life_in_malawi

Visas, Libraries, and Travels

Tue, 27 Sep 2011 11:11:44 GMT

At the beginning of September we made the trip down to Lilongwe for Banda’s visa interview! We had tried to get everything done during the August holiday but there ended up being so much to get done that it just wasn’t possible to fit it all in. We (though I only did 2) made 4 trips especially for it – 1 to Blantyre for the marriage certificate, 1 to Banda’s home village and then back to Blantyre for the birth certificate, 1 to Lilongwe for the doctor’s appointment and police clearance, and finally 1 to Lilongwe for the interview itself. There technically should have been 2 more but the Embassy people took pity on us and let us turn in the paperwork on the same day as the interview (it’s usually at least a week in between) and then they managed to print the visa in 2 days rather than a week. Oi oi oi. Turns out that between the visa fees ($825 alone!!) and all of the traveling and lodging costs, it’s cost us more within Malawi than the actual plane ticket will cost! But anyways, it’s worth it.

So we decided to take the night bus to Lilongwe because I hate traveling and figured it might make it easier if I could sleep through part of it. Plus then that’s one less night that we’d have to pay for a hotel. We got to Karonga town around 8:00 pm, the bus came at 8:30 and we were on our way by 9:00. Had some fun peeing behind the coke machine in the bus depot because the 24-hour public pay toilets were closed. Bonded with some fellow travelers by sharing toilet paper. Love it. Banda and I came prepared – I made tuna to eat as dinner on the bus and also made some boiled potatoes/tomatoes to eat at will. I drifted off about an hour in, slept through the hills, woke up around 1 am and simply could not go back to sleep. We got to Mzuzu around 3 am and sat in the depot for an hour or so. Finally fell back to sleep after we started the journey to Lilongwe. All in all I think I probably slept 6 hours. Not bad but it did wreck my body as I ended up dreadfully sick and still am, weeks later. Banda was a keeper – he let me drape my legs across his knees in an effort to stem my back pain. Considering that is was still shooting with pain the entire week, I can’t imagine what it would have been like if I’d had to stay upright in that seat for 12 hours!

Made it to Lilongwe on Monday morning. Wandered around for a while trying to find a hotel that was cheaper and closer to town than Mabuya (where the volunteers always stayed). Finally found a place that was alright, excepting the crazy owner who sat around all day in his bathrobe getting drunk. Ended up wandering around LLW all day trying to get the final things in order – picking up pictures to prove our relationship, making copies, etc.

Exciting times as we discovered a little alcove of used book stands within the bus depot market! I was so happy to see this. 1. Because I didn’t have to pay the exorbitant prices of the chain stores and 2. Just on principle it makes me happy that some people are making their livings spreading literature. And they had such a good understanding of their stock. So fabulous. Got a bunch of good technical books for the MIRACLE library with the leftover donation money. Highlight of the trip for sure. Also went to the stupid chain store to supplement the books and ended up spending at least 3 times as much. But there’s nothing else to do and the teachers are very excited about the purchases.

Tuesday morning was the interview. I was a nervous wreck but Banda was his typical calm self. The interview went very smoothly though. The guy was very nice and he barely asked any questions. So happy to hear that he was accepted!!

We had to hang around Lilongwe for a couple more days though while they printed the visa. I actually got sick on Monday so I spent most of the time curled up in bed, only going out for meals. Fine with me – not a fan of Lilongwe anyway. Went on Thursday afternoon to pick up the visa. Decided to wait until Friday morning to leave so we could just get an early start. Well we didn’t get an early jump because when I woke up that morning and was packing, I realized that Banda had left his x-rays at the bookshop. He needs these to pass through immigration customs in the U.S. Ai ai ai. So he headed back to the bookshop and waited for an hour for them to open. So we missed the early bus because we got to the depot around 8 am. Had to wait 2 hours for the bus to fill. Not good for someone who’s trying to time her last bathroom trip perfectly so that I can make it. Ran to the toilet 3 times…. And the last time heard someone outside asking where the mzungu was. Nearly punched multiple people in the face as they yelled at me to hurry up and that ‘time is money.’ Listen up morons, we’ve been sitting here for 2 f-ing hours, you can wait 30 seconds. Should have known from the 2 hour wait that it was going to be a nightmarish day. The bus ride took forever because with the fuel shortage, few buses were running so we stopped to pick up everyone who was waiting by the road. People were packed into the aisle, leaning over seats and random babies sitting on our laps. Not enjoyable. Finally got to Mzuzu around 5 pm to find no fuel so therefore no minibuses to Karonga. We decided to just get a hotel room but Banda wanted to wait awhile to see if a bus would show up. Good thing we listened to him because a bus came and was instantly mobbed by 30 people who were also hanging around trying to get to Karonga. Banda bravely fought his way and saved me the front seat – the only one my back can even partially manage for 4 straight hours. Had a moment of terror when the bus started to pull away with Banda in it, but they backed up and came to get me. Got into Karonga late but our favorite taxi driver was kind enough to meet us and take us home.

So, long story short, we have his visa! We haven’t bought tickets just yet (waiting for the miles card to come in) but the plan is to leave Malawi on October 12th!

This is my last week of work so I’m trying to get everything done. I think there will just have to be a couple of shelves of unlabeled books, but that’s just the way it goes. It’s still a vast improvement on the way it was and all of the technical books are sorted and in order and those are the ones that will primarily be used anyway. I’ll spend the last couple of days hanging explanatory posters, doing last minute touch-ups, and making certain that Envie knows what she has to do to maintain this whole project. While I used to worry about that, over the last month my confidence in her understanding has grown, so that’s reassuring.

We’ve been selling virtually everything in our house that’s not nailed down, trying to get rid of stuff and get a little nest egg for the trip home! Fortunately we’re going at the end of a month, so people have money to spend, and we’re making some good progress. I never knew Banda was such a salesman! Still trying to sell the house I built which is nerve-wracking since we’re getting close to leaving, but we have 2 very serious buyers so all is left on that is to negotiate a price. And since I long ago reconciled myself to the fact that it was inevitably going to be a financial loss, I think the negotiation part won’t hurt too badly.

Had a nice trip to Livingstonia one weekend. Livingstonia is that town at the top of the huge hill that the former volunteers and I hiked up to last year. Well this year there was no hiking, thank god. Ms. Kim wanted to take me there as a thank you for all of my work with the libraries and also with her English – so sweet! So it was her, me, Banda, Peter Daino, and her secretary and his wife. It was a good mix of people as Peter was full of wisdom and the secretary just chattered away. And Ms. Kim is such a mother – she came full prepared with sandwiches, drinks, snacks, dessert, and wipies. Love her. While the first trip centered more on nature and reflection, this trip was filled with history so that was neat. We went to the museum where the missionary lived, saw the church and the university, and learned a bunch of neat things about Malawi. On the ride home, we got stuck behind a bus that had broken down. Stuck because the road is only wide enough for one car at a time, with only a little bit of space for negotiating on the corners. So we hung out in the car for a couple of hours as they attempted to weld the broken piece back together. They failed but fortunately the secretary came up with the idea to put ground up soap in the pipe to block the leakage. And it worked! Who knew. Anyways, we finally made it down the mountain and home to Karonga. It was a great last trip to appreciate some of Malawi’s plentiful natural beauty.

I also went with Mwambira to meet the village headmen of the area where we’re building a community library. And I thought getting the books to Malawi would be the most frustrating part! Ha. It was basically a disaster with everything that drives me crazy about Malawi “all rolled up into one like a cigar” (as Banda would say). While the guys were initially grateful, the spokesperson finished his speech by saying that it’s soooo difficult to find resources here so they would need us to donate the cement and iron sheets and they would only do the sand and bricks. Umm no. 1. The original agreement was ALWAYS that we would do the books and they would do the building. 2. I’ve already spent over 1,000,000 kwacha getting the books there and Mwambira nearly matched that amount with his own transportation costs from Blantyre to Karonga. 3. The library will serve multiple villages. Go door to door and ask people to contribute 100 kwacha. Totally manageable and they’d raise the money easily.

So I was livid, although I don’t even know why I was surprised. I’ve learned over and over again here that it’s just never enough. It doesn’t matter what you do, people will always see your skin and expect you to do more. It’s nauseating. And it’s frustrating that this country will NEVER be able to stand on its own two feet if there is this constant mentality of dependency. Which there is – from all systems – starting at the government level and working all the way down to the family unit. There’s this expectation that someone else who is better off is going to come in and help you. I used to think the family interdependence was a good, beautiful thing. Note that I said “interdependence.” But I’ve come to realize that no, it’s just plain dependence. It is family members lying and making up stories in order to essentially steal money from those who are actually hard-working and managing to save. It’s not a safety net. It’s a crutch. A debilitating crutch. And it goes on up to the village level and even the whole country. If the donor aid hadn’t been pulled, I doubt people ever would have freaked out to the magnitude of nationwide protests. Sure, people would have grumbled that Bingu was repressing certain freedoms, but man let me tell you the real shit hit the fan when money started getting dropped. Sigh. But anyways, I’m off on a tangent, let me pull it back. So that’s what happened within this village. Absolutely no incentive to help themselves and contribute anything substantial to the project. Just a complete expectation that I would do it all for them. And I know that donors like myself are a huge part of the problem in creating this mentality. Because if we weren’t still coming in and doing projects, maybe within a couple of generations they would outgrow the mentality. And yet I really did (perhaps naively) believe that this project would be an exception. The Malawian community initiated it. They came up with the proposal. They donated the land. They were going to handle all of the building and management. I was just supposed to be the book contact. I wasn’t throwing money around to random people but giving a one-time donation of an actual commodity. Books. Education. Something concrete and a single opportunity rather than constant handouts. I thought it would be okay. I should have known better I suppose. It continued to get even worse as they somehow decided that I would not only be responsible for the library but for the whole secondary school in general!! WHAT?! So they decided amongst themselves that I would spend my life in the U.S. raising money for them because I was “responsible” for them now. They actually used that word. Excuse me but no. I wanted to help build a library, not a school. Not to mention that people don’t just throw money at you in the States. Half the time I feel like they still all believe that the streets of America are paved in gold and that money grows on trees, despite my own attempts to teach them that that is far from the case and that any fundraising requires hours and hours of invested time. Side note: I’ve lost count of how many people have asked me to find scholarships or jobs for them when we go back to the U.S. Sorry but I can’t even find myself a job and Banda will also need some way to pay for his own schooling. Half the time I feel like I’m talking to the wind when I try to explain that I don’t have those kind of connections and that it just doesn’t all get handed out to whoever asks.

