I was very sick today. Cough, high fever, fatigue, runny nose, and over all discomfort. At one point I was so dehydrated, it took two hours for me to get up the strength to make the herculean journey from my bed to my water filter without passing out.
In Malawian culture, it is expected that when someone is sick, friends, family, and coworkers pay visits to the infirm. This is not a very popular practice with a lot of Americans, since we feel like we have to entertain our company; the frequent knocks on the door are a burden to someone who can hardly get out of bed, is not wearing appropriate clothing, and has not bathed. However, this evening when my head teacher came over, she sat with me as I sweated out my breaking fever, and when I turned down her offer to make a fire for me so I could have a bath (since the power is out), she took off her suit jacket, donned her chitenje, and went about washing my dishes. That humble and motherly action made me appreciate how good hearted the gesture of visiting the sick is. After a terrible, feverish day, it was a good reminder of why I love Malawi.
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