "What's up?"... Call me "Jesse Jackson!" for all I care... Just enough with the "Azungu".

But, like all things, you come to terms with the realization that this is yet another fact of life. Kids in Malawi are always going to yell "Azungu" at white people. They do it because they are excited... it's not to torment me or to show me glimpses of what Hell could be like.

So... although I would have picked a different mantra for my life... "Azungu" will just have to do.


Well... I have racked my brain to try and make this a list of 10, but I feel like this just about sums up the major sounds that I hear a lot of. If you have been to Africa, or you live next door to me and can think of other things, feel free to comment for the readers.

So, you may be wondering now... "how does this boy stay sane?!"

I DON'T!!!

Just kidding...

Well... just this week we had a public holiday. I was pretty excited about it. Don Chilembwe Day (the name may be a little off). I could think of no better way to ring in this great day that celebrates one of Malawi's heroic freedom fighters, than to stay under my mosquito net for as long as possible. In order to accomplish this, I knew I would have to be creative. So, I made sure that all of my windows were tightly secured, and the curtains were pulled, in order to ensure the utmost sound control. Then I brought my fan into my room and turned on high for some white noise, and made it face the corner. I was sure that these attempts would certainly drown out the sawing, screaming and barking enough to buy me a few extra minutes of rest. And... although those things were definitely still there, and they definitely still woke me up earlier, I was able to get a few extra minutes of contentment in before the coffee.

So... there you go... Noises.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Meaningless Insight #1: Behind the Wheel


I'm kinda feeling a lack of really deep things to write about right now... so, I figured I would give you guys some rather meaningless insights into my life here in Malawi.

My premier entry will be about the adventures behind the wheel of a golimoto (vehicle).

Driving in Malawi is not for the faint of heart.

You have to be on your game every second of your time on the roads.

The first major obstacle that one must overcome is that in Malawi, not unlike most of the known world, they drive on the, need I say, wrong side of the road. I'm such an American...

My first few weeks of attempting this new way of life were rough. There were many times that I pulled onto a road in the wrong lane... which is a mistake that you must quickly repair.

It took me a good month to begin walking to the right side of the car if I was the driver. I remember feeling like an idiot as I stepped into the passenger's side door, being the only one around.

The next... well, more like simultaneous, trial that I faced was driving a stick. I think that everyone should have to learn to drive a standard before they become lazy bums and take up an automatic. It requires way more attention and concentration. However, after a long day of climbing a mountain or something, the first thing you want to do is slap the cruise control button, and the last thing you want to do is keep that foot on the clutch!

Once you get past these simple things that we should all be more comfortable with anyway... Welcome to Malawi... Land of the bazillion mini-buses!

What is a "mini-bus" you may ask?

Good question!

Mini-buses were introduced to Malawi back in the 1990's. They are pretty much bigger than sliced bread... come to think of it, they actually slightly resemble sliced bread. They are the most common form of public transport. Whether you want to travel to a different part of town or a different part of the country, your friendly mini-bus driver is your man! (*I say the word "friendly" sparingly.)

You may be thinking... "Public transport?! Those look more like my child's Tonka toys."

This is another very keen observation! Compared to the giant, gas-guzzling buses that you find in the cities of America, these do look like their day old new borns. But, fear not... you can certainly cram just as many people in a mini-bus as its big brother Mr. Greyhound.

With a few extra, illegal seating installations, a mini-bus driver has for himself a very lucrative business going. You just may have a complete stranger sitting all up in your grill.

"Why are you discussing these breadmobiles in such detail?" you may be asking...

Another great question!

Because I HATE them!!!!

Back to my side of the steering wheel... the reason I have shin splints from coming on and off the clutch so often is directly correlated with Mr. Mini-bus!

These things are EVERYWHERE. They are like enormous, white ants that have clever slogans painted across their backs.

Just when you're driving along with utmost peace and tranquility... BAM! Satan sends a mini-bus careening within inches of my front grill to remind me that I shouldn't get too comfortable.

I'm quite sure that if someone was actually to check the legitimacy of these drivers in the form of a license, you would probably be shocked and dismayed.

Nonetheless, mini-buses are a fact of life in this beautiful country. You either suck it up and deal with them or sit at home and pray that your food supply grows feet and walks to your front door... which may not be that crazy of a prayer.