The irritation continued as they took me on a tour so that I could take pictures to show donors. Whatever. And there I learned that they only have 2 classrooms for 4 grade levels so the kids just sit outside and wait for them to be free. And that in the rainy season, they just cancel classes. Awful, I know, pulls at the heartstrings, yes? Well don’t be fooled. There are 2 more classrooms already built but they just need to put new iron sheets on because they were destroyed in the earthquake. Which by the way was 2 YEARS AGO. Do something about it rather than waiting for someone to come help you. Also, I walked 50 more feet and was met with a beautiful teacher’s house. Huge. Decorated. Nicer and bigger than any of the Chaminade houses. And next door there was a bricklayer actively working on finishing a second house. With multiple piles of bricks laying nearby, indicating where the next 4 houses would be built. So let me get this straight. You say you don’t have enough money to 1. Fix the school roof so the students can actually have classes and 2. To build the library. And yet here you are building mansions for teachers’ houses. Hmm PRIORITIES ANYONE?!?!? Where were they getting the money to build the houses?? I asked them why this was happening and they gave some BS answer about teachers refusing to work unless they have housing. 1. They’re assigned by the government so someone should stay eventually or they could assign someone who already comes from the area and has housing OR 2. Build something smaller and more sustainable. The houses could be half that size and still be fine. Sigh, so it was just uber-frustrating to see that teachers were prioritizing their own comfort rather than the structural necessities of the institution. Again, not surprising as entitlement and dependence are something I see daily at Chaminade and MIRACLE, but still upsetting to see.

So we’ve put a 4 month limit on their project. If they have done nothing to raise funds themselves within 4 months, Mwambira will instead donate the books to someone who is willing to do their own legwork. As it should be. There’s no chance of sustainability if it’s all done from the outside. So I do hope these people get it together. If it had just been me on my own, I would have yanked those books away so fast and given them to someone serious. Like Lusibilo who I gave half the books too and I trust will do it right. But with Mwambira as the local contact, I know he’ll draw the line when the time comes. So frustrating to have spent hundreds of hours of my holiday time collecting and cataloging the books, even more days devoted to giving fundraising presentations, the thousands of dollars spent, and so much energy too – all with the aim of assisting people who it turns out can’t even be bothered to help themselves.

See you all in a few weeks!

Update

Fri, 02 Sep 2011 10:16:44 GMT

Have been doing a dreadful job at updating lately! Pephani chomene [very sorry]!

Life here is continuing on.

Electricity has been particularly terrible lately, going out nearly every single day. When we returned from picking up the books, there was a solid 2 weeks where it would consistently go out before each meal. Literally cooked only 2 meals over the stove during that time period. Not days, but individual meals. The rest required cooking outside over the charcoal cookers. Fortunately our current batch of charcoal is fabulous, catching quickly and staying so hot there are actual flames. The only bummer is the filthy hands and dizzy head from blowing on the coals. And the added cooking time as you have to wait a good 30 minutes to avoid having the smoke blacken the pan’s bottoms. Still, I am now an expert charcoal cooker and Banda’s never been a complainer so he often picks up my slack! More annoying though was the internet fakeouts. I’d hike to school, only to find out that the power had gone out as I was walking over. That ceased to be a problem recently though as the internet has not been functioning at all for the last 2 weeks. Feel very much out of the loop socially, job applications have been put on hold, and I know nothing about what’s going on in the world. Just heard about Hurricane Irene the other day courtesy of one of my Malawian co-workers. I’ve gone to the Museum in town a couple of days to pay to use their internet. But it’s just so slow I can barely stand it. Hopefully my boss will come back soon and fix it! As of now though I am coming to you from the beautiful Mikoma Beach Lodge, a ridiculously expensive beachfront lodge that is undeniably beautiful. They even have a swimming pool! That you have to pay 1,000 MK to swim in (roughly $8) lol. So I’m sitting poolside, looking out at the waves, enjoying a cool breeze and wishing Laura was here with me to soak it in!

We’ve been continuing with the visa process. Poor Banda has been traveling throughout the country trying to get stuff done. He made the trip to his home village and then on to Blantyre to get his birth certificate. And he left again a couple of days ago to go to Lilongwe to do his medical exam and police record. He’s been a real trooper, getting all of the stuff done and weathering multiple shots, which he’s never had as an adult and was thus rather scary for him! He was so cute, giving me worried updates about how his whole arm had gone numb. Gotta love him. He had to do a couple of the basic shots in Karonga at the government hospital. Good because it was free. But bad because the ‘doctors’ here had no idea what to do. They’d never immunized an adult before. He got shuffled to 5 different people and they eventually just told him they’d do the baby schedule – 3 shots over 6 months. HA. Not going to stay here for 6 more months Mr. Clinical Officer Man. This resulted in some rather frantic, disjointed calls to the Embassy-approved British doctor in Lilongwe as I tried to explain the situation to him and that while I indeed understood the meaning of a booster shot, the people in Karonga did not. But we finally got it all sorted out! The paperwork is also done and Mom’s papers came in too. And just got word that the interview will be on Tuesday, September 6! So that’s the last stage in the process. If we get the visa then we can come whenever we’re ready – which will be mid-end of October. Very nervous about the interview (I think I’ve seen “The Proposal” too many times!!) but I keep telling Banda (and myself really) to just be calm and confident in the fact that we’re telling the truth and have a plan.

Fulfilled my duty as a Woman on Campus a couple weeks back. One of the teacher’s kids was sick and in the hospital, so as per the norm, the women took turns cooking meals and bringing them to the hospital for him. So I was summoned to cook lunch one day. It would be just my luck that it was the day after Banda left for Blantyre. Awesome lol. So I was a bit nervous about managing it all myself. But the universe was smiling on me. The electricity stayed on (this was during that dreadful 2 week period). I cooked the best rice of my life (I usually either burn it or turn it mushy). And the eggs were glorious too (I usually am paranoid and thus overcook them). Go me. The ladies were sweet, too. Mrs. Nkhata offered to go with me since I’d never done it before. And Madame Kaunda also came over beforehand to check everything out and keep me company while we waited for the truck to come. Handled the in-hospital stuff pretty well, though I was rather nervous culturally and also given that I just hate hospitals in general. It was rather interesting to me though that these women – who 1. I don’t see very often and 2. I can hardly communicate with given they don’t really speak English and I don’t really speak Chitumbuka – should because of those reasons technically see me as more of an outsider than my co-workers who I see every day and who I can fluently converse with. And yet the women of Chaminade have always welcomed me wholeheartedly. They invite me to everything, excitedly invite me to sit and chat, and include me in their activities (like hospital visiting). And yet my Miracle co-workers leave me out of everything, gossip behind my back, or pencil in my name afterward as an afterthought. So I was truly grateful and touched that the Chaminade women included me in the food cooking. Sure I was nervous and I don’t like hospitals, but the inclusion over-rode any such concerns. My heart was glowing with love for them.

Had a lovely adventure in town one day. While Banda was gone to Blantyre, I was bored. I’d already swept dirt, worked in the library, and burned trash (huge bonfire which – thankfully – did not spread to the overhead trees). Plus I needed more anti-malarial medicine and didn’t foresee any brothers driving to town. So I decided to walk to town! I woke up at 6 one morning and felt fit. Fit enough to walk the 2 hours. So I slapped on some sunscreen and headed out early in an attempt to beat the sun. Rather enjoyed walking along by myself, enjoying the scenery and having something to do. Walked for a good hour and then started feeling tired. Flagged down a truck whose owner kindly carried me the rest of the way. Had a splendid time wandering around town – picking up a few odds and ends, chatting and laughing with our usual vendors. The mango lady (the WEP lady, Molly!) and I had a particularly enjoyable exchange as she gave me a seed to try which she claims people suck on like candy but when I nibbled on it made me suck in my cheeks like a lemon. The ladies loved my face. Banda talked me into getting a taxi ride home, which I willingly did. A nice day in town. I love those days in town where no one harasses you for money, screams ‘mzungu’ at you, or tries to cheat you. It’s so much nicer when you fade into the crowd and yet still find some friendly faces to joke around with.

Malawi’s doing alright as a country. Peacewise anyway. There were supposed to be a second round of demonstrations on August 17 if the President failed to respond to the demonstrators’ petition. The general atmosphere was very tense in the preceding days. The President hadn’t done anything constructive – calling for dialogue on day and then the next giving hate speeches, linking demonstrators to the devil, blaming them for the deaths, saying that he’d smoke them out and fight them in the streets, and the latest yet, that he’d bring down war on them and didn’t care if Malawi went up in flames. Oi. So it seemed very likely that the demonstrations would go down – this time scheduled to last 48 hours – and that they’d be more violent than the first ones. But the day before, UN mediators arrived and the demonstrations were put on hold so that there could be discussions. I wasn’t convinced that people would stay at home, but excepting a few random acts of violence, the day passed in peace. Thank goodness! The next demos are planned for 21 September. Hopefully those will get canceled too and that good things actually start happening for this country.

