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.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)