May 1, 2011
I have finally reached Dwambazi! Home Sweet Home! I was welcomed by my neighbors to a messy, two-bedroom. The mess is forgiveable as electricity is coming soon, or so they say, however it is extremely difficult to unpack when dust is everywhere and plastic piping is strewn about. My dream to stop living out of my suitcase is still on-hold. I already have big plans for my house - it has so much potential!
Right now I am sitting under a mango tree eating sugar cane...how African is that?
I have not eaten for 24 hours, mostly due to the fact that there are men blocking most of the rooms in my house, but I did eat lunch with my neighbors. They have electricity and were excited to show me a religious mini-series - we sat and watched for 3 hours.
Are you familar with Nigerian films? Please Google and Youtube that and then you will understand this next part, where I try to describe the plot.
The beginning scenes set the tone for the entire film. The title? 666: The End is at Hand. Costumes resemble something off the discount rack the day after Halloween - long, shiny, black robes and spiky devil horns. Yes, we are greeted by Lucifer himself, as well as all his ugly, crazy-eyed minions. The devil says something to the effect of "Let's go up to Earth and bring some sad, pathetic souls back down here with us." Cool.
Scene 2 is in a hotel room where a man, a chief actually, is coercing a woman to sleep with him. She says no, he throws money at her, she says yes and she strokes his ego, saying to the Chief that he is handsome, strong and so kind. Chief nods, pulls up his pant leg revealing a large gaping gash. The prostitute looks disgusted. He says, "Kiss it" and she refuses. Chief pulls out a gun, holds it to Prostitute's head, she proceeds to lick his wound. A few minutes later, she is walking down the street. Some really sweet special effects (much like the wooshing of a powerpoint slide onto the screen) show up on the screen in a green hue and the prostitute touches her stomach, falls to the ground, dies and goes to Hell.
End of scene. We never see any of the characters again. Moral of the story is...is...don't like dirty wounds, you will die and go to Hell.
And so on...
May 2, 2011
I emptied out my bags and spread the contents out in my room. This seemed like a good idea at the time, however, it is proving to be the worst idea I have ever had. And sitting here, surrounded by everything I own in Malawi, I can't help but think I will not pack this crap back up to bring back to the States. No way, it's staying here.
The electricians are still hard at work. They say they will finish today. We shall see.
Until then, I daydream for this house to feel like it's mine.
My neighbor Ama Gloria has given me a Tonga name. Ready for it? Anya Chirwa (pronounced: an-ya cheed-wah). It means, daughter of a man with the last name Chirwa...it's for unmarried women. Kathi isn't a good enough name around here, plus I gotta make it official. The kids still call me Anya Banda (after Megan, the girl I replaced) or Azungu (white person, not sure if it's really derrogetory, but it's definitely annoying to hear azungu all the time).
I started work at the hospital. There are twin babies in the Nutrition Rehabilitation Unit and I help Jimmy make milk for the babies. They are on a 3 hour feeding schedule so I take the day shift and Jimmy covers the night. So far I feel kinda useful. Not sure what else I can do at the hospital.
May 3, 2011
Not sure what their impression of foreigners is, but the other day a woman asked me if I knew how to sweep.
I told her yes, we have dirt in America, too.
I already have the reputation of the dirty kid in Peace Corps. Cool, Kathi strikes again.
My bike is a piece of work. The rack fell off (miraculously - I have yet to ride the thing) and the back brakes are permanently on and the seat is at a very uncomfortable angle. I'm already seeing a parallel between my bike and the Saab.
Oh yes, breaking news...Osama Bin Laden is captured and dead. I got the news in a text message. Dang, I need to get a radio.
45 minutes later - I just fixed my bike. Yeah, I'm kind of a badass. I just high-fived myself. The rack is still broken, however.
The Group Village Headman has appointed me Chief of the Scale. That was nice of him. I have never been a chief of anything before and to be Chief of the Scale is quite an accomplishment. I'm really good at weighing babies.
I tried to start a fire with two pieces of firewood. My neighbor Charity came over, laughed at my pathetic attempt and grabbed more firewood and kindling and suddenly I had a roaring fire. I made her Ramen noodles as a thank you and she said they were "Delicious. Is this something you eat often in America?" I told her no, you don't eat Ramen on purpose. Unless you are broke or can't cook, you try to eat things with more nutritional value. I told her I was good at making Ramen because in America I am both broke and a horrible cook.
