Learning flows in both directions on a visit to Malawi
The moment my feet stepped onto the dusty village ground, I knew I'd go home a changed person. The statistics became real people. The numbers -- faces with smiles. The country, one I could see and smell and touch.
It was my introduction to Malawi, Africa.
There were 46 of us -- a group of Central Floridians venturing to a place known as "The Warm Heart of Africa" because of its friendly people. Malawi, which is about the size of Pennsylvania, is also said to be home to the most orphans in Africa because of the AIDS pandemic: about 1.2 million.
The goal of our 10-day trip with a nonprofit aid group: to educate the people of Mtsiliza Village about HIV -- hoping to break its stigma, encourage testing and make them aware of free antiretroviral drugs; more personally, to love them and somehow through that, to help them.
The first step came as two buses and a jeep full of anxious Central Floridians made their way into the heart of Mtsiliza on narrow, dirt roads. We passed lines of women with large water buckets balanced on their heads and babies harnessed on their backs, swaddled in fabric.
Children ran and shouted in excitement at the white people riding past their homes. We drove through the market -- fruits and vegetables laid out on blankets; men standing with sugar cane; women nursing babies.
My naive self felt as if I was in a movie or walking through an issue of National Geographic. Is this a real place? Are these real people? Is this really their life?
I wasn't overwhelmed, however, until I left the vehicle and became part of the surroundings. Suddenly I was enveloped by more children than I'd ever seen in one place. They came out of nowhere, it seemed, and their beautiful black faces surrounded my body, their hands grasped for mine two and three at a time. They smiled up at me, begging for my attention.
Certainly, those scary statistics I had studied could not refer to these children in front of me -- dirty and snot-nosed, with callused bare feet and a desire to be held. These children couldn't be orphans because of AIDS, victims of rape, stealing food in order to survive.
Through pathways around mud-brick homes, past a water well and dirt fields, I was led with three other members of my group to a family's home, chosen as one of the neediest in the village. Four wooden chairs were set outside of the mud structure for us, and a crowd of neighbor women gathered around, babies on laps, curious about such visitors. Through an interpreter, we conversed with a Malawian woman whose main concern each day was how to feed the three mouths she was responsible for.
We told Ida and her neighbors about the opportunity to get tested for HIV that coming Saturday. We shopped for the things she needed most and did chores that hadn't been gotten to that day or month -- re-mudding the floor in her home and washing dishes, all with a crowd of baffled witnesses.
Life is a lot simpler in this Malawi village. On arrival, I wanted to fix the village for the inhabitants -- to make their culture like mine, assured that's what they would want. However, I soon realized they didn't need stucco houses or electricity to better their lives. They needed medicine and education about HIV, food and help with clothing.
But my culture was not their solution.
Even so, as I washed Ida's dishes it was difficult not to recognize the similarities in life across the globe in sub-Saharan Africa. There are family units and a daily routine to survive, snoopy neighbors and children to raise. Are we really that different?
We spoke in classrooms -- some with no roofs -- made up of eager children and quiet teenagers. We met with more families, helped feed hungry children and held babies who needed to feel loved.
To the delight of 46 Central Floridians, the HIV testing event drew more than 1,000 people from Mtsiliza Village, with 120 getting tested, and the rest listening to information about the virus.
This was a first step toward change for these Malawians.
This was a first step toward change for me.
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