A Lasting Impression

My parents called a family meeting and said we were moving to Malawi. I was born there 14 years prior, but it was as alien to me as Pluto. In January, 1997, my parents, little sister and I were on our way. We left my older sister behind to finish grade 12 and begin her studies at The University of British Columbia, where she excelled. She has gone on to become a teacher and has worked in England, Nigeria and currently, China. She obviously inherited my parents’ intrepid nature. She is three years older than me, and despite our teenage squabbles, parting ways left a great sadness.

I left Langley, B.C., shy and unsure. I was leaving my school, my friends, my baseball team and heading to the Dark Continent. We landed in Blantyre, my new home town. I got off the plane, right on the steaming tarmac, and the smell of Africa affronted me. Rich, red dust. The sky was aqueous and massive. The sun was powerful and the land was expansive, spotted with brush and rolling knolls. I looked around, shell-shocked and culture-shocked.

The drive from the airport to our new home was jarring. I had seen poverty in my life, but not like this. People wore rags, lived in shacks, worked in crooked bamboo kiosks and drove rusted cars that billowed the blackest exhaust. Malawi is amongst the poorest nations in the world and for a jetlagged kid, with the opulence of Canada fresh in his mind, it was a lot to take in.

I began school and it took time to fit in. Although I didn’t admit it at the time, during my first year in Malawi, my little sister was my best friend. She was a cool kid and she still is. But eventually I made friends, life-long friends. I spent the formidable years of my adolescence in unique and exceptional surroundings and I’m a better person for it. The experiences I had and the people I met along the way had a huge impact on me. My understanding of inequality is frustratingly deep, but my faith in humanity was built strong.

Malawians are impoverished, yet grateful. They are disadvantaged, yet content. They understand that all one needs to live a rich life are family and friends, shelter and food. I speak in general terms, but I also speak genuinely.

A Malawian man once stopped me in the street. He asked me if I had ever felt the grace of God. I told him I didn’t know. He asked me if I woke up happy that morning. I said yes. He asked if I ate breakfast that morning. I said yes. He asked if I went to school that day, and if I went home to a loving family. Again, yes was my answer. Then he said, “You have felt the grace of God. You feel it every day.” This brief encounter has left a lasting impression, and speaks to the spiritual wealth of the Malawian people.

I am richly blessed, indeed.