Hometown

My parents were apart of a migration to the west coast in the 1970's and by default I became I Californian. There's nothing quite like being able to say I was born and raised (for at least a good portion of my underage life) in sunny San Diego. It almost always draws a positive reaction from whoever has asked about my hometown. Most often people love to relate the great feelings they have for the city after a vacation/business trip with a dream-like haze in their eyes and a smile on their face. I certainly can't complain about being raised in one of the world's best year-round climates that's seasons are described as "nice, nice, nice, and a little chilly". Not only is San Diego beautiful, but it offers an abundance of activities from the world-famous San Diego Zoo to Sea World, Balboa Park full of museums, and a great local music scene. Don't get me started on the plethora of food options.

How many places in the world could you start your day on the water, surfing as the sun rises, and finish in the mountains, tearing your way down the slopes? San Diego offers both activities within a 1 1/2 hour drive. Like any major city, San Diego does have its traffic. Luckily you'll never spend 4 hours sitting on the freeway, creeping along 15 miles an hour like a certain city to the north *cough LA cough cough*. And while we're talking about unfavorable northern neighbors, San Diego offers a great hometown feel. People are generally pleasant and helpful. It's not uncommon to run into someone you know while shopping throughout the city. Not to big, not to small. Just right.
San Diego truly is America's Finest City.

Other travels

Access to money was key to the many adventures we took while my mom visited. This is Peter, our drug dealer, as mom lovingly called him. The first night at Chameleon's. The bus ride from hell. Thank goodness they sold bags of ice at one of the 30 stops we made. Unfortunately the camera broke on the way so we don't have any pictures from the lake. The nicest portion of the trip was Satemwa Tea Estates, one of the most beautiful places in Malawi. After such a miserable trip to the lake on public transport, mom wanted to hitch. This was my contribution to getting a ride: Once we got to the turn off for Satemwa, it was only another 5 km (3.1 miles) to the actual house. It took a lot of convincing, but mom managed to take a bike taxi. Our room was absolutely gorgeous, completed by a deep bath tub with lion feet. The food was great, and each meal was served somewhere different. Tea Tasting.

Visiting Tchawale

It was great to introduce my Malawian family to my American mom. She showered them with all sorts of presents. Maggie in her new shirt. This little guy continues to get so big! Talking up a storm.All sorts of village activities were undertaken, inlcuding lessons on how to pump water at a borehole. After giving a demo, Mom, Matt, and Mel (GRS interns) learned to carry water on their heads.

Andrew became the guinea pig for my mom learning how to carry a baby on her back. I don't think he minded much.
We also checked up on the library project
And hung out with Innocent

Zzzzzzambia

The past 3 weeks has been a whirlwind trip around Malawi and Zambia with my mom who came all the way from San Diego! Here she is at the Malawi-side of the border. Our first stop was South Luangwa National Park to see the animals. The first sighting of the morning was this guy chowing down on a buffalo. She survived near leopard attack (though the leopard didn't actually do anything, even if she says otherwise). We saw lots of hippos.
Our awesome driver found a massive (1000+) heard of Cape Buffalo. And I can't forget about my 3rd favourite animal, the giraffe. There were elephants all over who came right up the vehicle, or sometimes just stood there to block the road. We also saw some funny looking horses. By the second day of drives, we were all getting bored with the animals "oh look, another elephant/hippo/impala". Instead I tasked the guide to find elephants in water:
After 3 years of waiting, South Luangwa was worth the trip, despite 7 hr bus rides each way.

Reminder on Humanity

Today God decided I needed to remember that Malawi is the warm heart of Africa. This came after I openly admitted yesterday evening sitting around the campfire that I wanted to go home. Malawi has changed drastically the past 6 months and is no longer the place I fell in love with. There are queues everywhere: the filling station, the atm, the bank. There are national blackouts, the water board continually turns off the water, the cell phone network is mediocre at best, and we’re lucky when a filling station receives a tanker of fuel.

Today’s story isn’t much different from those special experiences we have while in Malawi that proves how nice people are here from time to time. It is centered around thoughtfulness and willing to go above and beyond for a stranger.

Petrol has been scarce for the past week. Although we have 3 work cars, all have run empty and have been stranded at various locations. Saturday gave me a full day to find petrol and fill up. I found a station near my house that had received gas a few hours earlier and got in the line, approximately 50 cars long. We continually moved ahead and I sat reading my book as a distraction from the vendors walking by. As I approached the station with 4 cars in front of me the news spread: they had run out of petrol. By now the gas meter is significantly below empty and I’m worried about being able to drive home.