I am sad to hear Charity is leaving. Family troubles, unfortunately. She is such a sweet girl and I know we would have been friends. I gave her my number in case she ever wanted to chat again.
May 5, 2011
Happy Cinco de Mayo!
Last night I tried to make dinner. I went through an entire box of matches trying to start a fire. Out of pure desperation and hunger pains, I called in three girls standing outside my house. They couldn't be more than 12 or 13. I brought them inside, pointed to my fire pit and made the Malawian signal for "I don't have" (which is clapping your hands and shrugging). The girls turned around, ran outside, gathered firewood and kindling, lit one, single match and that fire was burning something fierce. I said some choice words under my breath, hugged the three tweens and started cooking.
I cooked something fabulous, actually. Not Ramen! I made a delicious pasta dish with eggplant and tomato sauce. I ate the leftovers for lunch today. I couldn't get the fire big enough, so they are lukewarm. Can someone get this girl a microwave?
May 8, 2011
Go to the people:
Live with them,
learn from them
love them.
Start with what they know
build with what they have
But of the best leaders,
when the job is done,
the task accomplished
the people will say:
"We have done it ourselves"
-Lao Tzu
Freddy (the high schooler who helps me occasionally. He has been with the other two Peace Corps volunteers, so I inherited him with the house and furniture. Good boy. Very helpful. Almost too helpful, but kind) - I will start over, that was a long intro. Today Freddy told me I needed to bathe. Yes, it has been a while, why do I love being so dirty?
May 12, 2011
Please note that you cannot bring small, harmless puppies on the bus. You can, however, bring roosters, goats, chickens and fish and they can sit wherever they please. I asked why not puppies and the driver said you can't eat dog and I said, "watch me".
Needless to say, we did not get on the bus today. We did, however, ride bike taxis to a roadblock where we hid the puppy and hopped on a different bus. I think Clarissa should name her pup Contraband.
May 15, 2011
I am head-over-heels in love with Malawi. I feel so happy here. I can't remember what it feels like to be sad. Why was I so emotional before I left?
However, I have only been here a few months, only a few weeks at site, and I already find myself bitter and resentful toward anyone selling anything. Vendors push their wares and goods in your face and offer you a terrible price and push and push and it makes me so angry. If I wanted to buy whatever it is you are selling (bananas, bicycle spokes, craft bracelets made of the finest plastic) then I would approach you. This is not the case in my trading center at Dwambazi. People leave me alone when I'm window shopping, they never offer me a bad price, since I live here, and they know my name.
Ama Chimbutu came over this evening, it was dark already. She bellowed my name from the front porch. I peered out the door with my headlamp and she squinted, threw her hand in my direction to block the light and asked - no, demanded! - why I had not visited her (all in Chitonga). She entered my house, spewed some Tonga at me, impatiently waited for an answer, as I funbled with some matches to light some candles on my table. I responded with my limited Tonga, she smiled. After a moment of silence, she said she was leaving. I said I would chat with her tomorrow. She nodded.
So it shall be done.
Finally the kids call me Anya Chirwa - I finally have an identity and I'm surprised they know me at all. I have barely introduced myself in the vill, but gossip spreads like wildfire. Did you meet the new azungu? Her name is Anya Chirwa.
Phone calls from home are the icing on the cake. I seem to get one every few days (sometimes 3 in one day!) from someone and it's really comforting. I don't feel homesick just yet, but it's nice to get a piece of familiarity at just the right time. I hope someone visits me from home (hint hint) because there is only so much Malawi I can share in a 20 minute conversation.
May 17, 2011
On my bike ride to Kasitu to visit Clarissa (18 kilometers south of Dwambazi), my pedal fell off. Not just the pedal, but the part that attaches itself to the bike. I was about half-way between Kasitu and Dwambazi and it would be absolutely ridiculous if I continued riding with only one leg peddaling - not to mention almost impossible - so I walked to the nearest trading center where some men found some bolts to attach the pedal back to the bike. They did not have exact pieces (of course not!) so they forced some nuts and bolts together and the bike definitely did not feel right when I was pedaling but it got me to Kasitu in record time. Ah, three weeks in and my government-issued transportation has failed me.
Clarissa, Sol and I drank coffee and then went to the lake for a swim. On the way to the lake we picked up some eggs which we placed in the hot water spring next to the lake so we could have a hard-boiled snack after our swim. Probably one of the coolest things I have ever done. We swam at a secluded beach and I looked around me as I ate my egg-y goodness and thought, yeah, I'm in Africa.
