Hillary Clinton visited Malawi in August 2012 and praised U.S. efforts to combat HIV/AIDS. However, she did not discuss the schistosomiasis epidemic affecting villages in northeast Malawi. The author's new erotic romance novel "Love in Malawi" includes a subplot about addressing the schistosomiasis issue through a clean water project. The excerpt describes the attraction growing between two of the novel's characters, Maxine and the narrator.

1. Love in Malawi by Tessa Blade
Foreword by Ben Campbell
When I first started writing my new erotic romance novel, Love in Malawi, on June 18,
2012, I didn’t know that Hillary Clinton, the 67th United States Secretary of State, would soon
be visiting Malawi. She announced a major expansion of U.S. government investment in Malawi
on Sunday August 5th during a visit to the Lumbadzi Milk Bulking Group.
During Clinton’s visit she’d lauded the impact that U.S. Government support has had on
improving HIV/AIDS awareness. She said, "I'm also proud that we see a partnership with the
President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, so people can also receive HIV testing and
counseling services here."
That was such an excellent reveal. But during her short bee swarming visit, nothing was
acknowledged, revealed or discussed about the prevalence of the schistosomiasis epidemic in
north-east Malawi, a parasitic disease caused by several species of worms and snails in the
drinking water wells in the village of Karonga that is infecting villagers and especially the
children in the orphanage.
Don’t be afraid, schistosomiasis is not expected to infect drinking water in the U.S.
While enjoying my travels throughout Africa and volunteering at Lion Conservation in
South Africa, I was always devastated and even worse than that I was repulsed by so much
unnecessary poverty in the towns and villages, conditions that us privileged Americans, even
lower income families from impoverished inner-city and rural neighborhoods, would not survive
in for one month.
Over the years I’ve learned to externalize and free my lifestyle from stupid politics, material
greed, corporate manipulation, and most of all I learned not to listen to and let the media
determine my lifestyle by championing breaking news with exclusive reporting about economic
recessions and city, state and even country economic collapses. The U.S. Constitution insures
our freedom. I refuse to be led down a road with many forks in it that lead to educational, social
and intellectual propaganda. Government employees who determine policy and facilitate laws,
spending and taxes are usually near-sighted visionaries and are shocked after devastating facts
reveal their inequities in governing.
Thus Love in Malawi.
My novel, Love in Malawi, even though it is mostly about the discovery of what love is
between people and how it works its magic inside the minds of those who uncover true and
respectable love, behind those scenes is the acknowledgement and efforts to correct the
schistosomiasis epidemic with the construction of a fresh water well for the village of Karonga,
Malawi.
My goal is to finish writing Love in Malawi by Christmas, and not exploit the beautiful
conditions with BDSM or dominate and submissive relationships; well, maybe just a little. After
all, the underlying significance of living is about love and loving, and giving satisfaction to those
you love and respect.
Below is a short excerpt from Love in Malawi:
Learning more about the Malawians and finding information about Kanzi’s family is my
primary focus. The clear water project is secondary, and that brings up the subject of Maxine
Hartung, one of the three young doctor interns.
Instantly falling foolishly head-over-heels for her was a given for me and I’d tried not show
it. I couldn’t let that happen. I had just extracted myself from my long-term relationship with

2. Camryn Hunter. Firing up a new relationship with a girl from down under, so close to ending one
love would be a whirlwind disaster. With Maxine I had way too much in common for living in
different parts of the world. Yet knowing that she speaks Swahili and that she gave up three
summers volunteering in Uganda makes her even more irresistible. Her startled expressions
when we’d met in the airport, like I was her dream come to life and she refused to admit it, was
too obvious.
However, that innocent smile, deep brown eyes, wavy brunette hair and shapely figure were
food for hungry eyes. She took my arm in hers, pierced my eyes with hers and pulled me out of
my past and placed me into the present by saying, I hope to discover a deeper life, nurturing
good people to become great citizens. That alone killed me. When she explained, African people
are misunderstood. Others seem to categorize the diverse African cultures into a singular society.
The geography appears distant and harsh, trapped in time. That put her into my heart. I’d
instantly chewed up and swallowed her words. Yet I don’t want to mistake her as being a sheep
in wolf’s clothing. I think she’s more like a feral cat, accepting kindness only when she’s ready
for it.
After turning off my laptop I closed the small opening in the mosquito curtain and lay back
on my new soft bed. Swirling thoughts came to me in pictures, in color nonetheless; they were
like silent videos interpreting what my relationship was to be in Karonga then the mosquitos
began buzzing on the other side of the bed netting.
Below is another excerpt from Love in Malawi for those of you who want eroticism:
“WAIT ONE minute while I do this,” Bonnie said.
She stepped off the bed with Christien’s boxer briefs in both hands, comically struggling to
pull the elastic waistband over his Empire State Building erection, stripped the briefs down his
muscular legs and over his cute feet, all the while her Sydney Opera House multi-venue
performing arts center between her legs itched and twitched to be entered. After extracting the
round packet from her pocket she dropped her khaki shorts and butt-floss on the floor beneath
her hiking books. “Oh my shoes,” she giggled, and tipped them off to the side, leaving on her
white socks.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Christien said, still on his back, hands folded behind his
head, his pole ready for the mounting.
“Why can’t you believe we’re doing this,” Bonnie puckered her lips, “we’re here and now
and this is what we’re doing.”
She jumped on the end of the bed, leaned forward and grabbed Christien’s penis with one
hand, measuring its height. She took two hands full and the head protruded above. Not too short
and not too long, the shaft was just the right height for her oven.
After positioning the metallic packed between her fingers she twisted it with both hands and
the lubricated condom popped out into her right palm. Seconds passed and the scintillating pink
supple rubber adorned Christien’s penis.
“I have to name it,” Bonnie whispered. “I christen thee Bennelong Point and she kissed the
tip of his penis. “And I christen myself as Sydney Harbor,” and padded her vagina. “Now, let’s
get down to business.”
Christian’s smile was Machiavellian yet direct. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean
like we could be sleeping, resting our bodies for the long, rough day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Fucking you my prized Christien Neville will be my style of rest for tomorrow.”

3. Now he was a prize that Bonnie had already unwrapped and he felt more like a possession, a
prop, just a plaything that will be discarded after he unravels at the seams.
Like a seasoned rock climber she smartly muscled her way back on top of Christien, her
smooth calves caressing the side of his thighs, her sensitive, tight Sydney Harbor hovering over
his Bennelong Point. How easygoing and indulgent he was, rubbing her calves, feeling her silky
skin, yielding to her velvety, baby maker between her legs. He reached down to help her with the
guiding process but she objected.
“I’ll do this myself,” she breathlessly whispered.
“Love in Malawi”
By Tessa Blade
Foreword by:
Ben Campbell