Banda LOVES “Rocky Horror.” And I love that he loves it. He put it on again the other night and it came out that he’s also watched it solo while I’m at work. He always giggles hysterically at certain parts and the other day he was dancing in his seat to the “Oh Janet” song. Cannot wait to take him to a midnight showing at Alamo Drafthouse when we get home. Laura get ready – you’re in charge of our outfits!

I’ve been working frantically in the library trying to get it all done in the next month and a half. I decided to hire some boys to help me with the heavy lifting. Turned out to be a god-send because even with their help, my body is still aching to no end. I’ve decided that all of my back problems have stemmed from this since it had been feeling better the last couple of months, but is now all messed up again. We spent 5 days pulling books off the shelves, sorting them by numbers, and then reputting them on the shelves in order. So thrilling to see all of the 100s all in a row lol. Did all the way through the 700s. Eventually realized that I had underestimated the number of unlabeled ones remaining, so we’re now pausing as I label those. Looks like I will indeed finish within the month though, so I’ll have enough time to train Envie how to maintain it and also orient the students on how to use the library, a skill which the majority of people in Malawi never learn.

Since INCOS – the organization to which I was going to give half of books– seems to have died out, I was searching for another good, reliable place to work with. My biggest concern was finding someone who would be honest enough to actually use them correctly and who had enough resources to do it right. So I ultimately decided to give them to Ms. Kim since she is building multiple youth centers, complete with libraries. She is definitely a mover and a shaker who gets things done quickly and thoroughly, so I feel secure that they’ll make it to the right place! And she was absolutely thrilled. Some will go to her music center. Others will go to the orphanage which currently has an itty bitty shelf of books, and the rest will go to various village youth centers. Wonderful to know that a good 2,000 books are being spread throughout Karonga district.

I also decided to pull several children’s books from her boxes in order to give them to the teachers’ kids at Chaminade. One little girl whose mom is a cook at MIRACLE wandered in one day and I gave her a pop-up book. Not that she can read English, but her face lit up. Kids here just don’t have books. They’re far too expensive and the nearest shop is in Mzuzu (4 hours) anyway. So I’ve decided that each kid will get 2 or 3 books and then hopefully they’ll share them with each other too.

Had some lovely times with Jim and Robyn, our American and Australian uncle and auntie here in Malawi. They stopped by the library for ‘5 minutes’ the other day to bring us some cupcakes and we ended up sitting and chatting for a good hour. Decided at the end of it that we should have another lunch, this time with a Malawian friend of theirs who spent a big chunk of time in New York City. Lunch was great, listening to them and the girl chatter on. Banda and I also bucked up and weren’t quite so quiet as we usually are around them, and even added some stories :)

Wonderful day yesterday. I was feeling lonely because Banda was gone to Lilongwe for visa stuff and the power had been out all day so my computer had also died. Spent the morning in town doing some shopping. Waited outside of the bakery for a good hour, inhaling deeply the wonderful smell of baking bread while waiting for the Brothers to finish and drive me home. Then in the afternoon I got to go to Ms. Kim’s house for our English lessons. We hadn’t met for a while so it was lovely to catch up with her. Also went on a long walk through the villages and then ended up back in her kitchen where she stuffed me with rice rolls (amazing!!) and I got to see how a generator works. Was thrilling. And I simply adore her and love that we have become close enough where we just chatter away, despite the fact that she’s my grandmother’s age. Such a remarkable woman. Anyways, I was grateful to have spent 3 hours in such a great way rather than being lonely at home. Decided to stop in on Mrs. Chawinga on the walk home. Turns out she is STILL pregnant. She said August. Well it’s now September. And she’s still preggars. Adorably so of course. Had a great time chatting with them, asking all kinds of invasive questions and successfully convincing her and her husband that she’s having twins :) I wish I wasn’t so bogged down with household stuff all the time, so that I actually had time to go chat with her and the other ladies more often. Reminds me of the days at the volunteer house where we had Alick and Vicki and thus no responsibilities and plenty of free socializing times.

6 days, 2 vehicle breakdowns, and 20 cans of tuna later…. The books are in Karonga!

Tue, 09 Aug 2011 15:28:45 GMT

*** WARNING – Ridiculously long entry spanning a week – 8 pages in Word! I tried to cut it but my rambling was simply insurmountable. ***

We got word on Tuesday that the books had arrived in Blantyre. FINALLY! 2.5 months late and not with the original trucking company, nor with the second company that after a week of enquiries claimed to be the contracted shipper, but in fact with a 3^rd company that somehow ended up with the contract. Ai ai ai. Anyways, we got news that morning so I scurried around all day. Had to print all of the necessary paperwork not only for the books, but also for Banda’s visa because we were going to combine the trips. The visa had to be filed in Lilongwe which is 12 hours away from Karonga and mid-way to Blantyre which is 20 hours away. So it made sense to combine, given that they are both huge undertakings. So we spent Tuesday night running around, getting the Deputy Headmaster and Brother Charles to sign letters legitimizing our marriage (the Embassy needs proof for a visa). As luck would have it, Mwambira – my Malawian partner in all of this who is taking care of building the actual library – was already planning a trip to Mzuzu to register his new truck, which would be big enough to carry all of the books! I was thrilled as this meant we wouldn’t have to spend 40 hours on a bus that makes pitstops once every 7 hours…. A feat which is impossible anyway due to my back and bladder problems… so basically it meant not having to pay for taxis the whole way. Oh, and I woke up on the morning of travel with a wicked case of stomach problems. Thanks, universe. But anyways, Mwambira was fortunately up for taking us all the way to Blantyre.

We were supposed to leave early in the morning on Wednesday but Mwambira was a few hours late, but we made it to Mzuzu without incident. By “we” I mean Banda and I, Mwambira and his nephew who unfortunately had to ride in the back because the police will stop you if you have 4 people in the front cab… seems silly since that’s safer than having him hang on in the back. But whatever they say. So once in Mzuzu we split up – us to get Banda’s passport and them to get the truck registered. Sounds easy enough, no? Ha. Banda and I spent hours (not even joking) waiting for his passport. I don’t know how anything gets done here. There was no organization at all. And at a government office, no less! People were packed like sardines waiting in an undistinguishable line/mob for officials who never showed up to work. And then outside in the parking lot, hundreds more were hanging around waiting to process their paperwork. It was just chaos. I wonder if there have always been so many passport applicants or if people are getting antsy to leave Malawi with the changing political climate. Hmmm. Anyways, I eventually decided that we should split, with Banda still waiting and me going to order food, since that itself would also take a couple of hours waiting for the food preparation. So I headed to Big Bite restaurant and excitedly waited for my pizza! Banda showed up just as the food was coming out – great timing. Apparently once I’d gone, some official had taken down names and started demanding bribes to get the passports. Banda balked and called a contact that he had in the office. And that man invited him into his office and gave him the passport straight away, no funny business. So kind of a man who had never even met Banda and only talked to him on the phone once! Goodness knows how many more hours he would have had to wait.

We also went to visit Kenford, Banda’s older brother, who works at a golf club in Mzuzu. Had a mineral and some chatting. We also randomly ran into his sister’s husband. Good times meeting the family! :)

Unfortunately this is where we hit a snag. Registering the truck apparently involved going to 5 different offices, some of which were having computer problems. So Mwambira got stuck in Mzuzu for 2 days while we continued on to Lilongwe and Blantyre. Taxi time!

Banda found an awesome taxi to Lilongwe. It was only 25,000 kwacha ($166) – waaayyy less than anything I had ever been able to find with my mzungu skin. The car had a reclining backseat so of course I almost instantly fell asleep :)

Arrived in Lilongwe late on Wednesday night without incident. Stayed at Mabuya Camp in a double tent, although it was admittedly a bit too cold for that.

Woke up on Thursday and headed for the Embassy, which only accepts applications on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’d never been out in LLW before and neither had Banda so I’m sure we were quite a sight, wandering around looking like lost puppy dogs, asking people for directions. Enjoyed a bike taxi to the bus depot. In the big cities the bike taxis have padding – so instead of perching precariously on a metal rack, you get a nice comfy cushion with handles to hold onto! I loved it. Used my one Chichewa phrase that I knew to greet the guy, who fortunately knew enough English that we were able to chatter away as he biked.

Now, to be completely honest, I do not like LLW. Was not impressed at all. It is too big, too chaotic, people are rushing around like madmen and are rude, it smells like dust, and is just dirty. Bah. I was overwhelmed. The bus depot is a great example of this disorganization. LLW is ‘organized’ into areas which are numbered. So, our lodge was in Area 3. The city center is area 12. The bus depot is Area 2. And so on. This sounds like a great idea… except that the numbered areas aren’t next to each other – ie 1 next to 2 next to 3! What’s the point of having numbers if they’re just scattered all over the place? The bus depot is similarly a mess. Because the city is so huge, it’s not located in one place but just sprawls everywhere. And it would make sense that all the Area 12 buses are together and next to the area 11 and 13 buses, no? Which makes me think… I don’t think I ever saw those numbers… do they even exist or did they just pick random numbers?!? I don’t know. Anyways, we wandered around for quite a while trying to find the Area 12 buses. By this point, we’re late. Of course.

