The time/plan conflict. Malawian church was supposed to start at 9 am, but people did not show up until 10 o’clock. This caused everything stretch into the afternoon and our Sunday plans once again evaporated into the endless scarcity of time. Church however was an intense experience. It is a serious thing for Malawians. The ceremony started with bible study. One hour of rough Chichewa talk from a priest made me wonder what brought me here. Inside the church, plastic chairs were set up in two columns: one for the men and one for the women. They had to sit separately. When the room finally began to fill up with people the real Mass started. After a prayer the women sang and the whole process of reading and praying was similar to German church (only that happier songs were chosen and people sang with strong energetic voices). The part that was new to me was the confession. It suddenly felt as if the church had turned into a psychiatric center (this might sound rude, but I can’t find a better way to describe it). Everyone fell to their knees and started screaming to themselves. They could hear one another but nobody listened to what the other person let free from their soul. So abruptly and synchronized as the session had started, it ended. Chairs had fallen to the side and a cacophony of noise was stuck in my eardrums. After three hours of sitting this movement had given the church an impulse of life.
Gilos, my friend from the orphanage had introduced us to the people from his village and church, so in return we took him to Domino for lunch. Domino is a somewhat expensive restaurant (3€ a meal) and we ordered two large Pizzas. It was the first time for Gilos to eat Pizza, and it made his day. He said nobody in the village would believe him for having such a fancy meal. It costs as much his weekly salary. We also had to deal with some strange looks from other male costumers who were drinking five glasses of gin. They clearly didn’t accept a man below their class seated next to them. But in their intoxication they happily made their way to the car with the assumed ambition to make the streets even safer than they already are.
The African side of life 