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| Playing bao at Mvuu Camp in Liwonde |
The first five or six days of our Malawi trip we spent in resorts –
favourite holiday places from years past. They were fun and neat to show my
husband and children, but I felt torn and uneasy.
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| watching elephants in Liwonde |
As usual, people asked me, “Where are you from?” I didn’t want
to say Malawi
because I felt I had no claim on it anymore. I could say, “I was born here” but
that’s ancient history. When someone asked, “When was the last time you lived
here?” I had to think, and the answer – “21 years ago!” – made my connection to
Malawi
tenuous at best. Even my parents left 8 years ago – also the last time I
visited. That’s almost a decade.
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| walking in Blantyre |
Here I was in Malawi, the place I love most in
this world, but I was a tourist. It was a new experience and I did not like it.
When we entered the south, specifically Blantyre, then I started feeling more at
home. There were changes, but I could still find my way around. We met with
friends, even stayed with a good friend of Mum’s one night. Visiting with these
people, I could see myself living there again. It was so exciting to point out
places and recall memories for my family – to reminisce with Mum about this or
that.
Then we drove by our old house. Well, the plot where we lived our
whole time in Malawi.
But there is a towering wall with barbed wire around it now, and a solid metal
gate. All we could see was the tip-top of the old fig tree we used to climb in
the corner. Even now, when the image comes to mind, I can hardly breathe for
shock and an aching sense of loss.
We stayed at a missionary’s house just up the road. The
house is the same design as ours was. I could walk blind-folded through that
house, as long as there was no furniture! Staying there for a week was nightmarish.
I could almost believe I was home, except when I looked out a window.
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| high walls |
I used to perch on the sun-warmed wooden sill in the dining
room to talk to my dogs down below, or watch a Laurie in the bird bath under
the eucalyptus, or peer through our sparse hedge to see who the dogs were
barking at on the road. In this sister-house, the view of a dull grey cement
wall through an imposing double set of burglar bars was a sucker-punch to my
belly every time.
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| Sunset at LNP |
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| In front of the sister-house |
Using the front door was another anomaly, to say nothing of
the prison door with 3 locks that we struggled with each time we left the
house. In our old house, I remember using the back door exclusively. It had one
lock and it was never locked during the day.
What did all this teach me? I will never go back to visit
again. If we go, it will be to live.
That is a hopeless dream, though. I know that living there
as an adult is not the same as living there as a child. I’m not sure we could
adjust. And then too, my son might well disown us if we even suggest living
there.
