Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
You know you're in Malawi when ...
You know you’re in Malawi when:
• When you look at a proposal for a building project where sand is measured by units of oxcart.
• People, both male and female, ask for your phone number three questions into a conversation.
• Every third article in the newspaper is about ufiti, witchcraft.
• People flash you, a 2-second then hang up call, 2-3 times a day.
• Laying out at night to gaze at the stars you see at least 3 shooting stars every 20 min or so.
• The number one “spice” is salt.
• The stoplights, newly put in in the North’s biggest city, still cause confusion, a red light is more of a suggestion rather than law.
• Two of the three women walking into the local grocery have a child attached to the teat, still suckling even mid step.
• You’ve been around too many British ex-pats that “bloody” replaces “fuck” in your swear vocabulary.
• The third question in any new conversation is “are you married?” (the answer is always yes, fyi)
• You know it’s rainy season when you have to kick goats out of your pit latrine during a downpour.
• When you look at a proposal for a building project where sand is measured by units of oxcart.
• People, both male and female, ask for your phone number three questions into a conversation.
• Every third article in the newspaper is about ufiti, witchcraft.
• People flash you, a 2-second then hang up call, 2-3 times a day.
• Laying out at night to gaze at the stars you see at least 3 shooting stars every 20 min or so.
• The number one “spice” is salt.
• The stoplights, newly put in in the North’s biggest city, still cause confusion, a red light is more of a suggestion rather than law.
• Two of the three women walking into the local grocery have a child attached to the teat, still suckling even mid step.
• You’ve been around too many British ex-pats that “bloody” replaces “fuck” in your swear vocabulary.
• The third question in any new conversation is “are you married?” (the answer is always yes, fyi)
• You know it’s rainy season when you have to kick goats out of your pit latrine during a downpour.
Cultural Practices of Northern Malawi
“Cultural Practices of the North”
A Session with Webster Moyo, a Home-Based Care Supervisor
Chokolo – wife inheritance. A man inherits the spouse of a deceased immediate male relative. Widely practiced among the Timbuka people. Since rougly 1995, the practice has gone underground and now is only practiced in secret. The practice helps facilitates the spread of HIV.
Ingoma – traditional warrior dance of the Timbuka people. Dancers hold both a metal-tipped spear and an animal skin shield.
Mitala – polygamy. A practice of having two or more wives. Common amongst N’goni people in the North and the Yao in the Southern region, and amongst Muslim communities. This practice increases the risk of HIV infection.
Vimbuza – dance of the Timbuka people. A “mad spirit” dance. Performers dance in a way to expel the evil spirits. Performers drink goat’s blood in order to provoke the spirits.
Chimbwe – hyena. A man hired to have sex with the wife in an infertile couple. The chimbwe is mostly commonly hired by the parents of the husband. The practice is done in secret.
Mbiligha/Skazi – a man is given a second wife by wife’s parents. The additional wife is generally a younger sister or a cousin. The practice is done out of gratitude’s on the parent’s behalf, a celebration and arranged between parents.
Midawuko – the period after a woman has given birth where she stays with a female in-law to avoid sexual contact post-partum. Common belief that parents who have sex when the child is young may disrupt the child’s growth. This practice can last up to two years, health officials advocate that the period should last only 6 weeks.
Kamusuwizgo – a “snack,” an extra-marital relation going on in the absence of a partner. This practice happens most commonly between partners where one is working abroad, say South Africa or in the midawuko period. Women who take a “snack” while the husband is abroad are often accommodated by the brothers of the spouse.
Mwana wamama – type of traditional ceremony honoring an asiki, a friendship between families. The parents of one spouse invite the parents of the other to a large dancing ceremony to celebrate the union.
M’bwiza - A large dance happens lasting for an entire night; the dances feature male and female partners in union. A very promiscuous practice.
A Session with Webster Moyo, a Home-Based Care Supervisor
Chokolo – wife inheritance. A man inherits the spouse of a deceased immediate male relative. Widely practiced among the Timbuka people. Since rougly 1995, the practice has gone underground and now is only practiced in secret. The practice helps facilitates the spread of HIV.
Ingoma – traditional warrior dance of the Timbuka people. Dancers hold both a metal-tipped spear and an animal skin shield.
Mitala – polygamy. A practice of having two or more wives. Common amongst N’goni people in the North and the Yao in the Southern region, and amongst Muslim communities. This practice increases the risk of HIV infection.
Vimbuza – dance of the Timbuka people. A “mad spirit” dance. Performers dance in a way to expel the evil spirits. Performers drink goat’s blood in order to provoke the spirits.
Chimbwe – hyena. A man hired to have sex with the wife in an infertile couple. The chimbwe is mostly commonly hired by the parents of the husband. The practice is done in secret.
Mbiligha/Skazi – a man is given a second wife by wife’s parents. The additional wife is generally a younger sister or a cousin. The practice is done out of gratitude’s on the parent’s behalf, a celebration and arranged between parents.
Midawuko – the period after a woman has given birth where she stays with a female in-law to avoid sexual contact post-partum. Common belief that parents who have sex when the child is young may disrupt the child’s growth. This practice can last up to two years, health officials advocate that the period should last only 6 weeks.
Kamusuwizgo – a “snack,” an extra-marital relation going on in the absence of a partner. This practice happens most commonly between partners where one is working abroad, say South Africa or in the midawuko period. Women who take a “snack” while the husband is abroad are often accommodated by the brothers of the spouse.
Mwana wamama – type of traditional ceremony honoring an asiki, a friendship between families. The parents of one spouse invite the parents of the other to a large dancing ceremony to celebrate the union.
M’bwiza - A large dance happens lasting for an entire night; the dances feature male and female partners in union. A very promiscuous practice.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Journal Entries - Sept 3 to Oct 3
September 3, 2010 Mhalaunda
Today marks the conclusion of trainining. The event was hosted at the ambassador’s residence, a super swanky place if I might add. The APCDs (Associate Peace Corps Director) addressed us, Vic Barbiero as well (the Peace Corps Director for Malawi). Then a member of each of the language groups, (Malawi PCVs are sprinkled across the country and thus learn the different tribal languages of that particular region; there are six language groups) selected a representative to read in the targeted language. I represented the Chitimbuka group. Then, we were sworn in by the acting ambassador, Lisa Vickers. Following the ceremony the Country Director invited us to his house in Lilongwe for a reception with all the foods PCVs tend to miss (for the non-vegans that would be mac and cheese, barbecue brisket, etc.).
September 5, 2010 Mhalaunda
Today I went on an amazing bike ride between Mhalaunda and Embangweni. It was pretty surreal. It’s about 15km distance over sandy, rocky terrain. Dusty, rust-colored dirt made up the path. At several points the path crosses a small river, I had to lift my bike and wade through or step lightly on the log footbridge just to pass. Mr. Makwakwa, my work counterpart, took me on a guided tour of the nearby metropolis. I visited the post office, spoke with the postmaster, visited the market.
On the ride, I had a strange moment of familiarity – the fields we passed, the undulating rows of maize past harvest, the dirt path fringed with rows of trees and small patches of sand and rocks. It looked so much like Kansas countryside. It was a strange instance of pure facsimile.
But, now my butt is sore from riding the 30km over the rocky terrain with a new bicycle.
This marks the point in my journal where I begin listing dinner ingredients and cooking experiments. I’m now living alone in the North of Malawi. I have a firepit and a mbembulula (a small charcoal burner) and the ability to buy and make whatever I choose. The first two months is the training period, so in order to make sure everyone adjusts well all meals are provided for. If you know me, you know that I prefer to make my own food and enjoy cooking on the whole; it’s my kind of therapy. So, eating at the hands of others gets a little frustrating after a while. But now, I’m really starting to master the cooking over an open fire thing. Tonight for dinner I made soya pieces with tomatoes and onions with green lentils. I peppered it thoroughly and added a bit of cumin. What this country needs is some spices and pepper. The Malawian idea of spice is salt, in varying amounts. I really hate salt. I tend to tell people that you can live up to 40 years longer if you limit your salt intake to the base daily amount. So yeah. I’m so glad I packed a bag filled with satchets of spices. It’s time to get cooking.
And I made no bake cookies today with oats, peanut butter, and cocoa. The Chavula family loved them.
It’s really hard telling if Malawians actually enjoy my cooking or if they’re just being polite. They always take a portion and they do their due diligence in eating it, but’s it’s always without any sort of comment. So I’m not sure. I want to use my cooking ability as my community integration tool; woo them with tasty food. A little feedback would be nice since that’s what I tend to thrive on. Well come what may.
September 6, 2010 Mhalaunda
Here I am drinking an orange Fanta and enjoying it. Back home I drank soda about never. But here there is a real lack of juices and other flavored beverages so I tend to really enjoy it even the carbonated-sugary ones. Gabriel, a nearby neighbor (brother-in-law to Mama Chavula) and his wife Aritha brought over a small crate – quite a nice gesture.
Mama Chavula and her family are so welcoming, they are my family away from family. I’ve been eating every meal over here, which is nice so I don’t feel lonely eating by myself (although I often prefer it). I just have a tendency to feel guilty, that I’m not providing enough. I’m not sure how they feel, because as I said, it’s hard telling with my neighboring Malawians, they’re not prone to expression. But they still invite me over for every meal, even fetching me when I’m late.
Tonight I made pasta al fresca with tomatoes, onions, in a chili-basil sauce. It was quite delicious, eaten to the last hanyezi (onion) morsel.
I have to say, as I always do, I’m getting much better at cooking over an open fire. But the problem isn’t with the cooking it’s with the lighting of the fire. It’s insanely windy here; the constant banging of the corrugated metal roof as it jostles the nail from the earthen wall is my ambient music. Thus, all fires must be made indoors, in my kitcheni (turns out Bantu languages tend to mimic a lot of English words). I’ll go through a box of matches in a day, that’s 50 fucking matches. I sit there lighting my plastic bag (I already gave my apologies to the environment, my first of many concessions of my ideals), atop the cardboard, atop the khuni (the small kindling), atop the makala (charcoal). It sounds like a good system,right, but no I’m still huffing and puffing to light it and waiting for almost an hour just thinking, “wait, it just might light.” A few times now I’ve had to give up and trudge over to Mama Chavula’s looking pitiful and admit to not being able to make fire.
I just made a cultural realization, Gabriel’s wife Erita is staying with Mama Chavula since she just gave birth to her first son. A practice known here as midawuko. Euguene is their first born and he is absolutely adorable, I’ve started calling him Eugene the Calm since he very rarely cries. According to Malawian custom, upon the birth of the first child a mother moves in with the mother-in-law or nearby relatives of the father for the first couple months. This period can last up to two year, in this case it was 3 weeks. It’s the traditional Timbuka way of family planning.
I had some weird moods earlier this afternoon. I spent a lot of time pondering what life would be like at home right then and comparing my life here with there. I just sort of had this angsty feeling in the pit of my stomach and a bad case of lip-biting. I’m not sure if it’s more a side effect of my anti-malarials, which is entirely possible, angst being one of the biggest side effects. Or, if it’s that first shock of ‘now I’m here, at site, and I’m really alone for the first time in two months.’ No more PCVs around, the closest one is now a two hour bike ride away. Either way, it was my first real heartache for home. But then, I switched on my Top-40 mix of Jason Derulo, Beyonce, Shakira and snapped out of it. Don’t judge the music, everyone has a guilty pleasure and mine just happens to be matako shaking. Music is the best way to change my mood, so glad I brought an iPod and a music library of 15.3 days of music (I beefed up my music collection before leaving and traded with a few other PCVs).
September 9, 2010 Mhalaunda
Well I’ve been in Africa now for almost two and a half months and I have to say my fear of spiders has improved none. I went to bed just the other night and I felt the eery feeling of eyes upon me, eight to be exact. I spied my flashlight upon the arachnid and it was the size of my palm, sitting stationary on the wall directly behind my head. I let slip a high-pitched squeal and leapt out of bed. Under similar circumstances, at home that is, I would insist either my brother or Dad kill it for me (I have many reservations about killing creatures, any creatures even spiders). Well neither of them were available due to me being in Africa, so I grabbed my flip flop and squashed the bastard to an eight-legged pancake. He stuck to my wall like tacky putty until I got a straight edge to pry him off. Well TIA,this is Africa, I guess I should just get used to oversized bugs. Sure, they’re harmless, or so I’m told, but they really scare the crap out of me.
For dinner this evening I made onion and green banana bhajees. They turned out great. It’s like a doughy fritter made with a selection of indian spices and diced bits of onion and green banana, then fried in oil. Oh they were superb. I even impressed myself.
Yesterday, I visited my first outreach clinic that the Mhalaunda Health Center runs at 6 per month. The other health workers and myself piled into ambulance sent from Embangweni (where the Mission hospital is located) to Chizimba. At the clinic site all the amayis clustered under a large mango tree, many of them in the midst of breast feeding, child suckling and all. The clinic started with several health talks, such as on protecting water by adding water guard, washing hands after using the chimbudzi, etc. After such, the amayis were split into various groups: the pregnant mothers and the mothers of children under 5 years. They went through various stages of checkups at different points around the mango tree and the nearby clinic dwelling. It seemed so symbiotic, the delivery of healthcare, so much less forced then the sterile atmosphere of hospitals.
September 12, 2010 Mhalaunda
I just got a kitten! His name is Panda Banda. Panda for the obvious reason of his hair pattern and Banda because that’s the Malawian equivalent to the surname Johnson. I met Ray, another PCV from Chitimba, in Mzimba to carry the cat all the way to Mhalaunda. Turns out the custom here for moving with cats is to wrap them up in a piece of cloth so that they can’t see where you’re going. Then you are not to talk to a soul while in transit, this will apparently betray your position to your feline companion, which is a big no-no. I don’t quite understand the reasoning behind it other than cats aren’t common pets and are frequently treated like they’re some biblically evil creature like a snake or something. Anyhow, he’s pretty adorable and he makes my nyumba, seem a little more homey. Now I just need to break him of his habit of darting between my legs as I walk. The cat seems to have a death wish, I just end up kicking the hell out of him as I try to cross a room.
Dinner this evening: Thai noodles in a ginger-peanut sauce. Again, quite delicious, kunowa chomene. It even went over well with the Chavula family who ate it all. I guess that’s the sign of it being delicious when people get seconds until it’s finished. Because as experience has already informed me, people don’t compliment food. In fact, it’s considered rude to even smell food before you eat because that’s a sign that you’re checking to see if it’s rotten. Sheesh.
September 16, 2010 Mhalaunda
Yesterday I rode my bicycle, njinga, to Edingeni to the weekly market. I hadn’t exactly planned to go all the way there, but then I was most of the way and I figured I might as well finish. However, never ask a Malawian how far away something is, the answer is always “not far” no matter the distance. Well it took about an hour and fifteen minutes. Luckily it’s mostly flat, so it wasn’t too tedious a ride. Well except for the fact that my butt is clearly not accustomed to riding or maybe it’s the seat. Either way, my matako is once again very sore.
September 21, 2010 Mhalaunda
I attended a training session for local village leaders today, I was able to meet a great many of the local village headmen. Granted, almost the entire meeting was held in Chitimbuka, so I understood only a little. But I had the opportunity to sit with all of them, the movers and shakers of the community here. On the way back, from Manyamula to Mhalaunda, we stopped in at one of the village chief’s businesses, a tuck shop. My counterpart and I sat and chatted with the chief. He bought me a Sprite and then told me I look like Kaka from Real Madrid. I’m taking it as a compliment. My neighbor recently told me I trot like a man, especially if my back is turned. I guess that’s a nod to my athletic build, quite dissimilar to the short, stocky female build of most Malawians.
