It all began while I was away.

It’s late November, the end of dry season, and the river is at its lowest mark, more a jumble of sticks and sand-covered rocks than a river.

I sat at the airport preparing to leave the U.S.A. for Malawi, and all I could think was that I couldn’t believe I had actually made it. I would soon be a Peace Corps Volunteer.

"You will never have another experience like Peace Corps."

When Anna Mansfield moved from Idaho to a rural Malawian village to serve in the Peace Corps, she looked for ways to use her skills to benefit the grassroots work already happening in her community.

Eight in the morning on a Sunday. Nothing but the sounds of birds and my neighbors beginning their day.

At a recent Peace Corps training, we were told that “life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” This saying really struck me in its deep connection to my service.

Serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in Malawi offers a series of contrasts to life in the United States.

In Malawi I live in Chitipa, the farthest northern district bordering both Tanzania and Zambia.

My Peace Corps journey began in March 2013 when I left my home in Arkansas for the warm heart of Africa – Malawi.

“Will you help us?” That is the question that accompanies most of the conversations that I have every day, but as a decided idealist, I try my best to always say yes. Life in Malawi can be a challenge, but more often than not it is a rewarding country to live and work in. 

I was raised in a progressive household in a progressive country by progressive parents who fought to afford me the best opportunities possible. 

My abode sits in a little nook within the confines of my school’s campus, protected by tall walls made of brick and shaded by the canopy of fruit frees: mango, papaya, and banana. You can sprawl out on my front porch, close your eyes, and hear nearly everything. 

Peace Corps service has been a lifelong dream of mine. And I mean Peace Corps’ life, not mine…because I am older than the Peace Corps!

As I climb in the tuk-tuk (a small motorized covered almost-tricycle-like thing—you know what, just google it, this is a bad description), I ask the driver “how much?” in Chichewa. He answers and then I get in. Then the familiar question comes: “How long have you been in Malawi?” “Chaka chimodzi,” I answer. One year.

So why did someone with a degree in writing not immediately start writing about this, the experience of a lifetime, Peace Corps, the Olympics of international volunteering in the US? Doesn’t every writer dream of having something like this to inspire them?

On a day exactly like all the other days endlessly chained together during pre-service training – a literal lifetime ago – I found myself innocuously sitting in the grass near the football grounds in our training village.

I am sitting at my brand new table, hand-made by the local carpenter in front of my living room window overlooking a sea of jungle green that grows between my front porch and the tarmac.