close of service

I’m staying in a somewhat shoddy hotel room in Lilongwe, Malawi, as I process my close of service with the Crisis Corps. I can tell that I am getting closer to returning to the US after an almost 3 year absence, because what might have seemed relatively upscale only weeks ago suddenly feels sleazy and sub-standard. Although I will miss my modest NGO (the little NGO that could), leaving Malawi does not carry, even remotely, the emotional burden of leaving Swaziland, where I spent 2 years and tremendous, yet wholly inadequate effort fighting a 40% HIV prevalence with my Peace Corps colleagues. And my heart still contracts when I remember the girls at the orphanage where I lived during that time. My experience in Malawi has been surprisingly rewarding; however, I have missed the very personal and interpersonal experience of working on the front lines and living in direct contact with people whose need is so great it pales everything else in my experience.

We went out to our catchment area on Saturday to say goodbye to members of the orphan care groups and the HIV support group that I had worked with over these past 6 months.

officers of the OVC and HIV support groups
We visited the Orphan Caregivers’ Poultry Project that my friend and former colleague, Anna, made possible. The chicken house is completed and the chickens have been ordered.

before and after
They should arrive toward the end of this week. Over 40 orphans and approximately 22 caregivers will benefit from this project.

some of the OVCs and caregivers
Of the billions of aid dollars that have been wasted in Africa over the years, I feel pretty confident that Anna’s money will not share that fate. My NGO has promised to keep us updated and send pictures (as soon as I can get them a camera to do so).

On Monday, I said goodbye to my colleagues at the NGO.

the little NGO that could
In remembrance of all the days Henderson and I biked the 15 to 25 km out to the villages and all the times his bike fell apart on the way back, and unable to leave my Peace Corps-issued bike, I at least made sure his was upgraded. Again I am reminded of the hundreds of new 4-wheel drives in Malawi alone, belonging to inert governmental agencies and fat international NGOs, whose steel-belted grooved tires rarely or never meet dirt roads in the rural areas.

Any emotional ambivalence I might have felt about leaving Africa has been tempered by the horrible fires that are currently consuming southern California. My sister and her husband have had to abandon their elegantly understated home in Escondido and, at this very moment, do not know if theirs is one of the 70 or more homes there that have been engulfed in flames in Escondido alone. My heart goes out to them and all the others who may lose everything they have worked so hard to achieve- almost one million people sitting in hotel rooms, like I am tonight, or in temporary shelters, not knowing what awaits them when the flames die down. I grew up an Army Brat and never settled long enough to purchase (or even afford) my own home, so it is difficult for me to fully appreciate how devastating it must feel to lose a place that is “yours”, where you have built a life of memories, where hallways still hold the ghost of footsteps long past and kitchen walls have soaked up a lifetime of smells and tastes. My heart goes out to them. We are holding our collective breath. And, as I watch on this hotel TV, that has 2 sports channels and CNN headline news, I am awed by the volunteers who come out in droves, roll up their sleeves, and do what is necessary and important. I am awed by volunteers the world over, but nowhere more so than in the US. It is times like this that I am reminded of how remarkable Americans can be when they are called to step up. I sometimes think that people are just waiting, as they watch one more awful reality show, for a reason to be a hero.