I left Madagascar last Saturday, and what a day it was. I’d been pretty pleased with myself on the days leading to my departure for Malawi. Two suitcases full of merchandise, the result of several days of market shopping, were fully inventoried and safely packed. All project funds were dispersed and the budget balanced to the penny. All suitcases weighed in under the limit. Oh yes, I was pleased. Then came Saturday.
We leave for the airport early, just in case. Good thing, because we soon find ourselves in the middle of a parking lot. November 1st is the Day of the Dead in Madagascar and the roads out of town are packed with cars, pedestrians, hand-drawn carts, bicycles, motorbikes, anything that moves,. Everyone is on their way to their family tombs where they will worship the ancestors through various sacrifices and rituals. I purposely avoid looking at my watch as time passes and am relieved when we arrive at the airport in enough time to shrink wrap the two merchandise bags. It provides an extra layer of protection for the delicate raffia products and baskets inside.
Standing in line at Kenya Air, an airline employee approaches to inform me that the two merchandise bags are too big for the plane. One of the bags is a regular suitcase, the kind everyone travels with. The other is what we call an African suitcase – a plastic zippered case that I always use to transport merchandise. As a matter of fact, this is the exact same case I used last trip on Kenya Air with no problem. And both of them are under the weight limit.
I try to reason with the man that it makes no sense. He tells me that if I take the shrink-wrap off the suitcase, he’ll let it through. Ibrahim just paid good money for the shrink wrap (I’m all out of Ariary) and it makes absolutely no sense why I should have to remove it , but I do. He then tells me that I must get another case and divide the contents of the African suitcase in two, then he’ll let them through. Cathy finds a smaller bag and we do our best to divide the merchandise, at which point the man tells us to combine the contents again and take it to the freight office – which can only be reached by car. My flight is boarding in ten minutes. He assures Cathy that it can be sent by freight to Malawi and reach me a day after I arrive. As Ibrahim hurries to his car, with the bag, I take $100 bill from the Malawi budget and hand it to Cathy. She tells me not to worry, just get on my flight – which I do. I know from experience that my friends are going to be given a run-around on this and feel bad about it – but there’s nothing more i can do. I start the process through security which involves multiple conversations with various policemen and emptying the entire contents of my briefcase for inspection.
As the passengers walk across the tarmac to board our flight, we’re instructed to identify our luggage before it can be loaded on the plane. I’m irritated to see suitcases as large and even larger than mine, making it onto the plane. As we finally lift off over the mountains of Antananarivo, I try to forget the distractions and focus on the people left behind – people that I love and, more importantly, that God loves. Like the little 11-year-old boy, Barthese, who breathlessly catches up to me just as I’m getting into the car in Ambatoroka. He carries a straw hat in a plastic bag – a going away gift. When I open the bag in the car, I see an inked inscription on the inside rim of the hat: A Souvenir of Madagascar from Barthese. A precious gift…that I carefully tucked into the merchandise suitcase that, unfortunately, still sits in Madagascar.
There is no freight service to Malawi, after all, as the man had assured us – a fact Ibrahim and Cathy discovered after running around for hours. Now we’re not sure just how to get the merchandise to the USA in time for the December 13th benefit concert. I love Kenya Air. I always fly Kenya Air and encourage others to do the same. I bless Kenya Air – but we need a solution. And I want my hat!
Anyway, after a layover in Nairobi, my plane finally touches down in Lilongwe, Malawi, where I breeze through passport control and customs, and into the good care of my friends just around midnight. I’m missing my Malagasy friends, of course, and am grateful for the time we had together. But now I turn mind and heart to the weeks ahead, eager to see what God has in store for us in the beautiful nation of Malawi!