The lakeshore iwe are the worst (iwe means "you" but it's very informal and used mostly to tell kids what to do). I'm not sure if the iwe are not disciplined enough at home, as they have absolutely no respect for adults, especially azungus, or maybe they are completely unimpressed by the tourism and NGOs that come through - they don't see azungus as real people.
I chatted with the ladies in my vill - Ama Chimbutu was happy to finally see me come around. I understood most of the conversation, surprisingly, but coming up with my own input was tough. Mostly they were gossiping and bitching about the monkeys stealing papaya.
May 18, 2011
I just realized that the first house that has ever been mine is this one. And it's in Malawi.
May 20, 2011
Today I started a fire all by myself and made chili! I am so proud of myself and it tasted almost like mom's. Cumin and chili powder are all you need. Oh and beans and pressure cooker to cook those beans.
My solar charger was stolen. Well, I'm the dummy who left it outside unattended, but really, who is going to sit and watch a charger while it is soaking sun rays? It has my name on it and also "This is not your solar charger" to deter any thieves, but I guess I should have translated that into Tonga. I'm sure it was some kids who thought it was a toy. The charger is completely useless without the cords. Hopefully someone realizes this and just returns it to me in one piece. That would be nice. Doubtful.
Yesterday was National HIV Remembrance Day and there was a hug rally at the school with dances, dramatic performances, music and even vendors selling cold Cokes and bananas. It was such a nice community event, with the exception of the unwanted attention. When you're white, you stick out and everyone wants you to give them money or help with their English. I really just wanted to sit and enjoy the day.
May 22, 2011
I spent the entire day in bed reading, since I spent the entire night throwing up. I drank untreated water. It was an accident. Well, I knew what I was doing, but Ama Gloria offered me a cold bottle of borehole water and I could not resist. I must, I must resist! I have the jihad - nothing is staying in my body. Either way, not a good time to have a flush toilet with no running water at the moment.
I started writing in a planner - it's my sanity, ok? I like structure. I looked back at the beginning of the year where I wrote in "Rangers Game" and "travel to New York", "travel to Florida" (crossed out and re-written four or five times) and then the lists that suggest urgency as I was trying to get everything I needed for this trip - everything that I didn't end up using...yet.
Ama Chimbutu came over today and demanded I come eat nsima with her. I told her I was sick and nothing stays in my body. I couldn't remember the word for vomit in Chitonga, so I acted it out. She responded by acting it out back at me, almost as if it were a question and she wanted to verify. I responded again, making a more violent vomitting reaction. A strange interaction to an outsider, but Ama Chimbutu gets me.
I've read 2 novels in 48 hours - I couldn't put them down, I was addicted. I don't even need a bookmark, I was reading them so quickly. The closer I get to the last page, the faster I read and as soon as I read the last word there's a quiet sense of uneasiness. I feel satisfied with completion, but I'm sad it's over. It reminds me of my nerdy middle school days when I actually had time to read for pleasure and I would stay up until 2 in the morning reading, straining my eyes to keep awake. It's so nice to not have to read something that is required by a professor (because he/she wrote it and everything he/she says is so very interesting and profound, don't you think? Buy the 12th edition of the hardcover book, please).
May 23, 2011
Rainstorms and tin roofs are not conducive with getting sleep. Man, not sure if I am gonna handle the rainy season very well.
May 24, 2011
I awoke in the middle of the night to a wailing woman - she was screaming and pacing outside the hospital and along the road outside my house. I was irritated and haunted at the same time. I knew someone must have passed away at the hospital. I couldn't fall back asleep for several hours.
My alarm woke me at 5:45am for the 6am feeding of the babies in the Nutrition Rehabilitation Unit. Groggily I grumbled and wondered out loud why I had agreed to do the 6am feeding. I got up, shuffled over to the hospital and found Jimmy, very upset. One of the beds was empty in the unit and before he said anything, I knew.
We lost one last night. Around 1:30.
I had to catch my breath. The girl was only two years old. She was trying to get better. She was supposed to be gaining weight. I was supposed to be helping. She was a beautiful girl, but obviously too small for a two year old, with sunken eyes and arms and legs too thin to hold her up. For the first time, I felt completely defeated. How did it not work? I have been feeding this baby for days, every 3 hours, milk with nutrients and calories, how did this not work?
