New Things!

This week I had a new experience. I'm sad to say it took me this long, but yesterday I willingly subjected myself to the mode of transportation known here as "minibus".

You see, most of Malawi doesn't own a car, and right now, even those who do are hard pressed to find petrol (gas) to make that car go.  We are no exception to this rule, so yesterday, when Michelle mentioned going to the chitinge market, I was a bit confused as to how this was going to happen. However, when I realized minibus was the transportation of choice for the day, I decided I would go along.  Michelle's parents are visiting from the US, and I figured if we could all have the new experience at once it might be more fun.

So, here's the process:
1. Walk to the front gate and wait.
2. Flag down a minibus going the correct direction. Now, this sounds easy, but ya gotta know just how to do this. There's a special technique that involves flapping your hand around like a dying fish. It's great. The buses carry signs in the front that tell you what area they're travelling to, so that's how you figure out which one to take.
3. Decide if YOU think there's actually room for you in the bus. Let me explain: These look like your typical 15-passenger church bus type thing from back home. Fairview folks, picture the old tan van. Except white. And they're about that old, too. These are in various states of disrepair, and the amount of black smoke coming out of the tailpipe is irrelevant. Now, when you ask a Malawian how many people fit in this bus, they tell you between 18 and 21. I am here to say, we beat that. 21 adults and 2 children, one of the adults (Michelle's dad) being 7 feet tall.
4. Squish into a seat with your new best friend!
5. Pay the "conductor" somewhere between 100 and 200 kwacha, depending on how naive you look and how much petrol is in the country.
6. Say a magical phrase in Chichewa that convinces the conductor to tell the driver to stop and let you off in the correct place!

Seriously, in the past I was not super thrilled about this concept, but it was much less terrifying than I anticipated. I actually kinda enjoyed it. However, I did have wonderful Malawian friends with me who knew all the magic words to say to make things go smoothly. I think I'd be a little more intimidated alone.
In fact, we had great plans of doing the whole thing over again today, but after a 30 minute wait with no luck finding a bus with vacant seats, we gave up. Clearly I'm still very American- but an American with one more Malawian experience under her belt!

Story Time: The Cracked Pot

     Once upon a time, a water bearer in Malawi had to large pots. One hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house. The cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master's house.  Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made.  But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.  "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."
     "Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"
     "I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house.  Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.
     The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."
     Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half of its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.
   The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the  path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it.  I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."
-a Malawian folk tale, told to me by a friend

Amazing, isn't it, how God takes our imperfections and works them for His purpose and glory?  Embrace the beauty that comes with being flawed.