If there’s one thing I commend my father for, is the reading habit that he instilled in us. When we were in primary school, he made us go to the National Library. He made us members and we would borrow 2 books at a time. The National Library in Zomba is located at Luangwa Parish. Then, we were living in Mulunguzi, so we would walk there.

At first I found the place boring. I didn’t like reading. I wanted to play instead. But dad forced us into reading. He said he wanted us to learn English while we were young. Then I started getting into the books. I remember I got into reading so much, sometimes I would borrow books to read at home, read them the same day, walk back to the library, return the books and borrow a bigger book which I wouldn’t finish reading in a few hours. I looooved reading. My favorite series was “American Girl”. I remember how much I wished I visited America because of those books! Lol. My sister Honest introduced me to these books. She always knew the shelves with the best books.

I remember how I would sit on the floor and read. And read. I wouldn’t even hear the choir practicing outside. Sometimes the librarian had to come and tap me on the shoulder to tell me it was time to close. Then I would walk out and it would feel like I was in another world, and now I have stepped into another world. And I would rush home to read the books I had just borrowed.

There was a time that, for some reason, I stopped reading as much. I lost the library books I had borrowed, and one of the books’ pages was torn… In my stupidity, I thought I would just keep quiet about it and get on with life, and forget about reading. Then on a Saturday morning, months later, I remember, dad came home and called me. I knew that voice. It meant I was in trouble. He said he got a letter from the National Library that said I hadn’t returned some books in months. I was so scared! And dad was so unhappy with me. I told him one of the books was torn and I was scared to tell him. He told me to find the torn book and get dressed. He drove me to the National Library and I met the head of the library-an elderly man who wore big glasses. His office had lace curtains, at the corner of the library. He made me apologize to the Head and I returned the torn book. Dad apologized and said he didn’t know I hadn’t returned the books.

You would think dad gave up on me then. No. He paid for the torn and lost book and gave me the pockets, and told me to go read (it was a lot of money! Maybe K500. That was a lot of money then lol). But Dad really wanted us to read. We would borrow books and when he is back from work, we would gather around him in the living room and he would read the books to us. He would usually carry Chisomo on his laps and we all pressed against him to read along and look at the pictures. He had such a dramatic voice! I still remember him reading “Little Red Riding Hood” to us and he had a great voice for the Big Bad Wolf. I have memories of him reading to us till date.

Anyway, today I was walking around Luangwa Parish and remembered the library. I decided to visit the place. It still had the same sign. The ceiling fans were still hanging, the poster reminding us to be quiet still hang near the entrance. The librarians were all new. The library looked smaller than usual-probably because I last went there when I was a kid. They told me to pay K100. I gasped! I asked them why they make people pay. The lady said, “new rules, since July 2016.” I asked her, “what about kids that can’t even afford to pay?” She said, “we let kids come in free.”

I paid the K100 and started looking at the books. I almost teared up when I found about 5 books I read in my childhood. They looked so small compared to what I remember. Probably cause I was a kid then and this was a big book to me. I grabbed one and read it right there. Then I decided to get some pockets and take some of the books home. One of the librarians’ face looked familiar. I remembered her. She remembered me too. She asked me about my family and what I am currently doing. She made me some pockets and I borrowed four books then I bid her farewell. Then I asked her where the Head Librarian was… “The one who wore big round glasses,” I said.
“Oh, him! He passed away. Ages ago.”
“Aww, I’m sorry,” I said.
Then I left.

Now I can’t wait to read these books again. One day, when I have kids of my own, I will make them read the way my father did. I don’t think I have ever thanked him for that. He always tells me to read. I remember what a breeze my dissertation was in my final year because he told me to READ. So I read everything to do with my topic and life was made easier for me. Special thanks to Malawi’s first president, who insisted that Malawians READ and brought about the National Library Services.

I think I will get into reading again and maybe make use of the pockets I have just acquired. Hopefully I don’t lose or tear some books. I doubt dad will come to my rescue this time.

Ever since I successfully managed to endure
four years of university torture, I’ve had the very same question flung my way…

“Nde ukutanino?”

Honestly, this question annoys me. For so many
reasons. I don’t mean the people who ask me are annoying per se, but the question
annoys me because of personal reasons. I know they mean well. They probably
have a “Congratulations!” dancing on their tongue, waiting for me to give them
some kinda good news.

“I’m working for [Insert prestigious
organisation here] and I’m a [Insert prestigious position here]. I get [Insert
a great salary + job’s great benefits here] and I’m happy! Life is GREAT!”
Maybe throw in, “I’m getting married in [Insert month here]!” for extra
seasoning.

Nope!

I have, on a couple occasions, just laughed
instead of answering the question. Recently, I stared blankly at the individual
who asked me the unpopular question. My mind trailed off.

“I’m staying at home, doing chores and spending
so many hours I’m ashamed of admitting on social media.  I sometimes take stupid quizzes like “design
your house and we’ll tell you when you’ll die”. I am struggling with my health;
I collapse sometimes, especially when I’m stressed, which is usually caused by
overthinking and my very unhealthy habit of not eating and/or sleeping enough.
Sometimes I find vacancies that I tell myself I will apply for, and lose
interest in the job when I’m about to apply so they just end up as starred
messages on my WhatsApp, or in my email draft folder. I have managed to break
my habit of nail biting, but I subconsciously bite them when I’m deep in
thought once in a while.”

Then I remembered that I had to use my brain to
come up with an answer instead…

“Palibe. Ndikungogona
kunyumba. Ndikupuma kaye,” I said quickly, then let out a laugh.

“Oh ok. Ayi zipumani,” they said.

I should have probably come up with a better
reply. But oh well.

Honestly, I don’t know where my life is
heading. I don’t know what I’ll be doing in a year, where I’ll be or who will
be around me. I don’t even know about next week. Heck! I don’t even know about
tomorrow. When you’re living in your parent’s home without much happening in
your life, you remember that you are sapuni.
You wake up with plans… well, not very important plans… maybe I’ll tidy my
room. Or I’ll go collect ka jacket
ndinapeza pa kaunjika kaja koma kokula mmikonomu kwa a tailor in town… or
I’ll try to edit my CV this time and actually apply for that research assistant
job… those type of plans, but plans all the same… Then mum wakes up and just
says, “ndikufuna upite mtown: upite ku chigayo. Kenako ukagule anyezi, tomato,
bread…” and before you know it, you have a list of things to do in town. This
is when you realise that the driving lessons they paid for you were so they
could easily send you in town, not necessarily that their daughter should have
driving skills.

