Blogs from Mulanje Town, Southern, Malawi, Africa

The Kongaweli’s arrived a few days after the battle for Chigonjetso. Ma Sacrani wanted a house mother and father to watch after the children, ensure they wash properly, and finish their homework. Reverend Chumba, she said, is too busy ministering to far off congregations, and needs help on the home front looking after the children. “He’s too soft, and this place needs constant, firm guidance,” Ma Sacrani said, showing the Kongaweli’s the grounds, “if we’re doing this for the children, we’re going to do it right. Everything seems to go wrong around here. The Reverend had almost 50 chickens that all died, one right after the other. These are the kinds of things you need to watch after while you’re here. And keep the books in order.” The night she introduced them to the other donors ... read more

Day begins in the kitchen, with the first pot of porridge simmering on a wood-burning stove made of three broken bricks. The kitchen’s only windows, enclosed with chicken wire, double as outlets for the smoke, curling like ivy around narrow shafts of sunlight emitted through tiny holes in the sheet-iron ceiling. The walls were once white-washed, but have blackened forevermore from two decades of exhaustive use. The girls do the cooking in one-week shifts, always keeping the fire burning like the Vestal Virgins of Rome, while they mix, pound, and cook the maize flour into nsima for the children. The girls share plenty of gossip with the chickens in the small coop adjoining the kitchen, and the goats confined in the pen behind it. I am not allowed in the kitchen, for as always I may ... read more

The night I first returned to Chiuta, I heard terrible crashing noises outside that barred me from sleep. They sounded as if a vandal had broken into the orphanage to destroy property, or perhaps even Satan was out patrolling the grounds, for children wandering far from their beds. I had to investigate, so I jumped out of bed and lit a candle. I locked the door behind me, and carried me with the only two things I needed in case I should confront the Devil: a candle, for the Light of Jesus Christ to hold against evil; and the key to the Kingdom which He hath planted upon the earth. After a few minutes walking in the starlight, I found the source of the commotion: Thousands of bats, flying in and out of my cottage, and ... read more

First, identify the tree by its fruit. Mangos are small, roundish, coming to a soft point and turn from a deep green to a faint gold when ripe. I have yet to master the art of spotting ripe mangos, so I occasionally put one of the younger boys on my shoulders to go and pick them. We should embrace the Kingdom like little children, and pick mangos in the same. A mango may be sliced like an apple, or pared like an orange, but it's best to eat with the hands. One bites the mango at the tip, then take the soft rind off in strips with your teeth, and leave about a third intact for something to hold onto. They are best enjoyed in the tree, but you run the risk of chlorea. In that ... read more

I woke early as the sun rose over Mount Mulanje and meet the day very slowly, washing slowly, moving slowly, reading slowly, until finally Lewis joined me for breakfast. From there the day hastened, as I accompanied him to the borehole, played with some of the kids, and read the Christmas story from Luke with him and Mphasto. We sat inside drinking tea when Stanley, the reverend’s right hand man, appeared through my open door. “ Pastor Chumbe has asked,” he began, his hands balancing his broken English, “if you would preach, since you leave today for the Chaponda’s, and will not be here Sunday. He will translate for you again, if you would preach again.” I got real nervous real quick. I was literally called to the pulpit again, to lead the worship on the ... read more

Everything has obviously changed since I’ve begun teaching. On Wednesday the 23rd, Taz and Mozunzo, two of George’s four sons, dropped me off in the care of Mrs. Socrani, a godly Dutch expat who oversees the care of almost 70 orphans at Chiuta Children’s Home. As we drove past the tea plantations sprawling all along the highway to Chiuta, she gave me its short history, growing from a village feeding and immunization program to an orphanage administered by herself, through Faith Outreach, and Reverend Goodwill Chumbe, the village pastor. “You have to be realistic about what you’re getting into,” Mrs. Socrani pointed at me in the rearview mirror. “These are traumatized kids, and everyone they’ve cared about has left them. You can’t go forming close bonds with them and then just up and leave, and leave ... read more