Any Journey will open your eyes... unless of course if you sleep through it!

Even after being here a year I can still travel places and see something new, or something that amazes me. In early September we took a staff trip down to the national park. It meant waking way before the sun, so most people slept for the whole bus ride. There wasn’t anything physically possible about sleeping on the seat I had. There were hinges, spikes and bumps with very little padding on the chair. I would have preferred being strapped to the roof.

Driving along roads in Malawi is like nothing else I can describe. There are all sorts of things to see, and all sorts of things to experience. But even before we made our way onto the open roads the sun captured our attention. The night before had been still, so the morning was smoky and misty. Those first 10 minutes of the sun rising is breathtaking. Even without the effect it has on the landscape stretching before it, the sun in the sky is astounding. A color that I don’t even have a name for.

We found petrol at the second petrol station today. So we started off well.

A truck drove ahead of us with a load three times as big as the truck itself. Hundreds of tins, buckets and watering cans thrown on and tied together with little more than a maze of strings. I could just picture them all spilling over in every direction. A man walked along the roadside lead by a pig on a rope while behind him in the field stood a boy no more than 5or 6 with a hoe bigger than he was, all alone preparing the field. All along the the journey there are patches of grass, sides of hills, trees and bushes being used to dry clothes. Colorful patterns and materials spread everywhere catching the sun. Many houses are without roofs as its time to collect new grass to prepare the roof for another wet season. Imagine if your annual routine involved building a new roof for your house.
There are telephones under trees, bikes carrying firewood, chickens, goats, sugar cane, crates of eggs and baskets full of veggies. There are Ladies sweeping the dirt around their homes, taking immense pride in their villages. I wonder how I would decorate my hut if I had one. Fields are full with women and children doing work that we would never do by our hands alone. Every well or bore hole has crowds of women and girls with buckets, clay pots and bottles to collect the water they need for life. and where are the men? They are found in towns. Sitting around playing games, drinking tea, eating chips and deep fried goat or pigs. The road sides are full of people walking. Walking everywhere. Walking in the middle of nowhere making you wonder where they have been, or where they are going, or how far they’ll walk today. We passed a group of 30 or so women cooking in a village even before 7am. I wonder why? maybe a funeral. Maybe a village celebration. I wonder. A group of men stood shaking hands. A community meeting of some sort? maybe traditional authorities. I wonder why.

There are tiny maize mill buildings overflowing with women standing in lines with baskets of kernels, but they leave with baskets of flour covered in white powder themselves. Piles of bricks are smoking as the communities cook their dirt for their new homes to be built before the rains come. We passed an overturned truck and an overturned burnt out minibus. The are way to many accidents in Malawi. We passed boys with picks cracking rocks to make piles of gravel for sale.

School children are wearing matching uniforms with bright pinks, blues or yellows. A row of girls walk by with books strapped to their back with a chitenji or a few had string tied to the corners of sugar bags to hold their pencil and exercise books.

We passed a siku delivery truck. Its hard not to wonder if they have Robyns fridge. Or if they are taking someones goods in the wrong direction. I am puzzled again by the indicators system, when right indicator means it is safe to pass for 50% of people, but it is not safe to pass for the other 50%... certainly not good stats.

It was then that I had a rather strange flashback to my youth group days as a teenager. I remember going roller skating, I remember boys I;ve had crushes on over the years, I remember those flowers that a secret admirer sent me. what a strange thought all of a sudden. I think it was after watching the kids and the young girls along the sides of the roads. Thinking about the kinds of things I remember as I grew up…. being reminded again of how different peoples lives can be.

I was quickly jolted back to reality as I saw a girl about my age, with 4 kids, and a bucket of potatoes she was selling. What do we have in common? Could I actually live here? What would it be like to have life exactly like this, in the village. I “have” more because of nothing that I have done. It was already there before I was even born. There are kids here that will never ever wear a pair of shoes. And yet we wish we had a pair that matched that skirt.

It was around this time that we stopped for a toilet break and snacks. Traveling in Malawi often becomes a lot about going to the toilet. It’s amazing when you need to go so badly that a dirty tiny hole that you have to pee into becomes a place that brings you great joy. My definition of a good toilet has changed a great deal over this past 12 months. I realized this after mum came to visit. It shocked her at what I called a “good toilet”

Back on the road again and I managed to find a more comfy seat… AND I no longer needed the toilet…. So that’s when my observing stopped… and I fell asleep!