Letters to Bingu

I have always been an avid letter writer. From an early age I scotched taped trinkets to letters to friends who moved to Kentucky and included dramatic illustrations of whales dying from oil spills to letters addressed to President Clinton. There is something comforting about sending letters off, a comfort coupled with the hope that people can be connected even if just through a typed response from a secretary or a mailed off form response. And often there are actual responses connecting strangers to strangers and friends to friends with a delay that the phone will never give, but that at times is needed. From friends sometime you don’t want the response to a question or problem right away.

It’s nice sometimes to write it all out and have time to yourself before you get an answer. And it’s helpful not to get most likely discouraging impersonal replies from various world leaders back right away. Throughout my junior and senior year of college I actually made it part of my routine to mail off a letter to President George Bush everyday. I didn’t actually send off a different letter each day, but I rotated between three that addressed three different issues. Every morning I would get up, grab my letter and ipod and begin my run by dropping the letter in a post box on my way. Besides making coffee feel that much more deserved, there is a good feeling of completed activism to the morning.

When you call the White House your call is logged by a staff person who takes your comments and passes on a polite “thanks for your views.” Immediately one is left with a feeling that your views don’t matter even when it’s added to phonathon calls. That monotone voice of the staff manning the telephone convinces you that your efforts most likely will not inspire the radical change you continually cling to.

But letters offer more time for clinging to whatever hope you want. Mail is not instance and I could wildly dream for a couple of days that my letters would end up enforcing dreams and change while they were in transit from Wellesley to D.C. The minute you get through on a line at the White House you are greeted by a staff and while I know a similar set of staff goes about reading letters, I get to pretend for much longer than a few minutes that President Bush will magically receive my letter directly and even more magically find my words compelling and life changing.

“Restructure the food system? Why didn’t I think of that? Put more effort into conflict resolution resulting in a foot forward to end endless cycles of violence? Build a new prison system with a focus on collaborative, cooperative, rehabilitation? I used to think ideas like these were liberal dream mush, but this young woman makes them seem not only possible, but incredibly sexy.”

Ok, so my dreams are far from realistic, but sending letters let me harbor them beyond a few minutes and they make for stellar motivation on a morning run when the ipod shuffle hits a dud and when you know there is no real delicious breakfast waiting back in the dorm. All this being said it may seem obvious that when I found out that Peace Corps volunteers would get to meet the President of Malawi, that I would of course take the chance to hand him a letter. It did not occur to me however, and I struggled knowing that I couldn’t just meet the President of Malawi, shake his hand, down free wine, and leave the luncheon tent. Not that all of these things aren’t enjoyable, but how many times does one actually get to be in the immediate presence of presidential power? Not often, so I considered my options…a comment about how perhaps buying a private jet is not the most conscientious decision for the president of one the poorest countries in the world?

No, Malawian jail doesn’t seem a constructive way of spending a Peace Corps service. A series of interrogating questions or perhaps just suggestions? But unlikely that there would time in the program and as tempting as it was to think of rushing Bingu or interrupting his speech with revolutionary words of development and critique, probably not the best of routes for the building of key presidential relations. So I wrote a letter.

I wrote a letter that contained two suggested proposals for the development of Malawi. One proposal centered on the creation of a national bike path program boosting local safety and eco-tourism, the other one a curriculum project where eight schools would focus one year on one of the eight millennium goals constructing a curriculum on the goal as well as a budget and grant for a project they would implement at the year’s end. Though I had thoughts of presidential speech interruptions and Bingu interrogations, I am not actually quite that ballsy.

With a detailed proposal written out and safely tucked in a pocket of a friend I started to get nervous, less about the government of Malawi’s reaction and more about the reaction of the Peace Corps office. I have only been in country roughly five months and though I often long to get on a plane I don’t actually want to get kicked out or sour any relations I have just started to build. So I nervously decided that if the situation presented itself I would go for it, if not I would pop it in the mail and check off another leader I had written to. Bingu gave a speech in the middle of the luncheon speaking on the value of both Peace Corps and Malawi and issued many a thanks to Peace Corps Malawi volunteers. And then he issued an invitation. He talked on how we should feel free to drop him a note, when were frustrated or had ideas, and he probably said more, but I blocked it out as I started thinking of the proper hand-off for the proposal.

But again, no need to worry, Bingu soon after the speech headed to the dance floor with his wife just feet ahead of me. I quickly walked across the dance floor located the friend with the letter, he grabbed it from his pocket and we both headed over to the dancing Bingu. I stood before him hair extensions, super professional Calvin Klein dress and all and managed to get out an “excuse me your Excellency, I have this for you.” I handed over the envelope, he said “thank you,” I turned bright red, and then watched in some disbelief as he calmly tucked it into his coat. Now, reviewing the life checklist: presenting a president, a world leader it you will, proposals on development…check.