My mum’s sending-you-to-town trips interest me.
Her list is usually short. But you can spend over 2 hours in this very small town
of Zomba. When you’re in town, she will call you and tell you she forgot
something else. Then she will call again when you’re almost done and you have
to go back to square one. By the time you’re getting home, you feel tired and
hungry. But at least you had a had the chance to check if the tailor adjusted
your jacket yapa kaunjika yokula mmikono
(no, he didn’t. he said I should go mawa.
He will DEFINITELY have it ready then. He said the same dzana).

Another thing unemployment has done to me is it
has made me care less (mind the gap) about my appearance. Back in college, I
would never go on campus with unkempt hair, shabby clothes that don’t match.
Now, I wear the first t-shirt I see and I’m okay with wearing masilipasi. This morning, mummy sent me
to town. It was her usual short list. But she told me to hurry because “tomato akufunika lunch yomweyino”. This was
somewhere around twenty to twelve. So I just wore what I could and rushed
outside (yes, nnali nsanasambe. Nndadzuka
mochedwa). As I was about to get into the car, she asked me, “Upita mmutumo muli choncho?” I had
African threaded my hair the night before. The opportunity cost of unbraiding
it for just about an hour’s time in town was too high. I was going kumsika anyway.

Lol. Guys. I would have been ashamed before.
But I laughed. I laughed hard.

“Mum, it’s just Zomba Town. I’ll be back before
you know it!”

Poor mum. She just looked at me, shook her head
and probably muttered to herself, “Koma
mwana uyu nde akhwatchitsatu.”

Which brings me to the next question I get
asked these days.

“Have you found ‘someone’ yet?”

Respectful people say, “Mukupephelela aBrother koma?”

“Munamaliza school’tu,
nde mukudikila chani?”

Eeeeh. This topic.

You know, when you’re far, you look at a watch
and admire its beauty. You look at those hands moving around in complete
harmony and it’s just beautiful. But then when you open the back side of the
watch, and you come close, you will see that there’s SO MUCH going on. It’s
actually more complex than you initially thought.

Yes, that’s what marriage is like to me now.
From afar, beautiful! We wrote “goals” under pictures of couples with matching
clothes. Those beautiful photos of families looking happy made it all look
rosy. I kept pushing the thought of marriage away, like, let me finish
undergrad first. Now I’m close and I see how complex everything is. Marriage is
WORK! Finding and being the right partner is also not that simple. It’s not
just some pretty photo and great caption, or a big colourful wedding. It’s a
lifetime commitment to someone you will have to stand for the rest of your
lives. And honestly, it scares me! (It scares a lot of us, I’m just brave
enough to admit it). Then someone comes along and adds the pressure by asking
“tivina liti?”

Anyway, my life currently has been interesting,
but I’m loving it. Despite all the uncertainties, I appreciate the fact that I
am in my parents’ home and there isn’t too much pressure to move out or get a
job. I want a job I am satisfied with. I want to do things I am actually happy
with. I know a lot of people say you have to throw your CV everywhere. My reply
is always the same: I do not like to have my CV all over town in the name of
trying my luck. I know what a long shot it is, but I do not want to settle and
work in a sector I have zero interest in and be stuck in some boring cycle. A
friend gave me this piece of advice that has helped me so much. She said, “You
are in your own time zone. Don’t you dare get tempted to look at what your
friends are accomplishing and start to look down on yourself. It’s not a race.”
That gave me so much peace. When a classmate asked me for advice on what to do
because he got offered two jobs at once, I was tempted to look down on myself
and say to him, “really? You call that a problem? Not knowing which job to
pick? I can’t even get an interview!” But I stopped myself. I got happy for
him. I helped him make a decision. That is all. Different time zones.

Finishing university was a great feeling. I
loved it! My graduation was even more exciting. Chancellor college wasn’t easy,
friends. And despite my unemployed state, I thank God and celebrate it every
day. No one, and I mean no one, can ever take that away from me: I got a
degree. I worked for it. And I am so darn proud of me, so should a lot of us
unemployed graduates. There’s an achievement we should never forget or
underrate. Yes, we can be more, and we will be, but let’s also count our
blessings.

There
are so many long term goals that I have, and most of them do not even involve
working a 7-5 job. I have never lost sight of those goals. Sometimes I feel
like just another dreamer, but I know I will get there. When it comes to
marriage, I have learnt to lay all my burdens down at Jesus’ feet. He knows my
tomorrow better than I do. He also knows what makes me anxious. I get comforted
knowing the one who knows my tomorrow is the one who is guiding me. I also find
comfort in knowing I am operating in my time zone-things will happen when it is
the right time, that is all. I know we have all heard that same message before
and it starts to sound corny, but believe me, you will look back at all this
one day and agree with me- IT WILL HAPPEN AT THE APPOINTED TIME.

Yours truly,

An unemployed economics graduate

-The pain from every
setback is just the feeling of your wings taking form.

– Now,
Jesus said, in the Word. Jesus said, “If you ask the Father anything in My Name
I’ll do it.” But sometimes, when God performs something and does something that
we ask for, yet we don’t…It comes in an unexpected way, and sometimes in an
unexpected place, and at an unexpected time. But God will answer in His Own
way, if you’ll just believe it. See? See?  You must believe it,
accept it, and then don’t take it back. Hold onto it. Lay hold of it, and say,
“This is it. God said it. That settles it. If God said so, that’s finished, no
matter how long.” There might not have been one molecule come into existence
when He said, “Let there be” for a world. But, He, He is Eternal. And after
while, become molecules and atoms. And it come up, because He said it to be
that way. 

62-0120 –  The Unchangeable God Working In An Unexpectable Way 
    Rev. William Marrion Branham

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if you died? If you think too much like me, then you probably even imagined your funeral.
I have. A lot of times.
Especially when I’ve collapsed, or fallen ill. Recently I got so ill I told mum I was going to die. But she replied, calmly as ever, “You’re not going to die, Fai,” and she patted me on the back, but I had already thought as far as my funeral. My mind travels so fast! I don’t know how she knew I would be well (I was in serious pain) because a few days later, I was back on my feet.

