This is Janja (pronounced yan-ya). She was one of the producers making a documentary. Nathan was making the other one. Janja was so great to me! She took me out with her and Kevin or Johnny almost every day so I could learn Malawi first hand -- and watch the masters at work. Here she is at the market bargaining for a couple sarongs.

For us to be accepted in the smaller villages, we needed to wear these, as it's custom for women to cover themselves waist down in a skirt or wrap. It's a pretty conservative culture. I, for one, was delighted with this fashion requirement seeing as I've gained about 12lbs. in recent months with all the travel...er, eating I've been doing. Delia too, who is waif-ey thin came off the plane wearing comfy yoga-type stretch pants. But since they're form fitted, she said she quickly started to feel self-conscious and was happy to cover up in a sarong.

Here's Delia getting a sarong. Delia is from LA and was down there on behalf of the Kabbalah Center to lead a week-long follow-up training course for a wonderful group of teachers running the Spirituality for Kids program in Malawi. More on all of them later.

After all the bargaining, we all got our sarongs for 500 kwacha (about $3.57), which doesn't seem terribly cheap for an impoverished country. The exchange rate is 1 USD = 140 Kwacha. Philippe was telling us that Malawi is the third poorest country in the world and the 9th most expensive. I have to double check those facts to make sure I heard him right. But it sounds like that's one of the factors that makes it so hard to Raise Malawi.

The kids we saw in the villages are so sweet and so damn poor. In 1992, Malawi suffered the worst drought of the century. Then a crop failure in 2005 caused drastic food shortage and high food prices. It's really tough on families. Imagine if you're an orphan fending for yourself. Even as I write this I can't really empathize, it's so beyond my reality.

In these villages, not all the kids get to eat every day. Pretty much no one I talked to eats breakfast, and if they do get a meal or two, it tends to be a simple white maize called, Nsima (pronounced seema). I had the pleasure of trying some. Janja had a great description of it. She said, "remember when you made clay when you were a kid?" My grandma always made it for us...a little flour, little water, little food coloring.

Well Nsima is like that. Entirely tasteless. But it sits in your stomach and fills you up. The locals just love it! When they can get it, they serve it with vegetables and occassionally fish or chicken.

Philippe asked Orbit, one of the head waitstaff at the lodge where we were staying, if he would show us where he lived. Orbit -- who is the embodiment of love...no kidding, love in a body, and you totally feel it when he smiles -- hosted me, Janja and Philippe on a Sunday. His wife prepared us some nsima and fish and a homemade sauce. It was really good. We got to eat it with our hands (like Ethiopian food), which was also messy and fun. I really enjoyed the whole experience. I felt so comfortable there.

Here are some kids in his village. I love this little dude. Very sharp dresser, what with the vest and all. He was completely naked on his bottom half, but who's looking?

Orbit's house is a rental -- a small concrete structure with one main room, which the kids sleep in. Orbit and his wife sleep behind a curtain in what is basically the same room, but the curtain serves as a nice partition. They have a little area for a kitchen, also hidden by a curtain, so I can't say how big it is, but gauging from the curb, I predict it's itty bitty small. I don't know where they go to the bathroom. Probably in a facility outside.

I know only a few phrases in Chichewa (chich-ay-wah), Malawi's official language. I definitely know the brand Kuche Kuche and its slogan, "mowa, wahtu wahtu", which essentially means beer, keep it coming till the dawn.

That's Janja's phrase that pays. She was so intense when she was working, but around noon it was "mowa, wahtu wahtu!" and cigarettes.

I tried to help Janja as much as I could by distracting the swarms of children who would come running when she was filming. I had my camera with me, and that's a big deal to these guys. They are such hams. This was probably a culturally inappropriate thing, but we had some left over cheese sandwiches from lunch that we thought we could give to any hungry kids who asked. This clip shows how that went.....

BTW, you'll hear, "jumbala" a lot, which means the video camera is rolling, so these guys are no strangers to film. It calls out the Bruce Lee in most all the boys (I must have tape somewhere of that...)

They do speak a little English like, "Give me money." "Give me food." or my favorite, "Give me all your money." ... It sounds really harsh, but I think it's the translation. They're just needy and they know you "have". So they ask. I don't blame them. Then you say no and they smile and say, OK.

Anyway, here's my culturally insensitive clip that makes me feel so white, so fortune and so disconnected. As my dad just said to me after hearing some of my stories, "I guess we won the lotto when we were born here." So many privileges we take for granted....

Malawi is just snapping with energy. It's so powerfu! I can't even begin to explain it.

This is a particularly sweet memory for me. We were at the Home of Hope Orphanage, which every time anyone said it (Home of Hope), I heard "homophobe" and then I'd have to scold myself for being so juvenile.

Home of Hope is where Madonna adopted her baby. There are 500 children here being cared for by two of the loveliest people you can imagine, the Reverend and his wife. Only thing is, it's really a 2:500 ratio. Not so many adults looking after the children. There are several volunteers helping out, but it's just not enough.

