A friend, in a letter from Mozambique, writes about 2 years of life in Rwanda, Zambia, and Malawi:

I have been silent for close to 340 days. This is not that I did not want to share, but I think it is because I felt that I had nothing worth sharing. When you live in a place for a number of years, the strange becomes normal, the amazing becomes ordinary, and the unusual becomes common place.

Meeting after meeting I met people who themselves were passionate for development and the benefit of people in their own countries and communities:

• a man in Northern Malawi who had operated a food security program in 5 districts for 8 years without any funding
  
  
• a husband and wife couple in Central Malawi who had given up civil servant jobs in the early 1980’s to start a community based farming project and have transformed their valley from a dry, infertile wasteland to a 20 hectare oasis;
  
  
• a group of gentlemen in central Zambia who were in the process of setting up a small corn grinding mill and vegetable garden to generate money to run several development projects in their community

And these stories represent only a small sample of people I came into contact with.

How could I not love this place?

How could I not have hope for the future?

You can read more about his work here.