Finally find the bus and hop on. One great thing about LLW is that the buses fill up in under a minute! We were the first ones on the bus (normally a HUGE no-no) and literally within 60 seconds we were full and pulling out of the station. I was shocked. In Karonga, that same feat would have taken at least an hour. Also, they only sit 3 people to a seat which was fantastic! No being squeezed into a window or elbowed in the ribs or holding a random chicken on your lap or having some guy’s armpit leaning right into your face. It was great.

No one really knew where the Embassy was, so by the time someone finally spoke up uncertainly, we were already past it. Got dropped randomly and started walking. Walked for about an hour, asking for directions along the way. By this point I was beyond anxious because the lady said we could come at 10 and hope that she could squeeze us in by 11. And I was pretty certain that with security at the Embassy, there was a list of people allowed in at a certain time. We made it to the Embassy at 10:30. Sounds great, right? No. Because we still had to get passport photos. We hadn’t thought this would be a problem because the norm in Malawi is that wherever an official building is, passport photo centers pop up. We figured we could just duck next door and get it done fast. Nope, luck would have it that the Embassy is in the middle of nowhere lol. So we had to board another bus that took us BACK to town. Walked around and found the suggested photo shop, which luckily was a legit business and finished within 10 minutes. My hair looked like I stuck a fork in the electrical outlet because by that point I was so frantic and just wanted to get the heck out of there. Got back on yet another bus to the city center and asked them to drive a different route past the Embassy. “No problem,” he said. Liar. They kicked us out at the corner so we had to walk for another 20 minutes to get to the Embassy. Arrived at the Embassy at 11:40. Sigh. I was a wreck. In Malawi, I’d say no problem, everyone’s always late. But this is the US Embassy we were dealing with.

Went in and talked to the security guys. He had to call up the Consular lady because we weren’t on the list (awesome) and she said we could still come in. Thank the Lord. I probably would have lost it if she was strict and refused us or was too busy by then.

Stumbled our way through security screenings and just left our bags there since we had all of our traveling crap that would have set off the alarms. Followed our armed escort (no wandering around the Embassy, kiddos!).

Thankfully there was a man already yelling at the counter about his own visa application problems. I felt bad for him and totally agreed with his frustration that things aren’t explained clearly and then we get screwed for it. I think he hit it on the head when he said “Well if you had told me you needed that form, I could have gotten it for you. But no one said anything!” Agreed sir. Anyways, I felt bad for him but was grateful as his distractions gave me a chance to frantically sort out all of our papers and money. I’m sure the camera watchers just thought I was a mental case.

Finally the man gave up and it was our chance. She took all of our paper s and looked through them. Got to the marriage certificate and turned to walk to her co-worker. “No no no, don’t you do it.” I muttered under my breath. But my pleas were unheard by the universe. The wrong marriage certificate. Well, not wrong, just not valid for the US government. Turns out we needed to take that one down to the central office in Blantyre and have it validated. Which, of course, had not been told to us beforehand. Ai ai ai. It’s a good thing we were already planning to go to BL otherwise I would have had a meltdown right in her office. She said it happens all the time :) But I handled it in stride. And then she told us the other things we’d need for the next step. A birth certificate, which of course Banda doesn’t have because things here in Malawi are not documented. So now he has to go to his home village and get one and then take it back down to BL to get it certified. So, yes angry sir, I agree with you – if they had told us in advance that it had to be centrally registered, we could have done it all in one trip. But nope, now there’s going to be 40 additional hours of traveling for that little adventure. Aaaand he has to get a medical exam with lots of vaccinations (which, again, he’s had but were not documented – ARGH Malawi) from an Embassy-approved doctor… which of course are only in LLW and BL….. one would think they could have found someone decent in Mzuzu so us northerners only had to travel 8 hours instead of 24-40. But nope. Oh and he needs a police certificate, again from LLW or BL. So while I understand that standards are higher in the bigger cities and are thus more desirable, it’s just overwhelming in terms of travel for us, people who live in the north and do not have a vehicle. So anyways, we walked away unsuccessful and I sat outside the office and had a complete meltdown – not because of the marriage certificate, but because of all of the future things and traveling we’d have to get through. Thank god for sunglasses.

While we were sitting there an American couple coming out of the office offered to give us a lift, but alas was going in the opposite direction. Thought it was sweet of her to check though and I chuckled as her husband revealed that they were Tar Heels fan and since I had on my Kansas shirt, it never could have worked out anyway.

I recovered over a chicken pita and milkshake and with the decision to take a taxi to BL instead of a bus. This also meant that we had more free time, so we got to wander through the grocery stores, which are just like being in America! I’m used to something like a farmer’s market and 1 dinky little grocery store in Karonga, so I was amazed. We just wandered through the aisles, soaking it all in, rocking out to Taylor Swift and Beatles songs. Made me miss the States though, plus it was more than a little depressing because I wanted to keep buying stuff but since I make a Malawian wage, I don’t earn enough to buy such Western goods. However, we did splurge on regularly-purchased things that were significantly cheaper in LLW and BL than they are in Karonga. Enter 20 cans of tuna. That’s right. It was less than half the cost in BL, so we kept buying a few cans at every store we went into. And then in BL, we got 10 at one place. Along with 6 Snickers bars. The check-out lady must have thought we were insane! We also got some candy, sauce powder packets (will be heavenly to have different tasting food!), and wait for it… syrup!! Pancakes here we come. Was a bit disappointed that there was no Spam. We did find olives though so I’m thrilled that our tuna salad will now contain olives since that’s always my favorite part! Oh and we got a Nutella substitute. They had real Nutella but it was far too expensive, so hopefully this stuff is good.

Hung out at a little milk stand at the bus depot with a guy who was kind enough to let me share his bench as Banda went to negotiate for a taxi. Got one to Blantyre, waited a good while for fuel – the shortage is MUCH worse in LLW where people have to wait for hours, sometimes days, to fill their tanks. At each station there were dozens of cars just parked along the main roads, their drives wandered off, just waiting for word that fuel has arrived. I can now understand why the political climate is so volatile. But this guy cut in line, pissing people off in the process. And then of course I fell asleep. This was definitely my pattern since we were always traveling late into the nights after exhausting days, so once sitting, I just passed out.

Woke up to find us driving around Blantyre in the dark, trying to find a hotel. Neither Banda nor I had stayed in BL before, so we were at a loss. Finally stopped at some place outside of the city that was relatively cheap. No mosquito net, light not working, and a crappy breakfast, but the door locked and there was hot water in the morning. As I laid there I thought about how it was a good thing that I was raised on Motel 6 vacations. Not to knock Motel 6 at all. Just saying that it’s good I’m not used to Hilton standards, otherwise, I’d have run screaming in the opposite direction.

Woke up the next morning – Friday – and caught a bus taxi to BL city. Had no idea where we were going and didn’t pay the guy enough money. This actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise as they dropped us before we wanted to, but which was actually the best spot. Only had to walk 5 minutes to get to the Registrar General where we needed to do all of the marriage certificate stuff. Headed over there, wheezing at the amount of stairs – there are no 2 story buildings in Karonga, much less 4-story ones!

The lady was not very willing to help but I swallowed my irritations and was polite. Paid back because between my calmness and Banda’s respectfulness, we got it done, despite realizing that the stupid officials in Karonga hadn’t filled out the original document properly. Seriously, people how hard is it to do your job properly?! So there was a frantic hour as we called Gumbo and the brothers trying to get the missing information about our witnesses. Had to pay extra to have it done in a day rather than the usual 2 weeks, which just about sent me over the edge. Because it wasn’t a government fee for a rush job – that would have been totally fine. Nope, it was just dishonest people who wanted a bribe for doing the same job they would have been doing otherwise. They would have been typing certificates anyway – just mine instead of someone else’s. But I bit it back and we got the certificate later that afternoon. The Embassy lady says it’s a true miracle.

Our luck continued as one of the customs clearance guys that we hired happened to be in town and thus picked us up after we finished the marriage certificate stuff. Thank goodness because we had no idea where we were going otherwise! He took us to their office where we sorted everything out. The government paperwork wasn’t cleared until Saturday morning and the trucking company unfortunately wasn’t open on Saturday. Awesome. So we had to hang out until Monday morning. Expensive, but I’d rather stay in BL for some days rather than in LLW. Mwambira arrived on Saturday morning.

We had a grand time in BL just wandering around. I love BL and was honestly a bit sad to leave. It’s not nearly so big of a city, so transportation is manageable. It’s clean. The people are friendly. And most importantly, there’s just an overall sense of order. Not chaotic at all.

We ate all of our meals at Ali Baba Restaurant, mainly because it was across the street from our hotel. It was good though – great pizza and sausages and we also got to have our nsima and rice fixes. It’s funny, I would’ve thought that I’d only eat pizza and cheeseburgers the whole time and yet I found myself missing our Malawian staples. I think I ate rice and nsima more than anything else! Although I did eat ice cream at every opportunity :) We also spent lots of time in the grocery stores, seeking out new items in the different cities, and also some office supply stores. I even found a book store, which I loved browsing through! Books stores are virtually unheard of here. I got some Malawian books for the library though things were so expensive that that kind of hampered me. Banda’s childhood friend, Adron, lives in BL, so we spent a lot of time chatting with him. Thoroughly enjoyed him – he reminds me of Raymond, who of course I miss dearly. We tried to go to a movie at the theater (the only one in Malawi!!) but it was between Kung Fu Panda 2 and some movie in Hindi, so we passed. Decided to go to a football game instead at Kamuzu Stadium. Stood in line for 30 minutes and barely moved a meter. Basically hundreds of people were in line trying to squeeze through a single door. Sigh, oh Malawi. We figured by the time we got in, it’d be half-time, and then it’d take at least 3 hours to make it back outside. So we passed and just went back to the hotel and enjoyed having the opportunity to watch tv – something I haven’t had in 8 months! I watched 2 “Bring It On” movies, although unfortunately not the first one, but the crappy sequels. Still enjoyed the experience of it though. Also watch a documentary about Julia Roberts – who knew she was so scandalous?! Haha. My favorite part about BL though (and LLW too) was that there are so many foreigners that hardly anyone gave me a second glance, and I think those that did, only did so because I was clearly “with” Banda. It was so refreshing to just be invisible and not a freaking amusement show as we foreigners usually are in Karonga where we’re fewer in number and thus an anomaly to be observed. It was a wonderful break. There were so many white children I was amazed. I guess it’s not so daunting to raise children in Malawi when you have immediate access to Western supplies and medical care and can send them to the international schools that are in the cities and actually offer good educations. I did notice though that all of the white people were only together. Out of the dozens I saw, there was only one group that was mixed with Malawians. Maybe it was just a coincidence, I don’t know, but that was a little strange to me, since in Karonga seeing a huge group of only white people is virtually unheard of – at least now that us Marianist volunteers are gone lol.

