Blue Hippos class photo

Green Elephants class photo

I've never been a fan of volunteer vacations. I don't think there's much a wide-eyed optimist could accomplish in a mere few days that a big bag of money couldn't do better—evidenced by the hefty placement fee charged by go-between agencies, much of which is a mandatory donation to the local organization. Serious volunteering requires a time commitment; tourists with less time are little more than warm bodies hugging orphans.

But We Are One was different—it was completely ours, no go-betweens. We'd worked six months on Camp Malawi—raising donations of both goods and cash, figuring out the logistics, creating lesson ideas, and of course saving our own coins for the pricey trip. My mind rejected the idea that it was nearly over.

I like kids. Maybe I'll have kids someday, but each day I grow more uncertain of my interest in being a parent. I'm definitely not used to kids however, and as a natural cynic, I struggled against unleashing my gentle sarcasm on credulous Malawian babes. The daily assembly was essentially a pep rally led by Rosemary, who summoned amazing energy for a woman over 60, calling on her past experiences as both a teacher and of course, a cheerleader. It was adorably goofy, and worked wonders on the children, but difficult for a jerk like me to get into. The chants though...seeing how much the kids loved them, knowing they'd helped create them, those on the other hand brought out my shit-eating grin and uncontrollable giggle fits.

Rosemary waits for her turn to speak at assembly

Red Lions view their gallery

Rosemary gives out our donated sporting goods

The Blue Hippos receive their new backpacks

On Day 3 I rapidly developed a fever. I don't know where it came from, and I hadn't felt ill until the first homeroom. I held out as long as I could because today was a nice creative day of photo scavenger hunts and Roy.G.Biv shots—one shot per color—but in the end I had to beg off. I got a ride back to the hotel, rested a bit, then dragged my ass back in time for afternoon homeroom so my precious Blue Hippos would be none the wiser. Despite what Rosemary had told me about Malawians' natural reticence towards touching, my girls wanted daily hugs and I couldn't let them go without.

Back at the hotel, our first night without beer, Tim and I powered through editing the photos we'd collected. Tim is used to being a director, but I have full faith in my editorial skills; there was a fight brewing just under the surface that we pushed away because we simply didn't have the time. We eventually narrowed down one photo for each student pair, trying to create galleries with good variety between the three days of shooting, and put our portable printer to use.

On Day 4, we set up the largest classroom for a viewing of the Lion King—with real electricity rather than a generator, no problems were anticipated. To my very slight disappointment, the more privileged children of Wukani were not entirely unfamiliar with the movie; however, it still delighted them to watch it in school and they reacted happily throughout.

After the movie the children were invited back to their classrooms to view the galleries Tim and I had set up; the joyful excitement from all the viewers—including the helpful Wukani teachers—was absolutely heartwarming. I wished we had enough paper to make doubles, but these children were used to sharing and seemed thrilled to receive their prints.

Finally came the big giveaway. I was still having misgivings about these students being more well-off than I'd originally expected, but when we gave away the Jansport-donated backpacks, brand-new, all different designs, stuffed with supplies and all the artwork they'd been creating, their screams were overwhelming. As Kip said later, it was finally his chance to feel like Oprah. We called them up one by one, to the applause of their classmates. The reactions—even from a kid like Sunny who said, "and now I have two!"—were truly uplifting.

The female students perform an upbeat dance of thanks.

After one final assembly, in which Rosemary donated an additional check to the Wukani School, the female students gathered for a special dance. Teachers banged on the drums, the girls shook their hips and sang their thanks in Tonga. Camp Malawi, while not entirely what I'd envisioned, was a success. The children cried, told us they'd never forget us, begged us to write, asked us when we'd return. It was only 4 days, which I'd assumed would be too short to have an impact, but they convinced me I'd been wrong.

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

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