It wasn’t until I had already found my ideal program and submitted an application that my parents found out I had any interest in volunteering in Africa. The news of my summer plans left my family confused more than anything else. As the baby of the family (and also quite the scaredy cat), I have an intense fear of bugs, long plane rides and shots. A month in rural Malawi seemed completely random and unlikely. While in Malawi, World Camp’s high school group taught over 400 children about HIV/AIDS, deforestation, hygiene and Malaria. However, when I look back on my time in Malawi, it is not what the Malawians learned from me, but rather what I learned from them. I will never forget my first day in Malawi. I stepped out of the airport, duffel bags in tow, to see a man peeing right in the parking lot; needless to say, I stopped dead in my tracks. Noticing my disgust, the group leader turned around grinning to say, “Welcome to Malawi, Claire!” We stayed in a hostel in the capital city of Lilongwe. The city itself is about the size of the town of Andover. Our hostel was surrounded by a stone wall topped with shards of glass to prevent people from breaking in. I quickly discovered that not many people in Malawi drive defensively, making each street crossing a near-death experience. Our leaders enforced a buddy system that forbade us from walking around without another member of the group. Despite these somewhat unwelcoming characteristics, I felt oddly at home in Malawi. The people of Malawi are easily the happiest people I have ever met. Even after I had succeeded in ripping the strap of my backpack out of a pickpocket’s hands, he looked at me, smiled, shook my hand and said, “Ah clever girl! You come to my family restaurant—free goat for the American sister!” But this friendliness extends far beyond the pickpockets of Malawi. We visited four schools, and, upon our arrival at each, we were immediately greeted by the entire student body, all shouting “AZUNGU!” (meaning white people). Some of the older students played it off like they were too cool for the goofy Americans, but, by the end of our three days at each school, they were begging us to stay forever. Believe me, I wanted to. Malawians speak Chichewa, a language unlike anything I have ever heard. The schools are required to begin teaching English in grade six. However, the Malawian teachers’ method is to speak only English in the classroom, a technique that is more often than not completely useless given that most children have never heard English before. We were lucky enough to have an incredible group of local translators, who provided not only translation, but also a never-ending supply of Akon for rides to and from the schools. I am sad to report that, as hard as I tried, I quickly found that no matter how good your dance moves may look in Underwood room, you haven’t seen dancing until you’ve watched a Malawian get down. Each day we had 30 minutes in which the translators were not present. When my Chichewa failed me, it took only a clap of my hands and a shout of “BWALO” before I was surrounded by 30 Malawian kids singing in four part harmonies and popping like I have never seen. Although most of the information we taught was completely foreign to the kids, I was continually amazed by how zealous they were to learn. Despite their enthusiasm, there were certainly times I thought I might never get through to them. We taught the students about safe sex, and their reactions made me realize how important it was for them to truly understand what I was saying. It still blows my mind that even in a place like Malawi, where one in every seven people is HIV positive, some people can still be as uninformed as they are. As World Camp volunteers our job was to “educate, inspire, and change,” and I truly believe we did those things while in Malawi. However, I don’t think it could ever match the generosity the people of Malawi showed us. That generosity was most obvious at my homestay. I will never forget how my homestay father insisted I sleep on the only grass mat he owned and had a goat sacrificed in my honor. I think the fact that a man with so little was willing to give me everything he possibly could captures the essence of the Malawian people perfectly. Looking back, I think that the random nature of my decision to go to Malawi prepared me better than anything else could. The reason that this preparation, or lack there of, was so effective was because I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into, and I left Malawi with an experience unlike anything I could have imagined three months ago.
