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I'm still here!

Hiiii friends!

 I have been the worst blogger ever the past few months! Sorry for that. Although my crazy life has become so normal in my mind, I can't count the number of times that I've been asked, "So what are you actually doing over there?" So here's to the next 8.5 months and posting more updates on my work, Malawian culture, and life in Bondo village.



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The Mud Pit

 Perched atop a mountain of dirt and next to a stuck truck with 'God's time is the best" written across it's back, the komatsu excavator whirled back and forth. It's mighty engine was the only machine running outside of the occasional motorbike, as all of the cars waiting on it's progress had long since shut off their motors and settled in. When we had approached this spot in the road, we assessed the situation. Then"good time" truck blocked the road to the left, another sat in the middle of the mess, and a big truck was teetering on one side, barely upright on the right side of the pit. A dumptruck hauled out the middle truck, but then the komatsu went straight in, after being filled with gasoline, and went to work. Groups of men sat around the heart of the action, closely observing the incredible work of such a powerful machine. Young kids helped motorbikes push their way through the giant muddy mess, jumping out of the way of the big y
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Saying Goodbye

I will sleep tonight with an extremely heavy heart and puffy, red eyes. Today I had to leave my home here in Malawi.  I remember my ideas about Peace Corps and Africa before I left America. Like most people who have never been to Africa and who often only hear about the bad things that happen here, I was intimidated and a bit scared about the idea of living in a rural village by myself. My going away parties were difficult—I thought they would be the hardest goodbyes I’d ever face. Not seeing so many people I care deeply about for two years; I couldn’t even imagine it.   But today was hard in a different kind of way. Saying goodbye to someone you love, knowing you’ll be back in two years, is completely unlike saying goodbye to someone whom you don’t know if you’ll ever see again (partially because you know they don’t have the means to leave). I’ve said a lot of goodbyes in the past two years, and I thought I’d progressed from the days when I was always the first to cry at the
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Simple Daily Reflection

Orange spots of sunlight gleam between the bluegum trees as I watch the world disappear behind us in the fingerprint-speckled rearview mirror on the mini bus. To our left, Mulanje mountain glows purple as it always does at this time in the evening when the sun sinks below the earth, putting an end to the hot day. A faint, yet almost full moon floats above the mountain, almost in the center of the elongated rock structure.   Along my way from the capital city, I'd seen so many depressing as well as incredible sights that, despite having been here for over 20 months, still touch my heart. Child labor at its finest as kids dig up dry fields to cultivate and struggle to carry buckets of water on their heads. Diminishing forests next to piles and piles of charcoal. Then there are the pristinely wild looking mountains and hillsides and cute lines of chicks waddling along the sides of the roads. I think about how new and shocking this all was when I arrived here; debating whether it&#
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