I’m feeling more and more productive day by day. I feel like I’m finally starting to find my purpose here. I’m feeling more at home and things are getting easier, say starting a fire. I’m finding my groove. I’m going to like it here.
So the ants here are freaking disgusting. Leave even the tiniest thing out and they send out the brigades to eat it up. Just a single file line of hundreds of them, around the broom and buckets, up a table leg, and onto my counter. I realy need to get better about properly covering my food because watching them turns my stomach.
September 27, 2010 Mhalaunda
An average day:
5:00am Wake up, pull on the sneakers and go for a run with the guard at the health center, to the football fields of nearby villages where we doing sprints and aerobics. (I feel like I have a personal trainer)
6:30am Return from run. Stretch. Heat water for bafa and sweep back patio.
7:00am Put on water for oatmeal and tea. Take bafa.
7:30am Dress. Take food over to neighbor’s for tea.
8:30am Sweep indoors. Do dishes from the day before. Mop entire house.
9:30am Teach classes or work on projects.
11:30am Starting shelling peas, peeling potatoes, start lunch etc while watching Seinfeld.
12:30pm Take food to neighbor’s for chakulya cha muhanya. Eat nsima, mphangwe, peas, and carrots.
1:30pm Read for awhile or sit on the porch of the health center chatting or football practice at the secondary school.
2:30pm Visitor, a neighbor boy at the secondary school, Reuben Mtika stops by to chat.
3:30pm Fetch water in two large buckets.
4:00pm Talk with Mr. Toto who gives me a mjunga, a small pumpkin, already roasted and ready to eat.
4:15pm Work on lesson plans for class.
5:00pm Start fire. It takes awhile when it’s super windy in the afternoon.
5:30pm Start making dinner, chana masala.
7:00pm Take dinner to neighbors. Eat.
8:00pm MBC News the Malawi Broadcasting Channel, available via satellite at my neighbor’s house (we have solar power and turns out it can power a tv no problem).
9:00pm Return home, write/read/watch Rome.
10:00pm Bedtime.
September 29, 2010 Mhalaunda
So this is the week of food handouts. People have just been bringing fresh produce and prepared food just about every day. Mr. Toto began by asking if I favor mjunga small pumpkins, he asked it just like that. I was a tad unsure on how much they could differ from their larger cousins. I opted to try it. I have to say, not bad. Plus, I mashed it with margarine, curry, and garam masala and spread it on some chipati I made. Voila, pumpkin spread. The next day, Reuben brought by a 3 large papayas and a 5 kg bag of groundnuts. The next day a teacher at the local school brought me a big bag of beans from her garden. Then today, Mr. Mkwakwa, my counterpart, brought me 7 green mangoes, a smaller variety that’s flesh is light green and it’s roughly the size of a plum. The earliest mango variety to ripen. I made a delicious mango chutney with roasted groundnuts. Chakulya chiwemi. People just keep arriving with food, it’s fabulous, what a wonderful welcoming.
Last night I laid out in the backyard on a blanket, gazing up at the stars. There’s no moon so the view of the nightsky is uninhibited. I did a few yoga posas after some much need stretches and breathing exercises. It was beautiful, laying there, I felt as if I could meld myself between the ground and the sky. Like I was the exact point at which they converged. The wind lightly whipped around me, bringing the temperature to the most relaxing of the day. I was beside myself, lost in the sea of stars. Tracing the outline of constellations I can barely recall but my finger can still follow. The Milky Way is visible in all it’s brilliance, a milky labryinth dispersed across the Southwestern sky. Star gazing is one of my new favorite pastimes.
October 1, 2010 Emazwini
Takwiza tose kuno ku Emazwini, we all came to Emazwini, the entire Health Center staff for the monthly ante-natal clinics. What I notice most about the 20 minute drive from Mhalaunda to Emazwini, the ride in the back of a Toyota Land Cruiser, is the complete lack of road signs. There’s nothing but the natural terrain to guide you from one site to the other. The driver has a natural sense of direction, intuiting the roads knowing where the large sandy patch to avoid is and avoiding the points where cars bottom out. I have always considered myself a natural with directions. If given a map, I guarantee I’ll never get lost. But here, where roads fail to follow any sort of precircumscribed lines, where parallel and perpendicular seem counterintuitive, where paths seem to be the widest, most worn footpaths laid just as the crow flies. My directions from the BOMA to my village is something like go south out of Mzimba, follow the road for 5km, turn left at the large white sign, follow for roughly 3km take a left at the fork in the road, then veer right after the large forest of Eucalyptus trees. As I said, there are no road signs, the streets do not have names, there are no addresses. Roads are instead known by what’s found on them, say the Milonde School Road, the road to Milonde Primary School. Sadly, my innate sense of direction has vanished here. I got lost on my way back to Embangweni, riding an additional hour out of my way. I had to stand next to someone and call my counterpart and then have that person give him directions as to my whereabouts. I was a little embarassed.
October 3, 2010 Mhalaunda
My new favorite pastime in the long evenings of Malawi is gazing up at the infinite mdima. The nightsky is brilliant beyond measure. The best view, the least encumbered, is atop my roof. I shimmy up from the brick fence in the back, spread out a large blanket, and lay out to enjoy the shooting stars that streak the sky every 5 minuters or so. I take up my iPod which Ive taken the liberty of filling with a ton of new music I hoped to explore. The current soundtracks: Beiruit, Beach Boys, the Traveling Wilbury’s. A b-e-a-u tiful evening.
Today marks the conclusion of trainining. The event was hosted at the ambassador’s residence, a super swanky place if I might add. The APCDs (Associate Peace Corps Director) addressed us, Vic Barbiero as well (the Peace Corps Director for Malawi). Then a member of each of the language groups, (Malawi PCVs are sprinkled across the country and thus learn the different tribal languages of that particular region; there are six language groups) selected a representative to read in the targeted language. I represented the Chitimbuka group. Then, we were sworn in by the acting ambassador, Lisa Vickers. Following the ceremony the Country Director invited us to his house in Lilongwe for a reception with all the foods PCVs tend to miss (for the non-vegans that would be mac and cheese, barbecue brisket, etc.).
September 5, 2010 Mhalaunda
Today I went on an amazing bike ride between Mhalaunda and Embangweni. It was pretty surreal. It’s about 15km distance over sandy, rocky terrain. Dusty, rust-colored dirt made up the path. At several points the path crosses a small river, I had to lift my bike and wade through or step lightly on the log footbridge just to pass. Mr. Makwakwa, my work counterpart, took me on a guided tour of the nearby metropolis. I visited the post office, spoke with the postmaster, visited the market.
On the ride, I had a strange moment of familiarity – the fields we passed, the undulating rows of maize past harvest, the dirt path fringed with rows of trees and small patches of sand and rocks. It looked so much like Kansas countryside. It was a strange instance of pure facsimile.
But, now my butt is sore from riding the 30km over the rocky terrain with a new bicycle.
This marks the point in my journal where I begin listing dinner ingredients and cooking experiments. I’m now living alone in the North of Malawi. I have a firepit and a mbembulula (a small charcoal burner) and the ability to buy and make whatever I choose. The first two months is the training period, so in order to make sure everyone adjusts well all meals are provided for. If you know me, you know that I prefer to make my own food and enjoy cooking on the whole; it’s my kind of therapy. So, eating at the hands of others gets a little frustrating after a while. But now, I’m really starting to master the cooking over an open fire thing. Tonight for dinner I made soya pieces with tomatoes and onions with green lentils. I peppered it thoroughly and added a bit of cumin. What this country needs is some spices and pepper. The Malawian idea of spice is salt, in varying amounts. I really hate salt. I tend to tell people that you can live up to 40 years longer if you limit your salt intake to the base daily amount. So yeah. I’m so glad I packed a bag filled with satchets of spices. It’s time to get cooking.
And I made no bake cookies today with oats, peanut butter, and cocoa. The Chavula family loved them.
It’s really hard telling if Malawians actually enjoy my cooking or if they’re just being polite. They always take a portion and they do their due diligence in eating it, but’s it’s always without any sort of comment. So I’m not sure. I want to use my cooking ability as my community integration tool; woo them with tasty food. A little feedback would be nice since that’s what I tend to thrive on. Well come what may.
September 6, 2010 Mhalaunda
Here I am drinking an orange Fanta and enjoying it. Back home I drank soda about never. But here there is a real lack of juices and other flavored beverages so I tend to really enjoy it even the carbonated-sugary ones. Gabriel, a nearby neighbor (brother-in-law to Mama Chavula) and his wife Aritha brought over a small crate – quite a nice gesture.
Mama Chavula and her family are so welcoming, they are my family away from family. I’ve been eating every meal over here, which is nice so I don’t feel lonely eating by myself (although I often prefer it). I just have a tendency to feel guilty, that I’m not providing enough. I’m not sure how they feel, because as I said, it’s hard telling with my neighboring Malawians, they’re not prone to expression. But they still invite me over for every meal, even fetching me when I’m late.
Tonight I made pasta al fresca with tomatoes, onions, in a chili-basil sauce. It was quite delicious, eaten to the last hanyezi (onion) morsel.
I have to say, as I always do, I’m getting much better at cooking over an open fire. But the problem isn’t with the cooking it’s with the lighting of the fire. It’s insanely windy here; the constant banging of the corrugated metal roof as it jostles the nail from the earthen wall is my ambient music. Thus, all fires must be made indoors, in my kitcheni (turns out Bantu languages tend to mimic a lot of English words). I’ll go through a box of matches in a day, that’s 50 fucking matches. I sit there lighting my plastic bag (I already gave my apologies to the environment, my first of many concessions of my ideals), atop the cardboard, atop the khuni (the small kindling), atop the makala (charcoal). It sounds like a good system,right, but no I’m still huffing and puffing to light it and waiting for almost an hour just thinking, “wait, it just might light.” A few times now I’ve had to give up and trudge over to Mama Chavula’s looking pitiful and admit to not being able to make fire.
I just made a cultural realization, Gabriel’s wife Erita is staying with Mama Chavula since she just gave birth to her first son. A practice known here as midawuko. Euguene is their first born and he is absolutely adorable, I’ve started calling him Eugene the Calm since he very rarely cries. According to Malawian custom, upon the birth of the first child a mother moves in with the mother-in-law or nearby relatives of the father for the first couple months. This period can last up to two year, in this case it was 3 weeks. It’s the traditional Timbuka way of family planning.
I had some weird moods earlier this afternoon. I spent a lot of time pondering what life would be like at home right then and comparing my life here with there. I just sort of had this angsty feeling in the pit of my stomach and a bad case of lip-biting. I’m not sure if it’s more a side effect of my anti-malarials, which is entirely possible, angst being one of the biggest side effects. Or, if it’s that first shock of ‘now I’m here, at site, and I’m really alone for the first time in two months.’ No more PCVs around, the closest one is now a two hour bike ride away. Either way, it was my first real heartache for home. But then, I switched on my Top-40 mix of Jason Derulo, Beyonce, Shakira and snapped out of it. Don’t judge the music, everyone has a guilty pleasure and mine just happens to be matako shaking. Music is the best way to change my mood, so glad I brought an iPod and a music library of 15.3 days of music (I beefed up my music collection before leaving and traded with a few other PCVs).
September 9, 2010 Mhalaunda
Well I’ve been in Africa now for almost two and a half months and I have to say my fear of spiders has improved none. I went to bed just the other night and I felt the eery feeling of eyes upon me, eight to be exact. I spied my flashlight upon the arachnid and it was the size of my palm, sitting stationary on the wall directly behind my head. I let slip a high-pitched squeal and leapt out of bed. Under similar circumstances, at home that is, I would insist either my brother or Dad kill it for me (I have many reservations about killing creatures, any creatures even spiders). Well neither of them were available due to me being in Africa, so I grabbed my flip flop and squashed the bastard to an eight-legged pancake. He stuck to my wall like tacky putty until I got a straight edge to pry him off. Well TIA,this is Africa, I guess I should just get used to oversized bugs. Sure, they’re harmless, or so I’m told, but they really scare the crap out of me.
For dinner this evening I made onion and green banana bhajees. They turned out great. It’s like a doughy fritter made with a selection of indian spices and diced bits of onion and green banana, then fried in oil. Oh they were superb. I even impressed myself.
Yesterday, I visited my first outreach clinic that the Mhalaunda Health Center runs at 6 per month. The other health workers and myself piled into ambulance sent from Embangweni (where the Mission hospital is located) to Chizimba. At the clinic site all the amayis clustered under a large mango tree, many of them in the midst of breast feeding, child suckling and all. The clinic started with several health talks, such as on protecting water by adding water guard, washing hands after using the chimbudzi, etc. After such, the amayis were split into various groups: the pregnant mothers and the mothers of children under 5 years. They went through various stages of checkups at different points around the mango tree and the nearby clinic dwelling. It seemed so symbiotic, the delivery of healthcare, so much less forced then the sterile atmosphere of hospitals.
September 12, 2010 Mhalaunda
I just got a kitten! His name is Panda Banda. Panda for the obvious reason of his hair pattern and Banda because that’s the Malawian equivalent to the surname Johnson. I met Ray, another PCV from Chitimba, in Mzimba to carry the cat all the way to Mhalaunda. Turns out the custom here for moving with cats is to wrap them up in a piece of cloth so that they can’t see where you’re going. Then you are not to talk to a soul while in transit, this will apparently betray your position to your feline companion, which is a big no-no. I don’t quite understand the reasoning behind it other than cats aren’t common pets and are frequently treated like they’re some biblically evil creature like a snake or something. Anyhow, he’s pretty adorable and he makes my nyumba, seem a little more homey. Now I just need to break him of his habit of darting between my legs as I walk. The cat seems to have a death wish, I just end up kicking the hell out of him as I try to cross a room.
Dinner this evening: Thai noodles in a ginger-peanut sauce. Again, quite delicious, kunowa chomene. It even went over well with the Chavula family who ate it all. I guess that’s the sign of it being delicious when people get seconds until it’s finished. Because as experience has already informed me, people don’t compliment food. In fact, it’s considered rude to even smell food before you eat because that’s a sign that you’re checking to see if it’s rotten. Sheesh.
September 16, 2010 Mhalaunda
Yesterday I rode my bicycle, njinga, to Edingeni to the weekly market. I hadn’t exactly planned to go all the way there, but then I was most of the way and I figured I might as well finish. However, never ask a Malawian how far away something is, the answer is always “not far” no matter the distance. Well it took about an hour and fifteen minutes. Luckily it’s mostly flat, so it wasn’t too tedious a ride. Well except for the fact that my butt is clearly not accustomed to riding or maybe it’s the seat. Either way, my matako is once again very sore.
September 21, 2010 Mhalaunda
I attended a training session for local village leaders today, I was able to meet a great many of the local village headmen. Granted, almost the entire meeting was held in Chitimbuka, so I understood only a little. But I had the opportunity to sit with all of them, the movers and shakers of the community here. On the way back, from Manyamula to Mhalaunda, we stopped in at one of the village chief’s businesses, a tuck shop. My counterpart and I sat and chatted with the chief. He bought me a Sprite and then told me I look like Kaka from Real Madrid. I’m taking it as a compliment. My neighbor recently told me I trot like a man, especially if my back is turned. I guess that’s a nod to my athletic build, quite dissimilar to the short, stocky female build of most Malawians.
I’m feeling more and more productive day by day. I feel like I’m finally starting to find my purpose here. I’m feeling more at home and things are getting easier, say starting a fire. I’m finding my groove. I’m going to like it here.
So the ants here are freaking disgusting. Leave even the tiniest thing out and they send out the brigades to eat it up. Just a single file line of hundreds of them, around the broom and buckets, up a table leg, and onto my counter. I realy need to get better about properly covering my food because watching them turns my stomach.