Once I thought, “so this furniture in the living room will be moved and I’ll have to lay here?” Then I shook the feeling away.
Another time, I wondered where all my clothes would go. My notepad has some funny and questionable doodles, maybe I should tear those pages away. What about my laptop? It has a password only I know. What would happen? Then I mentally scorn myself and tell my brain to produce happy thoughts instead.

I have stumbled across some Facebook accounts of people that passed on. Some have wall posts from grieving friends and family. I remember one very vividly; the father posted something on the wall of his beloved daughter almost everyday. It made my heart break. I dropped some tears. Some friends post grieving messages and sometimes happy memories on their wall. It makes me so sad. But I also noticed that as time goes by, the wall posts start to reduce. Once a week. Once a month. Then maybe after a loooong while.
Maybe they have finally accepted it. It kind of makes me glad, to see they are beginning to accept the loss of their beloved friend or family member. But sometimes I can’t help but think, “maybe they are forgotten now.”

I think the silliest reason why I would think of death was when I was a kid. When my mum had given me a good whopping, I would think, “I hope I die so she can miss me.” But I didn’t die. I just cried and played zawana a few hours later, and forgot about it. Recently, the same kind of thought came to my mind after I had a fight with a close friend. I felt I was right and they did me wrong. I thought, “I hope I die so they can miss me.”
I mentally slapped myself. But I laughed a little also. I didn’t think those childish thoughts would still follow me.

I know people forget you eventually, but I, at least, want to be remembered for leaving an impact on someone’s life… Maybe influenced them to be a better version of themselves. Hopefully some wrong I did them doesn’t overshadow the good I did. I hope I’m remembered because of the laughter I brought into their life. Or maybe my loudness. But the happy type. Maybe my singing? I don’t know… something good, at least. I don’t think anyone wants to be remembered for their bad.

Anyway. After all is said and done, I just want one person to be pleased with me, that’s God. What matters most is your eternal destination. All of this is temporary. Your clothes won’t matter. Your hairstyle, your gorgeous shoes, all your wealth: all useless.

My ultimate goal is to hear Him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Let me leave my favourite quote right here so you can ponder on it:

“Be conscious of your littleness. Who are you? Stick your finger in a bucket of water and pull it out, and find the hole you put your finger in. Then say, “That was me.” You’re nothing. You’ll not be missed after, little while after you’re gone. They have a funeral procession out here, and that’s all. But your influence will live on, and on, and on.” 63-0112 – Influence. Rev. William Marrion Branham.

P/S: Said close friend and I made up a few hours later. I played some game on my phone and forgot about everything.

The news that Dr Richard Mussa has passed on is very very hard to believe. Surely, this is a mistake? I just bumped into him in town the other day! He was alive and well, he looked very healthy. What was this? It took me so long to accept it; heck, I don’t even think I have accepted it yet, to be honest.
So who was Dr Richard Mussa? He was the man I feared most when going into third year; frankly, the reason I wanted to major Sociology instead of Economics. Most Chancellor College students knew Dr Mussa. Social Science students talked about him a lot, even those from other programs. His name carried fear. Before I even met him, I was already scared.

“You think this stuff is hard? Kuli Mussa PhD uku!” they would say.
Fear. Panic. 

But I overcame it anyway. I registered to major economics and took Quantitative Methods after some people talked the fear out of me. ECO 314. Dr Mussa’s first class involved him informing us that he knew people say he is tough. 

“But it’s the course, not me. Ask any student anywhere in the world that has ever taken Quantitative Methods.”

I remember putting some motivational quote on the first page of my hard cover. I would look at that when I’m feeling like the dumbest kid in that Quants class, and I would feel that way every day. I remember I would sit in front, sandwiched by two genius girls, Temwa and Precious. And I would sit there and take down everything he would write on the board. “Maybe I’ll understand when I’m studying this later”, I would encourage myself. Nope. Didn’t understand a thing still.

Quants was that course that required your full attention and dedication. It was tough. And Dr Mussa didn’t baby us. His tests were so hard for me, I didn’t understand the concepts and I was honestly just going with the flow. I heavily relied on ‘madis’ and my prayers were always, “Dear God make this year go by so fast, I’m tired.” But my third year was so long. The days dragged. The two hours of Quants on Monday and Thursday felt like four. No wonder I was almost always on the forefront to ask for a break.

The first time I actually sat down to talk to Dr Mussa was when I miserably failed his first test. I went into his office, almost in tears. I told him how much I’m failing and how I don’t understand a single thing, even though I’m trying with all my might. Here is the thing with Dr Mussa: he was a very very good motivational speaker. He told me it was fear that was holding me back and that if I only remove it, I will be fine. I tell you, I went out of his office that day feeling like I could fly. I was pumped. He made me feel like I was the greatest, and that all I had to do was learn from the mistakes I made prior to this test.
Then it happened again. I failed test 2. I didn’t even get it. I was so mad. I did what he told me to do. I worked hard for this paper! I was so mad! The man who formed this test paper wasn’t the same man I met in his office few weeks back. What was this? This was a different Dr Mussa!! 

Did I mention that Dr Mussa did not baby us?
And that he sometimes told us he would dream the next set of questions for our tests?
Who dreams of questions to set for third year’s in a course as hard as Quantitative Methods?

Dr Mussa did not baby us. He often told us that he wanted us to be the same level as Harvard students. Harvard, you guys! He said he wanted us to be brilliant economists.

The next time I went into his office was after we reopened for our second semester. He was going to lecture us on Quantitative Methods II. I told him I had failed his exam and had to write a supplementary exam. I told him how this was my first ever supp and I was worried I would fail this semester again. He pulled out his laptop and checked my results. He said I did well towards the end. He gave me another great talk. People talk of a certain kind of mouse that bites it’s victims while they’re asleep, and it blows on the wound and it soothes so much that the victim does not feel the sting… that was what Dr Mussa did. He was different from the man who would form those exam questions. Here he was, blowing on my stinging wound again.

But I learnt a lot from Dr Mussa. I learnt hard work. I learnt that things do not come easy. I learnt how to discipline myself, how to humble myself and work with the geniuses to pass the course. I learnt a lot about team work. I also learnt I could achieve anything, if I put away the fear first. My second semester was waaay better than my first, and I know it was because I actually did what he advised me to do.

