There are no words to describe the feeling of exhaustion at the end of a long day of clinic or bouncing down the bumpy dirt roads in the back of a truck, or playing soccer in the hot sun, or worshipping at church in Chichewa, or sitting on straw mats in a village. There are no words to describe much of life in Malawi. The poverty is incomprehensible unless you’ve seen it firsthand. The sense of community in a people rich in their faith is hard to imagine. But as we sit in church, voices lifted in praise in both Chichewa & English, there is no doubt that our shared faith can move mountains, that we serve a God bigger than the disparities between us. There are no words to describe showing up to the clinic at 8 AM and seeing 200-plus people sitting there waiting, knowing some of them walked hours to be there.
It can be overwhelming to begin the task of seeing each of them, along with another 400, in a somewhat organized manner by the end of the day. There are also no words for the sweetest of moments in the midst of the chaos & feelings of inadequacy. For close to 2 years I’ve heard about Juliet- a girl with spina bifida that VIP was able to bring a wheelchair to several years ago. This year, in the midst of a busy day at the clinic, Lucy pulled me aside and introduced me to Juliet. A smiling girl now in her teens greeted me, dressed in her school uniform. She and her mother had come by to say hello! What a privilege and joy it was to meet her, to see the way her life has changed because of the work VIP is doing.
Similarly, I held a boy with cerebral palsy as his older sister was seen by a clinician, and pondered the burden his sister faces as she must carry him everywhere. Despite this, the joy on both of their faces was unparalleled. I found out that his name is Blessings, and was instantly moved to tears. We were able to bring a wheelchair for him the next day, and the weight that was lifted off his sister’s shoulders, both literally and figuratively, was visible. Cue the tears again. It is moments like these where there really are no words to describe seeing Jesus here on earth. He shows up, on the dusty roads, in a busy clinic, on the face of a smiling child or a relieved sister, and in all of our lives. Leaving Malawi grateful and humbled, with the reminder to seek Jesus, even in these uncertain times.
Walking into the Malawian airport, I didn’t know what to expect, what smells or what sights I’d be experiencing. I did not expect drawn on licenses plates or the forever lingering smell of fire wood. I would not expect the rocky roads that lead up to Namin’gazi Farm or the local food that would be made just for us. Not knowing a single thing about this country was intimidating and know where near comforting. Learning more about the team during debriefing after clinic began a strong connection that would help us during the three long and blurry days of clinic. Being a part of “support” staff added a feeling of incompetence within myself. However, during the three days, I have allowed myself to enter a different realm. Previously fainting from the sight of blood back home, I had been put to the limit while I ended clinic with cleaning wounds and dressing them. Though clinic was a blur, it has taught me the love of medicine and the memory has and forever will be connected with me. It has brought me self-confidence and has given me pure joy. The people of Malawi are driven to be faith driven and create a potential life changing feeling within each individual. They are brave, fierce, but have developed a sense of loyalty and devotion to God. They create raw emotion and unfiltered love; pure love. They can change your mind on life in less than an hour and create tears of uncertainty and joy. Being drawn to the people of Malawi is not a choice, but a must. Being in Malawi has not only brought me closer to God, but has developed a pure love for the Malawians and each profession in the medical trip.