I found a few cars waiting at the gas station by my house. Perhaps news had spread that they would receive a shipment. With no other options, I parked the first car and walked home to collect the second. It’s in such bad shape that pressing on the fuel causes the car to shudder, but somehow it makes it. I made friends with the couple waiting in front of me and exchanged numbers before I walked to the nearby shops. I received a call from the woman letting me know a car in front of me had left and I needed to move the car. At 5 o’clock we found out the shipment wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow. Not sure what to do, I consulted my new friends. The husband decided he would sleep at the station and call if there were any problems.

Sunday Morning: I woke up from a worker tapping on my window. In my half sleep I understood that someone was at the gate regarding the petrol station. I quickly ran out to find the couple waiting at the gate, notifying me that the shipment of petrol had arrived 2 hours earlier. They waited while I grabbed my things and upon seeing them again, I asked a very direct question: how did you know where I lived? Their answer was not something I expected: we asked. I live in a community with walls 10 feet high and each house hidden from view. I couldn’t tell you who lived on either side. And there are 40 houses in my area alone. Somehow they continually asked for me until they found the right house, all after they had received petrol and could leave on their way. They had tried calling but my phone was off.

They took me back to the station, arranged with the station attendant that I should be next to get fuel since he’d been waiting all night, and helped me move both cars. He also offered to assist drive the vehicles back to my house so I didn’t have to walk but I graciously declined, he had already done so much for me.

And. He didn’t ask for anything.

He did all of this without expecting compensation in return. It is rare in Malawi to find people willing to help out without getting something in return, and here this man and his wife had gone above and beyond for someone who drives 2 rav4’s while he drives a small Toyota pickup that’s missing windows and a door handle.

As if I didn’t get the point that God was trying to give me, there was another example waiting to chat with me.

As I was receiving petrol a man nearby overheard me speaking Chichewa. He was very impressed and asked where and how I learned. I explained that I had come to Malawi as a Peace Corps volunteer (we have a reputation of great language skills because we spend so much time mastering the language before we start working) and have continued on working at the hospital. This man, named Happy, explained that he had been taught by a PCV years ago and it made a huge difference in helping him reach his goal of becoming a journalist, which he did. He was so enthusiastic about Peace Corps that he even wants to donate to the program and assist in any way possible.

I couldn’t help but feeling like this was the reminder I needed on why I have stayed in Malawi for nearly 3 years. While most days leave me frustrated and apathetic, a day like today reiterates how wonderful people here really can be and that perseverance is one of the most important skills to learn while working in Malawi.

Dr. Wyllie

I want to deliver babies for the rest of my life. I’m prepared sleepless nights, teenage patients, malpractice insurance, and being the first person to greet a new life on a daily basis. I want to hold each spirit as they come into this world and take their first breath before I hand them over to the person who will love and care for them for the rest of their life. I want to see women transform from misery and frustration to overwhelming joy with just a glance at their child. Then I want to walk into the next room and do it again.

I’ve wanted to be an OB/GYN since high school. I entered BYU as a pre-med student and quickly realized I wasn’t prepared to commit the time and energy it would take to get into medical school, especially competing against classmates 5-7 years older. I joined Peace Corps unsure of what I wanted. The longer I was there, the more I knew I wanted to practice medicine. Then I thought I found the perfect compromise: Physician Assistant - an intense 2 year program that gives you the basic rights of practicing medicine under a physician. I felt confident when people asked what I wanted to do after Peace Corps; I had found a respectable profession that would provide a comfortable life and humor my interest in medicine. But who wants to compromise on what they’ll be doing for the rest of their lives?

So many people (most of whom are physicians) always asked why I would settle with being a PA and not go for med school. I found all sorts of great excuses: “I don’t want to be in school so long” “PA’s have a better family life” “I can do the same things without being on call”, etc. They were all excuses. The real reason I didn’t want to apply to medical school was because I’m afraid to fail. I’m sincerely afraid that I’ll apply and not be accepted, that I’m not smart enough or talented enough to succeed. But to hell with fear. Aren’t the greatest risks the ones with the biggest pay offs? I was scared to death about joining the Peace Corps and being away from home for 2 years, and now I’m on year 3 in Malawi. It doesn’t hurt that I’m unbelievably stubborn. I will be a doctor, and I’ll be good at it. And still have a family. And be a normal, sociable person. Ok, maybe not so normal.