In Sociology, we used one of his works to talk about policies and planning. I loved his work. “A Dangerous Divide: The State of Inequality in Malawi.” I read this work over five times. I was impressed. I have always been obsessed with inequality gaps, and this work was very clear and eye opening. He was more than just a statistics genius; he did a lot of research for Malawi too, and at a young age! I remember how he always stressed that development plans are not the problem (we are actually very excellent at that as a nation), but the implementation. He stressed the implementation part a lot. I never forget that part.

The last time I sat down and talked to him was when I was looking for my dissertation topic. Some of the lecturers were advising me against my topic. They said they saw no gap, that someone had already written about it. I felt defeated, but I decided to talk to him anyway, just to get one last opinion. His door was always open. He would never tell you he was too busy to help. Such a humble soul. Anyway, he told me my topic was doable, and he gave me direction like where to get the data from. He was the same Dr Mussa that would leave you feeling pumped and motivated after you had failed his test. 

So here we were, in the packed Chanco coaster, on our way to his home village, Balaka. Some women behind me talk about his short illness.. about how he was almost done with the house he was building.
“It’s so huge!” they say, “Can you imagine, he won’t live in the house he’s been building all along?”
And he won’t get to see the fruits from the economists he lectured and mentored. That’s the heart breaking part.
We are at his home, sitting outside. The men are carrying his body to the grave, which is just a few meters from the house. There are sounds of weeping everywhere. I’m with Mercy, his cousin. We hold each other as we weep for this great man. His mother waves at his son and the resemblance of the hand is striking. It is almost like that of Dr Mussa. I can see him write on the board in Room B with the other hand on the pockets of his jeans.
Too soon, sir. Too soon.

– “But reducing inequality will not be a benign by-product of growth under trickle down assumptions. It will only happen as a result of deliberate joint policy efforts, which all Malawi’s government and civil society must unify behind.” From Oxfam’s report that Dr Mussa authored. 

May Dr Richard Mussa’s soul rest in eternal peace.

I took this picture while waiting for the men to return from the graveyard.

Friend tagged me in this 7 years ago on Facebook. I’ll answer it now ?

WHAT WAS YOUR:
1. Last beverage: Water
2. Last phone call: Taxi guy
3. Last text message: My friend Mercy
4. Last song you listened to: I WILL FOLLOW YOU – ANTHONY EVANS
5. Last time you cried: last night

HAVE YOU EVER:
6. Dated someone: …
7. Been cheated on: …
8. Kissed someone & regretted it: …
9. Lost someone special: yes
10. Been depressed: yes
11. Been drunk and threw up: never been drunk before

LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS:
12: red
13: white
14: black

THIS YEAR HAVE YOU:
15. Made a new friend: no
16. Fallen out of love: no
17. Laughed until you cried: not yet
18. Met someone who changed you: no
19. Found out who your true friends were: yes
20. Found out someone was talking about you: no, too early for that???
21. Kissed anyone on your friend’s list: nooo

RANDOM:
22. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life: 80% of them
23. How many kids do you want: Max 3
24. Do you have any pets: yes
25. Do you want to change your name: just my last ????
26. What did you do for your last birthday: travelled and met some friends, went to church and hung out with family
27. What time did you wake up today: 5am, then 7:40 am
28. What were you doing at midnight last night: talking on the phone
29. Name something you CANNOT wait for: Heaven
30. Last time you saw your Mother: last night
31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: hang on, lemme think about it
32. What are you listening to right now: sound of a fan
33. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yes, my shift manager at McD’s!
34. Who’s getting on your nerves right now: no one
35. Most visited webpage: probably Branham.org
36. Longest Relationship: with myself ?
37. Best Online Friend: I have loads of those
38. Relationship Status: single
39. Zodiac sign: Gemini
40. Male or female: Female
44. Hair color: Black
45. Long or short: Short (& proud!!)
46. Height: 159 cms
47. Do you have a crush on someone: no
48. What do you like about yourself: I have passion (as cheesy as that sounds)
49. Piercings: nope. Just on my Saviour ??
50. Tattoos: never
51. Righty or lefty: righty

FIRSTS:
52. First surgery: don’t think I’ve had this
53. First piercing: never
54. First best friend: Neema M (hiiiieee)
55. First sport you joined: Netball back at ZPPS
56. First vacation: Boadzulu, Mangochi

RIGHT NOW:
57. Thinking about: starting the day
58. Craving: Mac n cheese
59. Eating: nun
60. Drinking: nun
61. I’m about to: finish this, pray, and go grab brekkie
62. Listening to: the fan blowing away, and birds outside the window
63. What time is it: 08:23AM

YOUR FUTURE:
64. Want kids: Deffo!
65. Get married: I can hardly wait!
66. Career: I dream large on this: Writer, Musician, Program Manager or M&E Officer, Researcher, Activist, and Home maker

WHICH IS BETTER:
67. Lips or eyes: depends…
68. Hugs or kisses: also, depends
69. Shorter or taller: REAAAALLLYYY depends
70. Older or Younger: again, depends
71. Romantic or spontaneous: both, please ?
72. Nice stomach or nice arms: both ?
73. Sensitive or loud: both, also
74. Hook-up or relationship: relationship
75. Furries or Scalies?: Curries all the way!

HAVE YOU EVER:
76. Kissed a stranger: nope
77. Drank hard liquor: nope
78. Lost glasses/contacts: No
79. Sex on first date: nooooo
80. Broken someone’s heart: I think so
81: Had a crush on a person of your gender: never
82. Been arrested: nope
83. Turned someone down: yes
84. Cried when someone died: why not????
85. Fallen for a friend: umm lol

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
86. Yourself: yes!!!
87. Miracles: happen every single day
88. Love at first sight: yes!!!
89. Heaven: definitely. This is what I hope for
90. Santa Claus: never
91. Kiss on the first date: noooo
92. Angels: yes! I have one watching me right now (hi!!!)

ANSWER TRUTHFULLY:
94. Had more than 1 girlfriend/boyfriend at a time: nope
95. Did you sing today: not yet. I sing everyday, so I’ll do so soon
96. Ever cheated on somebody: eeh
97. If you could go back in time, how far would you go: foundation of the world ??
98. The moment you would choose to relive: lemme think. I have loads
99. Are you afraid of falling in love: not anymore ?
100. Are you afraid of posting this as 100 truths: nope ?

