I bought new shoes before I left for Malawi. One a pair of $15 Walmart “chore boots” the other clearance sneakers from Old Navy.
I bought cheap things, throwaway things, things that were supposed to get dirty. Two pairs of shoes to anchor Malawian memories, then get thrown in the trash.
I’ve been back for a day and my throwaway shoes still sit defiantly by the front door.
I used to think I could find myself abroad. I searched for myself in deserts, atop mountain summits and in lakes so salty my feet refused to stay on the ground.
I stopped chasing myself a couple of adventures ago.
Every moment of your life– every person that you meet, food that you taste, every sunset you watch break over you– it’s all who you are. That said, when you go somewhere different from the place you last left your heart, you’ll feel an addicting shock of novelty.
And that doesn’t just apply to international travel. I’ve lived in three countries, traveled to eight and I can tell you with certainty that the biggest culture shock I experienced was when I moved from Wisconsin to North Carolina.
There was something about the way the pine trees shrank the sky and way the wandering campus preacher screamed his word that constantly reminded me I wasn’t in the Midwest anymore.
Eventually the shock wears off.
My peers and I spent 10 days in Malawi. Not a lot of time for any sort of wearing off to occur, yet somehow it managed to be enough.
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A two inch binder full of budget reports lands in front of me. The hospital racked up a 57 million kwacha loss in December.
Money is universal.
I sat on the porch of Nachulu Lodge, the site of our newsroom, deep in conversation with one of my Carolina peers and a Malawian journalism student and I asked, “Is there something you want to talk about?”
One 23-year-old’s story of heartbreak spiraled into a 16 person conversation about the meaning of love.
Love is universal.
Those conversations ripped the Bandaid of magic off of Malawi and made it real. Just as I can’t find myself abroad, I can’t find the perfect place abroad. Debt and heartbreak are two constants by which we will all be inevitably challenged.
Perfection isn’t human. Being human is messy and complicated and there’s not a place in this world where that isn’t the case. And though it can be hard, there is something comforting about knowing that you’re not the only one fumbling through life.
For now, I’m thinking about the homework I have to make up and the presentation I have to give in class next week. But every time I walk through my front door, I see a pair of black throwaway sneakers and I remember that the world is a lot bigger than my calendar.
Money and love and loss and fear and all of those universal human pillars don’t operate on a calendar. Maybe the only way to truly make it in this world is to throw away the maps and the schedules and just float along in a pair of throwaway shoes.
As for me, I’ll probably keep traveling in cheap shoes, and I’ll probably keep pretending like I know better than to search for myself.
What can I say? I am who I am.
