This is likely to be a horrendously long post, so beware. I have six action-packed weeks of STORM mission to document, if I can remember them, and there's not really anything I feel I can leave out, so here goes:
Before beginning, some key names for the record: STORM is Student Outreach Malawi, a bunch of madcap students and ex-students who somehow know Sam Orr from Cardiff Uni CU and want to follow him to darkest Malawi (MLW) to do all sorts of strange things in the name of Jesus Christ - whoop whoop! So Sam Orr(SO) is another, he co-ordinates things from the student side. Wik Chichowski co-ordinates STORM from the Malawi side of things. He has a wife Sue (W&S) and together they own Fisherman's Rest (FR) where STORM stays in MLW - a gorgeous resort and mission's base, and also where I now live. There were 3 STORM teams this year: STORM 1 was made up of Sarah N and Rich (leaders), Louisa, Katie, Becci, Steph and Mim, Ben, Darren, SO and I. STORM 2 was Pete and Vicky (leaders), Dave, Amy, Anna, Beth, Cath, Sarah Ken, Helen and Phoebe, SO and I. STORM 3 was Dan and Simon (leaders), Dai, Becca, Berni, Nisha, Libby, Hannah, then Cath, Beth and Sarah K from STORM 2 and I. Blantyre (BT) is the biggest city in Malawi. Tiyamike Mulungu (TM) is an orphanage we do a lot of work with. CTI/BTM is Bible Teaching Malawi, a programme of Sat seminars for rural pastors. Mvuu is Mvuu Camp, in Liwonde Game Park. Club Mak (CM) is Malawi's premier lakeside resort. LL is Lilongwe, capital of Malawi. Sherman is a 20-odd yr old Toyota Land Cruiser with an attitude. The Raider is a 20-odd yr old Toyota Hilux Raider. The Maestro is the third car at FR. Confused is what you now all are, having read that exhasutive list. But for a new country you need a new language. I may also chuck in some Chichewa words just to spice things up a little and compound your bewilderment ;)
After returning from India on the 14th of June, I had just over a week at Bethel to write my reports, pack up Gareth and Becky Payne's now-empty house (they were in Anglesey) of all my worldly katundu, say my goodbyes to a hundred and one really good friends (and some not so good ones, who also deserved a goodbye ;) ) and get myself to the airport in Heathrow. Oh yeah, and then there was the Malawi inauguratioin weekend at Wik and Sue Chichowski's house, Cold Blow, in Pembrokeshire, which was a great time for all 29 STORM members, plus one ex-STORM member and W&S' family to get together and brainstorm our trip. Anyway, I got through all that stuff and was feeling pretty good about the whole STOMR trip thing. I mean, the packing and saying goodbye is always the hard part, and I'd breezed through it, so what could stand against me?
Ethiopian Airlines (EA). We arrived at Heathrow early for the flight, but couldn't find the check-out queue for EA. When they finally opened one, we queued for two hours before being told that the plane we were to fly on was grounded in Rome with technical problems. Five minutes later, there was a call on the PA to evacuate the terminal, so we all proceeded somewhat hysterically to the road outside terminal 3, fully expecting the building to go up in a fireball at any moment. It didn't, but all the emergency services darting around did entertain us a fair bit. Apparently someone had been caught on CCTV darting into the terminal with a bag, and then darting out without it. The bag proved to be harmless. Which begs the question, what was its bearer up to? A prelude to the foiled attempts of two weeks later on Glasgow and Heathrow?
Back in the terminal, it was now time to fly, but we still had no plane, so EA promised to put us up in the Holiday Inn. A bit disappointed, but excited to be a team, we headed off to HI, only to find they were overbooked. Another phone call to EA promised us entrance to the Crowne Plaza Hotel, but on arrival there, they said they had heard nothing from EA. It was now 1am. At 230pm, when EA had still sorted nothing, Wik paid for our rooms personally (expecting recompense from EA) and we got 3 hours sleep. At 6am we headed back to the airport, where there was no certain news of a plane, so I had to entertain us all by trying to sneak my penknife through immigration (it was an accident, honest!). We boarded at 11 and arrived in Addis in the evening after a torrential downpour we were glad to miss. We had, of course, missed our connecting flight, so EA had to put us up in a hotel for two nights. They promised an 'upgraded hotel'. It had cockroaches in the rooms and electrical sockets in the showers, but we were too tired to complain anymore. They had also lost 3 of our bags, but promised to find them before we flew again. Anyway, we spent 36 hours of fairly successful R&R exploring Addis and sleeping. EA seemed to have got themselves back on track, because they found our three bags and flew us, on time, to LL on Monday the 25th. Only 48 hours late. Only 80 hours after we'd left Cardiff on National Express. In one of histories famous blunders, I text my family to tell them we'd arrived '80 days later' and they wondered if they'd had a Rip van Winkle experience.