Sorry my answers were uninteresting. But I did this because I was bored, so ✌?

14 December, 2016
Babysis,
Congratulations for the gazillion time for being selected to university. I can imagine how excited you are, the anxiety… all the stories you have heard about how difficult college life can be… I feel like I am talking to me, in 2012, when I was also selected and I didn’t know what to really expect from the university experience. I am writing you this, and to that girl too, who stood where you are standing now. I am supposed to be writing my dissertation but here I am, trying to write to you before I’m an alumnus.
I have learnt so much in my time here in college. But the biggest lesson I’ve learnt is that God is faithful and he always keeps his promises. If he has trusted you enough to bring you to the Red Sea, HE WILL BRING YOU THROUGH IT. How he will do it is none of your business. Your job is to trust he will get you through it. I never expected to get to where I am today… heck, I thought those 20% MAT 122 grades I got would get me weeded! If I can do it, baby girl, don’t let anyone tell you you can’t do it!
Because I am very loud and talk way too much, here is a summary of things I learnt and would love to pass down to you:
1. Don’t ever ever ever skip church because you want to study or write an assignment. Never steal God’s time. Remember, God owns nobody. He will give you back whatever you give him, a hundredfold. Believe this.
2. Fight procrastination and laziness with all your might, especially in your first years of uni. Being a bit lazy in your fourth year is however, not entirely frowned upon (you will understand when you get where I am).
3. Don’t skip classes just because you don’t feel like going to class. Your brain will remind you of that careless behaviour while you panic in an exam room (experienced this a couple of times).
4. Don’t be an idle student. Speak up. Ask questions. If you can, make sure your course instructor knows you and has a sense of who you are. It will come in handy someday.
5. Join a club on campus. Do something. Have a passion and invest your time in it while you are still in college (there’s a club for right about any passion here on campus. If there isn’t one, start it). You will learn how to manage time, organise activities, work in a team and gain experience.
6. Attend every play, debate, art exhibition, quiz, panel discussion, concert, that you POSSIBLY can. Your soul needs it. Your mind needs it. You need it. Make memories.  
7. The library was built for a purpose. Find a comfortable studying place or two, and make those spots your home. I guarantee that your GPA will appreciate it.
8. For assignments, collect as much information as you can before you get started. Pace yourself, but don’t put it off too long.
9. Do take naps. You are human, not a machine.
10. Don’t worry about a failed grade. I know it will tear you apart, but babygirl, you are here to LEARN. This is how you LEARN.
11. If you don’t feel like studying, don’t force yourself. Quality over quantity, every time.
12. Be friends with the hardworking kids. (You’re welcome).
13. EAT. Don’t skip meals. If you’re too broke for a meal, call home and tell them. Don’t EVER keep that kind of information to yourself.
14. Always get to your exam room early so you are calm. Refrain from people who try to cram information into their head 2 minutes before the exam. Relax. You got this. If you didn’t thoroughly study a certain topic, don’t worry about that. There’s little you can do at this point.
15. Always do these three things before stepping out of your room in the morning: Pray, make your bed and check yourself in the mirror.
16. Go home and refresh whenever you can.
17. Makes friends with your classmates. You are stuck with them for the next four years. Make them your family.
18. Don’t waste time on boys. They are young and figuring out life just like you, too. Invest this time in knowing yourself. Your Prince Charming, Love of Your Life, Soulmate, Your Mtedza (or whatever silly pet name you will have for each other) is out there. Do your school first.
19. Have clear short term and long term goals. I mean, have BIG dreams. The bigger, the better. And work towards them everyday.
20. Own an umbrella and those ‘China’ plastic shoes. Don’t let the rain be a reason why you skipped class.

My list in not exhaustive and it does not mean that this is exactly what I did myself, there is a lot I wish I did better (punctuality was a big problem for me, please do better!). College for me has been a learning experience and with each year, I dropped some of the habits I brought here. I want you to do better, learn from me and have the best experience.
Lastly, as I have always told you, the beauty of college is you can be WHOEVER you want to be. Choose to be a Christian. When you come to the end of your undergrad, you will look back and thank God you chose that way. Don’t worry, God is there beside you. Just put your hand in his and breathe. You will never fail you.
I still have three more papers to study for and my dissertation isn’t going to write itself (manage your time better than I did, too). Enjoy the journey.
Love,
Your soon-to-be-a-Chanco-alumnus sister

Last week, I was by my best friend’s
home in Blantyre, and I had to return home on a Wednesday morning. Dad was also
in Blantyre and he said he would come by and pick me up early in the morning. So
I got ready and waited for him to pick me up. Within minutes, we were on our
way back to Zomba.

As we were turning Pa Kudya to get to Limbe, I told him
that I learnt of a route that would take us there faster. It was a newly
constructed road that I learnt of in my short stay there. I told him it would
take us close to five minutes to get to Limbe Market and that we would pass by
a certain technical college. He agreed and we continued our journey, as we commented on the amount of humps along the road.

I got my phone from my lap and was
busy replying to some good morning texts that I got carried away. When we got
to the ‘get to Limbe within five minutes’ turn, I looked up and dad showed no
signs of slowing down.

“This is the turn, dad!” I said.

“Nah. I think it’s still up the
road,” he said.

“Are you sure? We used that route last
time.”

Dad, in his most chilled voice said,
“no, I remember this place. We pass a primary school first. The road you’re
talking about is dusty and too bumpy.”

Okaaaay. Maybe I had it wrong this
whole time, then. I continued to text half-attentionally as we chatted away
about land, my stay in Blantyre, et cetera. We came across some beautiful
houses being built on the side of the road. He told me about the Soche Hill and
how it used to have very few houses, but with population growth, more and more
people started building up the hill. It sounded like he really knew this area
and he was sure of the direction we were taking. We came to the primary school he
mentioned and kept going. He mentioned that we would use a road just before Angelo Goveya (Angels Go There, y’all
know how us Malawians Chichewalise English words) but it wouldn’t take long to
get to Limbe.

So we kept goiiiiing. I had to ask
him if he was sure this was the route he was talking about.

“I think the turn is anywhere from
here,” he said.

I tried again.

“Dad, I don’t remember reaching this
far when we used that route. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention, but this is
taking longer than usual.”

“Wait, what did you say you pass by,
when you use that route?”

