Rescue you

Mind read your needs

Know your body better

Always fight back

Ask for it

Say you want it

Cherish you solitude

Take trains by yourself

To places you have never been

Sleep alone out under the stars

Learn how to drive stick shift

Go so far away that you stop being afraid of not coming back

Say no when you don’t want something

Say yes when your instincts are strong

Even if everyone around you disagrees

Decide whether you want to be liked or admired

It’s easier to be mean than smarter

Decide if fitting in is more important

Than finding out what you’re doing here

Believe in kissing

Fight for tenderness

Care as much as you do

Cry as much as you want

Insist the world be better

 

Ask yourself these questions:

Why am I whispering when I have something to say?

Why am I apologizing every time I express my needs?

Pretending it doesn’t mean that much to me?

Why am I waiting?

Pining?

Fitting in?

You know the truth:

Sometimes it does hurt that much

But you can still feel love

 

This is an excerpt from “I Am An Emotional Creature”

I’m not promoting unhealthiness, we must make consciously “good” choices when it comes to what we replenish, (I use ‘replenish’ deliberately) our bodies with… BUT this is what I’m talking about! Ladies, don’t let a magazine dictate your beauty. Yours is one of a kind. Confidence is the most beautiful asset a female can possess. Let’s teach the next generation to love themselves so that they may pass it on to the next.

 

I am enough, what I have is enough

I have been blessed, to have received love

I make mistakes, to learn the value of a lesson

I am an evolving creature, who continues to develop

I will be grateful for moments, even as I watch them pass

I won’t await living to be effortless, I will value my edification

I needn’t be everything for everyone, to be special to someone

Judgment will not change me; welcoming opinions will help shape me

Ownership does not own me; the truest of treasures cannot be counted

Displaying gratitude must be maintained, thankfulness when seen and not seen

Acceptance of truth, faith in spirituality, acknowledge there is power greater than self

The world has a thousand creeds, and never a one have I;
Not a church of my own, though a million spires are pointing the way on high.
But I float on the bosom of faith, that bears me along like a river;
And the lamp of my soul is alight with love for life, and the world, and the Giver.
~Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The lyrics pulled such emotion from my heart, I had to share.

As the bus took to the road I could hear a man’s voice coming from the front section somewhere, penetrating the buzz of swirling voices. He continued as the sounds lowered to faint shuffling whispers and he bellowed out in a tongue I was unable to comprehend. It sounded authoritative and the bus hushed to a simmer to hear the words from the man I could not see. After several minutes of this speech, the passengers let out a unanimous “amen” and singing commenced. The voices played together like a well rehearsed symphony and the bus was alive. It was my great pleasure that this continued, just as one song seemed be winding down, from somewhere amongst the crowd of nearly 200 a solo voice took the lead into another song. I marveled at the unison of the voices, how they harmonized together like soft waves bouncing against the inner walls of the bus. I forgot about the heat, my luggage, exhaustion and the fact that I was in a land entirely unknown to me, all melted away. I let the melody cradle me into comfort and the clapping hands beat my heart’s drum. I was carried into a womb of pleasant ease. In fact, I was so well nestled into my seat, enjoying my surroundings and imagining the wonder that I’d find awaiting me, a sea of little faces and warm embraces that I hardly noticed the bus stop. I had almost immediately decided I would not look ahead to the road as the bus was swerving in and out of our lane, honking at pedestrians we passed so was looking to my right at a two year old girl fixated on me, trying to get her to smile when we rolled to a halt.

The petals of comfort that were surrounding me slowly started to fall away as I felt a wave of uneasiness swell through the bus and before I had a chance to ask, the middle section of the bus with standing passengers were filing out. I initially thought we were dropping a wedding party off. At the start of the journey, a young friendly thirteen year old girl, who was standing next to me had straight away struck up a conversation and let me know that she was with a large group headed to a wedding. So as I saw her headed to the exit doors, I assumed we had reached their destination until the boy seated next to me suggested we disembark for some fresh air. However, since I was snuggly settled into my hiding spot amongst the crowd, I let him go by and kept my spot, thinking we’d be back on our way in just a few minutes, (and a little annoyed that they were prolonging our departure by getting out). The next thing I knew the bus driver was pulling his seat up from its position and working on the engine just underneath. It was like watching an Acme cartoon with Bugs Bunny bopping in and out from under the seat hole and tools floating up and down between the driver and the conductor. I felt my eyes widen as I wondered what could be coming next. Do they send for another bus? Are we stuck on the side of the road, in Africa? Should I get off the bus? I had no idea what I should do so I sat and watched the scene unfold. Following about 40 minutes of Bugs Bunny working on the engine, the driver’s seat was repositioned in its home and the passengers once again boarded and we were back to the tumultuous driving on the rough Malawi road.

