Everything of substance in Malawi was either well used, exhausted, worn, or dusty. Red dust was everywhere- air, water, ground, and coating every surface imaginable. One of the most horrifying/humbling experiances I ever had- and this one isn't a story I like to tell- was when a malnorished 9 year old (9? 12?) carefully knelt down and whiped the red dust off of my pleathure, snug black tennis shoes. I felt awful. 'Never, ever, letting a thing happen like that again.