How could children who have absolutely nothing be the happiest people I have ever seen? This is what I was asking myself everyday while I was in Africa. This summer I was fortunate enough to travel to Mtendere Children's Village in Malawi, Africa, where I spent 18 days. There are over 150 kids in the village -- they are technically not all orphans like I expected -- who were taken away from their families because they were not able to provide for them.  Some still do have families and they come to visit the children.

After traveling for over 30 hours I finally made it to Malawi. All I wanted to do was a take a shower, but it turns out we did not have any running water or power. In fact, we had no running water for four days. I went straight to a Welcoming Ceremony performed by all the children. It was my first time to hear the traditional singing that I grew to love so much. The kids were so happy to see all of us. One teenage boy brought his guitar to the ceremony, but as I looked at it I noticed there were only two strings on his guitar. That did not bother him, though, because he still played that guitar with the biggest smile ever. That was when I first realized that the material things did not matter to them as long as they had each other.

I lived in a guest house on the property, and every morning I would wake up and go down to the village to be greeted by all the kids. The younger ones would run up to me and give me hugs. One of my jobs while I was there was to help with a preschool class. I ended up being in charge of the four youngest boys in the village. We would color and play with building blocks everyday. After my first day of preschool was let out, two twin boys took my hands, and I had no clue where they were taking me. We walked to their house and they motioned for me to stay outside. When they came back, they had their plates in their hands to put snacks on. These boys are younger than three years old, but they know to keep up with their plates or they will not be getting any food. These kids know how to survive and are more self sufficient than any kids their age back home.

In the afternoon I would hang out with the older kids. I was not expecting to hang out with people my age when I went on this trip. The oldest person in the village is 22 years old. Once they are in sixth grade, classes are only taught in English, and all the teenagers know how to speak English. During my last couple of days there, it was shelling time in the village. The villagers would lay out a huge tarp everyday and bring out buckets and buckets of dried corn. We would sit in circles and use our hands to shell the corn. The first day I had huge blisters on my hands and could barely use them. Everyone laughed at me and said my hands were "too soft" to do this kind of work. Every kid was required to fill up a bucket of kernels each day. Even the baby of the village would sit and work on his or her contribution. The kernels are eventually ground up to make a corn meal, which is what they all eat for lunch and dinner. No one would complain because they knew if they did not shell the corn, they would not have food for the next year.

I was completely surprised with how strong some of the relationships I made were. Saying goodbye to some of the friends I made was the hardest thing I have had to. I became very close to a little boy named Frank. He was in my class in the morning, and every day we would hang out at the swings. He could not speak any English. The last day I came down to the village and searched until I found Frank. I got someone to tell him in his native language, Chichewa, that I was leaving to go back home. Frank crawled into my lap and would not leave. He would not make eye contact with me. I learned how to say I love you in Chichewa, and when I told him that he started crying in my lap. Frank and I could not even speak the same language, but that did not seem to matter. He was my little boy, and leaving Frank was the hardest thing ever.

I love all the kids in Mtendere and they are in my thoughts every day. They changed my life and taught me that nothing matters besides family and love. I have continued to keep in contact with many of the friends I made. They are they strongest and most caring people I have ever met. I will always have a special place in my heart for the children I had to leave behind in Malawi.