Room with a view

I arrived in Blantyre hungry and exhausted. I had left before getting breakfast and the jet lag had finally caught up with me. If you know me, let’s just say my “5 minute warning” (my families little saying about how much time you have to someone etc. before I turn into a cranky, nasty, mess – this is not just for me, this is a family wide phenomena), well, let’s just say that I had left that warning behind, I was a woman on the edge. And it didn’t take much to push me right off. My cab driver had that dubious pleasure when he flatly told me that I had picked and “incredibly dangerous area” to stay in and that I would never be able to leave the compound without a taxi. That did it. I had the presence of mind to make it to my room before I burst into tears. Calling taxis everyday? Confined to my room? This was really not what I had in mind.

I composed myself a little to call the one contact I had in town, the director of an NGO focused on providing clean water access across Malawi. I was put in contact with him out of shear luck. My last week in DC I saw a fantastic film called “Water First” about the lack of clean water across Malawi and the major problem this poses in areas of health, gender, education and so on. I was a fantastic film and the director promptly emailed the head of the NGO hear. He had given me his phone number and was the only person I could think to ask for help. I really was just calling him for his opinion about what I should do, but he came straight over so we could talk about the situation.

I admit, I ended up feeling pretty foolish within a matter of minutes (not to mention the next day, and the day after that). Charles assured me that this was a completely safe place, and while I should not go out at night, this was the best place for me. We also talked a little bit about how I could incorporate his organizations work into my assessment. He left and I felt much better.

I looked around and realized that this actually might be the best view I have ever had from a room that I call my own. It is like paradise. I can hear the music from the church down the road while I read on the veranda and watch lizards scurry here and there…what on earth was had I been crying about?

view from my room

my room- the second door (I took the previous photo where I am standing in this picture)

view from the porch of the main lodge one level up from my room

The lock on my door didn’t quiet work though, so I was give the room right next to it. However, I slyly took the power strip, the extra blanket and towel, the hangers, and oh yeah, the mattress before I switched rooms. What? I needed those three hangers to pair with my three, and the mattress was so much better in the first room. Luckily the place was deserted so no one witnessed my little switcheroo. I finally unpacked my bags, wrestled with my mosquito net (with Domingo and Lucy hair –DC felines- still clinging to it), and went in search of food.

Of course, the power was out. It was at this point that I met Carrie and Moira who graciously gave me some bread and butter and an apple and welcomed me to the place.

Kabula Lodge where I am staying is basically home to extended stay volunteers here in Blantyre. Most of the people at the lodge are British, Dutch, or German medical students on rotation at the hospital, but Carrie (from the UK but now living in Zambia) is working on an education project and Moira (Scottish) is based at an orphanage. They both were so warm and kind to me and offered to show me around the city the next day. We agree that the cab driver was ludicrous and probably just wanted me to call him every day for a cab. People are still singing in the church went I turn in for the evening.