I had gotten a call back from someone in the organization during the journey but the noise, spotty coverage and language obstacles were keeping me from knowing what the details of my arrival and pick up were but I still had this calm that I was in no danger. As our trip continued, it soon was 4, 5, and then 6 pm and I should have already arrived in Blantyre. Along the way we were plagued with delays due to engine malfunctions and pit stops. I watched from my window as the scenery fluctuated from green lush foliage to market areas full of inhabitants walking around matching the dirt on the ground. Dust lingered like clouds surrounding these areas. I saw mothers carrying babies tied to their backs selling varying food products from the containers balancing on their head, mostly fruits and vegetables. At an overwhelmingly rate I consistently had a view of small children playing alongside the road with no adults anywhere in sight. Not 12/13 year olds… 2, 3/4 year olds. It was alarming to me but as my time passed I would find a common sight. The hours continue to pass and we continued on to Blantyre as the sun set and darkness made the roads even more frightening to look at. There were no street lights to guide us and the driver didn’t seem to slow the pace to compensate. The boy I had been incredibly blessed to sit next to had not only worked out my arrival by speaking to my destination party and letting the female conductor of the bus know where I was headed, the number to call for my ride, (since he would be getting off before me) but he also ran interference when anyone tried to ask me for money and kept me from falling asleep in my fatigued state. He reminded me it wasn’t safe and pulled me up every time I starting sinking my drowsy head into my backpack. I was sad to see him reach his destination, it was just a few minutes to 11 and I was feeling alone on the bus now with the diminished number of other tired, quieted riders. I still didn’t know when this ride would end and when we reached my stop, it was only when everyone started their decent down the bus stairs that I figured this must be it. I was the last person to emerge from the doors and I looked around the darkness in my dizzy, exhausted state, searching for a sign when a man walked up and said, “Eve-y?” I had finally arrived in Blantyre!

The middle-aged man, wearing glasses bear-hugged me and took me by the hand, explaining we had to walk to the car. He was not much taller than me and although I didn’t feel any danger following him, I was feeling uncomfortable with the immediate grasp on my hand by a complete stranger so I eased my hand out of his and followed, my knees nearly buckling at the thought that the travelling at long last had come to an end. I met a second younger man at a car. The two suit-dressed men stood there gleaming at and hugging me. I noticed a beer in the younger man’s hand and thought, hey, it is Christmas Eve; I must have interrupted a celebration. I let the obvious fact that these two were a few drinks into the night evaporate, happily loaded into the car’s back seat and said, “Let’s go see the kids!” This comment didn’t get the response I was expecting as they both turned at me with puzzled faces and said, “kids?” I felt very last bit of spark leave me and settled into the seat thinking, there must be a reason for all of this and slid into the very beginning of a series of misunderstandings, starting with the “orphanage” I was expecting to call home, didn’t exist.