In spite of all these added extras, I must say that there is something quite exhilarating about getting behind the wheel in Malawi. The main reason that I am so fond of it is the simple fact that you will never find a party-pooper policeman waiting to give you a ticket for speeding. Coming from someone that has had his party pooped on numerous times back home, I do not take this blessing lightly.

But, this is not to say that there aren't traffic police. They definitely show their faces from time to time... specifically about half-way between paydays. They set up these nifty little road blocks by which they randomly will stick their hand out to signal you to stop and have a chat. Usually it's just a friendly 'hello, how are you today?'... other times, they want to see your license... and other times, they want to know what you got them for Christmas. You just never know!

Of course, so far, I have been speaking about urban driving... Once you hit the countryside, you're in a whole different ball game.

There are aspects about each scenario that I have come to like and dislike.

Depending on my mood and the length of my trip, the rugged, bumpy, dirt roads can either be and adventure or an agitation. One thing is for sure... you get a lot more of these when you are driving in the middle of nowhere...


All in all... I love the joys and exasperations of buckling up and shifting it into first.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Tchalichi... Being stretched and molded


Each week, I am faced with an interesting scenario.

Church.
(The picture above is not where I go to church... it's just a beautiful church in Blantyre)

I'm a Christian.

At home, church to me is more than tchalichi (the building), it's Mpingo (the body of Christ).

Throughout my time at university, I would crave what Sunday morning or Saturday night would hold. I fell in love with the Mpingo that surrounded me.

As we all naturally do, in whatever culture we find ourselves brought up in, we become accustomed to something being done a certain way. It is so easy to think that the slightest variations from that are the announcement of the end of the world.

I have always allowed myself to think outside the box when it comes to church. I never really fell into the molds of how things had always been done. I am always looking for something real and genuine... something other than routine.

But, even in the midst of an open mind, I come here and find that I was really only standing inside a transparent box. I couldn't see it when I was at home. I thought I was game for anything. I could worship God in any way, shape, form, building, language... you name it!

But, something about being in a different culture creates a glare on that shiny glass box that I live in, and I become aware that I am much less adaptable than I originally suspected.

Going to church here has been a process for me.

Not gonna lie... there are many Sundays that I stare up at my blue mosquito net and rack my brain to think of an excuse to just lay there.

You see... I've never liked doing things merely for the sake of doing them. Especially when it comes to church. It never makes sense to me to do something because it's always been done and recite something that no one knows the meaning of, just because that's what you're supposed to do.

I think deep down, I just have a rebel flag tattooed somewhere that I can't see. I'm always wanting to buck the system for some good reason.

Then I land here.

Excitedly, I get to church early the first time I go. I had so many expectations and yet no idea what would really happen. I remember being giddy that day after I experienced a worship service here.

Then, weeks turn into months, and one service entirely in Chichewa turns into many.

The cultural experience of "church" just isn't getting me out of the bed with bells on anymore.

In my mind, I can't figure out what purpose I have for going to a building and sitting in a sharp, metal chair for 2 hours and not understanding a single word.

But, pang'ono pang'ono (little by little), the Lord is stretching and bending me and chiseling away at that glass box that I built around myself.

This past Sunday was kind of a breaking point for me.

I have been complaining a lot about how hard it is to sit through church. Then, I realized I really needed to pray about my attitude and just pray for the local church here in Malawi.

So, I'm sitting on the second row, and all is well.

This Sunday, the guy that was more or less M.C.ing the service was someone that I hadn't seen before... and he was pretty lively! He yells "Hallelujah!!", and our response is "AMEN!".

Then, right after a prayer, and straight out of the blue sky, I hear him say, "Give me a 'J'!"...

I think anyone could have seen my jaw hit the floor and my 'you gotta me kiddin me' face. In sheer amazement of the moment, all I could think about was how much I wanted a recorder at this moment.

We definitely went through all five letters... J-E-S-U-S... and a exuberant "What does that spell?" at the end!

It was all the willpower I could muster up to not just loose it right there on the 2nd row.

But, as I kinda let out a chuckle to myself, thinking how ridiculous that would sound in my church back home, I realized that it is just as much "worship" as a group of white folk singing with their eyes closed and hands lifted... or singing the ancient hymns that have stood for centuries... or bowing down at the alter... or partaking in communion.