September 27, 2010 Mhalaunda
An average day:
5:00am Wake up, pull on the sneakers and go for a run with the guard at the health center, to the football fields of nearby villages where we doing sprints and aerobics. (I feel like I have a personal trainer)
6:30am Return from run. Stretch. Heat water for bafa and sweep back patio.
7:00am Put on water for oatmeal and tea. Take bafa.
7:30am Dress. Take food over to neighbor’s for tea.
8:30am Sweep indoors. Do dishes from the day before. Mop entire house.
9:30am Teach classes or work on projects.
11:30am Starting shelling peas, peeling potatoes, start lunch etc while watching Seinfeld.
12:30pm Take food to neighbor’s for chakulya cha muhanya. Eat nsima, mphangwe, peas, and carrots.
1:30pm Read for awhile or sit on the porch of the health center chatting or football practice at the secondary school.
2:30pm Visitor, a neighbor boy at the secondary school, Reuben Mtika stops by to chat.
3:30pm Fetch water in two large buckets.
4:00pm Talk with Mr. Toto who gives me a mjunga, a small pumpkin, already roasted and ready to eat.
4:15pm Work on lesson plans for class.
5:00pm Start fire. It takes awhile when it’s super windy in the afternoon.
5:30pm Start making dinner, chana masala.
7:00pm Take dinner to neighbors. Eat.
8:00pm MBC News the Malawi Broadcasting Channel, available via satellite at my neighbor’s house (we have solar power and turns out it can power a tv no problem).
9:00pm Return home, write/read/watch Rome.
10:00pm Bedtime.
September 29, 2010 Mhalaunda
So this is the week of food handouts. People have just been bringing fresh produce and prepared food just about every day. Mr. Toto began by asking if I favor mjunga small pumpkins, he asked it just like that. I was a tad unsure on how much they could differ from their larger cousins. I opted to try it. I have to say, not bad. Plus, I mashed it with margarine, curry, and garam masala and spread it on some chipati I made. Voila, pumpkin spread. The next day, Reuben brought by a 3 large papayas and a 5 kg bag of groundnuts. The next day a teacher at the local school brought me a big bag of beans from her garden. Then today, Mr. Mkwakwa, my counterpart, brought me 7 green mangoes, a smaller variety that’s flesh is light green and it’s roughly the size of a plum. The earliest mango variety to ripen. I made a delicious mango chutney with roasted groundnuts. Chakulya chiwemi. People just keep arriving with food, it’s fabulous, what a wonderful welcoming.
Last night I laid out in the backyard on a blanket, gazing up at the stars. There’s no moon so the view of the nightsky is uninhibited. I did a few yoga posas after some much need stretches and breathing exercises. It was beautiful, laying there, I felt as if I could meld myself between the ground and the sky. Like I was the exact point at which they converged. The wind lightly whipped around me, bringing the temperature to the most relaxing of the day. I was beside myself, lost in the sea of stars. Tracing the outline of constellations I can barely recall but my finger can still follow. The Milky Way is visible in all it’s brilliance, a milky labryinth dispersed across the Southwestern sky. Star gazing is one of my new favorite pastimes.
October 1, 2010 Emazwini
Takwiza tose kuno ku Emazwini, we all came to Emazwini, the entire Health Center staff for the monthly ante-natal clinics. What I notice most about the 20 minute drive from Mhalaunda to Emazwini, the ride in the back of a Toyota Land Cruiser, is the complete lack of road signs. There’s nothing but the natural terrain to guide you from one site to the other. The driver has a natural sense of direction, intuiting the roads knowing where the large sandy patch to avoid is and avoiding the points where cars bottom out. I have always considered myself a natural with directions. If given a map, I guarantee I’ll never get lost. But here, where roads fail to follow any sort of precircumscribed lines, where parallel and perpendicular seem counterintuitive, where paths seem to be the widest, most worn footpaths laid just as the crow flies. My directions from the BOMA to my village is something like go south out of Mzimba, follow the road for 5km, turn left at the large white sign, follow for roughly 3km take a left at the fork in the road, then veer right after the large forest of Eucalyptus trees. As I said, there are no road signs, the streets do not have names, there are no addresses. Roads are instead known by what’s found on them, say the Milonde School Road, the road to Milonde Primary School. Sadly, my innate sense of direction has vanished here. I got lost on my way back to Embangweni, riding an additional hour out of my way. I had to stand next to someone and call my counterpart and then have that person give him directions as to my whereabouts. I was a little embarassed.
October 3, 2010 Mhalaunda
My new favorite pastime in the long evenings of Malawi is gazing up at the infinite mdima. The nightsky is brilliant beyond measure. The best view, the least encumbered, is atop my roof. I shimmy up from the brick fence in the back, spread out a large blanket, and lay out to enjoy the shooting stars that streak the sky every 5 minuters or so. I take up my iPod which Ive taken the liberty of filling with a ton of new music I hoped to explore. The current soundtracks: Beiruit, Beach Boys, the Traveling Wilbury’s. A b-e-a-u tiful evening.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Many Uses of a Chitenje
A chitenje, or in the plural vitenje, is a tremendously useful, ubiquitous household item in Malawi. It’s roughly 2 meters of brightly colored fabric. Many wear it on the daily and in many different fashions. The likes of Barack Obama, Nelson Mandela, sports teams, or some sort of colorful design flatter the simple reams of fabric. It is the quintessential piece of Malawian dress. Walk into any tuck shop and you immediately brush your dome against the folded textiles from Malawi, Tanzania, Mozambique, and on. They are the single most colorful thing any Malawian owns. And oh, it’s so very useful, allow me to demonstrate its many uses:
• A wrap for respect
• Shawl for warmth
• Head scarf
• Sitting mat
• Backpack
• To carry children
• As a towel
• As an apron
• As a pot holder
• As curtains
• As a tablecloth
• Make a fruit hammock, yes a real life “banana hammock” actually holding the many bananas I buy daily
• Scrap fabric for sewing
• Handkerchief
• Sweat rag
• To wrap katundu for traveling, anything from maize, to bananas, to ground nuts get wrapped in the cloth and thrown up to balance on top of one’s head.
This is just a start. There seems to be endless uses for it.
• A wrap for respect
• Shawl for warmth
• Head scarf
• Sitting mat
• Backpack
• To carry children
• As a towel
• As an apron
• As a pot holder
• As curtains
• As a tablecloth
• Make a fruit hammock, yes a real life “banana hammock” actually holding the many bananas I buy daily
• Scrap fabric for sewing
• Handkerchief
• Sweat rag
• To wrap katundu for traveling, anything from maize, to bananas, to ground nuts get wrapped in the cloth and thrown up to balance on top of one’s head.
This is just a start. There seems to be endless uses for it.
From the Journal
August 7, 2010 Chipazi
I just finished my mock language proficiency interview (LPI). It really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be – it certainly gives me hope for what I can accomplish in several months at site. The hardest part was just coming up with the words fast enough – I didn’t have near the problems I thought I would in constructing sentences. I’m glad it’s over though, well in the short term since the real thing is about two weeks from now. However, there are many enjoyable things happening between now and then so I’ll put off thinking of the LPI for now.
Tomorrow we receive our site placements and cell phones. I should be just as psyched as everyone else about knowing my site, but I’m more excited to receive the phone. It’s a throwback to sophomore year of high school when getting your first phone was the highlight of the year, the mark of your adolescent debut. And that’s tomorrow, the dawn of my Malawian adolescence, chatting away on my Nokia brick phone and mastering Snake. They use prepaid wireless in Malawi, very similar to Virgin Mobile, you buy top up cards every so often. I can already tell I’m going to be the sort of person always out of units, I’m terrible at budgeting things like this. So, if I don’t text you back it’s because I don’t have units, nilije maunitsi.
I’m still pretty pumped about getting our site placements. Then I’ll have an idea of where I’ll be living for the next two years. We leave a week from today to do site visits. We’re just now on the cusp, the time between training and transitioning into actual service at site.
Before our site visits begin we drop in on the Camp GLOW being run by the health class a year ahead of us. It’s held near Salima in the Malawi Enterprise Development Institute. One of the few dormitory-style conference centers in Malawi capable of holding 100+ campers and counselors.
Camp GLOW is something I feel very strongly about. GLOW, Girls Leading Our World, is all about women’s empowerment. The camp has been a Peace Corps staple since its debut as a secondary project in Romania in 1994. It’s a week long camp targeted at secondary school age girls on the brink of adolescence and teeming with possibility. The camp has a topic designated for each day to broaden the girls’ understanding of self, their country, their education, their family, and their future. This year the camp officially partners with the Malawi Ministry of Health garnering the camp national recognition. So, the camp is certified to teach life skills courses and will be graced by a visit from the Malawi Vice President Joyce Banda, all in addition to the new funding scheme it provides. The Government of Malawi has undertaken a major campaign to mobilize and empower women across the country. That takes the form of more female appointees in government, federal positions that are female-only, and extensive funding for girls in secondary schools. All that, that’s why I want to be a part of it. My class of volunteers, those arriving as health volunteers in July 2010, will coordinate and govern the 2011 Camp GLOW. I’ll be the program coordinator, the camp’s overseeing director. I’m elated.
I’m in the final stretch of homestay now, only 5 nights and 4 days remaining. I have to say I’m looking forward to leaving. Mostly because then I will be away from any potential bed bug bites. I spent a huge chunk of yesterday afternoon washing my sheets, airing out my mattress plus the pillows, and spraying the hell out of it with Doom. So if all that doesn’t rid me of bed bugs then at least they’ll be radioactive, hopefully fluorescent, and I’ll resign myself to other measures to make peace with them.
I’m in the midst of sewing a dress for Fena, the youngest daughter of my homestay family. She is the most adorable one-year-old I’ve ever seen. That’s saying a lot, I’m generally not so fond of children. And the dress, it’s really coming along nicely even better than I thought it would. At first I was super gung-ho about it: I drew plans, measured and remeasured Fena, scouted out the perfect chitenje. Then, I felt overwhelmed that it was too big of a project; it’s quite tedious hand sewing by kerosene lamp for more than an hour. But now, I feel just right, goldilocks-esque. My hard hours by the lamp begot me a dress fit for the mwana wakondwa, the happy child.
August 16, 2010 Mzuzu
In the Malawian concept of time it’s been a hectic past couple days. We moved out of homestay last Thursday and back into the college (the Malawi College of Forestry), all 34 of us haphazardly thrown into the bunk bed dormitories. We spent a couple of nights there as a rambunctious group, freshly back to a sort of normalcy. If you consider normal to be a college-freshmen-ish booze night, drinking games and the like, complete with couples huddled under the blankets of extra-long twin beds in a two-person dorm. It was rather impressive, the organizing body blew a combined pot of MK12000 on liquor. One of the highlights of the evening was a Ninja Warrior competition. In which a lucky 6 of us competed in such events as the couch pillow climb and mattress jousting. My pseudonym for the competition was the “Kickin’ Bitchin’ Bo Jangles.” It seemed appropriate.
Friday was our village farewell. All the families, ourselves, the trainees, people from the Embassy, etc. We all assembled in Mpalale, one of the four villages hosting trainees. Molini, amayi, and Fena were all there. Fena was wearing the dress I hand sewn; I was so very proud. I parted with the Masina family bearing gifts, one being the dress, and the others, I gave a pin with the Kansas seal, a tupperware set, playing cards, a picture of me, and cookies (here known as biscuits) for the children. I received a saucepan and a tin cup in return. It was quite precious, the whole exchange of gifts. The family seemed so grateful ; it was so touching. Anyhow, at the village farewell, each family is presented with a certificate from Vic, the Country Director, and each trainee gets a picture snapped. These pictures are a real source of pride amongst the many families that host a volunteer. During my stay, my homestay mother got out the picture of her and Brian (the volunteer they hosted before me in February 2010) many times. And my amayi and I, we wore matching chitenje and got snapped doing out special handshake (which technically speaking is the Slater handshake from Dazed and Confused). After the presentations, and after the many villagers cleared the field, time came for the Guli Wan Kulu dance, a traditional Malawian dance to release the spirits. The dancers wear ornate masks set in different alarming countenances. Their costumes are varied assortments of rags and colorful shreds of chitenje. The drums beat rapidly, the bells hidden amidst the cloth shreds jingle furiously, and for lack of a better description the dancer shakes as if he’s having a heart attack. The finale of the Guli Wan Kulu is the big dance. The dancers all start to slow, skirting the edges of dance’s forum, and in enters a 9 ft dancing llama-like animal, swaying side to side and back and forth to the heavy pounds of the drum. There is no sort of ritual hunting dance associated either, it looks more like a worship of the large game, dancing around it, allowing the space, swaying with its own movements. It was truly amazing.
August 18, 2010 Mzimba
The Mzoozoo Zoo had quite the ambience. The Zoo as it is affectionately referred to amongst PCVs is a lodge that seems to cater almost exclusively to azungus, at any given point you find some sort of foreign national. While there I stumbled upon a British VSO, a white South African who was on a cross-continent bike ride, and a Dutch gentleman who ran a lodge on Lake Malawi. The lodge felt like a splendid mixture of the ECM and Henry’s Upstairs, ran by a trio of English ex-patriots. It was bohemian, rugged and untamed, and full of interesting characters.
Two nights later, out of Mzuzu and to Mzimba, I feel like I’m in the posh Corps. Meg and I spent an extra night in Mzuzu, the other volunteers left a day earlier to proceed to their site visits. But us, well this is Malawi and transport is finicky. Transport to our site was provided by the District Hospital in Mzimba, and the ambulances departing from the hospital only leaves early in the morning which means we needed to get an early start if we hoped to make it. Well we did get an early start on Tuesday morning, the first bus out of Mzuzu in fact. But as I’ve learned, TIA, this is Africa. Nothing really runs on time and things are hardly as efficient as I think they should/could be. So upon our arrival in Mzimba, after a short (by short I mean 2km or so) walk to the District Hospital, we found we missed transport. And I started to feel guilty again. I just kept thinking how I could have put more effort in, tried to work my circumstances a bit more. Well it would have been quite unfeasible, because like I said TIA. Anyhow, the District Hospital Officer (DHO) in Mzimba took pity on us. We, Meg and I, were put up in a guest house on the edge of town. We have queen sized beds, showers, electricity, satellite TV, and breakfast. If I didn’t know any better I would think I was in a motel somewhere in the states. The kicker, the DHO felt bad that we couldn’t get to site, so they paid for the lodge. Posh Corps, here we are.
August 19, 2010 Mhalaunda
I finally made my way to site after the Zoo and the posh corps experience. Mhalaunda Health Center, I’m so pumped about living here, I’m not sure I can properly express myself. The house is exquisite, it’s directly adjacent to the health center. It’s painted a brilliant turquoise color. The back patio is gated and completely connected to the house. I can even scale the fence and hop on the roof (the most prime spot for star-gazing). The former volunteer, Tessa, left a ton of things so I’m set as far as dishes, buckets, sheets, blankets, general house wares go. I really couldn’t be happier. I think I’m going to spend the next day or so cleaning the space, say scrubbing the walls and mopping the floor. Then it will be spick-and-span come time for me to move in. There is also room for a garden both across from the house and behind. Plus, Tessa was building a flower garden right in front. So many possibilities for me to nurse my own green thumb. I asked Lila yesterday to send me all sorts of seeds so I can build the kitchen garden of my dreams. I included that note in one of the letters I wrote to Dadjo as well. I hope to be bombarded with seeds for planting. I want a huge ginormous, efflorescent garden. Oh, there is also a mango tree right behind the house and bananas are so prevalent you don’t have to hazard a kwacha at them.