On Monday morning, bright and early, we went to finalize all the paperwork and picked up the books! Oh it was such an exciting moment to see those pallets in the warehouse and touch them and know that they had finally made it! Packed them into the truck, which groaned under their weight, but managed.

Drove around town for an hour trying to find doors for Mwambira and then into Limbe (a nearby township) where after another hour, he finally found them. 2 hours. Remember that number because it’s important.

Took advantage of that whistle stop to go to the bank. I’ll never complain about a Karonga bank again as it took exactly 1 hour to be served.

Finally headed out, stopping on the roadside to get some chicken, chips, and sodas for lunch.

While we were driving, I told Mwambira that Banda and I needed to stay in LLW for the night to go drop off the visa paperwork in the morning. That it’d only take under an hour because it was just dropping them by, so we hoped that he’d wait for us. He said he wanted to continue on and drive through the night. I was frustrated, but understood that he had business to get to.

Got a flat tire a few hours in. The sun was setting by then so it was chilly. Wrapped myself in a chitenje (cloth) and headed into a field to pee. Apparently I picked the wrong field because I came out covered in blackthorns – little black thorn seeds – so the boys spent a good amount of time picking them off of me, while we waited for someone to bring a pump because of course the spare tire was flat too lol. Finally fixed it all and restarted our journey to LLW.

So we made it to LLW around 10 pm and found a lodge. As we were saying goodbye, I asked Mwambira if he was still going to drive through the night. He admitted that they’d probably only go to Kasungu, which is about 1.5 hours north of LLW. My previous frustration quadrupled at this point. If he were going to get back in Karonga before morning so that he could go to work, I get it. But seriously, he’s going to leave us here and make us find our own way for a 12 hour journey, just so that he can get a 1.5 hour start on us and still arrive at night?! I cannot even count the HUNDREDS of hours I spent on my HOLIDAY, driving around town collecting those books for him, doing presentations which terrify me to raise thousands of dollars to fund it all, not to mention the labeling and packaging of the books and my parents driving them to Houston, plus all of the work I did once in Malawi to track the books down. And we had just spent the day before driving around for 2 hours trying to find his doors. And yet he cannot wait 2 hours for us to do visa paperwork?! Anger. As Banda said, gratitude is shown through actions, not just words. So it was frustrating to see that all of the kind things and gratitude he was trying to express on Monday morning had evaporated by that evening. I’m beyond appreciative that he used his truck and fuel to go get the books (certainly no small task!) but it’s still irritating. This is doubled by the ultimate discovery that he arrived in Karonga at 11 pm on Tuesday evening – the exact same time that we did. And yet we had to pay for taxis so that we could essentially travel parallel to him because he couldn’t be bothered to wait 2 hours. But to be positive about it, I’m holding on to the fact that multiple community will now have access of thousands of books. That is worth it.

So whatever, he left. We moved on. Banda and I stayed at a different lodge in LLW because Mabuya was full. Highlight of the evening was waking up to a huge thud in the middle of the night as Banda randomly fell out of bed. :)

On Tuesday morning we headed to the Embassy. It was much easier this time as we knew where to get off the minibus so we only had a 20 minute walk rather than over an hour. Got there a bit early and managed to finish everything by 11. Nearly died when they told us we’d have to pay another $400 on top of the $420 we’ve already paid. No wonder so few Malawians make it to the US. So much for an immigrant nation. But anyways, the initial paperwork is done and the process has begun!

A kind man picked us up at the corner and drove us all the way to the Shopright parking lot. He refused to accept any money for it, even when Banda reflagged him down and tried to hand it through the window. Made my heart feel good about the state of humanity.

After picking up some peanut butter and 2 more cans of tuna, we headed to the bus depot to find a taxi. Our thinking was that maybe we could travel fast enough to catch Mwambira in Mzuzu and go with him to Karonga. And we didn’t want to get caught in Mzuzu for the night because if we’d taken a bus, we’d get into Karonga at about 2 in the morning. Got a phone call from Mwambira while we were at the depot, saying that he was still in Kasungu. Awesome! I was hoping he could just get lunch and we’d find him there, but he was already on the road by the time my call went through. And when I asked him to at least wait in Mzuzu, he was incredibly hesitant. Frustrating since a taxi is clearly going to make up most of the ahead start that his overloaded slow-moving truck had. But instead we spent the next 3 hours getting a taxi and waiting in a fuel line so that the driver could get a full tank of gas (whereas if we were just going to Kasungu, he’d already have enough). Great. And then he pulled over outside of town and we got to sit for awhile while he removed his taxi license plates and replaced them with those of a personal vehicle. Because he wasn’t registered to travel outside of LLW. Grreeeeat. Should have known then that this wasn’t going to be a good experience!

But we continued on and were traveling super fast. We were totally going to catch Mwambira in Mzuzu. We were having a great ride – enjoying our strawberries (first time I’ve ever seen them in Malawi!) and chocolate covered donuts. And then it all went to hell. The guy was going too fast down a hill and hit a speed bump, breaking the bearing in his wheel. So he fish-tailed down the hill. It was a really crappy spot to have a breakdown. In a valley of 2 very steep hills, complete with corners. So I got out to pee of course and the guy got to work fixing. He had no idea what he was doing and in trying to reassemble, left some parts out. That’s never a good sign lol. The original plan was to send a passerby to the nearest town to buy the part and bring back laborers to fix it. No problem. However, we were stuck in such a bad place that no one would stop to pick him up. So we stood there for over an hour with everyone just whizzing by. By this point it was getting dark. And I was ready to go since our window of catching Mwambira had closed and we were doomed to another taxi. So I wanted to get going since it was clear that the car wouldn’t be fixed anytime soon.

So we offered to pay the guy 2/3 of the original fare, since he had gone 2/3 of the journey. Seemed fair and rational to us according to the amount of time and amount of fuel he had used. Right? Well the taxi driver insisted that we either wait or pay the entire amount before leaving him. HAHA. Tried to reason with him for a while but he just kept insisting. Devolved into loud speaking as he was being a jerk, with him ultimately yelling “tien!” which means “let’s go!” which apparently has the same violent connotation that it does in the States. I was dazed, could not believe that this asshole was threatening to beat Banda because we were trying to pay him for the work he had actually done. What it is about some people that they feel entitled to be paid for work they haven’t done?! We’ve had this problem more times than I can count with virtually everyone working on the house construction, not to mention other professionals in Karonga and other taxi drivers we’ve encountered. In the midst of this, a kind lady stopped to pick us up, so we tried to get our bags and give him the 2/3 money. He refused and instead grabbed Banda’s bag. So we’re trying to get his hands off and he then grabs my bag which is on my shoulder. Yanks and spins me around. This makes Banda angry of course. And I’m scared. But we stand our ground and just keep trying to pry his fingers loose. By this point, I’m telling him that I’m going to call the police and they can sort it out and that they’re not going to be happy to see those license plates hidden in his trunk. But of course I don’t know the number because there’s no 911 here (that I know of??). Well the universe finally decided to smile on us because at the very moment that I was feeling like things were out of control, a police vehicle came cruising down the hill. Hallelujah! I flagged them down. The jackass taxi driver started trembling. The police officers listened to our story and within 5 minutes told me to pay the guy the 2/3 amount and feel free to be on my way. The poor lady was still waiting anxiously, so we paid the jerk and hopped into the back of her truck. Left my notepad in the taxi :( I was so proud of myself for keeping such detailed records of all of our expenses. And my awesome pen that Ms. Kim had given me. But, as Banda said, at least I didn’t leave a phone or something really important! So anyways, I was just so grateful to get out of there without something terrible happening. I’ve never been so grateful to see the police! I’m a bit worried about going back to LLW though and encountering the taxi drivers. News travels fast and we’re pretty conspicuous as a mixed-race couple, so everyone will know. Sigh. And the guy was still getting questioned when we left so I’m pretty sure he got slapped with a huge fine for the license plates. Even though I didn’t tell the officers about it (thought that would be too mean of me), the very fact that he had been hired a taxi and didn’t have the right colored plates will be enough for the fine!

Slept in the back of the lady’s truck. She dropped us at the bus depot in Mzuzu. Yet another example of good humanity. I had had enough sense to call Wangani, the nice taxi driver from the week before and ask him if he could take us to Karonga because Mwambira’s phone wasn’t reachable. Wangani was kind enough to wait for us until 8 pm, a real blessing because there was only 1 other driver there, so we would have been up a creek. Again, wonderful humanity. He got us to Karonga in only 3 hours, so we arrived at 11 pm. So happy to be home after the whole mess and a week of travel.

