Our Journey

[written Friday morning at Monkey Bay while on holiday after our travels to visit churches in Mzuzu and Livingstonia]

Between Mangochi and Monkey Bay

I was awakened this morning by the sound of mangoes being thrown onto the tin roof by a gaggle of monkeys. Although it was just 5:30am, I got up to check on everyone in our three-bedroom cottage in Monkey Bay. Jeff had already gone to the beach with his camera and I found Claire Marin and Marie Claire standing on the sink in the outdoor bath calling to the monkeys. Yes, the monkeys were in the trees just above the house and bath. And they would stay there through our showers to watch and taunt. (Surprisingly, Carter was still asleep and would sleep for at least another hour.)

I went back to bed, enjoying the serenity and nothing-to-do of it all. I read the book Marie Claire had given me, Half Yellow Sun, appalled by the horror of civil war in Nigeria and captivated by the beauty and dignity of the writing that enabled me to keep reading.

reading by the lake

Marie Claire is ready!

relaxing together

The day continued leisurely with a beautiful breakfast on the deck, time to play frisbee in the sand and then a boat ride and snorkeling. After yet another delightful meal, the family has scattered to play, rest, and enjoy the day.

The view from where I sit is spectacular but also sobering. The deck could be an advertisement for Restoration Hardware, but just meters away children are washing plastic dishes in the lake. I just ate a lunch of breaded chambo (fish), mashed potatoes, green salad with peppers and avacados and a lemon slice in my water. But those same children within shouting distance are wading in the lake, their skirts pulled up around their wastes dragging a net through the water in hopes of catching a single fish for dinner. The computer next to me holds pictures of a picturesque morning on the lake in a 18 meter boat. On the sand in front of me are dugout canoes.

the deck at Norman Carr Cottage

It’s like we straddle two worlds each day – each moment. Working and serving with Malawians to build a strong foundation for the church, provide encouragement and make progress towards their goals. But we can step out of that world any time we choose, to enjoy a hearty meal, banter with new friends from Ireland, or teach our daughter to snorkel.

After nearly four months in Malawi – the transition, the work and ministry, and intense amount of travel – we needed this weekend at the lake. The relaxation, a bit of at-home-ness in our Western-ness, and no work were all gifts. But even the relaxation is accompanied by a tension and unease about how easily we can walk from one world to the next. I walk down the steps of the deck to buy a necklace and bracelet made of seeds and an ebony bowl from men who rely on those 1500 kwatcha and then back up the steps to a world of purified water, soft blankets and gourmet meals.

It’s difficult to maintain my balance straddling these two worlds with all the tension, guilt and uncertainty that I juggle at the same time.