Happy Birthday To Me…

I arrived in Lilongwe, Malawi on December 24 without knowing what I would encounter once I walked through the plane’s doors. I tried researching, I dedicated time to getting to know the struggles faced therein but all the while I knew I would be learning firsthand what Malawi had in store for me. Upon arrival to the small Lilongwe Airport, I would equate it to the Long Beach Airport; (if you’ve ever landed there) I soon found that my luggage did not complete the journey along with me. So I did the only thing I could, I walked away from the baggage claim filing counter to find a taxi. I knew I still had another 5 hours to go until I was at my final destination and I was tired after the two days of traveling I’d just put behind me. So I pushed forward, severely sleep deficient, with only my backpack’s contents a laptop + charger, iPhone + charger, couple of books, a scarf, toothbrush/paste and wearing my entire wardrobe, a two day travelled in pair of jeans, UGGS and a sweater, (I was coming from winter conditions let’s not forget) which at this point were sweat soaked in the Malawi heat. I had turned in some USD in the airport and was introduced to the currency I would I come to know for the next month, Kwacha. The taxi driver knew a little English, enough to understand I wanted to find the bus service and a pay phone. I was hoping I’d at least be able to roam on my phone in case of emergencies but I had unknowingly said goodbye to using my iPhone as a communication device back home. Anxious to start the bus ride I watched as the lush green land passed me by through the windows of the taxi cab, a seemingly personal car with no visible branding.

This is where things got interesting; I found myself in what I can only describe as a “zoo” of buses. Let’s say you took an outdoor market, in the middle of a dirt field, looking more like a hiking trail than a bus depot, filled with people selling bread, fruits, wash cloths, orange drinks in repurposed Coca Cola bottles and lots of other random items. There were stands made of sticks and cardboard and also some food stands. We had to stop at the entry area to let a man pass who was pulling two goats behind him and I thought, I wonder if the goats get on the bus but the thought quickly passed as I focused on finding the right bus and a phone. I paid for my ride and asked where I could find the pay phone he’d mentioned. I was pointed toward a cardboard stand but since I couldn’t see the phone, I figured it must be behind the stand so I stepped myself carefully through a maze of mud and puddles, as it was a hot rainy day, and in the direction of this phone to call the party waiting for me. If you can guess already, there was no pay phone behind this stand and in fact, the stand was a filling station for the popular cell phone service that Malawi embraces, prepaid wireless. I had no phone to fill so I again just let this detail go and went in search of my ride. I walked through the welcome curtain of salesmen shoving their products at me, as if I couldn’t possibly live without them and soon came upon a line of buses with handwritten Blantyre sings in the front windows. They weren’t ideal buses, looking quite old and run down but I was happy to see them all the same and get started on my last leg of this trip over, (plus get my sweltering feet out of these UGGS and shower). A quick look about lead me to the fullest bus, with the intention of leaving as soon as possible and paid the fee to a women conductor and boarded a bus that only had 3 available seats left.

As I walked into the bus I felt eyes burning with wonder as they fixated on this winter dressed muzungu, a word I came to know well during my time in Africa, meaning “white person”. In Malawi I found it very common to be stared at and not just stares, eye followed me until I was out of sight, while being pointed at, spoken about and children had no misgivings about calling out the word muzungu. I sat down next to a boy, first asking if the seat was open. He waved me in and I settled into the seat with a smile, proud that I had navigated the “zoo” and was on the way to Blantyre. I was happy to learn that the 16 year old boy I sat next to not only spoke some English but also was willing to let me borrow his phone to contact Mr. KenWilliams Mhango, the only number I had. I called and he said he would have to call me back with a number for me to call about my arrival and pick up. By this time I was thirsty and hungry but didn’t dare buy any of the orange substance filling the recycled coke bottles or try the food stands with meats grilling, (being a vegetarian) so I held my hunger in the hopes that the organization I was headed to would be able to guide me through the food selection process. Mostly, I was exhausted and more than anything in need of sleep. Getting to my temporary home was all I could think of. I was ready to hit the orphanage and be surrounded by children. As I sat waiting to depart from the zoo, I noticed that despite the bus seats being full, passengers continued to board, and board, and board until there was no room to move and we were stuck to each other like a pot full of spaghetti. I sat with my backpack in my lap as I tried to discretely protect my nose from the pungent smell of body odor which led me to the conclusion that deodorant wasn’t commonly used here. Until finally, I felt the sardine can on wheels begin its departure! I was thrilled to see the road appear and I started to imagine my welcome at the orphanage. It was 1:30 in the afternoon and I was on my way, at last! I’d be there in time for dinner …or so I thought.

A special dedication to my friends who supported my efforts in Malawi. Thank you.

Places I went, people I met.

My time at Jacaranda School. Thanks to Marie da Silva. I made this video dedicated to her.