After a long sleep, we got straight into the programme. Huge credit to the team Spirit, after all we'd been through, we only wanted to get stuck in to what was left of our mission trip. Having missed a visit to Hope Village (HV) orphanage and our inaugural service at City Pentecostal Church (CPC), we began with a visit to Chikwawa prison. William Mposa, businessman, financial consultant, pastor, quirky individual soon to become a close friend, got us past the outer gate and into the governor's office, where we had to explain ourselves. Needless to say, we were a little nervous, but after several rounds of nervous ice-breaking, we were allowed by chief officer Mankhusu at least to speak to the prisoners. Winner! And so we spoke, shared testimonies, sang songs ('Shackles' was a favourite) and let the prison choir wow us with their African tones. And we gave out 12 Bibles and a New Testament, very thoughtfully donated by Wendy 'Meara of Bethel Baptist Church, Cardiff, before challenging the prisoners to a game of 6-a-side football, which we lost 10-2. We blame the heat, the rocks on the pitch, our lack of suitable footwear and and...well, just about anything else you can think of. A re-match was in order, but it would await another day...another month in fact. We finished by distributing bars of Antelope soap to each prisoner, two to the ladies, and two to the guards. Having not eaten, we were famished, but back in FR the ladies (Lucy, Mary and Esnet) had prepared sumptuous food that we would come to take for granted, so often and so easily did it appear.
Day 2 was another enigma, because we went to see Majete game park. This trip had been planned as a light break from four days of mission. We'd only had one, so sitting in the back of a Toyota all day watching animals, great though it was, was a bit frustrating for some. The park itself is inspirational. In 5 years it has gone from being a govt-owned scrubland with one nice waterfall spoilt by a powerstation to a world-class Dutch-run wildlife preserve hosting more than 2000 animals, with a formidable anti-poaching record and a considerate approach to the human population surrounding it.
Thursday we headed for TM in Bangula, 100km or so south of FR. There Pam and Will Philips run a 130-strong orphanage...google Tiyamike Mulungu for more info. We spent the day playing games and music with the awesome kids there and giving the teachers/Pam/Will a bit of a break. That night was difficult for 2 reasons - the girls, sleeping in a brick hut near the boys' tents, were attacked by a fiendish mouse which dive-bombed Katie and proceeded to wreak havoc until the heavy fist of Sarah Nathaniel ended its life. We boys were awoken at midnight by the girls demanding they also have a tent, so, good blokes that we are, we got up to oblige, with the exception of Rich, who slept through it all. Little did we know, as this was happening, a more serious problem had developed elsewhere in Bangula. One of Will's chief builders had lost his wife, probably as a result of complications from her pregnancy - her newborn had died the week previously. Will and Pam were broken by the event, and having our team and 2 other teams around simultaneously did not help things. We lightfooted it around for the day. A few of us went to the funeral with Will to support him and see firsthand village life and village death. The rest made themselves useful by waging war against the rats that had infested the storerooms at TM - 23 rodents lost their lives and Rich got brains on his leg. Need I expand on the epicness of the battle? Anyway, as soon as the funeral was over, we gave Will and Pam their space and scampered back to Bangula in Sherman and the Raider.
Saturday was our team 1's only BTM session. We visited Livunzu (Ian, Sarah and co) and Mitondo (Sam, Rich and friends) on the eastern escarpment, just south of FR. Bad roads meant we were a little late, especially to Mitondo, where the pastors, also new to the BTM experience complained at our tardiness, our failure to bring them bread (apparently new BTM policy had now ceased providing lunch for delegates, and we were unlucky enough to be the first teachers to have to impolement this), and the fact that we only visited once a year! I don't think they quite understood how much it cost us and our supporters to visit at all, and they didn't seem to care. They also demanded Sam set up an orphanage then and there and stay with them indefinitely. Thankfully, in Livinzu, things were a little more civilised. The teaching was well received, and the grumblings regarding bread were easily solved by sending a boy to the shop with MK900 (3 quid) to buy lunch for all 90 delegates. We did have one of the children trying to persuade the others that 'white muzungu are poisonous', but most of them were a little too well-educated for that myth. That afternoon we played our first game of volleyball at FR, a welcome down-time, destressing from some pretty extreme experiences.
