My Very First Day In Malawi Part 2

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…