I really think I’m going to enjoy Mhalaunda. There always seems to be a light breeze blowing, dulling the intensity of the zua. It smells so pure. The sky, it’s cloudless. And even though the seasons are about to change and the hot season is upon Malawi, the flowers are still in bloom. Mama Chavula, my Malawian mother, even said this is nothing, wait until the rainy season. Everything blooms and you don’t need to water a thing.
Another wave of TIA, really more of a “this is me in Africa.” The more and more familiar my surroundings become the more I think of course I can do this. There’s no way I can’t do this. It’s also such a welcome relief to have so much less to do and feel at peace with it. I’m relishing this time; where I can devote attention to reading and writing and not feel as if I should be rushing through it just to accomplish the next task. I’m reading to read, reading books I want to read. I’m writing to write, writing my thoughts and general account of things just for me. This is such a paradox to my life as it was in May. I’m indulging in the change.
August 25, 2010 Ekwendeni
Today we visited a traditional healer, an African witch doctor. He spoke only a few spatterings of English, so it was nice to have Aaron and Robin (the language and technical trainers) around to translate the deep Timbuka. He displayed a few of the common herbs he uses, which he retrieves from Nyaka Plateau region on his many medicinal hikes subsidized by the government. He demonstrated his all mighty power by taking some black powder, a concoction of ashes made from the many herbs on display. The ashes lit without a spark and burned through the paper in his hand. I was pretty impressed. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was gun powder or something similar, but still amazing.
The witch doctor, oh he’s also a polygamist. A man with two wives who, coincidentally, are sisters. Known in the region as mbiligha, in which a man is given a second wife by the wife’s parents. It’s generally done because parents are happy with the son-in-law and feel a younger sister is a just reward. I would think this would be a major point of contention – I certainly could never share a husband with a sister. One of the trainers had an in depth conversation with the younger sister/wife, she believes she was been bewitched by the witch doctor. As he related the story to us, each time she thinks about going back to her parents or about how she came to be in her situation. Her thoughts are “stolen” from her and she’s back to thinking of cooking nsima and caring for the children.
So the witch doctor enlightened us on the nature of his gift as well. He told the story of it coming to him in a dream – he saw specific illnesses and the necessary herbs needed to remedy them. The traditional drums called him, each beat made the prognostication more complete. The night of dreams was instant endowment; he woke up fully conscious and capable as a traditional healer. He went from that day forward pursuing the art, san’ganga. In each healing session he makes use of a handmade cowhide drum, one made as a replica to the drums of his dreams to evoke the spirits into assisting with the diagnosis. He then dons himself in a long red and green flowing robe and begins his work.
The government of Malawi recognizes these traditional healers; they are licensed, registered, and only so many can work in a given area. With this recognition it allows them to forage in the protected woodlands for their many herbs they use for their concoctions, places like the Nyaka Plateau National Park and Nkhotankhota. Traditional healers also work very closely with the district and local hospitals in Malawi. For any disease or ailment deemed incurable by modern medicine the hospital will refer patients to the traditional healers, the local (registered) witch doctor. They’ve created this symbiotic relationship, merging the traditional and modern medicine, to form a healthcare system suitable for Malawians. In the event that your goiter, ailing back, persistent cough, etc. don't seem to be improving at the clinic, see a witch doctor for he has the prescription for you, no matter the ailment.
I just finished my mock language proficiency interview (LPI). It really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be – it certainly gives me hope for what I can accomplish in several months at site. The hardest part was just coming up with the words fast enough – I didn’t have near the problems I thought I would in constructing sentences. I’m glad it’s over though, well in the short term since the real thing is about two weeks from now. However, there are many enjoyable things happening between now and then so I’ll put off thinking of the LPI for now.
Tomorrow we receive our site placements and cell phones. I should be just as psyched as everyone else about knowing my site, but I’m more excited to receive the phone. It’s a throwback to sophomore year of high school when getting your first phone was the highlight of the year, the mark of your adolescent debut. And that’s tomorrow, the dawn of my Malawian adolescence, chatting away on my Nokia brick phone and mastering Snake. They use prepaid wireless in Malawi, very similar to Virgin Mobile, you buy top up cards every so often. I can already tell I’m going to be the sort of person always out of units, I’m terrible at budgeting things like this. So, if I don’t text you back it’s because I don’t have units, nilije maunitsi.
I’m still pretty pumped about getting our site placements. Then I’ll have an idea of where I’ll be living for the next two years. We leave a week from today to do site visits. We’re just now on the cusp, the time between training and transitioning into actual service at site.
Before our site visits begin we drop in on the Camp GLOW being run by the health class a year ahead of us. It’s held near Salima in the Malawi Enterprise Development Institute. One of the few dormitory-style conference centers in Malawi capable of holding 100+ campers and counselors.
Camp GLOW is something I feel very strongly about. GLOW, Girls Leading Our World, is all about women’s empowerment. The camp has been a Peace Corps staple since its debut as a secondary project in Romania in 1994. It’s a week long camp targeted at secondary school age girls on the brink of adolescence and teeming with possibility. The camp has a topic designated for each day to broaden the girls’ understanding of self, their country, their education, their family, and their future. This year the camp officially partners with the Malawi Ministry of Health garnering the camp national recognition. So, the camp is certified to teach life skills courses and will be graced by a visit from the Malawi Vice President Joyce Banda, all in addition to the new funding scheme it provides. The Government of Malawi has undertaken a major campaign to mobilize and empower women across the country. That takes the form of more female appointees in government, federal positions that are female-only, and extensive funding for girls in secondary schools. All that, that’s why I want to be a part of it. My class of volunteers, those arriving as health volunteers in July 2010, will coordinate and govern the 2011 Camp GLOW. I’ll be the program coordinator, the camp’s overseeing director. I’m elated.
I’m in the final stretch of homestay now, only 5 nights and 4 days remaining. I have to say I’m looking forward to leaving. Mostly because then I will be away from any potential bed bug bites. I spent a huge chunk of yesterday afternoon washing my sheets, airing out my mattress plus the pillows, and spraying the hell out of it with Doom. So if all that doesn’t rid me of bed bugs then at least they’ll be radioactive, hopefully fluorescent, and I’ll resign myself to other measures to make peace with them.
I’m in the midst of sewing a dress for Fena, the youngest daughter of my homestay family. She is the most adorable one-year-old I’ve ever seen. That’s saying a lot, I’m generally not so fond of children. And the dress, it’s really coming along nicely even better than I thought it would. At first I was super gung-ho about it: I drew plans, measured and remeasured Fena, scouted out the perfect chitenje. Then, I felt overwhelmed that it was too big of a project; it’s quite tedious hand sewing by kerosene lamp for more than an hour. But now, I feel just right, goldilocks-esque. My hard hours by the lamp begot me a dress fit for the mwana wakondwa, the happy child.
August 16, 2010 Mzuzu
In the Malawian concept of time it’s been a hectic past couple days. We moved out of homestay last Thursday and back into the college (the Malawi College of Forestry), all 34 of us haphazardly thrown into the bunk bed dormitories. We spent a couple of nights there as a rambunctious group, freshly back to a sort of normalcy. If you consider normal to be a college-freshmen-ish booze night, drinking games and the like, complete with couples huddled under the blankets of extra-long twin beds in a two-person dorm. It was rather impressive, the organizing body blew a combined pot of MK12000 on liquor. One of the highlights of the evening was a Ninja Warrior competition. In which a lucky 6 of us competed in such events as the couch pillow climb and mattress jousting. My pseudonym for the competition was the “Kickin’ Bitchin’ Bo Jangles.” It seemed appropriate.
Friday was our village farewell. All the families, ourselves, the trainees, people from the Embassy, etc. We all assembled in Mpalale, one of the four villages hosting trainees. Molini, amayi, and Fena were all there. Fena was wearing the dress I hand sewn; I was so very proud. I parted with the Masina family bearing gifts, one being the dress, and the others, I gave a pin with the Kansas seal, a tupperware set, playing cards, a picture of me, and cookies (here known as biscuits) for the children. I received a saucepan and a tin cup in return. It was quite precious, the whole exchange of gifts. The family seemed so grateful ; it was so touching. Anyhow, at the village farewell, each family is presented with a certificate from Vic, the Country Director, and each trainee gets a picture snapped. These pictures are a real source of pride amongst the many families that host a volunteer. During my stay, my homestay mother got out the picture of her and Brian (the volunteer they hosted before me in February 2010) many times. And my amayi and I, we wore matching chitenje and got snapped doing out special handshake (which technically speaking is the Slater handshake from Dazed and Confused). After the presentations, and after the many villagers cleared the field, time came for the Guli Wan Kulu dance, a traditional Malawian dance to release the spirits. The dancers wear ornate masks set in different alarming countenances. Their costumes are varied assortments of rags and colorful shreds of chitenje. The drums beat rapidly, the bells hidden amidst the cloth shreds jingle furiously, and for lack of a better description the dancer shakes as if he’s having a heart attack. The finale of the Guli Wan Kulu is the big dance. The dancers all start to slow, skirting the edges of dance’s forum, and in enters a 9 ft dancing llama-like animal, swaying side to side and back and forth to the heavy pounds of the drum. There is no sort of ritual hunting dance associated either, it looks more like a worship of the large game, dancing around it, allowing the space, swaying with its own movements. It was truly amazing.
August 18, 2010 Mzimba
The Mzoozoo Zoo had quite the ambience. The Zoo as it is affectionately referred to amongst PCVs is a lodge that seems to cater almost exclusively to azungus, at any given point you find some sort of foreign national. While there I stumbled upon a British VSO, a white South African who was on a cross-continent bike ride, and a Dutch gentleman who ran a lodge on Lake Malawi. The lodge felt like a splendid mixture of the ECM and Henry’s Upstairs, ran by a trio of English ex-patriots. It was bohemian, rugged and untamed, and full of interesting characters.
Two nights later, out of Mzuzu and to Mzimba, I feel like I’m in the posh Corps. Meg and I spent an extra night in Mzuzu, the other volunteers left a day earlier to proceed to their site visits. But us, well this is Malawi and transport is finicky. Transport to our site was provided by the District Hospital in Mzimba, and the ambulances departing from the hospital only leaves early in the morning which means we needed to get an early start if we hoped to make it. Well we did get an early start on Tuesday morning, the first bus out of Mzuzu in fact. But as I’ve learned, TIA, this is Africa. Nothing really runs on time and things are hardly as efficient as I think they should/could be. So upon our arrival in Mzimba, after a short (by short I mean 2km or so) walk to the District Hospital, we found we missed transport. And I started to feel guilty again. I just kept thinking how I could have put more effort in, tried to work my circumstances a bit more. Well it would have been quite unfeasible, because like I said TIA. Anyhow, the District Hospital Officer (DHO) in Mzimba took pity on us. We, Meg and I, were put up in a guest house on the edge of town. We have queen sized beds, showers, electricity, satellite TV, and breakfast. If I didn’t know any better I would think I was in a motel somewhere in the states. The kicker, the DHO felt bad that we couldn’t get to site, so they paid for the lodge. Posh Corps, here we are.
August 19, 2010 Mhalaunda
I finally made my way to site after the Zoo and the posh corps experience. Mhalaunda Health Center, I’m so pumped about living here, I’m not sure I can properly express myself. The house is exquisite, it’s directly adjacent to the health center. It’s painted a brilliant turquoise color. The back patio is gated and completely connected to the house. I can even scale the fence and hop on the roof (the most prime spot for star-gazing). The former volunteer, Tessa, left a ton of things so I’m set as far as dishes, buckets, sheets, blankets, general house wares go. I really couldn’t be happier. I think I’m going to spend the next day or so cleaning the space, say scrubbing the walls and mopping the floor. Then it will be spick-and-span come time for me to move in. There is also room for a garden both across from the house and behind. Plus, Tessa was building a flower garden right in front. So many possibilities for me to nurse my own green thumb. I asked Lila yesterday to send me all sorts of seeds so I can build the kitchen garden of my dreams. I included that note in one of the letters I wrote to Dadjo as well. I hope to be bombarded with seeds for planting. I want a huge ginormous, efflorescent garden. Oh, there is also a mango tree right behind the house and bananas are so prevalent you don’t have to hazard a kwacha at them.
I really think I’m going to enjoy Mhalaunda. There always seems to be a light breeze blowing, dulling the intensity of the zua. It smells so pure. The sky, it’s cloudless. And even though the seasons are about to change and the hot season is upon Malawi, the flowers are still in bloom. Mama Chavula, my Malawian mother, even said this is nothing, wait until the rainy season. Everything blooms and you don’t need to water a thing.
Another wave of TIA, really more of a “this is me in Africa.” The more and more familiar my surroundings become the more I think of course I can do this. There’s no way I can’t do this. It’s also such a welcome relief to have so much less to do and feel at peace with it. I’m relishing this time; where I can devote attention to reading and writing and not feel as if I should be rushing through it just to accomplish the next task. I’m reading to read, reading books I want to read. I’m writing to write, writing my thoughts and general account of things just for me. This is such a paradox to my life as it was in May. I’m indulging in the change.
August 25, 2010 Ekwendeni
Today we visited a traditional healer, an African witch doctor. He spoke only a few spatterings of English, so it was nice to have Aaron and Robin (the language and technical trainers) around to translate the deep Timbuka. He displayed a few of the common herbs he uses, which he retrieves from Nyaka Plateau region on his many medicinal hikes subsidized by the government. He demonstrated his all mighty power by taking some black powder, a concoction of ashes made from the many herbs on display. The ashes lit without a spark and burned through the paper in his hand. I was pretty impressed. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was gun powder or something similar, but still amazing.
The witch doctor, oh he’s also a polygamist. A man with two wives who, coincidentally, are sisters. Known in the region as mbiligha, in which a man is given a second wife by the wife’s parents. It’s generally done because parents are happy with the son-in-law and feel a younger sister is a just reward. I would think this would be a major point of contention – I certainly could never share a husband with a sister. One of the trainers had an in depth conversation with the younger sister/wife, she believes she was been bewitched by the witch doctor. As he related the story to us, each time she thinks about going back to her parents or about how she came to be in her situation. Her thoughts are “stolen” from her and she’s back to thinking of cooking nsima and caring for the children.
So the witch doctor enlightened us on the nature of his gift as well. He told the story of it coming to him in a dream – he saw specific illnesses and the necessary herbs needed to remedy them. The traditional drums called him, each beat made the prognostication more complete. The night of dreams was instant endowment; he woke up fully conscious and capable as a traditional healer. He went from that day forward pursuing the art, san’ganga. In each healing session he makes use of a handmade cowhide drum, one made as a replica to the drums of his dreams to evoke the spirits into assisting with the diagnosis. He then dons himself in a long red and green flowing robe and begins his work.
The government of Malawi recognizes these traditional healers; they are licensed, registered, and only so many can work in a given area. With this recognition it allows them to forage in the protected woodlands for their many herbs they use for their concoctions, places like the Nyaka Plateau National Park and Nkhotankhota. Traditional healers also work very closely with the district and local hospitals in Malawi. For any disease or ailment deemed incurable by modern medicine the hospital will refer patients to the traditional healers, the local (registered) witch doctor. They’ve created this symbiotic relationship, merging the traditional and modern medicine, to form a healthcare system suitable for Malawians. In the event that your goiter, ailing back, persistent cough, etc. don't seem to be improving at the clinic, see a witch doctor for he has the prescription for you, no matter the ailment.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Malawian Mannerisms
Here are some thoughts on Malawian mannerisms.
There are several behaviors that I can’t seem to wrap my head around, behaviors where the two parts don’t make a whole. For instance, Malawians eat their meals with their hands, but don’t lick their fingers afterward. Malawians eat nsima, a corn polenta/porridge thing that serves as the base of every single meal they serve here. You eat it by taking a chunk with your hand, ball it up, and then dip it in the dende, the relish, which are the side dishes. This is generally something like beans, cooked greens, meat (if they eat it), or soya pieces (which are surprisingly delicious). Anyhow, nsima is part of every meal and that’s how you eat it and in the process your fingers get pretty sticky. And, you think it would be common nature to lick your fingers after such an endeavor, but no they just wash their hands. I’ve yet to see them stick any fingers in their mouth in fact. It makes me feel rather ridiculous to lick my fingers in consequence also, damn it.