Sunday we played music at the CPC service - a good service on all fronts. Pastor Glen (my new boss, and a Canadian missionary with some 18yrs Malawi experience) preached a very challenging and encouraging sermon about personal holiness, and we spent the time between church and lunch visiting David Livingstone's original mission station and 'cathedral' in central BT. That evening we prepared for teaching in Madziabango and Nasundu primary schools - a new experience and one we wanted to be well-prepared for. We had met Rhoda Makuti, the regional director and a person of obvious integrity, on Tuesday night, but there were still big unknowns about the program - minor details like 'How long are the lessons?' and 'What subjects am I teaching?' In any case, Monday went off with only the minimum amount of kerfuffle. Sarah also managed to save Madziabango school from going up in flames when a science teacher attempted to heat a bottle of paraffin over a naked flame to demonstrate evaporation!
Tuesday and Wednesday am we spent at Mvuu, 3 hours drive north. Unfortunately the Raider broke down with a dislocated drive shaft (or something) half way there, so we packed all 11 of us, plus 2 guitars, plus baggage into the Sherman and ditched the Raider, keys under the fuel cap, by the side of the main road for Wik to pick up and fix later in the day...only in Africa! Mvuu was cold and wet, but we saw everything from elephant to palm vultures ('the only vegetarian vulture', quipped our guide, Samuel, because they eat palm nuts). Wednesday lunch we had an hour up the road at CM, where we had been unexpectedly upgraded to Special Guests, which meant we got itchy woven reed sun hats and two beds each. CM made the Holiday Inn look a little tacky, with its 600-ft pristine beach, extensive array of water-sport, tennis/squash/astro courts and location on the gorgeous Monkey Bay. Some of us went snorkelling at nearby Boadzulu 'Bird' Island...some of us zonked out.
We returned to BT for one last day of local mission and tourism. We spent the morning at the curios market in BT, and the afternoon visiting HV very briefly. It was also Independence Day, so everything was shut, with the exception of a few stalls in the market. On the way to HV, we had our first road accident when a car ahead of the now-fixed Raider braked for a pothole. The Raider stopped in time, but Sherman, with her heavy brakes, didn't and pranged the back of the lead vehicle, almost pinning a shocked Louisa's arm between the two. No-one was physically hurt, although Sarah N, who had been driving the Sherman was unsurprisingly shaken by the experience. On the way home from Hope Village, the Sherman's fan-belt snapped and the engine quickly overheated while climbing the steep hill to FR. Ben, Sam and I waited with the stricken old beauty while Sarah and Rich and the rest went for help in the Raider. Wik returned with the Raider and proceeded to tow the two-ton Sherman 15km up the hill to FR with one headlight in the dark. There was a lot of prayer happening in that car ;)
That evening, team 2 arrived. They'd had some problems in Ethiopia with Claire's bag being lost and some of the team being ruthlessly overcharged for drinks in a rather dodgy venue, but at least they'd arrived on the right day. They'd also had to overcome a security guard fishing for bribes halfway from LL to BT. They arrived just before 11, and the welcome party, communion meal and settling in process lasted until at least 230. Team 1 then rose at 5, and left at 6 for the airport in a dodgy minibus with a suspect driver - their home journey was almost as eventful as their outward one, but for details you'll have to ask them, I wasn't there.
The beginning of Team 2 was a bit of a blur for me. I was quite tired from Team 1's non-stop programme, the excitement of Team 2 arriving was still buzzing through my synapses, and we were up at 6 to prepare for Saturday's CTI teaching. Thankfully, the 3 CTI stations were very close to FR, so we were able to ferry everyone to teaching in the one remaining vehicle. I was at Chadzunda village, about 5 km from FR on the way to BT, and we had a good sessions teaching and kids' work. Teaching the same passages for the second time was a completely new experience, although I was a lot less nervous. The bizarrest part of the morning was getting a hand-delivered letter from the head pastor of the station asking us to build them a Bible College. Yeah, maybe we'll just call one down out of the sky for you, shall we? I sincerely hope Chadzunda one day gets a Bible college, but unfortunately, it's currently a wee bit beyond my means or expertise.