Mwambira came over the next morning to unload the books at MIRACLE. Found out that he arrived at 11 pm too. Whoot whoot. Anyways, got the books into the library and will work sometime during the holiday to get them on the shelves so that they’re ready for the students to use! So excited that they finally made it to Karonga!!

So in summary, I’m just glad that it’s over. Well it’s kind of over. Mwambira’s building hasn’t been built yet because no one believed the books were really coming. So now he’s getting on that and will hopefully get it done before Banda and I leave. He claims it will be fast, but I’m not holding my breath since this is Malawi and things just move slower here. Despite all of the taxi mess, we still ended up under-budget thanks to our awesome customs clearance agent who got the government to waive any duties – so basically everything on this end was a lot less than I budgeted for. So that’s good. I should even have some money left over which I’ll probably either donate to a library project NGO or use to buy more technical books for MIRACLE. Not sure yet. Was blessed and uplifted by examples of good humanity and frustrated by not so shining examples.

Alyson Youngpeter: Resident Pessimist and Idealist

Wed, 03 Aug 2011 08:00:00 GMT

Watched “City of Angels” the other night which I’d never seen. Traumatizing. And Nicholas Cage? Why do people like him? He just creeps me out. But Meg Ryan is just too adorable, it boggles my mind. Of course, she’ll never be more adorable than she is as Kathleen Kelly (You’ve Got Mail) but even in COA, utterly adorable. However, while watching, after he gave up his angel-dom to become a human so that he could be with her, I was immediately like “No way, one of them is going to die now.” Of course I was right, but that got me to thinking, “why on earth was that my first reaction?” Why couldn’t they just stay together and live happily ever after? Maybe because I don’t believe in that. This may sound strange coming from someone who knew within a couple of days of switching from friends to dating that I’d found “the one” and still don’t have a doubt in my mind 8 months later. I wish more than anything that Banda and I will be two old fogies sitting on a porch, yelling at each other, not out of anger but because we’re too deaf to hear each other’s stories. More than anything, I want that. I know most young people dread getting older, but I actually look forward to being old. And yet, in the back of my mind, in the place that I try to slam the door on every day, I fear that it won’t happen. That I am just too darn happy and that the universe knows it. That something will stop that from happening. Because it always seems to happen to the people who are genuinely content, doesn’t it? Anyways, rambling aside, I guess I just don’t have that bushy-tailed, bright-eyed optimism that some people are blessed with. And I consider myself a happy person. No, I consider myself a joyful person. Since Chris always said that happiness was temporal and contingent upon outside events; joy is internal and a state of being. I am joyful. And yet I am also pessimistic. Is that a strange combination or do others feel that internal pull too? All I know is, I don’t want to have to eat pears alone. Poor Nicholas Cage eating his lonely pears. I was hysterically crying by the end of it.

Re: my last blog entry, “The Help” was wonderful. It’s a novel set in Jackson, Mississippi, right around the time MLK, Jr. did his march), told from the perspectives of 3 different women. 2 African-American maids and a white author, who conducts interviews with the women to depict what it’s like being a black maid in Mississippi. I lost count of how many times I succumbed to tears, not because of tragic scenes or the like, but because of single sentences. Because of the emotions and thoughts that they inspired in my mind. Not sure I’ve sorted out all of my reactions yet, but I appreciated that it brought them forward. I always feel voyeuristic when I read books about other cultures. It makes me cringe when people read things and then walk around for a month acting and talking as if “they know.” They know how it is. They know how it feels to be in that person’s shoes. And knowing that has brought new meaning to their lives and they are utterly transformed. Not that I’m saying the book transformed me. But I digress. To me it seems that such a true level of understanding is impossible; we can never fully know if we don’t fully comprehend the context, either by living it or maybe by intensive study that few ever do. How can I know what it was like to be a black woman during a time when African-Americans were seen as dirty and diseased and forced to use different toilets? How can I fathom the pain of a concentration camp? How can I grasp the emotions of living within the apartheid? I can’t. So I always feel vaguely uncomfortable, feeling that my strong reactions to books cannot be authentic. That I will always simply be a poser, trying to impose my own life upon a foreign experience. Acting as if I really understand something that I can never know because I didn’t live it. And that faking seems to belittle the experiences of those who did, as I am trampling in and trying to make it my own, simply because I got a spark in my mind that such foreign events are interesting, so I should read a book about it. I don’t even know how to properly verbalize that feeling, but I was battling with this throughout “The Help.”

And then I read the post-script by the author and it hit me. It’s not about hijacking another person’s experience. It’s about trying to recognize the underlying common humanity underneath. Segregation? No. But I can understand how degrading it is to be seen as diseased, since some people think I might “catch the AIDS” at any moment, you know, living in Africa and all. A concentration camp? No. But my heart seems to shrivel when I imagine the unimaginable pain of losing your entire family in one foul swoop. Apartheid? No. But I have felt both sides of the consequences of racial difference, both beneficial and detrimental. So while I cannot understand the specific moments in a life, I can attempt to understand the basic human emotion beneath it. The author writes, “I don’t presume to think that I know what it really felt like to be a black woman in Mississippi, especially in the 1960s. I don’t think that is something any white woman on the other end of a black woman’s paycheck could ever truly understand. But trying to understand is vital to our humanity” (Stockett). Vital to our humanity. Yes. Attempting to understand. Never fully possible. Yet it is the pursuit that is necessary. Having the compassion to want to understand. That is what makes us human. What makes us responsible humans.

Stockett continues on to write that “In The Help there is one line that I truly prize: ‘Wasn’t that the point of the book? For women to realize, We are just two people. Not that much separates us. Not nearly as much as I’d thought.” I think this is what I struggle with most here in Malawi. Because I see that we are just people. Now that’s not to say that I’m perfect at this. Clearly, if you’ve read my blog, any one of you can attest that I too sometimes get caught up in “they do this. I would do that.” I dish out the phrase “typical Malawian” waaaayyyy more often than I should. I judge way more than I wish I did. Often times without even thinking. But like Stockett said, I try to look beyond the differences, which I suspect is why my frequent exclusions from community activities here bother me so much. Because yes, we have had DRASTICALLY different lives and opportunities and happenings. And you cannot discount those differences. You should not. They are what make us beautiful and unique and enrich our basic shared humanity. Because underneath it all, we’re still just human beings. All of our hearts break when a child cries from pain or hunger. We all dislike being cheated. We feel betrayed when a friend spreads lies about us. We both want to visit my sick friends. And we all get as big a kick out of throwing money at my friend’s head on his wedding day. I wish more people here could see that possibility of relating just as human beings rather than being standoffish or apprehensive as different nationalities or tribes. Actually I wish that everyone globally could see that. I suspect the world would be a much better place if people did not demonize differences. And I’m not talking about being color blind. Or being tolerant. But being truly accepting. Recognizing the beauty in difference as well as the commonalities of those involved rather than getting stuck on the assumptions based on skin color. Side note: I felt like I was using “humanity” too much so I went in search of synonyms. This is what I found: “humankind, civilization, people, human race, KINDNESS, CHARITY, COMPASSION, SYMPATHY.” Wouldn’t that be great if we all focused on those last four when we consider those around us, rather than getting hung up on the divides?

That is why Banda and I work. I’m guessing that some people think it’s a strange relationship and that in some way it must be dysfunctional merging cultures. But it’s not. Because we don’t relate as Malawian and American. We relate as human beings. My mom was talking to someone about Banda and I being married and the lady went off about how great it was that Mom had raised children who were color blind and who dated *insert hushed voice* black men. Ai ai ai. I know it was meant as a compliment and she’s a sweet lady so I know she didn’t mean any harmt. And yet the very fact that she felt compelled to comment, says to me that it’s still an issue! Why should it matter that Banda is black and my sister’s ex is as well? Why even bring it up at all? Why not just talk about the wedding or what our plans are or how we met or any other basic background topic? But if she was going to praise Mom for raising color blind daughters, why not go on to praise all acceptance of difference? Why was race so important that it was the only thing she felt compelled to mention? Why not tell Mom it’s great she raised a daughter who will marry a short man? Or overweight? Or a poor man? Or a chronically ill man? Or someone who wears glasses? Or someone who didn’t go to college? Of course I’m being somewhat facetious. There’s no way she would know if he is these things or not (which most of them are false for Banda – why do I even feel the need to type that?! To impress you that he’s a legit option for marriage??). My point is, why bring it up at all? Why does it have to be so damn important that he is not white? But then again, how did she know that he’s black? His family might have been Caucasians who moved to Africa from Florida and raised him there. Who knows? What if he were an Indian Malawian? Or a Muslim Malawian? What if he were an ex-convict? Or a heroin addict? Or HIV-positive? Or if he were in fact a she? Or any other of the obnoxious means by which people categorize and judge each other?! Would it still be okay? How far does the “acceptance” of difference go? Where’s the limit? Where do outright, self-acknowledged prejudices kick in? When does it cross the line into just being ignored as the elephant in the room, rather than being “praised” in hushed voices? Anyways, I feel like I’ve gone so far off track, I don’t even know where I’m going with this anymore. But my point is that I look forward to the day when skin color is not important enough to even bring up in such a conversation at all or to be used as something terribly divisive as it was in the 1960s and still often is today. Wow, idealistic much? Pessimistic and yet ridiculously and (probably) unrealistically idealistic too. Oh Alyson.

