Wednesday, April 13th, 2022
I finally saw one mosquito. I’m not sure if it was the same one who buzzed my ears just before midnight last night, or another random mosquito trying to escape the house after having its fill. Being bite free for a few days in Zimbabwe was nice, but now my mosquito senses have been reinvigorated. Really it was my own fault this time. I had opened one of my windows to get some fresh air and to try and dry one of my shirts which had been borrowed for yesterday’s baptisms. I ended up awake and paranoid, shutting my window, and hanging my shirt somewhere else to dry. When morning came, I was able to hang my shirt on one of the bushes outside.
Before heading to bed, and not long before my unfortunate mosquito encounter, I repacked my bags, chatted with Lena, wrote some more on my blog, and checked the news. Back in Brooklyn there was a man who shot a gun in a crowded subway station after filling the place with some kind of smoke bomb. Thankfully the area was far from where we live and Lena wasn’t even considering taking the subway that day. So far we haven’t heard of any of our brethren being affected. It’s tough to be far from home when anything tragic happens. It’s a faith builder to realize that we can’t be everywhere all the time. But thankfully nothing happens without God knowing about it.
With bags already packed the night before, there was nothing left to accomplish this morning aside from drinking coffee, making friends with the guard dog, eating breakfast with Mabasa, saying goodbye to our hosts at the guesthouse, and heading to the airport. Mike came and picked us up with plenty of time. The traffic to the airport was better than expected, and the security lines were very short. It was only a matter of checking in our baggage, having our passports inspected at least five different times, and running our things through two scanners. There was plenty of time, in the small Harare airport, for Matt and I to see all of the tourist shops, buy a few trinkets/curios, and to sit and enjoy some lattes at one of the cafes.
I was excited to see that the words on the side of our Q400 prop plane read “Malawian Airlines.” The last time I had flown into Malawi, this particular airline didn’t have their own planes. It seems to be a good sign for a country to have an active and efficient airline representing them internationally. At the airport we also spotted a Zimbabwean Airlines plane. Nick (when he reads this) will be glad to know that these small propeller driven airplanes are still just as noisy, although the boarding process was definitely less chaotic than a certain previous experience we had.
Although the flight was short, our departure had been delayed about half an hour. With all of the added paperwork needed to enter each country, we ended up leaving the airport an hour later than expected. Not too bad overall! Even before we got outside I spotted Cephas Chapamba and Haiton Thungula on the other side of the glass doors. They held a sign that had our names on it. Apparently there is a famous (or infamous depending on who you ask) pastor/prophet from Malawi who is in town today as well. There was quite a bit of commotion and confusion at the airport that had something to do with taxi drivers and church members trying to pick the same people up to go and see this self-proclaimed prophet. I’m glad the commotion was over by the time we arrived. It sure was great to see these two fellow pastors who I had spent so much time with in 2017. Cephas’s wife, Patricia was also there to greet us. She always has a warm smile and takes good care of her guests.
Matt and I said goodbye to Haiton, climbed into the back of the sedan, and watched the Malawi countryside while catching up with the Chapambas. Haiton is the pastor of the Lilongwe congregation, but lives out of town in an area called Dowa. We have plans to meet up with him and many of the brethren from that congregation in the morning. I look forward to that reunion.
Cephas is the pastor over a relatively new congregation that meets near the village of Nkhwazi. This very rural area is not far off a main highway with leads to the nearby Zambian border. UCG owns a piece of property near the village where services are held. The property is also used to house the Feast of Tabernacles and the national United Youth Camp. The Chapamba family own and operate a clinic across from their home in Nkhwazi. We arrived to their house not long after sunset. We had a chance to sit and chat, have a delicious home cooked meal, take a walk around the property and see the moon and stars, and then get ready for bed.
The morning will come early tomorrow. We leave for Lilongwe at 7:30am. There we will meet with our brethren at the church hall in an area of the city called Mchesi. I’ve spent countless hours there in the past. I know I’ll enjoy seeing the improvements that the congregation has done to the grounds there. Cephas is planning to leave Matt and I in Lilongwe with his car. If all goes according to plan I’ll be driving us back to Nkhwazi with plenty of time before sunset. It’s been a while since I’ve driven in Malawi and I’m only slightly worried about arriving late. Precisely at sunset we will begin the Passover service with the brethren in Nkhwazi. Even though most is the brethren in this congregation don’t speak very much English, Cephas has asked me to give the service. He will translate into Chichewa for the congregation. I better give myself plenty of time to get back from the city. The Passover, when we remember the death of Jesus Christ for the sins of the world, is too important to be late for.
As all of our plans and conversations are happening, I try to introduce Matt to parts of the culture and country that he might not have known about or experienced. Tonight he tried one of Africa’s staple foods for the first time. In South Africa it’s called pap or mieliepap. In Zambia it’s called nshima. In Zimbabwe it’s called sadza. In Malawi it’s called nsima. These aren’t the only names for this starchy staple, but these are the ones I’m familiar with. It’s essentially a thick porridge made from maize flour. It’s scooped out of the pan into patties and traditionally eaten with your hands, dipped in a delicious tomato based sauce mixed with greens and onions, or eaten along with whatever you have on your plate. He seemed to like the nsima and everything that Patricia had served us for dinner. And even though there was silverware to eat with, Matt at least tried eating a few bites the traditional way.
– Lewis VanAusdle
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