“Soche Technical College. There’s a
little valley somewhere in between. They are improving the road, it is tarred
now. It’s a really short….”

“Ooooooh. I know what you mean now!!
I’m so sorry. I understand you. I knew that route but it was so bad, so I
thought you meant one further from that turn. That one is bad too, but better.
I’m so sorry, Faith.”

Honestly, I was a little annoyed. I
felt like he didn’t even want to hear me out because he thought I didn’t know
what I was talking about. The route we took was taking toooooo long and I was
getting impatient.

“We would have arrived by now, you
know,” I displayed my annoyance.

“Yeah I know. I didn’t get you the
first time,” he said.

We reached a little trading centre,
kids running around, men and women walking all over the road and not responding
to dad’s hooting. He slowed down and rolled down the window and talked to the
first man he saw.

“Amwene,
khala ngati tasochela. Njila yaku Limbe ndi iti?” (My guy, I think we are
lost. Which way goes to Limbe?)

The man pointed down the road.

“Take the left turn, where you see
those minibuses parked, and keep going.”

“Thank you,” dad said.

“I’ve missed the turn I was talking
about somewhere.”

The road this man pointed was bumpy
and longer, very unpleasant compared to the one I suggested but we filled it
with discussions about my dissertation and the progress I have made, and we
talked about a few other things. Finally, we could see minibuses at the Limbe
market and we had reached our ‘destination’, many minutes late. All the while, I
was fighting the urge to blurt out “I TOLD YOU SO, DAD! YOU THOUGHT I DIDN’T
KNOW THIS CITY, HUH? WELL I DO! AND YOU GOT IT WRONG!” lol, you know how rare
that opportunity is; but he didn’t make it easy. For one, he had apologised for
it. I admired that a lot. I know it takes a lot for an older person to
apologise to someone younger than them, let alone a PARENT apologising to their
CHILD. Bless his heart, this man always impresses me.

There was a silence as we queued behind
slow minibuses to get to the main road.

“You know what, I have learnt not to
question these things,” he started, “I know God allowed me not to understand
you the first time around for a reason, and in my life, I have learnt to ignore
the urge to ask “Why, Lord?” and to accept things as they are.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“You never know, maybe there was an
accident the devil set for us that God was preventing us from,” he continued.

“Yeah, you are right, dad,” I said, “Maybe
around the technical college, we would have been involved in an accident.”

“Yes, but I mean, even on the road
to Zomba, there might have been an accident, or something unfortunate waiting
for us, a trap the devil laid, and God just allowed us to delay here to protect
us. In my life, I have learnt not to ask “Why” and accept things as God’s plan
that I may not know about.”

I agreed. But I felt so ashamed of
myself inside. What he said hit me so hard. Dad is really not one to ask “why?”
or to try to look back to see what could have been done, where things could
have improved or where exactly things went wrong. He just takes it all in and
moves forward with life. Some things that have happened in his life, I don’t think
I would have handled them the way he did. I hardly see my father worried or
complaining. He is always positive and letting things beyond his control be.

Me, on the other hand, I am a
control freak. I want things done this way
at such and such a time. My close
friends know how disturbed I get when things don’t go according to MY plan. It’s
almost like I have a script made at the start of my day and expect the whole
universe to go by it so things go well for me that day. I am ashamed to say,
when some things happened to me in my life, I rushed and asked God, “WHY??”

This really changed my perception on
a lot of things. On the road home, I looked at dad for a second and actually
admired him and the way he leads his life, so worry-free! There he was, humming
along to some South African gospel songs. I smiled and sincerely thanked God
for letting this man be my father. I have learnt a lot from him. I am learning
to let things beyond my control go, and to let God take control and do however
he pleases. I know he is watching over me and making sure I am okay, and I
thank him for that wrong route we took. I have taken so many wrong routes in my
life, myself! And I would question it, and worry if I would even reach my destination. 

Well, Dad and I arrived home very safely, and I would like to think that is how God intends to lead my life, too.

– Psalm 37:23- The steps
of a [good] man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighteth in his way.

–Train your mind to see the good in
everything.

–The
Christian has not one worry in the world. They should be the most freest,
happiest people in all the world. ‘Cause there’s nothing… You can’t lose. And
all things work together for good to them that love God. So how can we lose?
There’s just nothing to lose, is there? We’re just anchored away in Jesus
Christ, going home to glory, having a good time while we’re going along, God
providing everything for us. Marvelous.- William Marrion Branham, 54-0301 The
Angel Of The Covenant

–You will get there when you are
meant to get there and not one moment sooner. So relax, breathe, and be
patient.

I grew up in a small ‘city’ and we
went to a small church, which I still go to, till date. So basically everyone knows
everyone and you can’t do something without your neighbour knowing about it. I
remember how I had this view of how all the elders in our church were ‘judgy’
and as time passed by, I started to develop an ‘I don’t care about what you
think of me since all you do is pick my mistakes’ attitude, which, looking back, can make you quite destructive.

But here is the thing about me: I am
very very sensitive. Things easily get to me. I do well with positive criticism
and all, but if you tear me down and be negative, I kid you not, I will
probably have a good cry after. Sometimes you could be having a bad day and you
just kinda raise your voice at me, and I will seriously crumble (I know, I know
*hides*). I will replay words said, over and over again. If it’s through a
text, I will read it and it will hurt like you’re pulling a knife through me,
till I feel that I’ve had enough of the pain and delete it. Put simply: Ndine wopepela. I can act all tough and
cool about it in your face for a minute but I’ll probably be dying for some
alone time to cry about it. Luckily, this doesn’t happen often (Thank you,
Jesus!).

To be honest, I would lie if I said
I don’t admire people who are so strong, people who get bullied online, for
example, but they just.. don’t care.. *gasps!* Like, how does one just learn to
IGNORE all this negativity? I have seen how mean people can be on social media.
I seriously don’t know how they can just decide to turn all that negativity
into positivity and just.. do them. Sometimes, even have all these handy little witty replies that would take me a gazillion years to come up with. That kinda strength really interests me.

So back to this attitude I
developed. I started to try to not care. Remember I just said how things get to
me so easily. I have, for a very long time, tried to say I don’t care what
people think about me; “I will do me, you do you” and all those little empowering
quotes you can think of. But I have learnt to finally admit that I do care, but I am more selective of what
to care about.