As I walked home I realized the wailing woman last night was the mother. She had been pacing outside with the child in her arms, screaming for her to come back to life.
Under Five Clinics are insane. Amas will budge in front of each other, push you out of the way, man-handle their child just to get their child's weight recorded. I was really struggling (after a hard morning, already) to not lose my patience with the mothers of these children. I wanted to cry. But I didn't.
Ama Chimbutu insisted on making me lunch today. I obliged. She piled food on my plate and we shared a plate of nsima, dipping it in fish and greens. There's something so natural about eating here, although the food lacks flavor, eating with your hands is actually kind of nice. And when you share a plate with someone, it's even more ful-filling. Is that weird? I can't explain it.
I fetched water from the bore hole today. I could barely put the bucket on my head (an 8-year old had to help me) and by the time I got home, my almost-full bucket lost a quarter of its water. And guess what? I didn't need to bathe today.
People seem to want things from me. Everything. Granted, I guess that's why I'm here, to some capacity. But one man insisted I give him a bottle of pepper. When I said I wasn't sure if I had pepper, he became irate and told me that I have three bottles at home and all he wanted was one. I don't know if he was crazy or just thought I was a rich azungu who would be willing to give him whatever he asked for.
Another man stopped by asking to borrow a book. I was hesistant, but he brought up that he had been friends with the past volunteers ("friend" is a loose term though. They say this and then you ask what the last volunteer's name was and for some reason they can't quite remember) I decided to give the man a book, so I selected A Thousand Splendid Suns - an excellent book, I must say - I loved it. But it's also a women's empowering book - I won't spoil it for you - but I hope this man treats his wife well after reading it.
May 25, 2011
I'm starting to get adjusted. Things are starting to have a "place" in my home. I have a cleaning routine that I stick to and a night-time schedule that feels comfortable. Control freak?
Even though I have the reputation of the "dirty kid" of Peace Corps (because of my lack of showering and
perpetual jiffy feet - ahem - Lilongwe Feet), I must say I keep a tidy house and I rarely smell too badly. A friend recently pointed out that I am one of the few volunteers who have a shower and yet I still don't bathe.
There's no excuse, I just like being dirty, I guess.
My bike pedal is destroyed and so is my gear changer. My handlebars are out of whack and the back brakes are permanently on. It was imparative that I get to Dwangwa to get money out of the bank, but it was apparent I would have to spend my last bit of kwacha on transport.
I met Clarissa on the way and I was still heated about my bike (angry at the person who destroyed it, I can't say much more because I am not allowed to let anyone borrow my bike as it is government property but now I guess this has been leaked, so yes, I did a bad thing and I'm sorry, but now I'm the only one paying for it since now I don't have a bike). We got to Dwangwa, splurged on a bag of American chips and a beer and instantly I cooled off. We had to take a bike taxi 8 kilometers to the bank through the sugar cane. It was really beautiful (I took video, I will upload later).
May 27, 2011
Hitching has become one of my favorite things to do. I wish it was safe and kosher to do in the states. I have met so many interesting people over the course of the past few weeks.
Initially cooking was one of my biggest fears about joining the Peace Corps. Now, it has become a major stress reliever. I found a parafin stove (which helps immensely - no more making fires!) and I now I don't have to rely on anybody to get my heat source going. I have found cooking to be very easy - just throw some things in a pan and heat it up. Dinner. But I am also lucky to have some spices leftover from the last volunteer. I've been pretty creative and I'm able to come up with a few good meals and here and there. Sometimes it's a total miss, but so far I have five solid meals that I can make on the reg. Not bad for a girl who only knew how to operate a microwave.
May 28, 2011
I woke up early this morning - still can't tune out the roosters. I made a deal with myself: if the water was running through the tap (which, most days, it is not) then I would go for a run (this way I could come back to a shower...a cold one). What do you know? The tap was working, so I strapped on my running shoes (it's been a while - they fit around my feet so perfectly that I was ready to run before I finished tying my shoe) and off I went.
The sun was still rising, the neighbors gave me a long stare (what's that crazy white girl doing now?) as I ran through the market, passed the fields of cassava and finally back to my house - probably a measly mile and a half, but it was much needed. I treated myself to a cold bucket bath (what do you know? The water wasn't running through the tap by the time I came back from the run) and made myself french toast and herbal tea as I read the People magazine Nana Heide sent as a birthday present. For just a few minutes, I forgot I was in Malawi. I needed that. Just a brief escape and then back to reality.
