It was a small field mouse that changed me during my two weeks in Malawi, Africa.
A young boy no older than 10 tracked it down as it scurried beneath a pile of bricks. It was an itty-bitty thing, no larger than my bottle of antibacterial gel. He dangled it by the tail as we shuffled to grab our iPhones. We weren’t fast enough, though. Before we could ooh and aah, the boy had smacked the mouse against the brick several times. Whack, whack, whack, whack.
All the sudden, it was lifeless. Our mouths hung open. And then it got even stranger. He walked over to a makeshift oven, squatted down and cooked the mouse. About ten minutes later he returned to our group, craned his neck back and opened his mouth wide. And, as we intently watched, he gobbled it down proudly. Clearly enthused by our reaction, he ate it, bones and all. Everything but the tail.
In Malawi they call it African sausage. They sell the cooked rodents shish kabob-style on long sticks. My first reaction was pure disgust. But later that day, it turned into pure sorrow. Why did that boy have to eat the field mouse? Because that is what was available to him. This is just a small snippet of life in Malawi, but it’s a story I wanted to tell, just to give you an idea of the poverty.
While I was there, I met Chosadziwa Banda, an affable, lovable boy who lives in a mud hut with his brothers and sisters. I’m sponsoring him for $32 a month in the hopes that he will grow up to make a positive impact on the Republic of Malawi. I recently found out that his brothers, Binosi and Gift, do not yet have sponsors. I would love to find sponsors for them. If you have an interest in sponsoring, please let me know!
You are loved!