A Visit with the MCV Village Outreach Coordinator

Florence, she has a last name too, but I can’t remember it, agreed to take us into the village to check up on some of the AIDS orphans.  I had a bit of an idea what to expect, after all, we drive or walk through the village here every day, but we have never been really up close and personal with the people that are really needy.  And, when you see people or children away from their homes, it is easy to imagine that that have “enough” because they have clothes, sometimes shoes, and appear to be well fed.  (“Appear” is the operative word here.  Many of the people here subsist on nsima (which is a maize flour porridge) alone, especially during the dry season when they are unable to grow things in their own garden.  So they getting almost no protein in their diet.  The kids may be round, but there are subtle signs that they are malnourished. )  But, walking into the villages of some of the other MCV orphans feels much different. 

 

First, we picked up the village volunteer.  There are 2 trained volunteers in the village.  They act as liaison between MCV and the village orphans.  They are supposed to let MCV know of any special needs and try to make sure that the kids are going to school.  This volunteer’s name was Lovelace, a fairly common name here.   Any time you go into the village you get the entourage.  Mostly that just means children, but sometimes adults tag along as well.  At our first stop, we met a granny who is fostering 3 orphans.  (I couldn’t quite understand if any of them are related to her or not.)  MCV built here a nice brick and cement house.  Unfortunately, the roof leaks and there is no money to replace the thatch. All the kids (20-25?) come and stand around us and quietly listen and stare.  I am very sure that they all show up when it is just Florence as well.  There is rarely something new and different in the village.  We were invited in to see the house.  It is very dark inside, the only opening was the door, no windows.  There were two wooden beds with some sort of woven material to sleep on in the first room and a bigger bed in the other room.  There was a small pile of clothing on the floor and a few cooking utensils.  That was all.  But, the granny’s eyes were bright and she joked easily.  She teased Mark about needing a young man to come marry her and help her take care of all these kids.  (Florence translated this for her.)  Life is very hard, but this family is doing well, even though there are no sons or daughters to help the Granny. 

 

At the next village, we met Mercy, the village volunteer.  What a beautiful young woman with a bright and easy smile.  She cheerfully insisted that we make our introductions to her in Chechawa which we all stumbled through.  They are happy to help.  It goes like this:  Moni!  (Hello)  Muli bwanji?  (How are you?)  Ndili bwino.  (I am fine.)  Kaya-iwe?  (And you?)  Ndili bwino.  There was quite a bustle in that village.  Two boys ran out with their amazing homemade push toys, one young man was building his first house, another man was putting his roof up.  Florence warned us that we were visiting a very needy family. 

We located the home of the woman we were visiting and all of the neighbors and children lined up outside the house.  The woman looked old, although she told Florence that the children were her biological children.  She met us at the door with a clean mat that we could sit down on in the dust.  We were all greeted with a handshake with the left hand underneath the right arm which is a sign of respect here.  Mark asked Florence, “Where does this woman live.”  Florence replied, “This is her house.”  We were sitting outside a circular structure 6 or 7 feet in diameter and walls five feet high or so.  The woman and three children were living there.  They were all very dirty and wore torn clothes.  Florence spent most of our time there trying to convince the woman of the importance of making sure that the kids go to school (which they weren’t).  It didn’t seem as though much had been accomplished at that stop. 

 

On the walk to the next hut (which was across the highway) Florence turns around suddenly and says loudly in English to all of the boys behind us, “You boys go to school!  You must learn English so that you can talk to your friends and have opportunities!”  They all looked at there as though they understood. 

 

Our next visit was with a woman who has AIDS.  She is a young woman, she looks like a child herself.  (Just an aside, the Malawian people tend to look much younger than they are.  Patrick, the cook, looks like a kid and his father, Patrick, who is the night guard looks just like him.  It helps that they both have just wonderful smiles.)  Anyway, it was clear that this woman has advanced AIDS.  She has recently been put on medication (anti-retrovirals) and is doing better, gaining weight.  Still, she looked gaunt and her breathing was labored.  Still, her eyes were shining and according to Florence, she was telling her how grateful she was to have the medicine.  Unfortunately, she was almost out of pills and needed to get into Mangochi to get them refilled but didn’t have transportation and certainly wasn’t capable of walking that far.  She laughed and chattered on and on to Florence.  Afterwards, Florence told us that she feels that this woman is being affected by AIDS dementia, she is acting and talking differently than she did before.  She is “too happy”.   I sure thought that she was too happy given her situation.  I am very sure that she is not going to live long. 

 

Death is very, very common here.  I can’t tell you the number of people that we have spoken to who were on the way to a funeral.  Almost all of the people have lost a child to illness (usually malaria) and of course all of the orphans have lost one or both parents.  In the face of this, the people are very stoic.  You rarely here a child cryng.  But the people also laugh, dance and sing readily and easily.  We will often here song drifting across the field next to our house from the path that leads to the Plake.  Oftentimes it is children. 

 

By the end of the day yesterday, I felt completely overwhelmed by the extent of the need here and thought and prayed about all our roles in relieving suffering in the world.  I have no answers.  Without a doubt, in Malawi, the most pressing issues are healthcare and education.  There is NO chance for advancement without education here.  Even with a decent education, a good job may be being a housekeeper at Palm Beach or working as a houseboy, like Michael Patrick.  He is very smart and everything he does is professional.  In healthcare there is the usual issues of malaria which can take up to 20% of the children less than 5 years old, AIDS, and then accidents and infection. 

 

There is so much beauty here and so much difficulty and suffering.  Once again, it may seem like weakness, but I am grateful to retreat to Palm Beach and regroup at the end of the day.