So, I was sitting next to one of my favorite individuals(Jo) over here, and was telling her how much I enjoyed reading her blog... I told her I have a hard time updating my blog, but wished I could be as diligent as she with her updates. So, I did the next best thing to updating this thing,...I had Jo write my blog entry. I didn't read it before posting this, but I'm sure we're in for a treat. Enjoy!!
In Lilongwe there is a lodge which on the outside is somewhat reminiscent of a 1970’s office complex. One of the corners of the cement wrap-around porch is the bar of the lodge. If walking in the street below you can often see many a Peace Corps volunteer’s feet sticking off the edge. Beers in hand, the porch juts out crowded and packed with a collection of dirty volunteers tired from packed buses, failed hitch hikes and all sporting attractive back sweat compliments of their hiking bags. Far away from village life that often centers on early nights, lots of books, shadow dances, and way too much thinking time, volunteers find themselves realizing their general list of things they can tolerate has expanded quite extensively. They are spurred to think on how more tolerant they are when watching a music video of Will Smith’s daughter whip paint out of her hair, realizing that they are finding it entirely enjoyable. Those who back in America preferred to trek into cities for underground indie concerts, end up finding that watching MTV in a tiny African bar is incredibly entertaining. Those who found micro-breweries as having truly delicious beer become quite entranced with any beer that is ice cold. Transport that breaks down, falls apart, and consistently puts you in close quarters with sweaty, smelly, bodies are appreciated as long as they actually get you where you are going. Girls, who would in other circumstances think about freaking out, find themselves calmly sitting on buses while watching ants fall out of her hair extensions, deducting that in fact “yes there were ants briefly living in my fake hair.” Dance moves normally saved for confined spaces of cars, come out in full force and are greeted with smiles and more beers. Hair and beards usually kept in careful check seem to match more with the new dance moves as opposed to the word “careful.” And maybe someone might make a comment on people being more tolerant of each other as we are often, as volunteers in Malawi, “all we got.” But I think most of us would end up saying “all we got is actually a lot.” And it’s not about tolerating. It’s more about being lucky to have friends. Friends who like yourself, lack budgeting skills and will after spending money at the bar to fuel crazy dances and rationalize out-of-control-hair, will then head off to expensive Chinese restaurants. Not because it’s a good budgeting decision or because there is a lack of cheap eating options, but because its worth knowing a large part of why you trek around with sweaty back packs from village to bus to city, is because you have friends who will go with you to Chinese restaurants and back to village, onto bus, and into bars and who will validate your craziness with theirs. And that’s definitely beyond tolerance.
