Having just arrived in Africa for the first time in my life... there are no words. They don't do justice. This fantastical idea I've daydreamed my whole life is now surrounding me. It's intoxicating. The 15-hour flight from the bustling noise of New York gave way to this relaxing trance as I told myself, 'you're in Africa!'. Several restless naps on the plane only further shrouded my reality and as we cut through 30,000 feet of clouds and finally bounced onto the runway, I half-doubted whether I could accomplish what I'm here to do.
I spent a brief interlude in the aiport lovingly nicknamed 'joburg' listening to something on my ipod that I've listened to hundreds of times before boarding the last leg of my journey to Malawi, 'The Heart of Africa'. Two days worth of airplane food later and I saw the first patch of green since I left the United States, rows and patches and splatters of varying shades of green and yellow that out-hued Scotland. A vast country-side dotted with trees and bushes bordered by rolling mountainous peaks. This is Malawi. I struck up a conversation with my neighbor, one Malawian Deston Katenje, who crunches numbers for The Tobacco Control Commission here in Lilongwe. I tried to relate that I grew up amidst Tobacco Road over there in the United States. Polite but unphased he gave me his card and I stepped outside for my first breath of African air. Sunny and wide-open, smelling of flowers and sounding of birds. Yes!
I safely acquired my travel visa to find that one of my bags is missing. Filling out the form I realized just how inconvenient life will be. No cell phone for them to call, an address that acts as more of a compass than exact location, no vehicle or well-maintained public transit to take, no exact computer-calculated location of where my bag could be. I couldn't be happier. Andrew Magill (for now on referred to as Finn because Malawians have trouble with his first name) was there in all smiles to welcome me with a 'Muli Bwanji' (How are you doing?). This first day was such a strange feeling driving down the left lane gazing at this incredible panorama of hills, maize, mountains, people, all speckled by the shadowy cloud cover that resembles seismic explosions captured in time.
Lilongwe is a capital city that has no real definitive borders but instead is a general area of spaced-out residencies and occaisional multi-story complexes in the more industrial and developed parts. I dropped my things off in my home for the next 5 months in Area 10, a numbering system that doesn't relate order but instead refers to age. A spacious 3 bedroom home surrounded by an even more spacious forested yard and fence. I met our hired help Damson who lives in a home in our backyard with his wife and children surrounded by their seasonal crop of maize and chicken coop. Both of my two mzungu(European or 'white') housemates were at work so I continued my tour to Finn's beautiful home that reminds me of what I imagine a South American villa to be. On to exchanging some of our precious dollars for the Malawian Kwacha that will support my living while I follow Finn's work and passions.
An incredibly gifted musician and equally engaging personality, Finn has been in Malawi for 3 months now and begins unloading useful and pertinent information while I soak in every little drop. After buying some meat at the 'posh ex-pat' grocery store we arrive back at his place to cook a real meal and converse with his housemates about anything and everything that strikes a fancy. I've had too much to take in and the waning hours drag on until I'm back home on my foam mattress. My last thoughts were either that I've made a huge mistake...
or I'm going to need a good night's rest to let this one wash over.
Finn waking me up at 11am the next day to begin what will be a routine-less adventure swiftly erased any doubts and I picked up my camera bag and headed for the door.
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