One thing that I noticed about the people
I thought were ‘judgy’ is that, their stories kinda carried some truth in it.
Always. Maybe not entirely, because they were uncertain, but there was a very
common thing, which was an element of truth. Another thing I learnt as time
passed was the fact that these people DID have my best interest at heart. They
really just wanted me to do well, and not to necessarily get me into trouble. They
meant well. They were surprised that I could behave in such a way, and would
always try to get me straightened up and wanted to see me on the right path.

But then again, not all criticism is
constructive. This is something I learnt from the music project I just did. Some people
would criticize my work with no basis, no positivity, and I could tell all they
wanted was to break me. I have something against people who are quick to criticize
but offer no solutions at all. I am always against such kind of criticism.
Well, I got some of those. And it made me have a tough skin as time went by. At
first it could take hours to just let it go… I would replay their words in my
head over and over again and feel so inferior, but I told myself just how useless it all was. I could
have used that time to think about important things… like cheese.

I am one person that loves laughing.
I laugh at everything and anything at anytime. I do love good jokes. But some
jokes, they just go a little too far. Some jokes are just attacks, on the real.
I feel that sometimes we don’t even take time to think about how the other
person is gonna feel when we say some of these things, all in the name of banter.
Constant ‘jokes’ about one’s physical appearance for instance, or something they
did in the past which was talked about privately. Those are not really things
you can throw around in the name of jokes. 

All in all, I think we have
developed an ‘I don’t care what other’s think about me’ attitude that, to some extent, makes us blind to
some helpful advice we could have received, by someone who really had your best
interest at heart. That said, some words said are just set out to hurt you. So some of
us have our tears too close (misonzi
yapafupi lol) and we easily have a good cry even if we sometimes try to act
all strong and cool.

I realise just how jumbled up my
thoughts were in this post, and I was unorganised, but I hope you got a thing
or two from all this mumbo-jumbo. Maybe this may help:

·       It’s okay to not be able
to take criticism well. Hashtag Team sensitive (and proud?)

·      
Not all criticism is set
out to harm you. Filter them and take the important bits, then use them to
better yourself. Remember, your reputation matters.

·      
Please do not be shy
about crying. It heals. I don’t know about you, but I always feel 1000x better
after a cry and it makes moving on easier. It’s like closure to me.

·      
Ignore all the
negativity especially when you’re SURE the person doesn’t have your best
interest at heart or doesn’t even know your story.

·      
Be mindful of little
jokes you say, because some people can easily get offended and worse still,
they are not brave enough to tell you, so you may think it’s just alright. Try
imagining how you would feel if a person ‘joked’ about the same thing to you.

·        
I am a wimp

Anyway, I wrote this because I
remembered when I was a kid, I overheard some women who were supposed to be
my mum’s friends, talking about how I always do the same ugly hairstyle. It
hurt me so much, and I had a cry in my aunt’s bathroom for some minutes. Now
that I’m older, I think this is the kind of talk I just had to ignore. My hair
was adorable :).

–If
they don’t know you personally, don’t take it personal.

-Ephesians 4:29-  Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.

-When
we are born, we cry. And sometimes, when we cry, we are born again.

–There’s a quote I read once but I can’t seem to
remember it clearly, so I will try to paraphrase it.. “Sometimes, criticism from the right person is better than a
compliment.” It was obviously worded better than this but I hope you get
the point.

While cooking yesterday, I
hurriedly tried to put back some spices in a cupboard and ended up dropping my
smart phone, which was in the pocket of my oversized hoodie. The screen went
blank.

I panicked.

I tried to switch it on.
Nothing. I hit it (because somehow that fixes some electronic appliances).
Blank. I removed my battery, replaced it and switched it back on. My hands were
beginning to shake at this point. Then it hit me, I will be phoneless for the
next couple of [weeks, months, years… till my father decides to rescue me]. I
thought about my empty bank account. How in the world will I even replace this
phone?

“My baby!” I mourned. I
heard a vibration. The Samsung start up tone. But the screen was still blank.
My mother casually walked into the room.

“My phone has stopped
working, mum,” I said.

She kept on walking.

“What did you do to it?”
she finally asked.

“I just dropped it… like
all times. But it won’t turn on. I mean, it’s turning on, but the screen is blank.”

“Pepa,” mum says with a poker face, “Maybe you should keep trying.” 

My mum is so chill. I always admire how calm she is. We are two opposites.

I tried to remove the
battery. I blew the battery. The phone. I have no idea why but I felt maybe it
could help. I hit it again.

“Come ooooon!!! Don’t die on me please please
please!!!” I begged.

Nothing.

“Mum, there’s no change! Give me your
car keys, let me rush and get it checked out.”

I run and clumsily grabbed
my handbag. The car keys. I run out the door. I tried to switch my phone on
again. Nothing.

“Please, Lord, don’t let it die.” I whispered
as I drove off.

I grabbed it again, as I
simultaneously try to keep my eyes on the road. Maybe this time.

A vibration. Start-up tone.
Then NOTHING. I sighed.

My mind wandered. What if
this is a punishment? I’ve been on my phone too many times lately. Something
tells me I’ve
been far from God lately, too. All these prayers are not reaching out to him. I
try to ignore this Something. There’s no music playing and I hate the silence. I hate to
be alone with my thoughts. But I can’t get myself to switch on the music.

I drove faster and pulled
up to the closest repair shop I could find. One door was closed. I wondered if
the shop was also being closed. I grabbed my handbag and hurriedly got inside.
I saw a woman stood at the counter, probably getting her broken phone back. She
was in a black and white wedge. She looked like she just dashed out of her
office. Her lips were coloured pink. Long, treated hair. I rushed to the
counter and joined her.

The receptionist (or
saleslady, I’m
not sure) rushed to welcome me.

“My phone is not switching
on!” I started to complain.

“How are you this
afternoon?” She greeted me instead.

“I’m good,” I lie. “My baby is gone and
this is my whole life and I don’t know what in the world I will do without it because
I am so broke and I know it will take months to convince dad I need a new phone
can you please just get someone to fix my baby ASAP,” is what I want to say.

“My phone won’t start though. I can tell
it’s on but I can’t see anything.”

“Ndi LCD imeneyo,” lady in
pink lipstick budges in. (it’s the LCD).

