4/30/09

Ha, ha, ha... a good day at Lake Malawi.
It was a long drive, and I got to hear Ruben, Greg, Simon, Brian, and Lukas’ testimonies. Wow, Ruben the bad teen; Greg the philosopher; Simon, the kid saved from walking away; Brian, the born missionary; and Lukas, the saved ex-caffeine kid.
And now there’s a joke going around. At my expense... heh heh. Greg knows, and he’s encouraging.

The lake was so cool -- like a beach, but with faster and smaller waves. Chris and Rick went swimming... I was a little freaked by Brian’s “snail parasites that’ll kill your liver” speech, so I hung back. We ate at the Sunbird Livingstonia Beach, named after the missionary, of course.
We stopped at the wood / curio shops on the way back. They’re along the road to the lake -- at least 25 tent-like structures full of similarly-carved wooden things; keyholders, ashtrays, figures, bowls, toys, trinkets, and jewelry. But some are unique; the wood and the size, the detail or the shape. Such were the rhino bookends and the croaking toad. For the toad, you run the little club that fits in his mouth along his back, and it produces a hollow “glomp”ish sound. Yes, I saw toads here. They’re behind Brian’s house, hiding with the skinks in the run-off / woodpile near the electric fence. The noise is quite accurate at the right rate. I need to get Ed and Silvana something, too.
I don’t want to jinx it with mountaintop excitement... and this dern beard is itchy...
I love this crew, and I’d love to keep going.
Mosquitoes are punks, though. *slap* *slap* Come back you little creep!
We had steak fajitas for dinner, chambe (battered, with pop) for lunch, and French toast for breakfast!
I’m tired and happy and excited and I can’t hardly wait! So sleepy... YAWN!

4/29/09

Origami + Malawian kids = fun!
I went with Rick to the construction site in the village, and after some shoveling and brick-sorting, I made a crane from part of a cement bag. I taught them the word “share”... they all had to pass the bird on, or it fell apart, back into a piece of paper. I would flap the wings, and make a “grok, grok” sound, which they laughed at, then tried to duplicate. Teaching them vs. learning their words; wow!
“Baa-lamm” --> bird or crow
“Se-ca” --> paper
“tee-oh-na-na” (“mau-wa”) --> see you later (tomorrow)
Oh, and washing “mud” off with minimal water, outdoors, at night isn’t as fun as several hundred other things I’ve done. Grr...
But Fanta and a couple conversations -- one with Lukas, one with Greg -- hit the spot. Lukas and I were putting up pictures and photos, but Greg hit the nail on the head. Gah!
The phrase “Finnegan's Wake” jumped into my head and stuck today. Why?

4/28/09

Lukas went to the village today with Rick to get more pictures... I guess he got swamped, and led them around the streets, looking like a parade. I did data entry, file transferring, and helped with painting and scraping the walls. I’ve decided that since I haven’t had any caffeine since LAX, then I won’t have any until I get back. That might be hard to handle on the plane...
Tonight, all Brian’s senior students came to the house, had dessert, and he gave them each a different Macarthur NT commentary. Afterwards, they sang a couple songs, all a cappella. It was totally cool, and unique. They danced and moved while singing worship songs -- and they modulated their volume or speed as a group without a conductor! I talked to a guy from Mzuzu (a different town in Malawi) named “Z”, who works at the ABC radio station, and is a communications major. (he's the one looking at the camera...)

4/27/09

Just played “Wizard” with Ruben, Rick, Ron, Dan, Simon, and Greg. Dan CLEANED UP -- it’s like hearts mixed with Crazy 8’s. It was a great first day. Dan and I painted 2 rooms, Chris and Ruben (with Lukas and Malawian Willie) did both ceilings, Simon wired stuff, and Rick started building the dorms in the village. Haha... Lukas and Chris both snore, but I bet I do too. :- )
Ruben + Chris = karaoke; it was so fun to join them singing “Sing” from Sesame Street and “I Love You Just the Way You Are”, and hearing Dan lay down “Ice, Ice, Baby” on cue. Heh heh... I haven’t shaved yet, maybe I can be Logan when I come back home. You know, just shave the muzzle area...
I hope to give away all this stuff I have. No obvious mosquito bites... yet. With the paint color on my hands, it looks like I’ve been makin’ waffles!
I really wish I had more skills, in the same way I wish I was a better man. I hope I can learn more about construction... and yes, I know I’ve started the last three thoughts with “I”... stink.
The food rocks! Biscuits and gravy, pizza, and spaghetti and meatballs + salad + chocolate cake today! I hope and pray tomorrow I can shine with His light brighter. Word of the day: hope.