That afternoon we were visited by a couple from the UK who are examining Malawi as a possible siting for some youth missions from their home church. We had lunch together, but halfway through lunch we were informed that there was a local chiefing going on - the old Mfumu had passed away and his nearest relative was having a big shebang to inaugurate himself. What an opportunity! We unanimously voted to go and pay our respects/ogle at the spectacle. When we arrived, things had been in full swing for most of the day. Various other chiefs, including the one from Chadzunda, were in attendance, sitting on grass mats. There were crowds of people for miles, chatting and laughing and vehemently not listening to the MC who was bawling something into his microphone. The chief, decked out in splendour, was sat under a grass awning, and someone found a set of plastic chairs, which they seated us on not far from him. In front of him and us was a desk at which sat two elderly gentlemen. Periodically, people would dance their way up from the crowd, to the beat of several decrepit-looking bongo drums, and put money into a bowl in front of one of the two men. When they danced up to the one man, someone shielded the eyes of the new chief so he couldn't see how much they were giving (the money was presumably tribute to him), but with the other man, he was allowed to look. It was slightly surreal but very entertaining. After some time there was a stir in the crowd and we were told the witch-doctors were coming. The crowd was beaten back to form a very small circle and into this circle a succession of oddly-garbed and masked men pogoed, gyrating and convulsing in what may have been a dance. In between salvoes of motion they stalked around the ring scaring the kiddies. While they were there, the money-givers stopped giving to the two elderly gentlemen and instead danced up to the witch-doctor and flicked notes into his headdress (another man had to then remove them from his headdress and place them in his hand - it must have been quite hard for him to see through his mask). Between the team there were mixed reactions. Some of us were quite distrubed, even afraid of the whole thing. Others were just very confused at what on earth was going on. Most of us had some measure of each emotion. One event sticks out in my mind - it came into my head to pray while the last witch-doctor (with an eagle mask on) was dancing, so I did - praying that people wouldn't be deceived by the charade, that we wouldn't be afraid, and just general prayer. It may have been co-incidence, but at almost the same time, the witch-doctor danced his way around to our side of the circle and started gesticulating wildly in our direction. At about this point we took our leave of the ceremony, clapped our hands to the new chief in respect, and drove home.
Sunday, we were back at CPC, playing music under the leadership of my predecessor as worship co-ordinator, a Canadian called Jordan. Again, it was good just to sit and listen to a good sermon and let God speak into our lives. We went for lunch to Malawi's answer to McDonalds - MegaByte! For GBP3 each we bought ourselves enormous burgers, Lebanese wraps, ice-cream floats and yoghurt drinks. Decadent, but so good!
On Monday morning the team went into the market in town, while Wik and I tried to get my bank account set up and my Temporary Employment Permit applied for. We managed the first before rejoining the group to lead the lunchtime service at CPC, which brings pastors and Christians from different denominations together for praise and teaching. Claire and Phoebe both shared testimonies (rightly, a testimony is any personal message, rather than strictly an account of the moment personal salvation). In the afternoon we visited Wik's new property down the road from Fisherman's Rest - we sledge-hammered the floor into bits to be removed and relaid...we slashed the long grass short...we helped Wik's builders set the gates in place...and I went with two of the FR staff to cut gum poles from Wik's game park, to build a sign for the property. Tiring, but satisfying work.
I took Tuesday off, but the team visited a local clinic and the medics helped out while the others sang with the patients and slashed grass. In the afternoon they visited Hope Village, a longer visit than team 1s. On Wednesday we all went down to Majete game reserve and enjoyed a day of animal spotting - particularly notable was the video-footage we got of two male elephants play-fighting, about 30 yards from our vehicle. And Thursday began our epic adventure to Bangula and Nsanje.
[at this point, internet problems meant I couldn't save my draft, so I've published it so as not to lose it...the rest will follow]
1 comment:
Awesome, so cool to hear a bit more detail about life there so far. ope the net comes alive again for account part two :)
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