Even last night I felt a little American. I hung out with Chisomo and Benard (hospital workers my age) and the three of us sat and listened to Tupac as we ate home made french fries.
May 29, 2011
Happy One Month at Site! 23 more to go!
I went to a meeting today - some guy told me to come at 2pm (honestly, don't remember who it was or why, but I wrote in my planner: "Primary School - meeting - 2pm") So, of course, I took in consideration Malawi Time and didn't leave my house until 2:30. When I arrived at the Primary school, only 2 men were waiting for the meeting to start. It was 2:45 when I arrived. I asked the men what time the meeting was supposed to start. One man responded, "Two o'clock. But people don't usually show up until 4:30 or 5".
So, I waited. Maybe a half an hour.
Then the man asked me who cooked for me. I told him (proudly) that I cook for myself. He said, "No. I know how you white people are. You need someone to take care of you" I tried not to take offense. I get that a lot - the assumption that because of the color of my skin I am rich and privileged - in many ways (a million ways), yes, I am, but I can't help but find it annoying.
After a few more minutes, I decided to head home. I had dishes to do and dinner to cook and I didn't feel like waiting around for people to saunter in around 5pm.
I want to buy everyone in this country a watch.
May 30, 2011
Around 3am, I woke up to make use of my flush toilet. When I opened my bedroom door, there was a bat flying around in my living room. It swooped low toward me, but I had to pee so bad, so I ran to the bathroom to do my business before I could deal with the bat.
When I came back to the living room, my mind had already wandered...Are vampire bats real? And what about rabies? Do I know if this bat is rabid? The bat swooped low toward me, but hit the door frame and fell to the ground.
I remembered Kaela's 6th grade project on echolocation and how amazing it was. This little guy was not that amazing - pretty sure his echolocator was off.
Anyway, I crawled to my room yelling "Somebody better open the front door to let that bat out" and slammed the door behind me.
May 31, 2011
I've been trying to track down Ama Chimbutu for a chat, but every time I go over there (three times in three days) she has been gone.
Today she came to my house. She was bellowing before she reached the porch. She told me she has been working in her garden. I told her that someday I would like to see her garden (I said it to merely be nice, not necessarily meaning what I said) and she asked, when? When will you come to my garden? Surprised, I said, tomorrow. She said, no. Today. Two o'clock. (This is all in Chitonga)
So, at 2 I was at her house in trousers and baseball cap. She laughed at the sight of me, but I wanted to laugh at the sight of her. She was wearing a long, formal dress with chiffan and a pink beret. Yet, I'm the weirdo.
She was barefoot as we walked 3 kilometers through the market (where she stopped to tell everyone about how I came to her house every day for three days, but she was not there, so she told me to come to her house to go to the garden and I did and so now we are going to the garden. Much laughter and hand slapping and then we walked until we came across another person who would find the story mildly entertaining) and down the path toward the lake. She is the fastest walking Malawian I have ever been with - I had to walk quickly to keep up with her! She walks with purpose, with confidence and with a tough smile.
When we go to the rice field, she showed me how to harvest rice. We went straight to work, chatting casually and occasionally stopping to chat with passersby.
My phone rang and it was Kelly and Jason - such a treat! They asked what I was doing and I said, "Currently I am harvesting rice" - it felt good to have something to say - usually my family calls and I'm in bed reading and not doing anything productive or interesting.
When I got off the phone, Ama Chimbutu asked if it was my family and I told her yes and she got so excited -
Did I tell them I was at her garden? Did I tell them I was harvesting rice? How is my family? Do they know how to harvest rice?
While in the field, we were under attack by those horrible tiny ants that don't walk - they run - up your body and into your clothing and they bite their tiny bites and they are just the nastiest creatures. You don't have to stand somewhere long for them to start biting. We took turns killing the ants on each other, Ama Chimbutu hiked up her skirt and I pulled down my pants and we swatted at each other's bodies laughing at how ridiculous this must seem to anybody passing the rice field. It was necessary -those little buggers are so menacing, so cruel.
As the sun was setting, we started heading home. Ama Chimbutu stopped to tell anyone and everyone how I worked very hard in the garden and I am such a good worker. Now I know how to harvest rice and she was so happy.
I'm pretty happy, too.
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