As I said they eat with their hands, they basically do everything with their hands. They touch burning coals from the fire with their bare hands. They cut tomatoes in their hands, no problem, and add it to whatever dish they happen to be making. They handwash clothes, scrub out massive stains with nothing other than their hands. I need to work on making my hands Malawian-friendly so I can do some of these more arduous tasks. I can barely grab one of the nsima patties from the dish because they’re so hot, let alone anything else. I guess my work is cut out for me there.
So another Malawian mannerism, women breastfeed anywhere and everywhere with little modesty paid to whoever might be in view. They just whip out a breast at the drop of the hat, or here at the first cry of the iwe. They whip it out say in a village meeting (and the Chief might be mid-sentence), or standing in line at the bank, or walking through the market they swing the baby around to suckle (they wrap their kids in a chitenge, a long piece of fabric, wrapped around so they carry them on their back). It’s bizarre how commonplace it is to see a woman breastfeeding. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I still stare each time I see it; I really need to get used to it so I can quit feeling like a pervert every time I see a large breast hanging free from an open shirt. But, the kicker is Malawi is a very conservative country when it comes to dress and custom. Modesty is a pillar of culture here. So, only in the cities, the larger cities at that, do women even wear pants. All skirts or dresses worn come well below the knees. Low-cut shirts are extremely rare, I’ve seen very few that even dip below the collar bone in the village. Needless to say, I feel kinda slutty walking around in my knee-length skirt and wife beater. I wish I would have brought some more full coverage shirts and skirts. It’s just such a shame since it’s in the mid to upper 80s like every day, so spaghetti-strap tanks are really the most ideal.
Some other interesting things I’d like to comment on. The word “sure” seems to suffice as an answer to just about everything.
Say: I like your hair, it looks very nice today.
Response: Sure?!
Or
Say: Are we going to town today?
Response: Sure. Sure.
Or
Say to the grocer: Will bread be in tomorrow?
Response: Sure. (even though it won’t be in for a week)
Which leads me to my next point, Malawians also don’t like to be the bearer of bad news. They don’t want to disappoint you. So, if you ask something where the outcome/answer is either unknown or not what you want to hear, they assure something else. Take the question posed to the grocer about the bread, he tells me “sure” or “probably” every time I ask, no matter when the actual shipment is coming in. Or
Say: How far is Embangweni from here? (A question I asked in the middle of my bike ride to a nearby town)
Response: Sure, it’s just there, not far. (And I rode my bike for another half an hour before I arrived).
Matolas are another interesting experience here in Malawi. They are the most widely available form of public transportation. And, it’s another place where custom doesn’t exactly meet practice. A matola is generally a sketchy looking pickup truck where everyone squishes into the bed, along with any katundu, luggage or parcels, and many large 50lb bags of maize or sugar or cement (which always seem to be in transit to some place). Anyone and everyone squishes in. A driver and I guess what you would call a toll-taker operate the vehicle. The toll-taker hollers at anyone standing along the rode asking if they want to ride and they will pick up absolutely anyone, even if the truckbed is overflowing with people or in danger of bottoming out. Credit to Malawians though, they always seem to make it work, everyone always fits and I’ve yet to actually hear the car bottom out when traversing some of the more treacherous dusty road escarpments. At one point on a particularly crowded matola, I was sitting against the truck cab on a bag of maize meal, my legs facing away from the cab and straddling the woman nearest me. No one seemed to mind that I was quite literally straddling her and occassionally she would swap at my foot for some unknown reason. Anyhow, I was quite thankful to be wearing pants on this day (I was in the city to pick up some supplies) rather than a chitenge, I’m not sure what the outcome of that situation would have been otherwise.
I also just got a kitten, I’ve had him for a week now (I got him September 10, I’m not sure when you’re going to read this). His name is Panda and he is quite entertaining and makes me feel less crazy for talking to myself around the house. The story of how he got to my house is rather amusing. So Malawians are kinda weird when it comes to cats. The custom is to carry it in a canvas bag (say a pillowcase) and once the cat is in the bag you are not supposed to let it see where you or going. You are also not supposed to talk with anyone while you are in transit with the cat for fear of letting the feline know your whereabouts. So, if you are traveling with a cat or with someone else traveling with a cat, you are to shush anyone who talks to you and indicate that you are traveling with a cat, by holding up the bag and making meowing sounds. The trip on the matola with the cat was rather interesting to say the least, holding a cat in a bag while straddling a lady and being the only white people around (my friend Ray was traveling along to bring the kitten). Oh yes, we were a spectacle.
I’m sure this list will only grow with time. I plan to make this a series. I hope you enjoyed the beginning.
There are several behaviors that I can’t seem to wrap my head around, behaviors where the two parts don’t make a whole. For instance, Malawians eat their meals with their hands, but don’t lick their fingers afterward. Malawians eat nsima, a corn polenta/porridge thing that serves as the base of every single meal they serve here. You eat it by taking a chunk with your hand, ball it up, and then dip it in the dende, the relish, which are the side dishes. This is generally something like beans, cooked greens, meat (if they eat it), or soya pieces (which are surprisingly delicious). Anyhow, nsima is part of every meal and that’s how you eat it and in the process your fingers get pretty sticky. And, you think it would be common nature to lick your fingers after such an endeavor, but no they just wash their hands. I’ve yet to see them stick any fingers in their mouth in fact. It makes me feel rather ridiculous to lick my fingers in consequence also, damn it.
As I said they eat with their hands, they basically do everything with their hands. They touch burning coals from the fire with their bare hands. They cut tomatoes in their hands, no problem, and add it to whatever dish they happen to be making. They handwash clothes, scrub out massive stains with nothing other than their hands. I need to work on making my hands Malawian-friendly so I can do some of these more arduous tasks. I can barely grab one of the nsima patties from the dish because they’re so hot, let alone anything else. I guess my work is cut out for me there.
So another Malawian mannerism, women breastfeed anywhere and everywhere with little modesty paid to whoever might be in view. They just whip out a breast at the drop of the hat, or here at the first cry of the iwe. They whip it out say in a village meeting (and the Chief might be mid-sentence), or standing in line at the bank, or walking through the market they swing the baby around to suckle (they wrap their kids in a chitenge, a long piece of fabric, wrapped around so they carry them on their back). It’s bizarre how commonplace it is to see a woman breastfeeding. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I still stare each time I see it; I really need to get used to it so I can quit feeling like a pervert every time I see a large breast hanging free from an open shirt. But, the kicker is Malawi is a very conservative country when it comes to dress and custom. Modesty is a pillar of culture here. So, only in the cities, the larger cities at that, do women even wear pants. All skirts or dresses worn come well below the knees. Low-cut shirts are extremely rare, I’ve seen very few that even dip below the collar bone in the village. Needless to say, I feel kinda slutty walking around in my knee-length skirt and wife beater. I wish I would have brought some more full coverage shirts and skirts. It’s just such a shame since it’s in the mid to upper 80s like every day, so spaghetti-strap tanks are really the most ideal.
Some other interesting things I’d like to comment on. The word “sure” seems to suffice as an answer to just about everything.
Say: I like your hair, it looks very nice today.
Response: Sure?!
Or
Say: Are we going to town today?
Response: Sure. Sure.
Or
Say to the grocer: Will bread be in tomorrow?
Response: Sure. (even though it won’t be in for a week)
Which leads me to my next point, Malawians also don’t like to be the bearer of bad news. They don’t want to disappoint you. So, if you ask something where the outcome/answer is either unknown or not what you want to hear, they assure something else. Take the question posed to the grocer about the bread, he tells me “sure” or “probably” every time I ask, no matter when the actual shipment is coming in. Or
Say: How far is Embangweni from here? (A question I asked in the middle of my bike ride to a nearby town)
Response: Sure, it’s just there, not far. (And I rode my bike for another half an hour before I arrived).
Matolas are another interesting experience here in Malawi. They are the most widely available form of public transportation. And, it’s another place where custom doesn’t exactly meet practice. A matola is generally a sketchy looking pickup truck where everyone squishes into the bed, along with any katundu, luggage or parcels, and many large 50lb bags of maize or sugar or cement (which always seem to be in transit to some place). Anyone and everyone squishes in. A driver and I guess what you would call a toll-taker operate the vehicle. The toll-taker hollers at anyone standing along the rode asking if they want to ride and they will pick up absolutely anyone, even if the truckbed is overflowing with people or in danger of bottoming out. Credit to Malawians though, they always seem to make it work, everyone always fits and I’ve yet to actually hear the car bottom out when traversing some of the more treacherous dusty road escarpments. At one point on a particularly crowded matola, I was sitting against the truck cab on a bag of maize meal, my legs facing away from the cab and straddling the woman nearest me. No one seemed to mind that I was quite literally straddling her and occassionally she would swap at my foot for some unknown reason. Anyhow, I was quite thankful to be wearing pants on this day (I was in the city to pick up some supplies) rather than a chitenge, I’m not sure what the outcome of that situation would have been otherwise.
I also just got a kitten, I’ve had him for a week now (I got him September 10, I’m not sure when you’re going to read this). His name is Panda and he is quite entertaining and makes me feel less crazy for talking to myself around the house. The story of how he got to my house is rather amusing. So Malawians are kinda weird when it comes to cats. The custom is to carry it in a canvas bag (say a pillowcase) and once the cat is in the bag you are not supposed to let it see where you or going. You are also not supposed to talk with anyone while you are in transit with the cat for fear of letting the feline know your whereabouts. So, if you are traveling with a cat or with someone else traveling with a cat, you are to shush anyone who talks to you and indicate that you are traveling with a cat, by holding up the bag and making meowing sounds. The trip on the matola with the cat was rather interesting to say the least, holding a cat in a bag while straddling a lady and being the only white people around (my friend Ray was traveling along to bring the kitten). Oh yes, we were a spectacle.
I’m sure this list will only grow with time. I plan to make this a series. I hope you enjoyed the beginning.
More from my Journal
July 25, 2010 Chikanda
Today I convinced my homestay sister and cousin to run with me. They find it quite hilarious that I go on runs, so I toke it upon myself to invite them. We woke a few minutes before 6am and started out to Mzengareza. It was highly overcast and insanely windy, all in all not a good day to run uphill against the wind, so to Mzengareza we went. They did pretty well considering we did a 45 minute run. I even threw in some calisthenics mid-run to keep them entertained; we did high knees, butt kicks, and the indian run.
In the afternoon the lot of us trainees organized a trip to Dedza Pottery and Lodge. It’s quite close, only a few minutes outside of Mzengareza. They fire all their own pottery and provide a robustly decadent menu. By Malawian standards they’re quite pricey, say K1200 for my vegetable curry, but that translates to roughly $4.50. I will say I was a tad disappointed with my meal though, there was a noticeabe lack of good vegetables and the portion size was meager. Os was sitting right next to me and he ordered the chicken curry with nearly twice as much curry and steamed vegetables on the side. And, it was cheaper than mine. I was a tad peeved, really vegetables are cheaper than chicken no matter how you look at it and especially here where meat is a delicacy. So, I complained and the manager ended up charging me the same as the chicken curry. Not a total victory, but it will do. Oh how my mother would be proud, using my bargaining skills.
So before starting Peace Corps I was very deliberate to not set any sort of real expectations or goals. I didn’t want to arrive in Malawi and have over or underestimated my position. I wanted to come into this and be able to roll with the punches. And, I’d say I’ve done just that, for the most part. Sure, I did have some unconscious, un-uttered thoughts – like am I really going to be able to hack it? I’ve never been this far from home for this long, etc. Of course I told myself I was up to the challenge, but in the back of my head I wondered am I really. Now I’m here and it seems so natural, more natural than I would have ever thought possible. My roll-with-it-attitude has acquiesced with my determination to “hack” it and won over my subconscious. I just go day by day, just as I did back home, and it seems so almost easy at this point. Here I am, just living in working in Malawi. I still have those surreal moments of “Holy shit I’m in Malawi!” But those moments are becoming less and less. And, when I have those too real pangs my coping mechanism kicks in and I return to the book I was reading or watch an episode of Seinfeld or Gossip Girl (guilty pleasure #1 right now) on my netbook.
July 26, 2010 Chikanda
Chikanda moyo is a sort of cake native to Malawi, made from their all-purpose ngaiwa (corn flour), bananas, and a few other things. Besides being delicious, the name means “to love life,” which I find so appropriate. I thought of my dear friend Ashley Davis when Aaron, my language trainer, told us what it meant. If you know Ashley you know her basic life motto is “I heart life.” I can’t count the many times I’ve heard her say it as a response to just about anything. As cheesy as I thought it sounded at the time, which I did, I would roll my eyes and laugh when she would say it. Now, it seems so pertinent. Chikando moyo is an essential part to this whole adventure. To be here and to work with any sort of enthusiasm, you must love life and I do. I’m enjoying every moment of it and I have for quite some time now.
July 27, 2010 Chikanda
Funny moment of the day: I let Molini, my homestay sister, look at my iPhone. She likes to flip through the music, looking at all the album covers and playing random songs. She’s breezing through all the music when she decides to play, at complete random, “Pussy Fight.” Please keep in mind that my older brother, Jason, gave me this phone with all the music already on it. The majority of the music is ghetto rap music, just saying, we’re real Topeka people folks. I’m doing my best not to laugh out loud to such lyrics as “girl pull your panties down, girl we’re going to have a pussy fight.” Or “you can call me a nympho because girl I’m goin’ limp over you.” I can barely contain myself and dear Molini, she’s just bopping along to the catchy beat.
July 28, 2010 Chikanda
Here’s to prove myself that I’m halfway proficient with Chitimbuka. A small lesson on my homestay family:
Iyi, ni mbumba yane mu nyumba mwithu, nili na bakulu babiri na balongosi batatu. Ndipo mbumba ya Masina. Mudumbu wachinkonde, wali na chaka chimozo. M’bale mwanalume, wali na vyaka vinkonde na vibiri. Ba’bale wachibiri na wachitatu, bali na vyaka vikhumi na chimoza. Bana bane, mazina ghabo gha kumalira na Tonice. Badada na bamama bane, bali na zina abo ni ba Masina. Mbumba yane yikunitemwa.
August 3, 2010
Today was a good day. The beg bugs that had infested my nyumba are finally gone. After gassing my entire nyumba with Doom and putting up fresh plastic to protect from the falling thatch, I am now fully protected from both the bed bugs and the ever-persistent urdzu, the bits of grass that falls from the thatch roof. It was clustering in a ball in the far corner of my room and the spurs burrow into my blankets and clothes. So scratchy and irritating. I’m so glad to be rid of the two things. Only, I still have a dozen or more bites that I keep itching. Sunday night was certainly the worst – I could just feel them crawling on me. I lay awake for hours, barely able to contain my anxiety. The anti-malarial meds are just preying on this anxiety and amplifying it too. Dr. Erfan, the Peace Corps Medical Officer, says that Mefloquine just exacerbates any pre-existing anxieties. So it was a long night to say the least, the only real way I got through it was listening to Enya. Something about new age music is really soothing to me, please don’t judge. I spent the majority of Monday sporadically scratching myself. Even though bedbugs are nocturnal creatures I just kept feeling things crawl on me. It was pretty awful.