It's February, wet season in Malawi. This happens every day. And it's delightful! You can actually see the rain rolling in over the hills. And then you run for it. Unless, you're a little orphaned angel like our girl here who waits to be rescued by a fellow baby.

All the stories at Homophobe are amazing! I met some incredibly dear children. I'll upload their pictures and videos and tell you more in a bit. For now, I bring you the rain.

I have a zillion precious moments from Malawi to share. I don't actually know where to start. So I figure I'll just start in the middle. Or the end. Maybe sometimes at the beginning as I upload my pictures and video.

I had no real idea what I was stepping into. I just honestly knew I was supposed to be there. I wanted to see Malawi for myself; see where our money is going. Philippe V., exec director of Raising Malawi, said he was going to be down there end of January, early Feb. So I glommed on. Who could stop me? I just hoped he would point me to the left or to the right so my adventure would make some sense.

My expectations were very low. I didn't know it then, but I would be meeting and mixing with some of the most interesting, fun, extraordinary people on the planet. They were from LA (Philippe, Delia, Janja, Grant), UK (Nathan, Kevin, Johnny) NY (Kristen, only for a few days), So Africa (Guy and Maureen who own and run the lodge, Andrew my pilot friend) and Botswana (Megan, who newly joined as chef), and of course Malawi (Orbit, CJ, Moses, Soldier, orphans galore). More on all of them later.

This is kind of weird to admit, but when I landed in Malawi -- still on the plane, looking out the window -- I felt a strong presence with me. I have no idea who it was: maybe my aunt Nancy or one of my Grandmas? But it didn't feel like them. It was a new energy. One I trusted and felt safe and comforted by.

Anyway point is, I wasn't alone on this trip, which is partly why I didn't feel totally freaked out to be off to Africa without a plan, hoping to meet a stranger or two who would invite me to hang with them. That's another thing. These weren't strangers. I already knew all of these people on this trip intimately well -- like, before I ever met them. Does that make any sense? That's how it was for me. I can't really explain it. But I was home.

Most of these guys (not Philippe or Delia) were down there on Madonna's behalf, making a documentary. The picture of the young dude reading the paper is of my stepson, Grant. He's my stepson because when I mentioned I just turned 39, he shared that that is the same age as his stepmom. He's a good guy. Maybe he was my stepson in a previous life, in which case, I'm really quite proud of how he's turned out in this incarnation.

While not actually featured in the following video, Grant was Positive Vibe Technician in its initial upload. Please won't you join me in a walk on the wild side. This, my friends, is what home feels like to me:


Featuring in order of appearance: Kevin Brown (on horn), Johnny-Martini (orange scarf), Soldier (on Cliff bar), Janja V. and Philippe (oh my).

I don't believe in coincidences. I believe that the family you are born into and every single person you meet, even in the most random of circumstances, is in your life for a reason.

My friend Wendy (who lives in Madison, WI) wrote me last week to say that her husband Nishant was reading my blog only to discover -- get this -- that we were on the other side of the world together at the same time in the exact same place. Turns out they were also staying at the Radisson in New Delhi on January 10th of this year.

Wendy sent me some great pix. She's a Ph.D. in psychology, but a photo journalist at heart. I'm looking at the photos she sent me of the hotel, half expecting to see myself in them. I spent all day in that lobby hanging out, working on my computer.

Wendy is one of my favorite people in the world. A true angel on earth. We met, god what, almost 20 years ago! We were just starting our careers in HR working at Andersen Consulting in Chicago. It might have been Arthur Andersen even, before A/C broke off as its own consulting firm.

We were bright-eyed, hard-working, dedicated professionals in our early 20s, fashionably clad in wool, plaid skirts with matching suit jackets and iron-curled hair. AHH! ...painful flashback to wearing nylons! Make it stop! It burns!

We had big plans. We attended each others' weddings, and soon after discovered that neither of our marriages lived up to our dreams (pre-Nishant, of course).

We were friends with Judi, too. I remember Judi telling me that she can't go out with Wendy anymore. She was only half joking. She said that Wendy was notorious for stopping and helping everyone, no matter how late it made them or if it took their entire evening off course.

I won't be able to tell it like Judi, but she said that once she was waiting for Wendy to come over and it was getting late. Finally, Wendy showed up with a little Indian man who she met on the street who was new to this country and needed directions. Since he didn't have any friends, Wendy figured he could hang out with her and Judi.

Anyway, that's Wendy. Good to the core. I was with her on her first blind date with her now husband, Nishant. They had been emailing for a while (a mutual friend set them up), and were to meet up in Chicago. Wendy planned to stay the night with me. She came to my house with tons of luggage! It was so cute. She was only staying one night, but she couldn't decide what to wear.

My friend Joe and I dropped her off at a bookstore downtown on Michigan Ave. The plan was for Wendy and Nishant to exchange their initial hellos and then we would meet up with them later for dinner. Joe and I liked Nishant immediately (not to mention, he treated us to some great Indian food! -- except for this horrible yogurt drink that we could barely keep down). We gave Wendy the big thumbs up, so I like to think we had a hand in the match-making. :)

Nishant grew up in India with his parents and a younger brother in a one room one kitchen apartment. They had a bathroom but no toilet; shared a common toilet with 3 other families.

