Soft landing

I put a stick into a hole atop a small termite mound on our hike yesterday, and it went down three feet. Thrilling.

This is the best part of traveling, when you've just arrived and no one is homesick and there are exotic things to marvel at. We're in Lilongwe, Malawi's capital and largest city, but no matter. It's Africa. I've always said, "No one wants to live in a big African city" - but that's clearly not true. Millions of Africans do, all over the continent. Lots of Malawians do, too. But we didn't move across the globe for fancy supermarkets and traffic. Lilongwe has both, so it's not making my heart swell.

That said, it's made for a soft landing. We've been here six days. We came from a Minnesota featuring zero degree winter-blah and an armed militia terrorizing us. In contrast, bustling Lilongwe is full of greenery. It's 77-82 degrees everyday and breezy, not humid. It doesn't really have big city vibes. There are no skyscrapers. It's not even very loud. I found it poignant when customs staff helped carry our luggage.

In the city center, walking to the US embassy. 

City or countryside, we're definitely in Africa. Matthew hitched a ride on a moto taxi to get groceries today. Long, winding markets dot the city and are the best place to get pineapple, guava, mango, and small sweet bananas. Haggling and joking with the vendors, then paying the inflated azungu price is all part of the experience. Our AirBNB hosts are an Indian-Muslim family who have been generous with their time and advice. We're renting their small pool house for a month while we study Chichewa and sort out my work permit. Being here is a practical necessity, but getting a house with a pool also makes it a much-needed time of family rest before we dive into work at a rural mission hospital.

This morning I conducted impromptu homeschool with the kids for the first time. "Oh, hey, make the kids do school!", Matthew directed me as he left. So, first we stood and recited a modified Pledge of Allegiance (the 23rd Psalm). Then I decided I didn't know how to teach fractions and saved that for Dad. Instead, the kids journaled. Then I gave a social studies lesson about apartheid South Africa and we listened to Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika. We discussed Edvard Munch's The Scream for art. (Because I once read a heist book about it being stolen from Oslo's National Gallery.) PE was 5 push-ups, 5 burpees, and 2 laps around the pool (they were done in less than 2 minutes, it's not a big pool). We read about Schalow's turaco in Matthew's bird book and learned the Chichewa word for egg: mazira. (Our real tutor starts tomorrow.)

Schalow's turaco. Credit: Marie-France Grenouillet.

Finally I made Thea teach Lev the fingering for playing the recorder, he memorized Hot Cross Buns in about 2 minutes, they played a round of chess, and ba-da-bing! School's out, y'all! Go swimming!

They learn a thousand details anytime we're out and about. While I was busy chatting with a banana lady named Anyways, somebody at the market taught Lev how to determine if a pineapple is ripe (pull out the innermost leaves and see if they're still white). Thea already speaks the most Chichewa of any of us: on day two, three people praised her for being "a very smart one". 

This is what I have wanted for my children. I want to wash our hands at a communal barrel in front of a lunch stand, to field their questions about why the roadside coffin shops or book sellers are all in a row (no idea), and to chat with friendly taxi drivers about the lack of rain this week and what it could mean (apparently nothing). We spent yesterday hiking around Lilongwe Wildlife Centre ("non-savage animals only" - except there were crocodile warnings everywhere), and spotted a duiker, a Nile monitor, a turaco, and lots of vervet monkeys. It was glorious to be in the forest, even one surrounded by a city and within earshot of a raucous Pentecostal church. The riverbank was choked with trash after a recent flood. No matter. Lev was bouncing around like a kid on cocaine - just happy. Joyful to be poking at termite mounds.

You and me both, kid. We're glad to be here at last.

Outskirts of Lilongwe.