Not only am I tired of thinking of creative titles, I am also tired of proofreading... my apologies.
I haven't written in a while, and feel as if I should. I need to make sure that I remember my time here. I need to make sure that this doesn't become routine...and monotonous.
This weekend was great. Sitting downtown in India Town(a busy part of town that we have been spending a lot of time in) just drinking a coke and passing time chatting is an experience I will treasure forever... and one that I need to do more often. When you are surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the busy streets of India town, it feels as if you are a part of it. It feels as if I am truly living in Africa- well I am truly living in Afica, but from day to day I live in the American bubble in Africa. Looking around I feel like this is my home. This is where I live and spend my time. My eyes are opened to the world around me, and I can't help but smile. Watching the sun set over the market filled with vendors and buyers, smelling the fires of Africa, the rubbage in the streets, the smells of Malawi, all whilst drinking a coke out of a glass bottle- it's an experience I wouldn't trade for the world. I want this to become my home. I want the people who spend their days in India town to recognize me. I don't want to be the novelty mzungu. I want to be one of the regulars. I want to blend so I can help... so I can love... and they can love me.
Eating where Malawians eat is another experience that I love. Now I know even the "Malawian" restaurants I got to aren't exactly where most Malawians eat, it's still a little pricey, but it's a good compromise. I am still a little nervous about getting sick at certain restaurants. I get nervous that the chicken on my plate might be the one that I saw earlier that afternoon being carried- dead, skinned, and feathered- by bicycle under the blazing sun with no refrigerator. I want to blend as much as possible... but that doesn't mean that I am comfortable with dysentery. While it's nice to occasionally go out to our favorite Indian restaurant in town, I have found that for the most part I enjoy eating the less expensive traditional fare.
Saturday I went back out with the Chisomo girls. This week we had our first game (or at least the first one since I have been playing with them). I wish I could say it went well...but we got schooled. By little boys. We played the boys under 12 team, and they kicked our butt 3-1. Let me tell you, those boys are good. They have obviously been playing their entire lives. They know how to pass, to keep their head up, to trap with a direction, they have soft touches on the ball, they play as a team.... all things that we are lacking. Hopefully with a little more practice we can learn these things. Maybe we should call the boys back and have them teach us. Talk about being humbled. I am a good 11 years older than their oldest player... getting schooled by little boys on the soccer field is not something I want to participate in daily. Regardless of the win/loss/embarrassment, it was a great time. I feel like I am starting to build connections with these girls. I want to be friends with them, not just teammates. I hope the more I show up the less weird it is that I am from a different background, country, culture. I hope that we can erase those lines and build new ones. Ones that cross the cultural divide and bond us as friends.
I pray that God gives me compassion. Helps me relate to people on their level, not mine. Helps me see them as people, as friends, as equals. I pray that God humbles me and shows me that everything I am doing is for Him... not for me. I pray that God helps me realize that all that I do is to glorify HIS name, not mine. I pray that everything I do I do for God... to show His love and His amazing grace. I pray I do this all for His will, and because He has led me to where I am.
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