“I know those phones. Just
get a new phone. Yatha imeneyo.” (That phone is gone).

Well this is very
comforting. I want to roll my eyes but I don’t even have the energy.

“Wait here. Let me call [insert
name of someone who is probably more knowledgeable than her],” receptionist/
sales lady said.

I removed my memory and sim
card. I tried to keep calm as I tried to switch it on again. I could feel the
lady beside me stare and observe everything I was doing. I’m too concerned about my
phone to care at this point in time. The receptionist entered with this man she
went to call.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

Finally, someone who wants
to go straight into business. I tell my sad tale again. He removes my battery
and casually inspects it.

“Yapita phone imeneyo,” Pink Lipstick said. (That phone is goooone)

“Singakhonzekenso” (It can’t be fixed).

There’s silence all over the room
for a few seconds. I am beyond annoyed at this time. Getting a little
angry too.

“Amatelo?” I finally turned to her. Everyone laughed, including her.

“No, seriously. My phone is
broken and I need help and all you do is put me down with your words,” I
continued. I was seriously losing it and the man inspecting my phone noticed.

“It’s just the LCD, and the one who repairs
these things is away.” He interrupts me, “He will be back tomorrow. But even if
he were here, he would have to order it from somewhere and it would take
weeks.”

My heart was sinking with each word.
KILL. ME. ALREADY.

“Ok.” I finally said. I grabbed
my phone and muttered a thank you.

“Where are you going then?”
he asked.

“I’ll find someone,” I said and walked out
the door. He followed me out and went back to wherever he was before he was
called in. I drove off and tried to find someone who could fix my baby. ASAP.

As I drove off, I thought
about how unkind the lady was. I know it may seem meaningless to someone who
doesn’t know how desperate I was,
but those were the last words I wanted to hear. Imagine going to the hospital
with your loved one, and the doctors and nurses all going, “OH NO!! This is
impossible! They are gonna die!” (Even if it’s true, you let someone down gently,
for Pete’s
sake!) This lady said very few words to me but they seriously shot me down. I
thought about myself, and if I’ve ever acted that way towards someone. I felt a sense
of embarrassment. I know I may have done it some time. I may have said
something without really thinking about it first when they were in dire need of
encouraging words, and trust me, those go a looong way in such a situation. I
know that more today.

I remember when I was in third
year, there was a really difficult course that we all knew and feared. We would
sometimes go to the students who had gone through it to ask for help, and some
of them would say such discouraging words that, just thinking about it now
still hurts me. They would tell you how impossible it is, and how much work you
would have to put in. You would go back feeling defeated. I told myself, if
someone from a lower year comes and asks me about a course, I will tell them
they can do it, because I know I needed to hear that when I was in their shoes.
I will tell them not to listen to anyone that tries to discourage them,
because, for starters, how did THEY get through it themselves? If they could do
it, why not you? And second of all, nothing is impossible. When someone comes
to you when they are in despair, the last thing you should do is give them the
worst case scenario. Few encouraging words can make someone gain strength to
face another day.

You know, now I’m thinking about it, that
lady was probably getting her broken phone repaired too. Maybe her’s was even more broken than
mine, but she finally got it back. That gives me hope. I can either allow it to
get to me, and I live life like a dog with a tail between its legs, wallowing
in negativity, or I can keep my head high and be positive. I choose to ignore discouraging
words. I choose to ignore anyone that tries to put me down.

P/S: I miss my mobile phone
so much it’s
not even healthy *wipes tears*

– In the long run the pessimist may be proved right, but the optimist
has a better time on the trip.

1. Life may not go as you planned. You may still be in college at 23 and not be an independent lady, adulting and winning at life, and that is okay. Pace yourself.
2. You are going to make mistakes; lots of them. Don’t be afraid to tell your Heavenly Father that you have messed up again. He is going to throw the sins away, over and over again until you taste sweet victory.
3. Someone who truly wants to commit suicide will not make a feeble attempt. They will plan and execute successfully and very rarely, announce it to the world first.
4. Not everyone will understand you. Leave it at that. Live.
5. Self love.
6. You are worth it. You are loved. You are not ‘disturbing’ your family or friends when you fall ill or need someone to talk to. You are worth being heard. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, especially yourself.
7. Aim for excellence, not perfection.
8. Take photos. Loads of them. Take photos of what interests you. Of your feet. Of animals. Of your parents laughing. Of a tree struggling to live. Of an old building. Of your friend, unaware. Things change so fast. Keep the memories.
9. Read. Read poems about love, heartbreak, injustice, self love and about food. Read articles about the things you are passionate about or about a silly craze. Read a book that you feel is overrated and prove yourself wrong. Read newspapers and frown upon how depressing they are. Read some more.
10. Open up to your friends when you need help. If they are really your friends, they will pick the pieces with you.
11. Don’t let everyone have the privilege of knowing every detail of your life.
12. Malawi, like most third world countries, has the BEST development plans and policies; but is the WORST  at implementation. Politicians run the country and their goal isn’t to move people out of poverty.
13. Prayer is the most vital force that God ever put into the hand of mankind. Use it. It works every time.
14. Don’t save your best perfume. Use it when you feel like it.
15. When you are going through a heartbreak, a slump, a depression, don’t force yourself to get up and be productive if you don’t feel healed. You wouldn’t force a broken leg to run. Similarly, don’t force yourself to face the world. Take your time to heal. Take care of yourself first. Your health matters.
16. And remember, sometimes, just getting out of bed is enough.
17. Cry. (Don’t be shy). Then wipe those tears and be the champion that you are.
18. Take advantage of the time you feel energized. Even if it is 2AM. If you are not tired, do not sleep. Do something productive instead.
19. Write a list of things you would want in someone you would fall in love with. Check if YOU have those things. Adjust accordingly.
20. Take some time off the internet (a week or two) at least once a year.
21. When it comes to choosing friends: quality over quantity, every time. Squad pictures may look attractive, but remember, the company you keep shapes you. Cut unnecessary people out of your life ruthlessly. Make your life a masterpiece.
22. When something unfortunate happens to a friend, try to remember that it could have easily been you. Remind yourself that grace has kept you and brought you far. Remember that you are helpless without the help of God. Be Encouraging and positive. Be there for someone who needs a shoulder. This world is cruel: tomorrow could be your rainy day.
23. How to cook nsima.