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.
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