This is the first in a series of posts that I hope will be therapeutic for me. Many of the posts I’ve written have been challenging but these ones are most difficult because I will expose my own lack of good judgement. I will express my fears and doubts. Those who know me well know I am very uncomfortable with such a public display of feelings.

The story begins over a year ago. As I have written I was deeply attached to Africa after my first visit in 2005. My second visit only solidified in my mind the need to make a lasting and deep connection with the people, especially the children who were so loving and so much in need.

After much discussion I decided to open the orphan care in Ntcheu with the assistance of my friend Mabvuto. He and I spoke many times after my first visit to Malawi. We became very close. We looked forward to our chats. We shared life stories. We shared hopes. We became friends. I trusted his opinions. He was logical, clear headed, educated, knowledgeable and dedicated to the project. His background is in business. He is working as a teacher. I believed I had found the right person to run things in Malawi.

I was nervous about my first solo trip to Africa but I felt assured by the ever present vigilance of my friend. He repeatedly told me that my safety was his primary concern. He worked diligently to prepare for my arrival. He purchased a warm blanket, a DVD player, a teflon frying pan and a good towel to help ensure my comfort. He arranged a guest house that met my requirements of indoor plumbing, electricity and a refrigerator.

He greeted me at the airport with formality. He was dressed in a suit jacket and tie. His nephew drove us in his car from the capital of Lilongwe to the town of Ntcheu. The drive took about 2 1/2 hours. For most of the ride Mabvuto did not speak to me. He stayed in the front with his nephew. When we stopped for gas I asked him why he wasn’t talking tome. He then moved to the back seat and talked to me a bit but was pretty quiet.

We stayed alone together in two rooms at an isolated guest house. We didn’t like it because we had no one to talk to but each other. He missed his life in town. I missed being part of a community. We had little to say to each other. Mabvuto liked to go to sleep no later than 8:00 in the evening. We had long days of waiting for mini-bus rides into and back from town. The cost in transport was growing ever more expensive and the waiting time was getting less and less quaint as each day passed. His 16 year old niece Ireen was causing trouble at his house in town. She had taken a bag of their maize and sold it to a neighbour for a very low price. She began showing disrespect to Mabvuto by calling him “stupid” and repeatedly phoning him and telling him she was ill. She was obviously lonely and wanted him home. We invited her to stay at the guesthouse with us but she refused.

On the night that Ireen sold the maize Mabvuto had to go to town to deal with getting it back. He left the guest house at about 4:30. I expect him back by about 6:00 or 7:00 at the latest. The guards at the guest house started work at 6:00. At 6:30 there was no guard and no Mabvuto. I had his phone but by about 8:00 I had run out of credits because I’d been calling his house to see if he would soon return. Each time I called, Ireen told me he had not been to the house. I became extremely frightened. I can only recall one incident in my life that evoked as much fear as I was feeling that night. What would I do if he didn’t return? He had all of my money in his bank account. I didn’t know anyone except Harry who was now 11 hours away and Azikewe who is Mabvuto’s friend. How would I get into Lilongwe? How would I get my money? How would I survive? How would I get home?

Mabvuto did show up at about 9:00. He had made arrangements to retrieve the maize. I had made a plan for my survival. THe next day I got Ireen’s cell phone and took enough money out of the bank to pay for a trip into Lilongwe. I never wanted to be that alone and helpless again. I am independent. I probably was even as an infant. I can’t handle being helpless.

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