Someone Is Always Watching

Part of The Invisible Rules of Culture Series

What living in Malawi is teaching me about the things nobody tells you.

Written by Joni Roberts

Traveler, storyteller, and public health advocate

"I came to Malawi prepared to be noticed as a foreigner. I was less prepared for my trash to become part of the conversation"

I threw away a loaf of bread.

That sentence shouldn't require an explanation.

But in Malawi...

Apparently it did.

The bread had gone bad.

I'd been traveling for several days, forgotten it was in the refrigerator, and by the time I returned it was covered in mold.

So I threw it away.

The next day Grandma asked me why I was wasting food.

I stared at her.

"What food?"

"The bread."

Then it hit me.

Someone had gone through my rubbish.

I explained that the bread had spoiled.

She wasn't convinced.

"You could have given it to the girls."

"It was moldy," I replied.

She continued.

"This isn't the first time you've wasted food."

I asked what else I'd wasted.

She never answered.

Instead, she looked at me and said,

"You call yourself a Christian."

Now we weren't talking about bread anymore.

We were talking about who she thought I was.

That hurt.

Not because I think wasting food is okay.

I don't.

But because one forgotten loaf of bread had somehow become evidence of my character.

Then she said something I've heard before in Malawi.

"I hate you."

Normally, I laugh.

I've learned that, in some contexts, it's used almost affectionately.

This time...

It landed differently.

The longer I've lived in Malawi, the more I've realized the bread wasn't really the issue.

The issue was visibility.

Someone is always watching.

I've heard comments about how many clothes I own.

Apparently I have "too many."

Someone noticed I had more clothes than hangers.

Never mind that there were extra hangers elsewhere in the house.

No one asked if I'd like them.

Instead, the conversation became about why I owned so many clothes in the first place.

Then there are my outfits.

If I dress nicely...

"You must be meeting a man."

If I travel...

Questions.

If I buy groceries...

Someone notices.

If I throw something away...

Someone notices that too.

At first, I found it exhausting.

Now I find it fascinating.

Because I've realized I don't actually have a private life in the way I once understood it.

I have a visible life.

A friend once told me she throws away her grocery receipts before she gets home.

I asked why.

She said the household staff would sometimes look through them and discuss how much money she'd spent.

Who bought what.

How much things cost.

Whether she had too much.

I remember thinking that sounded unbelievable.

Now...

I'm not so sure.

The interesting thing is that I don't think most of this comes from malice.

People notice because community life is different.

Lives overlap.

People pay attention.

Information moves.

Conversations happen.

But here's what I've also learned.

Being watched feels very different when you're the outsider.

Every observation feels amplified.

Every comment feels personal.

Every assumption reminds you that people are forming opinions about a life they only see pieces of.

The irony is that I'm actually someone who loves sharing.

If I've cooked too much, I offer food.

If I have extras, I'm happy to give them away.

Generosity has never been the issue.

What becomes difficult is when generosity starts feeling expected instead of freely given.

That's a different relationship entirely.

Living in Malawi has taught me something I never expected.

No matter how long I stay...

No matter how many Chichewa greetings I learn...

No matter how many friendships I build...

There will always be moments that remind me I'm being watched differently.

Not because I'm unwelcome.

Because I'm still being understood.

Maybe that's what it means to live between cultures.

You spend part of your life observing.

And another part realizing you're the one being observed.

What I'm Learning

This week's invisible rule is that visibility is cultural.

In some communities, being noticed is simply part of belonging.

But when you're the outsider, that same visibility can feel like you're living on a stage.

I'm still learning the difference.