Lean Back

One day when I was in Africa, our hosts took us to Lake Malawi. Part of the chain of Great African Lakes, this deep, skinny body of water is bordered by Lake Malawi, Mozambique, and Tanzania (and, in fact, there are disputes as to who "owns" various parts of the water). Although I tend to think of Malawi as a completely poverty-stricken land, the lake reminds me that there are flourishing resorts in the country, many of them populated by wealthy tourists from all over the world. In fact, during our visit, the cast and crew of the reality show Amazing Race were there filming the 2011 season.

But that's another story.

By some accounts, Lake Malawi contains the richest variety of life of any body of water on Earth. One such species is a fish called either chombo or chomba (I forget which, but it's an important difference because one of those words means marijuana -- so I let our hosts order my lunch).

Our visit to took place on our last day in Malawi. My team was tired. Although they'd found our work incredibly fulfilling, they'd been stretched into spiritual shapes beyond their imagination. Plus, I think they were craving dairy and the faces of their families. So when I suggested they spend 30 minutes in silence with their journal, I got looks that said, "Yep, mmm-hmmm, I'll get right on that."

I found a shady spot where I could lean against a stone wall, spread out my chitenje, and opened my journal. I looked up and down the beach, noting that one group of my peeps were rock climbing, another dipping their toes in the water, and a few stragglers had collapsed in chairs nearest the resort and were sound asleep.

What caught my attention next left echoes that I've heard every day since. A young man was trying to wind surf. He had all the right equipment: a surf board with an enormous pink sail attached, friends who loaded him back onto the board every time he fell into the water, and plenty of wind.

The young man was strong. And tenacious. I watched him for a long, long time.  He climbed onto the board, carefully placed his feet at just the right spots, gripped the sail, pointed into the wind -- and pitched headlong into the water. His friends stayed with him. Yet despite all of his efforts, he never sailed for more than a few feet.

It took me a while to figure out what was wrong. Instead of leaning back into the wind, the man hunched forward over the sail.

He clung to what he could see rather than trusting what he could not.

So as I continue to look for a job and find my place in this city, I'm trying to figure out what it means to lean back into the wind. Now and again, I think I've got the right idea -- just before I fall face first into the water.

My teacher is patient, and my friends are many.

This really is an amazing race.