But, as I said, the bugs are gone, doomed to death. And today did turn into a very good day. We had our cooking demonstration with our trainers. We spent the entire afternoon preparing various Malawian dishes. I was excited to learn how to make mandasis, the Malawian donuts. I made a vegan variety that only requires flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, water, and oil to fry them in. Here’s to going back to the US and teaching that you can make vegan donuts! You can do some other mix-ins like bananas, cocoa, or roll them in cinnamon and sugar. Quite delicious. For the meat eaters, Talia killed a chicken, she had her first go at slicing the head off and everything. I couldn’t bring myself to watch. It was 6 or so people clustered around her, one holding the head down with his foot, the bird squawking in fear, feathers catching in the wind, and then the “I don’t know if I can do it!” “But you have to!” “Ok, here it goes.” And slice. It turns my stomach a little to write about it. But kudos to those that can kill their own food and use the majority of the body, then you go ahead with my blessing. Just watching them carve up was pretty stomach-turning as well. Evidently, the spleen (or what I think was the spleen) ruptured and green gunk was all over the insides. They had to clean it all out, each organ and body part, or risk food poisioning. Personally, having to take risks like that and touching the meat is too unsettling for me. Another big reason why I don’t eat meat.
It was also Talia’s birthday today. So, we made a Chikanda moyo for her. To make African cake, grease the bottom of a large pot, mix and place all the ingredients inside, build a small fire below the pot, and cover and build a small fire on the lid. Bam, Malawian dutch oven. So, we sang both the English and Malawian versions of Happy Birthday (the latter is the same tune but with Chitimbuka words, funny how that song seems to translate to any language and it always sounds the same). We then broke out a bottle of Gold Label, Malawian brandy, and passed it around each of us exchanging toasts. The toast of the evening, “Just kill it!” It pertained to both finishing the bottle of liquor and to killing the chicken. Quite appropriate. I did make Talia a card for her birthday, made out of LAR (locally available resources), i.e. the magazines I brought from home. It was pretty fun and clever, or at least I thought so. The text: “Mike Tyson would like to posee a riddle: What’s ginormous, well-hung, or mini in size?” [with a picture of Mike Tyson]. The inside: “Ntochi of course, I mean we are in Africa aren’t we?” [with a picture of a banana].
Today I convinced my homestay sister and cousin to run with me. They find it quite hilarious that I go on runs, so I toke it upon myself to invite them. We woke a few minutes before 6am and started out to Mzengareza. It was highly overcast and insanely windy, all in all not a good day to run uphill against the wind, so to Mzengareza we went. They did pretty well considering we did a 45 minute run. I even threw in some calisthenics mid-run to keep them entertained; we did high knees, butt kicks, and the indian run.
In the afternoon the lot of us trainees organized a trip to Dedza Pottery and Lodge. It’s quite close, only a few minutes outside of Mzengareza. They fire all their own pottery and provide a robustly decadent menu. By Malawian standards they’re quite pricey, say K1200 for my vegetable curry, but that translates to roughly $4.50. I will say I was a tad disappointed with my meal though, there was a noticeabe lack of good vegetables and the portion size was meager. Os was sitting right next to me and he ordered the chicken curry with nearly twice as much curry and steamed vegetables on the side. And, it was cheaper than mine. I was a tad peeved, really vegetables are cheaper than chicken no matter how you look at it and especially here where meat is a delicacy. So, I complained and the manager ended up charging me the same as the chicken curry. Not a total victory, but it will do. Oh how my mother would be proud, using my bargaining skills.
So before starting Peace Corps I was very deliberate to not set any sort of real expectations or goals. I didn’t want to arrive in Malawi and have over or underestimated my position. I wanted to come into this and be able to roll with the punches. And, I’d say I’ve done just that, for the most part. Sure, I did have some unconscious, un-uttered thoughts – like am I really going to be able to hack it? I’ve never been this far from home for this long, etc. Of course I told myself I was up to the challenge, but in the back of my head I wondered am I really. Now I’m here and it seems so natural, more natural than I would have ever thought possible. My roll-with-it-attitude has acquiesced with my determination to “hack” it and won over my subconscious. I just go day by day, just as I did back home, and it seems so almost easy at this point. Here I am, just living in working in Malawi. I still have those surreal moments of “Holy shit I’m in Malawi!” But those moments are becoming less and less. And, when I have those too real pangs my coping mechanism kicks in and I return to the book I was reading or watch an episode of Seinfeld or Gossip Girl (guilty pleasure #1 right now) on my netbook.
July 26, 2010 Chikanda
Chikanda moyo is a sort of cake native to Malawi, made from their all-purpose ngaiwa (corn flour), bananas, and a few other things. Besides being delicious, the name means “to love life,” which I find so appropriate. I thought of my dear friend Ashley Davis when Aaron, my language trainer, told us what it meant. If you know Ashley you know her basic life motto is “I heart life.” I can’t count the many times I’ve heard her say it as a response to just about anything. As cheesy as I thought it sounded at the time, which I did, I would roll my eyes and laugh when she would say it. Now, it seems so pertinent. Chikando moyo is an essential part to this whole adventure. To be here and to work with any sort of enthusiasm, you must love life and I do. I’m enjoying every moment of it and I have for quite some time now.
July 27, 2010 Chikanda
Funny moment of the day: I let Molini, my homestay sister, look at my iPhone. She likes to flip through the music, looking at all the album covers and playing random songs. She’s breezing through all the music when she decides to play, at complete random, “Pussy Fight.” Please keep in mind that my older brother, Jason, gave me this phone with all the music already on it. The majority of the music is ghetto rap music, just saying, we’re real Topeka people folks. I’m doing my best not to laugh out loud to such lyrics as “girl pull your panties down, girl we’re going to have a pussy fight.” Or “you can call me a nympho because girl I’m goin’ limp over you.” I can barely contain myself and dear Molini, she’s just bopping along to the catchy beat.
July 28, 2010 Chikanda
Here’s to prove myself that I’m halfway proficient with Chitimbuka. A small lesson on my homestay family:
Iyi, ni mbumba yane mu nyumba mwithu, nili na bakulu babiri na balongosi batatu. Ndipo mbumba ya Masina. Mudumbu wachinkonde, wali na chaka chimozo. M’bale mwanalume, wali na vyaka vinkonde na vibiri. Ba’bale wachibiri na wachitatu, bali na vyaka vikhumi na chimoza. Bana bane, mazina ghabo gha kumalira na Tonice. Badada na bamama bane, bali na zina abo ni ba Masina. Mbumba yane yikunitemwa.
August 3, 2010
Today was a good day. The beg bugs that had infested my nyumba are finally gone. After gassing my entire nyumba with Doom and putting up fresh plastic to protect from the falling thatch, I am now fully protected from both the bed bugs and the ever-persistent urdzu, the bits of grass that falls from the thatch roof. It was clustering in a ball in the far corner of my room and the spurs burrow into my blankets and clothes. So scratchy and irritating. I’m so glad to be rid of the two things. Only, I still have a dozen or more bites that I keep itching. Sunday night was certainly the worst – I could just feel them crawling on me. I lay awake for hours, barely able to contain my anxiety. The anti-malarial meds are just preying on this anxiety and amplifying it too. Dr. Erfan, the Peace Corps Medical Officer, says that Mefloquine just exacerbates any pre-existing anxieties. So it was a long night to say the least, the only real way I got through it was listening to Enya. Something about new age music is really soothing to me, please don’t judge. I spent the majority of Monday sporadically scratching myself. Even though bedbugs are nocturnal creatures I just kept feeling things crawl on me. It was pretty awful.
But, as I said, the bugs are gone, doomed to death. And today did turn into a very good day. We had our cooking demonstration with our trainers. We spent the entire afternoon preparing various Malawian dishes. I was excited to learn how to make mandasis, the Malawian donuts. I made a vegan variety that only requires flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, water, and oil to fry them in. Here’s to going back to the US and teaching that you can make vegan donuts! You can do some other mix-ins like bananas, cocoa, or roll them in cinnamon and sugar. Quite delicious. For the meat eaters, Talia killed a chicken, she had her first go at slicing the head off and everything. I couldn’t bring myself to watch. It was 6 or so people clustered around her, one holding the head down with his foot, the bird squawking in fear, feathers catching in the wind, and then the “I don’t know if I can do it!” “But you have to!” “Ok, here it goes.” And slice. It turns my stomach a little to write about it. But kudos to those that can kill their own food and use the majority of the body, then you go ahead with my blessing. Just watching them carve up was pretty stomach-turning as well. Evidently, the spleen (or what I think was the spleen) ruptured and green gunk was all over the insides. They had to clean it all out, each organ and body part, or risk food poisioning. Personally, having to take risks like that and touching the meat is too unsettling for me. Another big reason why I don’t eat meat.
It was also Talia’s birthday today. So, we made a Chikanda moyo for her. To make African cake, grease the bottom of a large pot, mix and place all the ingredients inside, build a small fire below the pot, and cover and build a small fire on the lid. Bam, Malawian dutch oven. So, we sang both the English and Malawian versions of Happy Birthday (the latter is the same tune but with Chitimbuka words, funny how that song seems to translate to any language and it always sounds the same). We then broke out a bottle of Gold Label, Malawian brandy, and passed it around each of us exchanging toasts. The toast of the evening, “Just kill it!” It pertained to both finishing the bottle of liquor and to killing the chicken. Quite appropriate. I did make Talia a card for her birthday, made out of LAR (locally available resources), i.e. the magazines I brought from home. It was pretty fun and clever, or at least I thought so. The text: “Mike Tyson would like to posee a riddle: What’s ginormous, well-hung, or mini in size?” [with a picture of Mike Tyson]. The inside: “Ntochi of course, I mean we are in Africa aren’t we?” [with a picture of a banana].
Friday, September 10, 2010
Journal Entries - Part Two
More from my journal:
July 16, 2010 Chikanda
The end of week one of pre-service training, I’ve been in Malawi now for just over two weeks and I have to say, I’m really enjoying myself. This concept of a simpler way of life is really rubbing off on me. Things are far less complicated, I have a near minimum level of stress (save for the few side effects from the anti-malarial meds), I’m fully rested, nearly over-rested (I’m sleeping around 9 hours a night right now). It’s so different, yet so welcome. This is what I envisioned of my Peace Corps lifestyle, a simple existence while doing meaningful work. So far, so good, granted I’m still in the training phase, but nonetheless, it will be similar to this. And it is thus far.
I like my homestay family more and more. We are growing more comfortable and fond of each other. I was initially scared that my amayi didn’t like me; she seemed a little distant and standoffish. I think she just needed some time to adjust to my presence (and me to adjust to hers). Now, we laugh and joke with one another, or as much joking as can be had with limited dialogue (just an FYI, fart noises are just as funny here).
July 18, 2010 Chikanda
I’m feeling very productive today. This is why I like Sundays; I love to turn them into days where I can work through a list, crossing things off as I go. I got up to run this morning with a few other trainees staying in my village. Running is a bit different here; I have to run in baggy clothes with my chitenge wrapped around me. (I’m so glad I brought three pairs of running shorts that I’ll never be able to wear.) I managed to do all my laundry, all of my laundry since I’ve been in country. That took about two and a half hours, essentially forever. I made the time seem to pass a little faster by rocking out to Girl Talk on the iPod, this was a source of amusement for my family as I tend to rap the lyrics out loud when the moment strikes me. I also swept and cleaned my nyumba (my little mud hut). As I said, a very productive day, I’m feeling quite content.
After chakulya cha muhanya, lunch, the two other trainees and myself learning Chitimbuka went to speak with another family in Chikanda that is fluent in Chitimbuka. This is the sort of exercise that Peace Corps calls self-directed learning. We are to go plop ourselves down with someone, in this case the Naluso family, and speak our targeted language. I was a little apprehensive about the exercise, I mean how comfortable can you be when your trainer just gives you the name of a family, tells you where they live, and instructs you to go on Sunday afternoon. But, all apprehensions aside, the family was great! I was quite surprised. The family consisted of an amayi, an abambo, and two secondary school aged girls; they were so inviting and very sweet. They really grasped the purpose of our visit and spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable, and asking the simple questions: what did you have for lunch? what do you like about Malawi? how is your family? I really wonder why they’re not hosting a trainee since they have such a good grasp of English and a language that isn’t spoke even in the region (we’re in a Chichewa-speaking part of the country). ‘Tis a shame since they are so patient and they have such a nice compound, really one of the more beautiful mud huts I’ve seen in Malawi.
July 21, 2010 Lilongwe
Today was the visit to the presidential estate. The President of Malawi, Ngwazi Bingu wa Mutharika hosted the entire Peace Corps contingency for a luncheon in appreciation of the work PC is doing in Malawi. It was quite the event to say the least the very least. The entire luncheon from the first person to enter the hall to the last dance danced was broadcasted on the local government channel the Malawi Broadcasting Network (MBC). We were informed early on that the event was being broadcasted live, hint hint don’t embarrass yourselves or pick your nose or anything like that. Well, that warning wasn’t exactly heeded, the embarrass yourselves part, I’m not sure how many people were caught picking their noses.
Overall, the event was highly enjoyable if not a little over the top. I met a ton of the current PCVs from all over the country, just about 100 showed up in total. If you were a meat-eater, you were in heaven. The menu included fish, beef, chicken, beans, vegetables, etc. And not only did you get to pick one option, you could have the smorgasbord if you so chose. The gentleman placed next to me did just this. I’m sure it sounds delicious to a number of people, but let me relate that the fish is served whole. So, you have to look at the face of it, peel away the scales, and debone it on spot. Plus, Malawians aren’t so keen on silverware, so this is done all by hand, literally. Anyhow, I convinced my seat mate to gouge out the eyes and eat those first, sure it was out of spite for not only eating that much meat but for the overall gluttony of it all. Ok, that sounded rather pretentious, many apologies, nonetheless it was kinda gross.
And then there was the booze. Bingu is a Catholic and just like at home, the Catholics know how to have a good time when it comes to their drink. Bottle after bottle came to the table, when one was not yet halfway depleted a fresh one arrived. South African wine, rose and brut champagne, Amarula (a Malawian version of Bailey’s), beer, etc. all in bountiful supply and free. You can imagine how this would inspire young Americans on a budget, in a foreign country, who only seldom see other azungus. Yes, to answer your question and my foreboding first paragraph, the volunteers on the whole got good and toasty. And with the band Bingu hired, we all danced and drank the afternoon away (as I said, it was a luncheon), so toasted by 4pm.
Since, I’ve travelled from the south of the Malawi to the far north and often I’ve been stopped, say at road blocks (which are common on the major highways). And, each time someone mentions watching the luncheon and then comments that we sure know how to have a good time. I’d say it’s a message of good will, both those comments and our overall behavior. We are sharing our culture with Malawi, just as tenet 3 of the Peace Corps mission suggests.
July 23, 2010 Chikanda
I apologize in advance for this entry, it’s a little cheesy, but I’m writing it anyway. Until now I never really understood the meaning of the phrase a ‘twinkling star.’ I grew up gazing at the stars, waking at obscure hours to lie on the hood of my Dad’s car out in the country watching meteor showers. From then on, I have a certain fascination with the nighttime sky. I grew up assuming though that each star was a constant stream of faint light, more of a steady twinkly than a varying sparkle. Not until I came to Malawi and had a chance to entrance myself with the nighttime shroud of darkness. I’m happy to say that my fascination does not wane here and the stars really do twinkle, it’s not just a cliché. Each star seems to glisten against the effervescent background of the Milky Way, so clearly identifiable in the night sky. And the moon, it’s so unbelievably bright – I now have a much better context for Cat Steven’s song “Moon Shadow.” You walk with a real shadow behind you at night; you can walk most anyplace without the assistance of a flashlight. It’s just beautiful, sigh.
