Mzungu on the loose

I was determined to start a blog once I finally landed a job abroad. Turns out that getting a job abroad takes up most of your time and leaves no time for a blog. But I'm finding that I'm craving an outlet to express the giddiness, nervousness, and downright confusion that comes with living in a new city, in a (somewhat) new country, where you don't know a soul except for your boss. So here goes the Warm Heart Chronicles, named in tribute for the country I now call home: Malawi, the Warm Heart of Africa.

In Malawi, I am a mzungu (i.e. awkward white person) who is bumbling my way around, trying not to notice that I'm being noticed, and trying hopelessly to blend in. The hardest thing to adjust to here is just being starkly different. It’s also hard to explain what it's like to live in a place like Malawi when you are born and raised in a developed country like America. My first time in Africa, I was absolutely floored to see a Subway sub shop and a fully stocked grocery store. Somehow that didn't jive with the images in my mind of what Africa was supposed to look like. Yet there are many things in my new city, Blantyre, that remind me of a cosmopolitan city like Boston or Denver, including swank swimming pools at expensive hotels, plush restaurants, and beautiful homes with immaculately manicured yards. The difference, however, in a country like Malawi, is that most of its residents will never set foot in an upscale restaurant in their lifetime. About 80% of Malawians are subsistence farmers who live in rural areas with extremely limited resources. The income disparity here is heartbreaking. 

Yet the sense of community you see in these extremely poor villages puts any American neighborhood to shame. Families with next to nothing will share their remaining food with their neighbors. Children are literally raised by the village. And when there is a death in the community, the whole day (and sometimes week) is halted to mourn the loss. From my limited time in Malawi in 2009, I found that the Malawian people were some of the friendliest people I had ever encountered (they sure beat out the Spanish and French). Complete strangers would go out of their way to help you find an address or the next bus to town. In many ways I felt that, despite their poverty, Malawians were still kinder and happier than many Americans. 

Malawi also has breathtaking scenery. Its rolling landscape is dotted with baobab trees and mountains line much of the horizon. Lake Malawi (which is unfortunately not super close to Blantyre) looks like the California coastline, only with tropical islands scattered about. The skies here are even bigger than skies back in Colorado. Really, my only hope in describing a place like this is just to post a bunch of pictures and hopefully distract you from my rambling.  

Slowly, I am beginning to embrace my mzungu identity and overcome the culture shock, but I’m finding it harder than I expected. Having lived here once before, I expected to feel a sense of familiarity, even a sense of comfort, in returning to Malawi. Unfortunately it seems it’s never easy to move abroad by yourself, even if it is to fulfill a lifelong dream. Sharing a bit of my experiences with all of you will definitely help, and hopefully you’ll be somewhat entertained along the way. Looking forward to hearing from everyone as well!

Zikomo!