4/26/09 pt. 2

I sang “Africa” as we flew over Mt. Kilimanjaro (Kill-uh-man-jer-o? Kill-a-muhn-jar-o?). Saw a cute little Indian girl with squeaky shoes wander around the airport. I’ve forgotten at least half of the last 24 hours... and that’s kinda sad. The Nairobi airport was pretty odd -- it felt like sticks to Heathrow’s house of bricks. We watched a soldier patrol out the window with a machine gun and a red beret. I think someone made a musical Sgt. Barry reference. Maybe it was me.
So, we’re in Africa, in Malawi, in Brian’s house, and I’m sitting in the squishiest chair he has. Deet already scarred my cheapy watch. It looks acid-washed, or Alien-sprayed. Hahaha! We’re not supposed to drink tap water, or offer to give money or stuff to the Malawians (at least not without Brian’s say-so). Dinner was Shepherd’s Pie -- a-maz-ing! It was like a milder version of my Grandma’s Enchilada Pie... hmmm... maybe that’s where that name came from.

Chris and I got to ride on the outside of the Combi through Msilisa (mm-sil-EE-sa), a village right across the street from African Bible College. Every kid under 8 (and some over) yelled “azungu” (aah-ZOONG-goo!) at us, and ran up waving. Azungu means “white person”; not anything like an insult, just a skin-tone derived identification. More often than not, having an azungu in your village means money’s not far behind. A sad truth for Malawi -- all whiteys are gonna have money to burn.
Rick’s going to start building a residence for interns or potential grad students to stay at during their time at Kondi’s church, or at IBF. Right now, it’s just a maize field with a property line marker on it.
I just pulled off my socks that I’d been wearing since Friday morning. Right now at Grace, I’m hoping Jim, Mike, and Jake are taking the offering for Crossroads.
Silvana’s topic of conversation on Friday is still throwin’ me off... I think I know why she has and was holding her position. I can’t be fatalistic about it. Maybe when I get back I’ll do something about it. Someday I suppose.

4/26/09 pt. 1

Eyes are red like I’ve been crying, and Kenya Airways “RA09” is playing “Hunger Strike”. Maybe it’s arrogant, but I bet only 12 people worldwide really know what this song is about. Maybe I don’t know hunger, but I know the strike part.
I can’t believe I was able to fall asleep, and that I can’t now. Shoes are off, and feel better now.

I love the pigeons in Bolt; “are you kiddin’? This is the bes’ day of my LIFE”...

4/25/09

Saw some CRAZY chips at a Heathrow gift store... Cajun Squirrel? Prawn Cocktail?

I couldn’t place the ethnicity of the girl behind the counter... how apropos in an international airport. She spoke idly to her coworker about the clothes she wore last night – an off-the-shoulder orangey-pink French thing, with nylons (of course) and Gladiator boots. As I imagine the schizophrenic party that she’d be able to attend dressed like that, the whole of the Heathrow airport scene feels wrong. “Duty-free” becomes an obscenity, and I wish I knew why they walk and drive on the right side. My backpack and Anita’s laptop feel heavier with each euro or pound sign I see.
I walk past the HMV shop; it looks like FYE, but smaller. They’re playing Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues”, and I lock eyes with the stock girl, who’s dressed like Mad Stan. She doesn’t know about Bob tossing signs around, but I do. Further down the hallway, the Starbucks doesn’t have BTLs, but they’re blasting the Sugarcubes. Maybe it's better than I thought... maybe it’s the 3 hours of sleep, but I start laughing (to myself, of course; who’d listen?) and try to figure out what I want...
To eat, I join most of the crew at a party-looking place called Garfunkel’s. It’s kinda expensive, but I got some good tasty ice cream & a toffee waffle. And a huge glass of water.

4/24/09

So, I’m on an airplane, sipping what’s left of my Venti BTL (I didn’t think they’d let me on with an outside drink)
I have trail mix from Mrs. Peters and my little red moleskine. Headphones and an interesting selection of in-flight music. I laughed through Fou De Fa Fa, and now I’m listening to Johnny Cash’s At Folsom Prison album... and it’s speaking to me – maybe it’s the worry, or that I’m locked into an inescapable dark place, thinking about the people and places of home.
The conversation on the way to the airport with Ed and Silvana was odd and a little tense... I hope being guarded and a smart aleck wasn’t too brusque.
Chris is a cool guy – I’m glad I’m tethered to him for this round. Takeoff was fine -- it’s a lot like Star Tours... :- )
OK, now Johnny’s singin’ about cocaine and murder... maybe not so much like me.