July 16, 2010 Chikanda
The end of week one of pre-service training, I’ve been in Malawi now for just over two weeks and I have to say, I’m really enjoying myself. This concept of a simpler way of life is really rubbing off on me. Things are far less complicated, I have a near minimum level of stress (save for the few side effects from the anti-malarial meds), I’m fully rested, nearly over-rested (I’m sleeping around 9 hours a night right now). It’s so different, yet so welcome. This is what I envisioned of my Peace Corps lifestyle, a simple existence while doing meaningful work. So far, so good, granted I’m still in the training phase, but nonetheless, it will be similar to this. And it is thus far.
I like my homestay family more and more. We are growing more comfortable and fond of each other. I was initially scared that my amayi didn’t like me; she seemed a little distant and standoffish. I think she just needed some time to adjust to my presence (and me to adjust to hers). Now, we laugh and joke with one another, or as much joking as can be had with limited dialogue (just an FYI, fart noises are just as funny here).
July 18, 2010 Chikanda
I’m feeling very productive today. This is why I like Sundays; I love to turn them into days where I can work through a list, crossing things off as I go. I got up to run this morning with a few other trainees staying in my village. Running is a bit different here; I have to run in baggy clothes with my chitenge wrapped around me. (I’m so glad I brought three pairs of running shorts that I’ll never be able to wear.) I managed to do all my laundry, all of my laundry since I’ve been in country. That took about two and a half hours, essentially forever. I made the time seem to pass a little faster by rocking out to Girl Talk on the iPod, this was a source of amusement for my family as I tend to rap the lyrics out loud when the moment strikes me. I also swept and cleaned my nyumba (my little mud hut). As I said, a very productive day, I’m feeling quite content.
After chakulya cha muhanya, lunch, the two other trainees and myself learning Chitimbuka went to speak with another family in Chikanda that is fluent in Chitimbuka. This is the sort of exercise that Peace Corps calls self-directed learning. We are to go plop ourselves down with someone, in this case the Naluso family, and speak our targeted language. I was a little apprehensive about the exercise, I mean how comfortable can you be when your trainer just gives you the name of a family, tells you where they live, and instructs you to go on Sunday afternoon. But, all apprehensions aside, the family was great! I was quite surprised. The family consisted of an amayi, an abambo, and two secondary school aged girls; they were so inviting and very sweet. They really grasped the purpose of our visit and spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable, and asking the simple questions: what did you have for lunch? what do you like about Malawi? how is your family? I really wonder why they’re not hosting a trainee since they have such a good grasp of English and a language that isn’t spoke even in the region (we’re in a Chichewa-speaking part of the country). ‘Tis a shame since they are so patient and they have such a nice compound, really one of the more beautiful mud huts I’ve seen in Malawi.
July 21, 2010 Lilongwe
Today was the visit to the presidential estate. The President of Malawi, Ngwazi Bingu wa Mutharika hosted the entire Peace Corps contingency for a luncheon in appreciation of the work PC is doing in Malawi. It was quite the event to say the least the very least. The entire luncheon from the first person to enter the hall to the last dance danced was broadcasted on the local government channel the Malawi Broadcasting Network (MBC). We were informed early on that the event was being broadcasted live, hint hint don’t embarrass yourselves or pick your nose or anything like that. Well, that warning wasn’t exactly heeded, the embarrass yourselves part, I’m not sure how many people were caught picking their noses.
Overall, the event was highly enjoyable if not a little over the top. I met a ton of the current PCVs from all over the country, just about 100 showed up in total. If you were a meat-eater, you were in heaven. The menu included fish, beef, chicken, beans, vegetables, etc. And not only did you get to pick one option, you could have the smorgasbord if you so chose. The gentleman placed next to me did just this. I’m sure it sounds delicious to a number of people, but let me relate that the fish is served whole. So, you have to look at the face of it, peel away the scales, and debone it on spot. Plus, Malawians aren’t so keen on silverware, so this is done all by hand, literally. Anyhow, I convinced my seat mate to gouge out the eyes and eat those first, sure it was out of spite for not only eating that much meat but for the overall gluttony of it all. Ok, that sounded rather pretentious, many apologies, nonetheless it was kinda gross.
And then there was the booze. Bingu is a Catholic and just like at home, the Catholics know how to have a good time when it comes to their drink. Bottle after bottle came to the table, when one was not yet halfway depleted a fresh one arrived. South African wine, rose and brut champagne, Amarula (a Malawian version of Bailey’s), beer, etc. all in bountiful supply and free. You can imagine how this would inspire young Americans on a budget, in a foreign country, who only seldom see other azungus. Yes, to answer your question and my foreboding first paragraph, the volunteers on the whole got good and toasty. And with the band Bingu hired, we all danced and drank the afternoon away (as I said, it was a luncheon), so toasted by 4pm.
Since, I’ve travelled from the south of the Malawi to the far north and often I’ve been stopped, say at road blocks (which are common on the major highways). And, each time someone mentions watching the luncheon and then comments that we sure know how to have a good time. I’d say it’s a message of good will, both those comments and our overall behavior. We are sharing our culture with Malawi, just as tenet 3 of the Peace Corps mission suggests.
July 23, 2010 Chikanda
I apologize in advance for this entry, it’s a little cheesy, but I’m writing it anyway. Until now I never really understood the meaning of the phrase a ‘twinkling star.’ I grew up gazing at the stars, waking at obscure hours to lie on the hood of my Dad’s car out in the country watching meteor showers. From then on, I have a certain fascination with the nighttime sky. I grew up assuming though that each star was a constant stream of faint light, more of a steady twinkly than a varying sparkle. Not until I came to Malawi and had a chance to entrance myself with the nighttime shroud of darkness. I’m happy to say that my fascination does not wane here and the stars really do twinkle, it’s not just a cliché. Each star seems to glisten against the effervescent background of the Milky Way, so clearly identifiable in the night sky. And the moon, it’s so unbelievably bright – I now have a much better context for Cat Steven’s song “Moon Shadow.” You walk with a real shadow behind you at night; you can walk most anyplace without the assistance of a flashlight. It’s just beautiful, sigh.
Monday, August 30, 2010
A few entries from my journal
Below are a series of entries from my journal. I’ve made some additions and corrections after a little reflection, but here’s a taste of my thoughts.
July 4, 2010 Dedza, Malawi
I am laying here under the bulgy contours of my mosquito net. It’s rather surreal to pull down the mesh folds and tuck it into the bedspread around me. I’m sure I’ll adjust at some point; I suppose I should think of it like a little-princess-drapery-thing, not that I was ever into that.
I would say today was a great success. We climbed the mountain directly behind the college (the Dedza College of Forestry, where we’re staying for pre-service training, PST.) It was about a forty minute hike up to the summit of the closest face and oh my was it worth it. A 360 degree view of the surrounding valley and all the nearby mountains. I’ve never seen anything like it. Honest to goodness, it took the breath out of me. That was my first pang of “Holy Shit! I’m in Malawi.” [many more of these to come] You could see so far, the horizon seemed boundless. The valley was unobstructed from our gaze, the treeline converged upon the savannah-like shrubery, fires were visible as little puffy plumes and not a paved road was visible to the naked eye. I took it all in thinking this is it, this is my life for two years. And, I couldn’t be happier about it.
July 5, 2010 Dedza
Day 2 of training is now complete. I have to say, it’s not quite as intense as I initially expected. I did get another round of shots – now I have two sore shoulders, as opposed to one. [one of which resulted in a small scar on my right shoulder, stupid rabies shots]. Evelyn, the medical assistant, makes every effort possible to make you feel comfortable. She laughs merrily as she sticks you with a needle roughly 7in in length, followed by a big hug. It’s fairly reassuring, considering we’re to have about 14 shots in total.
The first medical session wasn’t too in depth, in terms of general medical advice we should heed in the next 2 years. However, we named every possible side effect of mefloquine, the anti-malarial medication prescribed to the majority of volunteers. Unfortunately, I’m on this particular anti-malarial. The side effects include: paranoia, heightened anxiety, hallucinations of things crawling on you, insomnia, etc. Being as this was day two in Malawi, this discussion only served to further my hypochondria and anxiety. I’m already having creepy-crawling feelings and I’m sure the lucid, weird dreams are soon to follow. [to clarify, the creepy hallucinations do happen and they are not pleasant, I’ve since switched to half doses].
The afternoon was reserved for interviews with the APCD, associate Peace Corps director (the Peace Corps is very very fond of acronyms). While we waited for our individual interviews, we got a tour of the chimbudzi, the pit latrines. So running water is rather rare here and only a quarter of the volunteers live at a site with indoor plumbing. Anyhow, the chimbudzi looks like fun .... It’s a small brick structure with either a concrete or dirt floor. There’s a small opening, roughly the size of a small bowl for the many sorts of trickles one might experience. I’ve gotten pretty good with my aim and in the event I miss, there’s a small twig-brush in the corner to sweep it in. [I had my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t get a chimbudzi, affectionately referred to as the “chim,” turns out I got a site with one, it’s not all that bad]. One of the current PCVs told us a horror story of finding a baby goat in the chim. Turns out it fell in sometime during the morning and when he was mid-drop he heard the bleats (do goats bleat? Or is that just sheep, I’m not really sure). They did everything they could to get it out, but they lost it to the stinking sinkhole. And that’s why you always cover your chim opening, let that be a lesson.
A current volunteer who is serving as our resource PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) mentioned some guidelines for care packages. The story that sticks out in my mind is the care package she received from her parents for her birthday. Inside the package was a birthday card with a cutesy note, ending with, “And we hope you enjoy the chocolate.” All that was left was a piece of tape and a brown smear. So the advice she gave was label all packages: God is watching you wih abundant wrath. Evidently that will curb some of the package-content-confiscation incidences. In any event, it certainly wouldn’t hurt. Please heed this anyone who wants to send me packages .
July 7, 2010 Dedza
So being in PST kinda feels like I’m at summer camp. We have sessions in the morning, we break for snack, we played a soccer game in the afternoon between the health and the education sector. We each have our own little dorm room that we share with another PCT (Peace Corps Trainee, what did I tell you about acronyms), complete with a gift bag. It’s kinda fun in that kitschy summer camp sort of way. We even got to go to a local bar to watch the World Cup semi-finals. By American standards, it was a dive, but by Malawi standards it was pretty superb. The name of the bar, Ed’s Bar, quaint I know. I found that pretty amusing. It’s also great that your average beer here, the Carlsberg Green, is 160 Kwacha and roughly 150 Kwacha make a $1, talk about excellent. As for Malawi beers, the most popular brand is Kuche Kuche. Yep, read exactly as written. Laugh about that one, I certainly did.
July 10, 2010 Chikanda
Today we moved into the villages for the 5 weeks during homestay. I’m in Chikanda one of the four villages hosting all 36 of us PCTs. The idea of homestay is to acclimate yourself to living on the village level, without running water, electricity, cell phones, or much English. The places are fairly isolated and no one in the village owns any sort of transport. This is what I envisioned about Peace Corps, so here it goes.
After meeting my family, I have to say I’m looking forward to this. I think I’ll even enjoy it. I’m staying with the Masina family, with an amayi (the mother), an abambo (the father), and 5 iwes. I have my own small hut, a mud structure with a thatched roof. After a brief tour of the local amenities, the chimbudzi, the outdoor bafa (bafa under the stars), the kitcheni, another mud structure with a tall roof to allow for the escape of smoke from the open fire. We sat down to dinner, I was seated in my hut with my homestay sister, Molini. Today’s menu: nsima, soy pieces, mphangwe (greens), and natchez (oranges). Being vegan here is going to prove easier than I imagined. The soya pieces are pretty delicious, they look just like bits of chicken or something similar to that, and they are pretty widely available (surprising, I know). My amayi is quite the cook, the food is so much better than the food we had at the college. Chakulya chiwemi, the food is delicious.
Nsima is the national dish of Malawi. And to be up front, I’m not too wild about it. It’s made of twice processed corn flour, wufu, added to boiling water, stirred profusely, and then formed into patties. There’s not much taste to it and it has a texture I would liken to cream of wheat, if it were formed into small patties. The way you eat nsima is with your hand, which is one of the main reasons why I’m not so fond of it. The technique is to grab a bit of nsmia, about the size of a golf ball, maybe a little smaller, roll it around in your palm, and then dip it in the dende (the relish, like the greens or the soya). I’ve never been fond of eating with my hands, I just have a pet peeve about having dirty hands. Since this is a necessary part of eating nsima, I sort of suck at it. I ended the meal looking like a 3-year-old who just destroyed a plate of mashed potatoes. Turns out eating nsima is not something I can pride myself on [even two months in, I still haven’t mastered it, I’ve resorted to eating with a fork].
July 14, 2010 Chikanda
I shy away from calling it quaint, but I lack a better way to describe journaling by candle light. It really casts things in a whole different light. Ok that was an awful pun, but I couldn’t help myself. It certainly is something else though. The only thing to make this moment seem more complete would be if I was writing with a quill and ink well. Ok, enough of the channeling Jane Austen vibe.
I just finished playing Knock with my brothers and sisters. It’s a Malawian version of Uno. You play to get ride of the cards, by playing either like suits or numbers, the ace being the wild card. It’s good fun, I had to work on mastering the new vernacular for the suits: koner (diamond), falower (club), kaweenie (heart), and balaky (spade). If some of those words sound sort of like distorted English, it’s because they are. So many words here are English cognates but with Malawian flare, which means that every consonant is followed directly by a vowel and they stress every syllable. Take “carrot” for example, in Chitimbuka, it’s pronounced ka-ro-ti.
While I’m on the topic of Malawian speech patterns, let me reflect on some of their enunciation styles. So within many Bantu languages, of which Chitimbuka and Chichewa (one of the other languages found in Malawi), the “L” and “R” consonants are interchangeable in both speech and in writing. This serves as an endless source of amusement. I was discussing my interest in politics and when the topic of past elections came up, in the vernacular, they become “erections,” I could barely contain myself. Also, when we were commanded to applaud for a particular speaker, “Evelyone, prease crap your hands.” Pretty hilarious, oh how I adore the Malawians.
Some of the albums on my iPod have stricken some good chords with me while I’ve been in country. Some are far more appropriate than others and seem to really suit the moment. Simon & Garfunkle has really made the overall experience seem so lucid. And yesterday, when I wasn’t feeling well, Otis Redding made the night “feel” better. I plan to do some deep exploring in my music collection over these two years. I’m off to a great start.
As I just hinted, I was a tad sick yesterday. I apologize in advance for this paragraph, it is a little graphic. If you’re weak of stomach, I recommend you skip to the next one. Anyhow, I think it was the water, you have to be really on guard with it here. They pull it from the bore hole or the shallow well in the village, then it has to be boiled, then Water Guard (a chlorine solution) added, and then filtered. A lengthy process, but one to make sure we acclamate to the local water without liquid hesitation (yep, that was a diarrhea joke). Anyhow, I think one of the many steps was lopped off because I went from liquid lunch to liquid stool pretty quickly. My stomach was in knots for a near solid 24 hours; it was excruciating. At one point, as I lifted my fork to my mouth to down my lunch, my stomach interjected with what I interpreted as, “are you fucking serious? 4 times of shitting jenkem and you still haven’t learned your lesson. Well I’ll show you where this is going.” And it did, another few times. I’m glad they give us oral rehydration salts in our med kits, because that was what restored me, after trying to explain via gestures to my amayi why I wouldn’t be taking dinner.