I'm trying to picture this. I live in a studio apartment in NYC. If I had to share it with my parents and my brother, three of the most annoying people in the world mind you, I think I would have run away.

They moved to a one bedroom place when he was 15. Finally, a room they can study in! His parents gave them a good push by sending them to private English school -- which cost nearly 30% of their income. And from a very early age, he developed a view of the world that was entirely hierarchical. Who's above? Who's below? How can I improve my lot in life? Nishant shared with me:

Growing up, getting an ice cream or a pop was maybe possible once every couple of months to celebrate something. But now I can stop on the way home to get an ice cream if I feel like it. For me that is a luxury.

In India, poverty is all around you. I saw scantily dressed 15 year old girls going to the garbage dump to scrounge around for food after dark so that they are not embarrassed. Till today, I get physically sick in my stomach when I open up my closet and I see lot of clothes. I go on a goodwill spree after that and it calms me down. I have tried to help my relatives/friends in India when they have had tough times. I still don't feel that I do enough and I am glad about that because that will always pushes me to do more and not rest on my laurels.

We are going to India in January with Nikhil (their baby). I hope that as time goes on, I can take more trips with him to India and make him realize how fortunate he is. I hope that he realizes as he grows up that the lifestyle he is living is a privilege he has to work hard to earn and share and not an entitlement that he deserves.

I always see people who consider themselves compassionate and talk the big talk about poverty, disease etc but hide behind the wall, "We can't change the world" to justify their inaction.

So I am glad that there are people like you who are willing to make a difference whenever, wherever and in whatever way they can. There was a great line in the new movie Batman Begins, "It doesn't matter who you are deep down, it is what you do that defines you". And you are defining yourself in a way that is making a difference in peoples' lives. (Thank you, Nishant!)

It's me again (Julia). I liked this note. It makes me think of all I could be doing to make a difference -- that it's my obligation to make a difference -- but that there is so much I don't do.

I was talking to a colleague yesterday at work named Tim. He is really into the whole climate change phenomena and passionate about making a difference. Airplanes are a big part of the problem. When you ride in a plane, you become part of the problem. So, when you go on a trip, you want to calculate how much carbon you consumed and offset it by spending on something that corrects for the carbon output.

He sent me this note:

----
To offset the carbon dioxide your flight to Africa produced, you need to:

1. Figure out how far you flew. You can do that here:

http://www.findlocalweather.com/forecast.php?forecast=pass&pass=howfarisit&icao=KDEN

2. Figure out how much carbon that produced. You can do that here:

http://www.lcltracker.com/drivenbythewind/dbwanalysis

3. Pay for something that offsets it...I did this with the same organization in (2) above - Driven By The Wind - which is run by a consortium including the organization whose founder I know, so I trust them.

Do it. You'll feel better for it!

-----
It's so smart, but deep down I'm thinking, sonofa@$%!! Don't I do enough as it is?! Do I need to be accountable for every-little-thing my life?

It's a natural reaction. We want to make excuses. We don't want to break the bank. Don't want to give away the farm. I'd like to live in a nice house someday. Don't I deserve that?!

And then I remind myself that I can have and do it all. But that comes down to playing big, not small.

Tally it up, cowboy. Another $500 donation just went through from my ex-David. Not to be confused with the current David from Toronto, who is my newest ex-David. In fact, if your name is David, I've probably dated you at some point or will enter into a doomed relationship with you in the future. This, of course, excludes my brother David who isn't my type, and my cousin David who is much too young for me. So, to all the Davids in the world -- thank you for your permanence in my orbit and for helping me Raise Malawi.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm back from Malawi a changed woman. I have so much to share, I don't know where to start. I am intellectually, socially, emotionally and geographically expanded. This was the best trip of my life, which included several of the best days of my life.

It's 2:26 am. I can't sleep cuz of jet lag and a TV blaring bad dance music from the unit above me. It's 2:30 now. No change. Hey!!! 2:33! They turned it off! FINALLY! And I lie here awake with my thoughts.

Good news off the AP wire. Ben & Jerry's named a new ice cream: "Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream." It's vanilla ice cream with fudge-covered waffle cone pieces and caramel.

The Vermont-based ice-cream maker is known for naming its flavors after people such as Jerry Garcia, Wavy Gravy and the band Phish — which Colbert sees as a political bias.

"I'm not afraid to say it. Dessert has a well-known liberal agenda," Colbert said in a statement. "What I hope to do with this ice cream is bring some balance back to the freezer case."

Colbert, who spoofs flag-waving conservative pundits on his Comedy Central show, "The Colbert Report," is donating his proceeds to charity through the new Stephen Colbert Americone Dream Fund, which will distribute the money to various causes.

And there you have it. I never did follow through on my Ben & Jerry's idea for Raising Malawi. I need to do that. I need to research where Colbert is directing the money and how much Americone Dream is generating. I'll bet it's a big hit. I would eat him.