Theft and Amazon. Two Unrelated Incidents. Maybe :)

Wed, 03 Aug 2011 07:55:04 GMT

Had a terrifying moment the other night. I had been having stomach problems from the potatoes and was making frequent chimbuzi (pit latrine) trips. On one of them, a bat got in and ran into a wall and started flopping all over the floor. Scared the be-geezes out of me as I was worried it’d land on me like last time. And no, that’s not the terrifying moment. So that left me too paranoid to actually go to the bathroom, so I went back in and told Banda. He pestered me for the next 20 minutes telling me that was no reason to hold it in and mess up my stomach even more. So finally I decided to go back out with him going with me to stand guard and scare off the bats. Thank god for this. Because I open the back door and see a man in our fenced in porch. I freak out and immediately slam the door shut. Because I’m an American woman, right? We lock the door and call for help. But nope, Banda’s more interested in getting the door open so he can get the guy. Oi. So he gets the door open and recognizes him as he’s climbing over the porch fence. Turns out that he’s this 14 year old punk who had been stealing from Banda at his last house. So now we know who has been taking stuff from the back porch. Banda went and told his mother who basically said they’ve just given up on him. Awwwesome. Not really anything we can do.

Although I’m not gonna lie, I’m more than a bit traumatized. I’m pretty scared that every time I open the door now, someone’s gonna be there. It’s not about the stealing because he only takes what he can carry over the fence with him. A razor? Underwear? Annoying, but I can live with that. What gets to me is the violating nature of it. What if he decides to fight back next time? What if he carries a knife? What if he tries to get into the house? Because he’s bold enough and stupid enough to come back just like he followed Banda from the last house. Banda’s been great about it. Even if he’s sleeping, he gets up every night to go out there with me. He says it’s to keep the bats away, but I know he does it because I’m still freaked out. Update: Just heard a knock on the door. Wasn’t going to answer because Banda is gone to town. But then I realized it was probably Madame Secretary’s boys returning my clothes. So I got up, opened the door and I was right. There was Clifford (maybe aged 11?). But he didn’t have a clothes basket in hand. He had two rocks. Not strange because he’s scared of our dogs so I have noticed that he always carries them as protection. But out of the corner of my eye, I see a black arm leaning up against the wall just out of my eye sight. My first thought? “Oh my God, they’re going to break in.” UTTERLY ABSURD. Clifford is one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever met. Most of them drive me crazy at some point or another, but he is always just well-behaved, polite and friendly. I have no reason to fear him and I never have before. And his family is one of the kindest, most generous I have met while here. They welcomed us volunteers more genuinely than anyone else did. So why did that that terrible thought jump into my mind? I do believe that that stupid thief has irrevocably screwed me up. And who was it leaning against the wall, you might be wondering? Good Luck, his 8 year old brother, who was carrying the clothes basket for him and smiling at me adorably. I’m ashamed of myself. I really dislike the person I sometimes become in brief flashes here.

The other day I got a craving to read. I tend to go in spurts here. I’ll read nonstop for a handful of days but am usually so burnt out by the end of the day that I just don’t have the energy. I haven’t had a craving in a long time and was thus pretty excited about it. Decided to get on Amazon and buy “Atlas Shrugged” because it’s one of my friend’s favorite books and I learned long ago that she has fabulous literary taste :) She introduced me to “The Secret History” which is my fave and is now battered with love from how many readings I’ve put it through. I found “Atlas Shrugged” in the Kindle Store. $10. Too expensive for my taste. But I figure what the heck, I want to read so I’m doing it. I click on the link and a message pops up, telling me that there are different prices for different purchasing regions. And that apparently in Malawi, the book costs $19. HOLD THE F UP HERE! I have so many problems with I don’t even know where to begin.

Let’s start from the most pragmatic. I do not want to pay double for an electronic copy. I would understand if it were a hard copy – clearly shipping costs more. Also, if I were having it delivered wirelessly, I might agree. I’m assuming there are more steps involved or something with international wireless? But it was just downloading to my computer… the link is already there. Why the extra $9?! Secondly, I object on intellectual accessibility grounds. It’s already difficult enough to get books here in Malawi. The majority of people have never owned a single book. Students don’t have textbooks. The schools don’t even have enough for each teacher to have a copy, much less each student. Now I know it’s extremely unlikely that any Malawian is trying to use the Kindle Store and is balking at prices. That’s not my point. My point is that Amazon should not be increasing the barriers of accessibility that are already crippling this country. On principle. Thirdly, I’ve bought e-books books here in Malawi and never encountered this before. Interesting, hmm? Especially because the only books I’ve bought here have been trashy, romance novels. So what? Amazon is fine charging the same prices for smut and yet when someone wants to read something that is legitimately decent literature, that’s when they jack up the price? Obnoxious. Maybe if someone can explain to me why this price increase occurs, I’ll accept it. But for now, I’m shaking my head at Amazon. Way to ‘encourage’ a reading culture, ya’ll.

So anyways, I balk. I decide to buy “The Help” instead, which actually turned out to be wonderful. But I didn’t find that out for a few days. Why? Because I download it to my computer. Go home that night. Hook up my Kindle to my computer. What do ya know? The USB cord has malfunctioned. Because Amazon sold a faulty USD cord whose plastic casing disintegrates, leaving the wires exposed. Now I know it’s not just mine because I’ve researched and found hundreds of the same complaints online. Well mine always still worked in the past but now has stopped. So I have a $250 paperweight now until I come back to the US and buy another faulty cord. Awesome. Thank you Amazon. So I try to open the file on my computer. Of course it isn’t compatible. So I have to go online the next day and download their Kindle for PC application, which of course takes forever with our internet connection. Then I have to redownload the book multiple times because it isn’t recognized by the app the first few times. Sigh. Finally got it to work. Amazon is not on my liked list these days.

General Updates

Tue, 26 Jul 2011 07:52:22 GMT

I’m not sure how I feel about this blog anymore. Most days I have so many thoughts swirling around in my head and I tell myself that I need to update the blog and yet I cannot force myself to sit down and do it. I suppose I should since it helps to get out all of the emotions and yet I still delay. I guess in principle though it’s still a good thing since I end up pondering things in a more meaningful way as I try to sort out the conflicting emotions and implications of some of the things I plan to write about. Anyways, apologies.

My birthday was at the beginning of July. Am now 24. I feel old. I thought I wouldn’t feel any different after 22, but I must say, 24 does feel older. Don’t know why. Maybe it’s also that I’m 2 years out of college… truly an adult, dare I say?! Anyways, my birthday was a crazy day. So typically Malawian. We had our weekly shopping in town like always. But Ms. Kim was with us and she is not a patient lady so it was hurried and irritable. Bah. Picked up some nsima and beef to bring home for lunch. Turned out to be a great decision because the power was out all day. So Banda and I just laid around all morning, with him asking me about a hundred questions to get me to reflect on my 23 years of living. It was really nice. Although clearly I need to have a better memory as I couldn’t think of many answers. Side note – my memory is beyond awful. I can’t remember hardly anything from my childhood and have some worrisome gaps in recent history too… makes me kind of nervous for my future actually. Anyways, that was probably the best part of my day.

After a while Brother Innocent called and asked if we wanted to go to Dickson’s wedding. I was glad because I’d been bugging him about it all morning since I wasn’t willing to pay for a taxi and thus wasn’t going to go if the brothers didn’t. So we got a ride with them. I really didn’t want to spend my birthday at a wedding in a sweltering building where no one’s speaking English but I knew it was important that I go given all of the hoopla about the chitenje and me being ignored and such. I’m glad we ended up going! Banda did a great job translating and explaining so I wasn’t too confused. Wedding receptions here are very different. There’s no food. No cake. No speeches. No real dancing. Anyone who wants to shows up. Basically the whole point of it is that people throw money at the bride and groom. It’s their starting-out pot. Most couples make enough to pay for the wedding and then some. So it was a little strange at first but I actually ended up having a great time dancing around the groom with my fellow MIRACLE teachers and students, throwing money at his head.

Banda and I were both ready to call it a day before the brothers were. So we got a taxi. Oi. The car broke down 3 times on the way home. I was itching mad because the guy had already pissed me off in the depot, trying to charge us triple on account of my skin color. Some days it gets to me more than others. But he was the only car there. Oh and the 2nd time it broke, he muttered “This is causing me a lot of trouble here.” Oh bite me buddy. Your car is a piece of crap and we’re not complaining at all and will still end up paying you. If your car isn’t up to par, then don’t try to use it. Causing you trouble, my foot. But I held it in because poor Banda doesn’t like it when I yell at people :) and I was trying to stay all zen. But that basically collapsed on the 3rd breakdown as he started dumping buckets of water into the car engine. Even I know enough to know that that’s not gonna work buddy. And then the car started smoking. And I decided it was time for us to get out. The guy just sheepishly took the money. And we walked away. Thoroughly enjoyed the walk home! It was nice to just be the two of us which is always good for my mood. Chattered away and got some cherry plum. Made tuna salad for dinner since the power was still gone. The following Sunday ended up being more like my birthday. Lazed about all day. Still no power. But eventually the water came back (it’d been out for a good 4 days) so I finally got to shower! Oh how my standards of luxury and peace have changed :)

We’re working on getting home. Well really we’re in a stage of waiting. Banda had to get a passport first. Which of course is more complicated here. Can’t just go down to your local post office. Here you have to travel. He left for Mzuzu early one morning, which is 4 hours away on a bus. Spent the day running around getting pictures taken, having officials sign that he is who he says he is (he doesn’t have a birth certificate – the norm here), and then waiting for hours at the immigration office. Then 4 hours back on the bus. His phone died on the way home so I spent a solid 2 hours thinking that his mini bus has crashed and that he was either stranded or injured or worse on the side of the road. Again, a common occurrence here. Which got me to realizing that I don’t even know what to do in such a situation. Who do you call? There’s no police station phone number. No hospital number. Ai ai ai. Not such a comforting notion. Anyways, he finally got home at 2 am! He got to Karonga at midnight but there were no taxis. Scratch that. There were taxis. But none of them had fuel because of the fuel crisis in this country. So he had to walk for 2 hours to get home. Hired a couple of bike taxi guys to walk with him. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to see the kid. And I’m sure my puffy, sob-streaked face was all he wanted to see too :) Anyways, all the paperwork is done and now we’re just waiting the 20 processing days – which WOW is today! Has it been that long since I’ve posted? Anyways, he’s calling while I’m at work to see if it’s ready. Hopefully they’ll give out that info on the phone… gonna be irritated if he has to travel 8 hours only to find out that it’s not even ready. I’m crossing my fingers that it actually is done on time since I’m itching to get things going. But I’m telling myself not to get impatient. This is Malawi, after all.