We held a village meeting today to conduct our technical training session. Our technical trainer, Robin conducted the meeting. We each in turn introduced ourselves to the chiefs and other village heads and then addressed our objective. Robin led the village meeting as one of first PACA tool training sessions. The true purpose of the meeting was unbeknownst to them and worked as a technical session for us PCTs. PACA tools, Participartory Analysis for Community Action, are the village integration techniques advocated by Peace Corps. Our charge was to draw a community map, marking the available resources and assets of the village. We split the village members present into four groups: chiefs, men, young women, and older women. Each group began drawing in the rust-colored dirt, using bits of the surrounding landscape as points of interest. A piece of cow shit marked the cattle pen in the center of the village, charcoal demarcated the main roads, large rocks to symbolize the mountains, etc. It was quite the community event, everyone providing input. They conferred with one another, making suggestions to the group, seeking guidance for the general size of things, etc. It was pretty impressive, to see so many people actively engaged in the exercise.
More to come in the future, this is only a start.
July 4, 2010 Dedza, Malawi
I am laying here under the bulgy contours of my mosquito net. It’s rather surreal to pull down the mesh folds and tuck it into the bedspread around me. I’m sure I’ll adjust at some point; I suppose I should think of it like a little-princess-drapery-thing, not that I was ever into that.
I would say today was a great success. We climbed the mountain directly behind the college (the Dedza College of Forestry, where we’re staying for pre-service training, PST.) It was about a forty minute hike up to the summit of the closest face and oh my was it worth it. A 360 degree view of the surrounding valley and all the nearby mountains. I’ve never seen anything like it. Honest to goodness, it took the breath out of me. That was my first pang of “Holy Shit! I’m in Malawi.” [many more of these to come] You could see so far, the horizon seemed boundless. The valley was unobstructed from our gaze, the treeline converged upon the savannah-like shrubery, fires were visible as little puffy plumes and not a paved road was visible to the naked eye. I took it all in thinking this is it, this is my life for two years. And, I couldn’t be happier about it.
July 5, 2010 Dedza
Day 2 of training is now complete. I have to say, it’s not quite as intense as I initially expected. I did get another round of shots – now I have two sore shoulders, as opposed to one. [one of which resulted in a small scar on my right shoulder, stupid rabies shots]. Evelyn, the medical assistant, makes every effort possible to make you feel comfortable. She laughs merrily as she sticks you with a needle roughly 7in in length, followed by a big hug. It’s fairly reassuring, considering we’re to have about 14 shots in total.
The first medical session wasn’t too in depth, in terms of general medical advice we should heed in the next 2 years. However, we named every possible side effect of mefloquine, the anti-malarial medication prescribed to the majority of volunteers. Unfortunately, I’m on this particular anti-malarial. The side effects include: paranoia, heightened anxiety, hallucinations of things crawling on you, insomnia, etc. Being as this was day two in Malawi, this discussion only served to further my hypochondria and anxiety. I’m already having creepy-crawling feelings and I’m sure the lucid, weird dreams are soon to follow. [to clarify, the creepy hallucinations do happen and they are not pleasant, I’ve since switched to half doses].
The afternoon was reserved for interviews with the APCD, associate Peace Corps director (the Peace Corps is very very fond of acronyms). While we waited for our individual interviews, we got a tour of the chimbudzi, the pit latrines. So running water is rather rare here and only a quarter of the volunteers live at a site with indoor plumbing. Anyhow, the chimbudzi looks like fun .... It’s a small brick structure with either a concrete or dirt floor. There’s a small opening, roughly the size of a small bowl for the many sorts of trickles one might experience. I’ve gotten pretty good with my aim and in the event I miss, there’s a small twig-brush in the corner to sweep it in. [I had my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t get a chimbudzi, affectionately referred to as the “chim,” turns out I got a site with one, it’s not all that bad]. One of the current PCVs told us a horror story of finding a baby goat in the chim. Turns out it fell in sometime during the morning and when he was mid-drop he heard the bleats (do goats bleat? Or is that just sheep, I’m not really sure). They did everything they could to get it out, but they lost it to the stinking sinkhole. And that’s why you always cover your chim opening, let that be a lesson.
A current volunteer who is serving as our resource PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) mentioned some guidelines for care packages. The story that sticks out in my mind is the care package she received from her parents for her birthday. Inside the package was a birthday card with a cutesy note, ending with, “And we hope you enjoy the chocolate.” All that was left was a piece of tape and a brown smear. So the advice she gave was label all packages: God is watching you wih abundant wrath. Evidently that will curb some of the package-content-confiscation incidences. In any event, it certainly wouldn’t hurt. Please heed this anyone who wants to send me packages .
July 7, 2010 Dedza
So being in PST kinda feels like I’m at summer camp. We have sessions in the morning, we break for snack, we played a soccer game in the afternoon between the health and the education sector. We each have our own little dorm room that we share with another PCT (Peace Corps Trainee, what did I tell you about acronyms), complete with a gift bag. It’s kinda fun in that kitschy summer camp sort of way. We even got to go to a local bar to watch the World Cup semi-finals. By American standards, it was a dive, but by Malawi standards it was pretty superb. The name of the bar, Ed’s Bar, quaint I know. I found that pretty amusing. It’s also great that your average beer here, the Carlsberg Green, is 160 Kwacha and roughly 150 Kwacha make a $1, talk about excellent. As for Malawi beers, the most popular brand is Kuche Kuche. Yep, read exactly as written. Laugh about that one, I certainly did.
July 10, 2010 Chikanda
Today we moved into the villages for the 5 weeks during homestay. I’m in Chikanda one of the four villages hosting all 36 of us PCTs. The idea of homestay is to acclimate yourself to living on the village level, without running water, electricity, cell phones, or much English. The places are fairly isolated and no one in the village owns any sort of transport. This is what I envisioned about Peace Corps, so here it goes.
After meeting my family, I have to say I’m looking forward to this. I think I’ll even enjoy it. I’m staying with the Masina family, with an amayi (the mother), an abambo (the father), and 5 iwes. I have my own small hut, a mud structure with a thatched roof. After a brief tour of the local amenities, the chimbudzi, the outdoor bafa (bafa under the stars), the kitcheni, another mud structure with a tall roof to allow for the escape of smoke from the open fire. We sat down to dinner, I was seated in my hut with my homestay sister, Molini. Today’s menu: nsima, soy pieces, mphangwe (greens), and natchez (oranges). Being vegan here is going to prove easier than I imagined. The soya pieces are pretty delicious, they look just like bits of chicken or something similar to that, and they are pretty widely available (surprising, I know). My amayi is quite the cook, the food is so much better than the food we had at the college. Chakulya chiwemi, the food is delicious.
Nsima is the national dish of Malawi. And to be up front, I’m not too wild about it. It’s made of twice processed corn flour, wufu, added to boiling water, stirred profusely, and then formed into patties. There’s not much taste to it and it has a texture I would liken to cream of wheat, if it were formed into small patties. The way you eat nsima is with your hand, which is one of the main reasons why I’m not so fond of it. The technique is to grab a bit of nsmia, about the size of a golf ball, maybe a little smaller, roll it around in your palm, and then dip it in the dende (the relish, like the greens or the soya). I’ve never been fond of eating with my hands, I just have a pet peeve about having dirty hands. Since this is a necessary part of eating nsima, I sort of suck at it. I ended the meal looking like a 3-year-old who just destroyed a plate of mashed potatoes. Turns out eating nsima is not something I can pride myself on [even two months in, I still haven’t mastered it, I’ve resorted to eating with a fork].
July 14, 2010 Chikanda
I shy away from calling it quaint, but I lack a better way to describe journaling by candle light. It really casts things in a whole different light. Ok that was an awful pun, but I couldn’t help myself. It certainly is something else though. The only thing to make this moment seem more complete would be if I was writing with a quill and ink well. Ok, enough of the channeling Jane Austen vibe.
I just finished playing Knock with my brothers and sisters. It’s a Malawian version of Uno. You play to get ride of the cards, by playing either like suits or numbers, the ace being the wild card. It’s good fun, I had to work on mastering the new vernacular for the suits: koner (diamond), falower (club), kaweenie (heart), and balaky (spade). If some of those words sound sort of like distorted English, it’s because they are. So many words here are English cognates but with Malawian flare, which means that every consonant is followed directly by a vowel and they stress every syllable. Take “carrot” for example, in Chitimbuka, it’s pronounced ka-ro-ti.
While I’m on the topic of Malawian speech patterns, let me reflect on some of their enunciation styles. So within many Bantu languages, of which Chitimbuka and Chichewa (one of the other languages found in Malawi), the “L” and “R” consonants are interchangeable in both speech and in writing. This serves as an endless source of amusement. I was discussing my interest in politics and when the topic of past elections came up, in the vernacular, they become “erections,” I could barely contain myself. Also, when we were commanded to applaud for a particular speaker, “Evelyone, prease crap your hands.” Pretty hilarious, oh how I adore the Malawians.
Some of the albums on my iPod have stricken some good chords with me while I’ve been in country. Some are far more appropriate than others and seem to really suit the moment. Simon & Garfunkle has really made the overall experience seem so lucid. And yesterday, when I wasn’t feeling well, Otis Redding made the night “feel” better. I plan to do some deep exploring in my music collection over these two years. I’m off to a great start.
As I just hinted, I was a tad sick yesterday. I apologize in advance for this paragraph, it is a little graphic. If you’re weak of stomach, I recommend you skip to the next one. Anyhow, I think it was the water, you have to be really on guard with it here. They pull it from the bore hole or the shallow well in the village, then it has to be boiled, then Water Guard (a chlorine solution) added, and then filtered. A lengthy process, but one to make sure we acclamate to the local water without liquid hesitation (yep, that was a diarrhea joke). Anyhow, I think one of the many steps was lopped off because I went from liquid lunch to liquid stool pretty quickly. My stomach was in knots for a near solid 24 hours; it was excruciating. At one point, as I lifted my fork to my mouth to down my lunch, my stomach interjected with what I interpreted as, “are you fucking serious? 4 times of shitting jenkem and you still haven’t learned your lesson. Well I’ll show you where this is going.” And it did, another few times. I’m glad they give us oral rehydration salts in our med kits, because that was what restored me, after trying to explain via gestures to my amayi why I wouldn’t be taking dinner.
We held a village meeting today to conduct our technical training session. Our technical trainer, Robin conducted the meeting. We each in turn introduced ourselves to the chiefs and other village heads and then addressed our objective. Robin led the village meeting as one of first PACA tool training sessions. The true purpose of the meeting was unbeknownst to them and worked as a technical session for us PCTs. PACA tools, Participartory Analysis for Community Action, are the village integration techniques advocated by Peace Corps. Our charge was to draw a community map, marking the available resources and assets of the village. We split the village members present into four groups: chiefs, men, young women, and older women. Each group began drawing in the rust-colored dirt, using bits of the surrounding landscape as points of interest. A piece of cow shit marked the cattle pen in the center of the village, charcoal demarcated the main roads, large rocks to symbolize the mountains, etc. It was quite the community event, everyone providing input. They conferred with one another, making suggestions to the group, seeking guidance for the general size of things, etc. It was pretty impressive, to see so many people actively engaged in the exercise.
More to come in the future, this is only a start.
An Introduction to Malawi
If you speak to any Malawian and ask them to describe their country the response is all the same: Malawi is the warm heart of Africa. It only took a few short days in country to see just how warm it is. Every greeting is robust, mellifluous, and met with a smile. The kids, or as they’re known colloquially, the iwes, mob you, but in a good way. They just want to hold your hand or give you a thumbs up accompanied by a tittered Boo! or Shop!
Not only are the people friendly, inviting, and warm-hearted, the country itself is beyond beautiful. It’s amazing the vast degree of landscapes in a space roughly the size of Indiana. There are pine forests (filled with monkeys), granite mountains, cacti savannahs, baobob trees, and I even have a rose bush in my front flower garden. You have to love a place where mangoes are so bountiful you can simply pluck one from the nearest tree, regardless of the yard or property owner, there’s a tree nearly every 100 ft or so. Just ask the iwes for a mango and they’ll come back with a basketfull, it’s beautiful. Avocadoes and papaya are also quite similar, I’m in tropical fruit medley heaven.
It’s the sort of the place where people welcome you into their homes with an offer of food. It’s a tad rude to decline, Palije ntchindi, it shows no respect. This has been the source of some conflict, say when the offer includes an offer of meat (this is rarer than you think though). But I’ve got a fail-proof way of declining said offer, I say I’m buddhist. That way I can get out of eating meat and going to church. That aside, Malawi is a place where the second most common phrase behind hello, monile, is nawonga, I am grateful.
Sure, the iwes yell azungu at you quite often, but it’s more from their seeing so few white people, as we’ve visited many remote villages and all. You shouldn’t take offense though, I certainly don’t in any case. It’s pretty cute to hear the iwes practice their English: Good morning (it’s the middle of the afternoon), how are you? I am fine and how are you? It’s always so proper and said without inflection. It sort of makes me feel guilty to even say “y’all” around them for fear of corrupting their proper English. On the other hand, I don’t feel guilty at all about cussing, especially considering the kids have absolutely no grasp of what I’m saying. I’ve resorted to yelling “fuck” at any minor mishap just to exercise the privilege.
I can say without a doubt, I’m so grateful to be in such a beautiful place. Every day holds something new and I’m relishing every opportunity to embrace what it holds. I hope you like the real start of this blog, again my apologies for not writing more until now. Hopefully, I can post more frequently. In the meantime, enjoy these few pictures.
Not only are the people friendly, inviting, and warm-hearted, the country itself is beyond beautiful. It’s amazing the vast degree of landscapes in a space roughly the size of Indiana. There are pine forests (filled with monkeys), granite mountains, cacti savannahs, baobob trees, and I even have a rose bush in my front flower garden. You have to love a place where mangoes are so bountiful you can simply pluck one from the nearest tree, regardless of the yard or property owner, there’s a tree nearly every 100 ft or so. Just ask the iwes for a mango and they’ll come back with a basketfull, it’s beautiful. Avocadoes and papaya are also quite similar, I’m in tropical fruit medley heaven.
It’s the sort of the place where people welcome you into their homes with an offer of food. It’s a tad rude to decline, Palije ntchindi, it shows no respect. This has been the source of some conflict, say when the offer includes an offer of meat (this is rarer than you think though). But I’ve got a fail-proof way of declining said offer, I say I’m buddhist. That way I can get out of eating meat and going to church. That aside, Malawi is a place where the second most common phrase behind hello, monile, is nawonga, I am grateful.
Sure, the iwes yell azungu at you quite often, but it’s more from their seeing so few white people, as we’ve visited many remote villages and all. You shouldn’t take offense though, I certainly don’t in any case. It’s pretty cute to hear the iwes practice their English: Good morning (it’s the middle of the afternoon), how are you? I am fine and how are you? It’s always so proper and said without inflection. It sort of makes me feel guilty to even say “y’all” around them for fear of corrupting their proper English. On the other hand, I don’t feel guilty at all about cussing, especially considering the kids have absolutely no grasp of what I’m saying. I’ve resorted to yelling “fuck” at any minor mishap just to exercise the privilege.
I can say without a doubt, I’m so grateful to be in such a beautiful place. Every day holds something new and I’m relishing every opportunity to embrace what it holds. I hope you like the real start of this blog, again my apologies for not writing more until now. Hopefully, I can post more frequently. In the meantime, enjoy these few pictures.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Sorry All!
I'm sure many of you are wondering why I haven't updated at all yet and many apologies are in order. This is my first internet access since I've been in country and unfortunately it's limited. Turns out Peace Corps pre-service training is similar to boot camp in that aspect, with the exception that I'm learning Chitimbuka, taking anti-malarials (that give me wicked creepy dreams), and getting more shots than I ever had in my entire life. So far the experience has been amazing. Without a doubt I can say I love Malawi. The country and people are truly beautiful and so welcoming, I feel right at home. We just moved out of homestay so now I'm off to visit my site in the Northern region of Malawi in Mzimba district. I'm at site I'll have a bit more time and I plan to write much more. So until then.
Lutani makola.
Lutani makola.
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