Day one in the warm heart of Africa

My eyes rolled back and then recovered and then again rolled back. I sat in front of the television, the picture no longer spoke to me, but rather my thoughts of what lay ahead the next day. I was drifting away into a deep sleep, the next day everything would change.

I was up at 4:30 AM with the warm sensation on my cheek, brushing it rhythmically. Unfortunately however the sad relies action that it was my Rotweiller and not my girlfriend catapulted me out of bed...on the wrong side. I struggled to get operating and it seemed unusually cold this morning. I managed to chow down some muesli and sneak in a quick coffee before loading all my bags in the car and hopping into the passengers seat. My dad gladly drove me the 150kms to the O.R Tambo Airport where I was catching a plane at 10am for Lilongwe, Malawi. The prospects of an African mission with operation smile had been on the cards for a while but it was only when I boarded the plane that slowly it all became real to me. I watched as the polluted skies of Johannesburg drifted out of sight and were replaced by the mist beautiful fluffy white cover over a sea of baby blue. The sky was at peace and my heart was two. As we started descending towards the earth a whole new landscape filled the planes windows. It may have been nothing to those accustomed to the terrain but my mind was blown. I had never seen Malawi before, this first glance was as if a new born baby had just opened his eyes to a strange new world. Everything, even though far from perfect, looked so beautiful.. The thick red soil hurtled closer and closer as we dropped on altitude. The green mountains on the horizon seemed to be a different type of Mountain, it all seemed so beautiful. 

We touched down in an economically depressed capital. The beauty of the country side was shunned from thought from those looking to a capitalistic society. Hawkers swarmed us as we excited the building. They all scrambled for a quick job to earn a quick job, hard work indeed under an African sun all day. Before hopping onto the busses headed for the hotel I managed to have a quick word with one of the men who helped load our bags onto the bus. Tosh was his name, or nickname rather. His friends called him that after he described his passion for music and the likes of Peter Tosh. His eyes smiled more than his mouth did. In that moment, in east Africa, in the heat of the Malawian sun, two men said so few words but will never forget their encounter. It wasn't what he said that moved me but rather his outlook on life, for a brief second between the hustle and bustle of loading bags, he was proud of who he was. He was proud of his nickname, his musical abilities, his life and his country. His eyes came alive as he told me who he was. Mr Tosh from Malawi, my first Malawian friend. 

The bus drive to the hotel was nothing short of the adventure I had imagined it to be. Lazy looking cyclists swarmed around the streets in and out of peak hour traffic acknowledging each other's existence. They waved as the pellet from their work which was very often reflected by the luggage on their back wheel. Fruits, potatoes, sugar cane, rats, sticks and anything else you could possibly imagine, loaded high on these poor overloaded bikes while the owners carried on as if to say "nothing to see here."

I stared at the taxi drivers eyes from the middle of the taxi I sat and remembered the words my dad had spoken to me before leaving, "if you think you have observed enough, look a little longer." So as I did I again felt moved by this mans life. What does he do? Where does he love? Does he have kids? What's his story? The answers I suppose will never be known. 

His eyes darted around in the mirror but deep in his eyes his soul told stories. I broke my stare as he glanced into my eyes while,weaving in and out of traffic. 

The country side is a mix of dry Zambian terrain and the lush green northern Brazillian country side. It's strange but almost indescribable. It's almost flat but in the distance, mountain shoot into the air, I wish I could climb them. The people are considerate of each other, there's a sense of friendship and camaraderie for those that wander the streets in search of a dollar. I love it.

The hotel is top class. Probably 4 star I would say, and to imagine I asked if my tent would be needed on the trip. The guilt of staying in luxury while hundreds of meters away families scramble to try and see if their kid will be next to get a life changing surgery is quite strong but other volunteers assure me that this is no holiday. They speak about the amount of work that needs to be done and just how late we will possibly stay up at night. It excites me though, I'm overwhelmed with the opportunity I will have in a couple of days to see a child with a cleft and then a couple of days later be healed of the suffering they have endured their whole life. 

I've already embarked on a little adventure already with my American friend Thomas. We took to the streets late in the Friday chaos in search of water and SIM cards. We found both but only after a game of dodge ball with cyclists, cars trucks and animals in a tiny electrical shop run by a young Muslim man with a long beard. 

So it has begun, the great Malawian adventure. 

Greetings from Africa

Keegan Kunjani Longueira