Was I too cool to yell a simple "J-E-S-U-S"? The very name that we gather to worship in the first place.

Later in the service, as we began singing worship to the Lord, I found myself swept away in the Chichewa lyrics that I did not know the meaning of. I sang with all of my heart with my brothers and sisters in Christ, and in the intimacy of those moments, I was so thankful that the Lord is calling people all over the world to worship him. It looks so different in every circumstance.

As I've had to make due with what is here for me... I've come to realize that all my white, Western ducks don't have to be in a row for me to meet with the Lord.

One of the most amazing worship times I've experienced was just a few weeks ago...

I was visiting a really small church outside of Lilongwe. These guys met under a structure that was literally a 20' x 10' tin roof with a few horizontal boards nailed up as "walls". There were only a handful of people gathered together there.

Half-way through the service, as we were singing, the bottom fell out! It rained HARD! The structure was doing little to keep the rain out, and we all just kinda huddled together as far away from the permeable walls as we could. The whole time, no one stopped singing. As the rain on the tin roof reached deafening decibels, we just got louder and louder. It was so awesome!

Later in that service, as people walked up to the front in single file to place their offering at the alter, a lady walked all the way from the back, and placed a live chicken in the hands of the pastor. I was really taken aback.

The way faith is played out in different parts of the world will definitely look different. Although the money may have been tight that week, this lady still had the right heart.

I am so thankful to have the opportunity to be stretched in my own faith. To realize that I'm not the expert or the police on worship or Christianity around the world. I still have so much to learn!

I'm sure when this Sunday rolls around, I will stare at my mosquito net once again and negotiate with myself. It's still not easy...

But, I am on a journey. And... I'm getting there.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

I Love MALAWI This Much...

This New Year's Day... I was able to see a whole new world!

A few friends and I took a day trip to the Zomba Plateau, which is a short drive from the city that I live in.


I didn't really know what to expect when we were planning this trip. I hadn't really heard much about the place. In my mind, when I hear the word "plateau", I think of Arizona or Mexico or something. Maybe that's just me. Although both of those places are fine and dandy, it wasn't really the picture of beauty that I was hoping for.

So... Today I arose at 5:30 AM (keep in mind this is New Years Day... the morning after New Year's Eve), and we took off. After regaining consciousness from such an early departure, I was happy to be there.

We started the morning off with a nice hike to a look-out. I was told that this would only be a short, hour and a half hike. So, I thought, "shoot, I don't need to bring any water or anything... all I need is my camera around my shoulder". And, so we went.

After walking for quite a ways and not seeing much progress in the way of elevation, I began to fret about my situation. It was obvious that this would be no hour and a half trek.

In fact, this would be a trek that would take all morning, roll over my precious lunch hour and swing us back to base at around 1:30 with blisters oozing from my feet and a pain with every move in my pelvic region that will only be solved by injecting some of my neighbor's morphine into my veins shortly before retiring to sweet dreams tonight (the reason my neighbor has morphine is a different story... he's legit, don't worry).

The trip was by no means a disaster that I regret though. It was actually quite the opposite.

This country just seems to be foaming out the mouth with hidden treasures that do none other than take your breath away.

So... enjoy some of the pictures I took from today. Let the amazingness of Malawi flood over your eyes!


This is a view from the top of the plateau...

WOW! Unbelievable... this picture doesn't do it justice at all.


**Mom... close your eyes...

This is a picture of me sitting on the edge of this sheer drop off that was completely covered in rolling clouds that just beat us to the cite... Bummer.

Without the clouds, you can see for miles and miles across Malawi. Oh well... just one more reason to go back to this place.


Here's another one from the same area. The fog gave the place this cool, eerie feeling.

This was up on top of the plateau as well. Just some random flowers on the side of the trail.

And this was super cool. It's a hole on the top of the plateau that you can't see the bottom of. Anyone wanna go repelling?!

Well... in case you aren't fully convinced yet that Malawi is one of the most breathtaking countries on planet earth... I guess I will just have to keep finding more places like this one to drive the point home!

Check out all the photos that I took on this trip here... (there's a lot!)