We’ve been staying in a pretty nice lodge in Malawi over the past few days. It’s built on the top of rocks with a view of the lake. The waves crash into the rocks all night and despite the sound they make, there is a quiet about the place. Everyday we walk down to the lodge’s restaurant and have breakfast and lunch and dinner. The food is expensive here. It’s priced in American dollars. It’s what you would pay for a decent meal at a decent restaurant somewhere in Canada. The prices are aimed at the tourists who don’t even really look at the price when ordering. What a group of three pays in one night’s meal may be what the person who is serving us that meal would make in an entire month’s salary in countries like Malawi and Zambia.
I was wondering if our waitress ever thought about sitting at the table where I have been sitting. Has she ever had the opportunity to parooze a menu and let her taste buds direct her to a limitless choice? Has she ever had the opportunity to be served a 15 dollar meal? I wondered if she thought what we were spending on meals was ridiculous. I wondered if she didn’t think this at all, but was just used to it; understanding that the rich come from somewhere else and that the rich can afford whatever they want on the menu.
I was wondering about the guy who was cleaning our gazebo as I lied out on my bed reading a book yesterday afternoon. I wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to mop the floors, they weren’t that dirty anyways, but I let him continue, knowing that he was probably supposed to do it no matter what I said. I was wondering if he wanted to be on vacation like me, if he had ever been on holiday before. I wondered if he thought that the idea was entirely preposterous; that some people have the ability to just go somewhere and eat and read and relax. I was thinking about all of this, realizing that I was supposed to be enjoying myself.
As I was closing my eyes that night for sleep, I was thinking about enjoyment and what it meant to different people around the world. I was thinking about happiness and how this was connected to freedom. I realized that it doesn’t matter where you are, what you have or don’t have or where you go to enjoy life; it’s about the freedom we allow ourselves to be able to feel things like love and happiness. Because we are human, we all want something we don’t have. We somehow convince ourselves that if we finally get to the next level, achieving something that someone else has that we don’t (because they are more free than us) then we will finally be all right. When school is finished, when jobs are achieved, when debt is paid, when vows are made, when babies are born, when houses are bought; we will feel free. Burdens will be no longer.
Enjoyment. Happiness. Freedom. Love.
As I woke up this morning, I was thinking about a moment with Kim experienced almost two years ago when I was in Canada for a while. She had just bought a house in London, Ontario. We were at the house with her Mom and they were re-arranging some furniture in the basement. I had just got back from Zambia. I wasn’t free. I was burdened with so much guilt at the time that it infected every single moment of my life (I feel very sad when I write this, because I know that it’s the truth). They were moving around the room, picking up furniture and putting it into a different place. They would step back, admire the room and then decide whether or not it looked all right. If it didn’t satisfy their intentions, then they would move the furniture around again. This went on for the best part of an hour. I couldn’t stand it. I had just come from Zambia where people didn’t have the freedom to move furniture around a living room. It’s because in Kibombomene there isn’t a lot of furniture, let alone living rooms to move things around in. I thought they were wasting time. I thought this because I knew there were more important ways to occupy time. Kim and I got into an argument about this. I like to think that people can’t read my feelings when I am annoyed. I have always thought this, but I am told repeatedly by close friends and family that I am as transparent as window glass. She knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling. I had made her feel horrible for looking down on this activity that she had been enjoying with her Mom before I ruined it with the condescending attitude I was breathing into the room. At the time I couldn’t explain to her that I wasn’t free. I couldn’t feel happiness and I struggled to enjoy anything. I was lying to everyone in fake smiles because I didn’t understand that guilt owned me.
I’m sharing this moment with you because I’ve been slowly replacing guilt with something more beautiful over the past year or so. I am run by something else. Who is to say that the man cleaning my room yesterday has less than me? Maybe he is freer than I am. Maybe he fills more moments with love. Maybe he enjoys life more than I do. Maybe he laughs more than I do. Maybe our waitress fills her belly with less expensive food, but maybe she swallows every bite in appreciation. That’s a more valuable meal than one priced at 15 dollars. You can’t put enough spice on a meal like that. There isn’t any sauce that will make it taste any better. Her meals may be as sweet as she needs them to be, and it is all up to her.
I’ve been thinking over the past two weeks that I’m supposed to be feeling different about life because I’m on holiday. I’m supposed to be freer. I’m supposed to put my feet up on our gazebo’s porch, lean back, look out onto Lake Malawi and breathe a breath of relief, knowing that now, life is good. The truth is though, that I don’t really feel much different than I do now then when I’m in Kibombomene. Even when I’m at home, I lean back in a wheelbarrow and look out into the tall grass. I am free there, if I allow it. I am free here, if I allow it.
I’m smiling now thinking about this, as I write. Tears are coming to my eyes a little because I UNDERSTAND SOMETHING I DIDN’T TWO YEARS AGO. I know that my life is rich anywhere I go, as long as I am able to let love create my thoughts and my words. No matter where I am and no matter what I have; my life’s freedom and happiness and enjoyment can only be judged by one thing…..LOVE.
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