We were going to church. On vacation. Some of us couldn't remember the last time we'd been inside a church without a wedding taking place. But in hyper-Christian Malawi, with our dear friend Pastor Moffat at the pulpit and our cheerful We Are One boys clamoring to sit in the front pews with us, it seemed like the most natural way to spend Sunday morning.

The church itself was stunning. A large graceful brick structure that Moffat had designed himself, with loads of natural light, arched walkways, and sky-high ceiling. The children sat on the floor off to the side, and broke into frenzied dance as soon as the music began. And in additional entertainment, some older kids (including our boys) sang a special song for the congregation.

I'll admit I don't recall Moffat's actual sermon topic, but I can vividly picture his style: the power with which he spoke, the enthusiasm and confidence that I'd rarely noticed when he visited us in Brooklyn. He was a magnetic speaker. Ethics class assistant Eneah hoped to become a pastor someday as well; charmingly, Moffat taught Eneah to emulate him. As the Tonga translator, Eneah literally followed Moffat's every step, copied all of his gestures, emphasized on the same words. It was so moving to see his respect for Moffat manifest in this manner.

Moffat. Not actually taken during the sermon...this is in the church's garden.

Moffat's cheerful brother Chimwemwe

A church leader thanks Kat and Rubina

Kip and Rubina contemplate barbershops

After church was over, Rubina and I had separate missions to attend to. She was going to speak to Moffat's AIDS group about proper health and nutrition, while I was meeting with the women of the fledgling sewing school about the possibility of forming a collective. I wanted them to make a living and support each other, but also provide free uniforms to our neediest students on an application basis. The woman who'd taught the school worked as a translator, as most of the women did not speak English. It didn't go as smoothly as I hoped, partly because Rosemary was unexpectedly unavailable to attend, and provide reassurances of how this could be accomplished.

Outside, Rubina was heartbroken over some of the people she'd met who were resigned to their impending deaths. It was time for some more cheerful matters. Moffat's ever-smiling young brother Chimwemwe drove us to his favorite barbershop so Kip could get a trim. It was our first chance to really walk around Mzuzu during the day time, as we'd been occupied with camp since arrival.

We took a rather unpleasant long walk along the highway to the football fields to see our boys play. Once there, it turned out the boys weren't playing...only the adult men, including everyone's favorite crush, Joshua. Benson was feeling a little anti-social and only talking to Harrison. Happy, Stanley and Eston played volleyball. Hamilton snuggled up to Jamie. She lent him her camera to photograph the players but to my delight, he told her that I'd taught him that he should not shoot into the sun.

Rubina and David

Stephen and Stanley

Back at Moffat and Rosemary's house, we quickly set up an assembly line to stuff our Jansport-donated backpacks with school supplies and toothbrushes. Rosemary had also prepared a special goodbye meal. We were heading out on Tuesday; I to southern Malawi and the rest of the group to safari in Zambia. Monday we'd be swamped with prep work for the last day of camp. This was our last chance for some quality time with our boys.

After the meal, the boys presented each of us with a handmade card (mine featuring drawings of Benson playing football) and a keychain carved with our names in trademark Malawian woodwork. It was heartwrenching to realize how difficult it would be to meet our special friends again—nearly impossible for them, but none of the volunteers were made of money, either! We savored this evening, gave lots of hugs, and reflected on the good times we'd had.

To find out more, please visit the We Are One Malawi website.

<   previous      •      next   >