The weather has been beautiful here. There is not a cloud in the sky until late afternoon. Reminds me of the summer days when I was little where I would look at the blue sky and slowly by late afternoon, a few clouds would pop up. It’s the same here. So I took advantage of the weather (and the daylight) and went for a walk to become more familiar with the unfamiliar. I think Steinbeck says it best in Travels With Charley when he writes: “For how can one know color in perpetual green and what good is warmth without cold to give it sweetness?” It’s always nice to break free of the familiar, because it does give us a new perspective, and as Steinbeck says, makes it sweeter.

My walk also gave me an excuse to try out my limited Chichewa. I’m trying to build my vocabulary. There’s the usual greeting of “Moni. Muli bwanji?” (Hello. How are you?) The Malawians, a bit surprised and amused to here a white person speaking their language, then rattle off a response which I don’t understand and then I smile and nod and they laugh. I took it a step further today by trying to ask people their name (Dzina lanu ndani?)Again, more laughs but despite the language barrier, there was an understanding that I was trying to learn. Moses, and Benjamin, who I met, corrected me on my pronunciation so next time I can get it right.

This greeting is the usual ritual. However in town, that can change a bit. In my experience in Africa, Africans come to assume 2 things of all mzungus (white people)

1) They are a doctor
2) They are extremely wealthy.

As I walked around the City Center of Lilongwe, a Malawian approached me and I assumed he was under the assumption of number 2 and was going to ask for kwacha. However, Charles handed me a resume and letter of recommendation and asked it I could help him get a job. Apparently, he is a great gardener. I tried to explain that I was a newly arrived student (by the way, trying to explain to Africans that you are a college student with no job and no money is something they cannot comprehend) and couldn’t be of much help. But he persisted and gave me 1 of 2 copies he had of his references. It always fascinates me how the color of my skin can make some feel that I can do anything and maybe because of my background and upbringing that I don’t know any better. But there is a certain level of unease about it. In Zambia there was the same feeling of being “white saviors” when we came to deliver clothing to local villages (never mind that we did not donate the clothing and that fellow Zambians helped sort and distribute it). I know I am more privileged than some but as I walk around Malawi I know that I am no better than anyone else on the face of the earth.

I believe he is taking sugar cane to market. I didn't catch all he said when I asked him about his cargo.

Finally, I have been blessed by the "Dog Choir." Normally the word choir conjures up sounds of beautiul melodies and choruses. However in this context, choir is a misnomer. At around 10pm, every dog in the neighborhood begins to bark and howl, not in unison and not in tune. This countinues for about 2 hours when there is a brief intermission and then solos commence through the rest of the night until 5 am when the roosters take over. I certainly hope they don't think this is a mating call of some sort