Day's Diary

May 14, 2007 ~ Mother's Day

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My mother was adopted and as I was growing up she said that there were two types of mothers – those who give birth and those who give love, and sometimes they are combined in one person and sometimes they come separately. I think the same is true for children. Sometimes they come through birth and sometimes through love, sometimes both in the same person and sometimes separately. I’ve learned that this Mother’s Day in Malawi. I was honored as a mother by children who have chosen me by love. Usually the parent adopts the child but in this instance these young adults have chosen me as their mother. I’ve been adopted by four special folks and each is precious in his or her own way. You will hear more about Thomas and Bessie, Alenafe and Charles in the diary entries ahead because they have made me “mummy.” We have become a family, of sorts.

Alinafe and Charles are here until their house is ready. Alinafe is a delight as a daughter. Her parents divorced when she was a baby and her father took custody of her but after he remarried, she found herself living with her grandparents because her stepmother did not want her. Both her parents are dead now and she sees her grandparents every once in a while but they are not close. She was a daughter to Charles’ mother, caring for her as she was dying. Alinafe said she felt like she was orphaned all over again when her mother-in-law died.  She warmed up to me immediately and we have had a great time together. She is teaching me to cook Malawian and I am teaching her to cook American (and the fellows eat whatever we make.) She is teaching me Chichewa. The other night, I was trying to get the pronunciation of a benediction correct so I could use it in church. She came to the doorway of the bedroom where I was reciting the words and laughingly offered correction. I invited her in to help me. She came and sat on the bed and encouraged and corrected me. We began laughing like school girls at one point when I tried to say “chiyanjano” (fellowship) correctly and it just wouldn’t come out right. When we finally stopped laughing, she asked me if this is what mothers and daughters do. I just hugged her and said they do in my family.

Friday she went with me to accompany Beth Merry’s group of Waynesburg College students from Blantyre to Likabula House in Mulanje. She had gone with me on Wednesday to welcome the group and had gotten along wonderfully well with the 11 girls. She taught them Chichewa songs and answered their questions about various things they had seen on the ride from the airport, so she was eager to see them all again. Shopping in Blantyre before we left took longer than we expected and so it was later when we got to Mulanje than we expected. We didn’t get lunch and we still had a two hour drive back to Zomba. At 4:30 p.m. we left, eager to at least get off the mountain before dark. We did. I don’t like to drive after dark here because there are so many pedestrians and bicyclists on the road and they are hard to see when they have dark clothing and no reflective wear, but there was no choice. When we got to Limbe, a very busy commercial area, it was 5:45 p.m. and we were in the middle of Malawian rush hour traffic. This includes pedestrians, bikes, minibuses, large trucks with great loads and traffic police who can stop traffic at will. We got tangled in two jams, one with a broken-down truck blocking the road and another with the police stopping traffic and making us turn around. We never found out why, we just obeyed. We called Charles to tell him we were stuck in Limbe and would be late, but that was all we could do as we inched along. It was 7:30 p.m. as we approached Zomba. It was dark, we were hungry and tired, and Charles had to leave for a night of prayer almost as soon as we arrived. I had no idea what to do for dinner. As I pulled up toward the gate to my yard, Charles came running out to open the gate, wearing my kitchen apron. He greeted us and welcomed us home with instructions to wash our hands, dinner was ready. The table was set and as we washed, he placed the meal on the table for us: fish (just the way I make it), chips and salad. He had a Diet Pepsi for me and a Cherry Plum for Alinafe. He had thought of everything. We declared him a wonderful son and husband. I told him it was the prefect Mother’s Day gift and then explained the American Mother’s Day tradition to him.

Saturday evening Bessie stopped in and when she heard about his cooking for us (very un-Malawian male behavior), she began to tease him about trying to take her place in the family. She claimed to be the oldest and the rightful cook for mummy. We laughed about the “sibling” rivalry that was developing. (Charles and Bessie have been great friends and study partners for two years and she is one of the ones who came to talk to me about the housing situation in the first place.)

Sunday I was out preaching as usual and when I got home about 4:00 p.m., I was greeted with homemade donuts and tea. About an hour later both Bessie and Thomas stopped in to check on how the travel and preaching had been. Thomas had been away for the weekend and said he missed us all and needed to see his “Zomba family” before he could settle down to study. We just chatted about our respective experiences of the day (four of the five of us had preaching assignments and Alinafe is the prayer warrior for all of us.) We are an unusual family, but for this time and in this place, we are a family.

Sometime later I found a card on the dining room table. The front of the card has butterflies and roses with the message that reads “Warm thanks especially for you. Your thoughtfulness has touched my life in a very special way.” They said they couldn’t find a Mother’s Day card here, but they hoped this would do. I tried not to cry, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve never gotten a Mother’s Day card before.