After his passport is done, we can start on the visa process. It’s a good thing I’m a planner because I sent the consulate lady an email a few weeks ago to figure out what’s necessary and I learned that we have to do the initial petition by August 10! Yikes! Not much of a window between the end of July (when his passport’s done) and that date, considering it involves 2days of traveling and their office is only open 2 days a week. After the 10th, they’re changing the procedures and I have to file in the U.S. Which brings up a whole bunch of other questions about if he’s allowed to go to the US too or will he have to follow later or what. Anyways, just seems easier to try to get it in under the wire. That requires an 11 hour bus ride to Lilongwe, one way. Ai ai.

I’ve decided to sell the house as is. It’s not finished yet. Still needs a pit latrine and a septic tank, but we tried to hire someone else and he wanted to charge as much for labor as the whole house cost! HA. So we’ve decided that we’re just not going to find someone who is honest about prices. This guy never even saw me, but he knew that Banda was married to a mzungu and what do ya know, the price magically is 30 times what it should be! That’s right, darlings, not a typo. Not 3 times. 30 times. So I decided that any money I put into finishing it will not be made back on the sale. So I’m cutting my losses and getting rid of it. Hopefully. I don’t really know how to sell a house here. I guess flyers and word of mouth? We’ll see.

I’ve been applying for a bunch of jobs lately. Mom gets worried that I’ll feel discouraged if nothing comes of them, but I don’t mind. I love researching for different postings and then looking up housing and living costs to see if I can make it. Imagining lives in different places. Coming up with different letters and resumes. I don’t know, call me a geek, but I kinda enjoy it. Ask me again in a month if I’m still unemployed, but for now it’s a good way to spend my time.

I’ve been feeling sickly again which is a drag. Had a good couple of months there. But now it’s back daily. Stomach problems. Headaches. And most recently a sore throat which has spread to my ears. And anyone who knows me, knows my ears are the breaking point. Bah. Went to the doctor. He told me to take double my anti-malarial stuff since it’s also used for all kinds of infections. We’ll see. Also, a strange phenomena. The last 4 times I’ve eaten potatoes – fried and boiled – I’ve ended up with terrible stomach pains and etc. I don’t understand why it’s happening. The doctor said it’s the fertilizer that people are using, so Banda’s been great about questioning all of the vendors about where they get their vegetables. Sigh. I really don’t need to lose any food options here. We’re down to nsima, rice, and pasta now. And I eat nsima every day for lunch so really it’s just rice or pasta. Boring.

Banda went on a bit of a cleaning spree one weekend and I always feel guilty just sitting while he’s doing stuff. So I ended up sweeping dirt for the first time. Yes, sweeping dirt. It’s a daily chore here for women, actually twice daily usually. When I wake up in the morning and stumble out to use the chimbuzi (pit latrine), my neighbors are all outside, sweeping away, making different patterns in the dirt. To me though it seems like a waste of time and energy. A belief which was only confirmed as I sweated it out that day and woke up the next day to find the dirt already messed up again by the animal and human foot traffic. But I felt Malawian there for a little while.

Teaching has started wrapping up. We have a new system here which we are following. Basically it’s the national standards for technical colleges. All it really means is a whole lot more paperwork for me! And I don’t get to cover as many topics because we have to stop and do assessments (tests) for everything. Which I already did on my own, but now they have to be repeated and on and on. Bah. I think it’s actually a disservice to the students. It’s good for the trade classes though because everything has to be learned to perfection or they don’t pass. So the main thing I’ve been dealing with is oodles of paperwork. In my own OCD, list-making manner, I kept IMPECCABLE records. Every single assessment was documented. I kept the overall results list updated. I was on top of my stuff. And then the principal tells me that they’re in the wrong format. Well, Madame, I do believe that is why I gave you exact copies of what I was doing THE FIRST WEEK OF SCHOOL so that we could make sure everything was alright then!! But nope, all I got then was “good work.” Great. She told me this ONE DAY before the external verifier was coming to check all of my work and assess a random sampling of students to assure that everything was done properly. This was the verifier that I told her to schedule for 3 weeks from now when all of the students were done. But nope, the guy up and decided to come the next day without more than 3 working hours of warning. AWESOME. So I worked all day until 9:30 that night, reformatting the 500 assessment records. And then printing them all because the secretary couldn’t be bothered. And then collating them all. And then signing them all. Oh I probably would have exploded at a sweet puppy dog by that point. But I did it all. The next morning Madame looked at the papers and said “This is good work.” All I could do was sigh. On the up side, the students are doing really well. They’ve all been achieving and they are confident – which is reassuring to me as a teacher that they feel adequately prepared. Another beautiful thing was that during graduation, 2 of the graduating students came to me and told me how much they had come to appreciate our Communications classes. That while they were on their attachments (internships), they used the skills we discussed in class. That it made them feel more prepared. And that their supervisors even commented on them! It was like a little lamp shining inside of me that something was finally seeming to have an impact.

Last week there were no classes. Why? Might you ask. A good reason like holiday or exams or natural disaster? Nope. Graduation. Because apparently we need to spend 10 hours (not even exaggerating!) rehearsing a 1 hour English version of mass and days upon days of campus cleaning and brick painting. All because the Bishop was coming to graduation so they felt the need to put on a grand show. Maybe if the students regularly had mass or even had Faith Living classes that aren’t the joke they have become since Molly left… maybe then they wouldn’t need 10 hours of practice and lecturing so that students would be respectful during church services. And days were spent cleaning the grounds, tasks which could have been finished a lot more quickly if the majority of students weren’t so lazy and whiny about working. One whole day was spent with the whole school painting bricks white. That’s right up there with sweeping dirt on that the” things that Alyson just doesn’t understand” list. I got to know a handful of 1st years, though, which was nice as I don’t have much contact with them. There are a couple of good ones in my cleaning group so that was lovely. I was in charge of gifts for the top students in each trade so I spent a lot of time that week creating certificates and wrapping presents. I’m pretty sure that the Bishop – a self-professed education enthusiast – would have just about died had he known that classes were non-existent for a week for his benefit. Campus looked nice for graduation, though, and mass went on well, so it was a success. The Bishop was a hoot – quite the public speaker and very pragmatic about education which could be good for MIRACLE, though bad for its staff as he seemed to be pushing for more qualified instructors. We’ll see. I loved being around the 3rd years again. How I’ve missed Mphatso, Kelvin, Zellipah, Elijah, and Emmanuel. So nice to see them again.

Work has gotten better. There are still many days where I am driven crazy, but overall it’s been much better. I think I finally complained about vernacular speaking one too many times, because now Mbale reminds people every time we have a meeting that they need to speak in English. He’s gotten more than a few dirty looks shot his way, so I’m grateful to him for sticking up for me. Madame Principal has also been great about keeping me more in the loop about things. And Nellie has been lovely as usual. Her, Envie and Paleisha seemed to have noticed that I was getting down in the dumps and have since been awesome about reaching out to me. Love them. While I am still definitely ready to come home, it is nice that the last few months here will be spent enjoyably rather than miserably.

Now that graduation is over, we only have 1 more week of classes. I can’t believe it really. I remember moaning at the beginning of term that it was going to be forever before I get another holiday and now it is upon me! Will probably be spent picking up the books in Blantyre, which STILL have not arrived – the new date was July 23rd but of course that didn’t happen either. They’re now 2.5 months late. Also, we’ll go to Banda’s home village for a few days. That should be both wonderful and terrifying. And maybe even go to Nkhata Bay or to Maji Zuwa. But then again, we’ll also be busy running around for Banda’s visa stuff so we’ll see. Busy holiday probably.

Drama. Or, A Difference in Minds.

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 06:54:12 GMT

Had a smattering of very interesting conversations a while back. For regular blog readers, you might recall a former incident about a chitenje. One of the madames waved a chitenje (piece of cloth that women wrap around their skirts here) in my face and said “this is the chitenje for Dickson’s bridal shower.” I said “I don’t know anything about that.” Because I didn’t. I’ve never been to a bridal shower or wedding here. What is it for? Do we buy it for the bride? Do we buy it for ourselves? Are we each getting one? Is it for the shower or the wedding? Who knows. All I wanted was an explanation. But I never got that. Instead she and another madame launched into this whole thing about how I need to go and learn a thing or two about living here. About how that’s how “we” survive here in Africa – supporting each other. And then she informed me that if I don’t go to the bridal shower than she won’t come to my wedding. Wow. Talk about a slap in the face. I was literally speechless that she could hurl such a hurtful remark. I didn’t know what else to say so I told her that was fine if she felt that way and that I didn’t even know if we were going to have a wedding ceremony here. Because this was after we had decided to come home but before we told anyone.. so it was just awkward. And I was hurt by her reaffirming the fact that they were going to continue to not support me – just like the last 7 months. And I was more than a little angry, not gonna lie. Because the thing is, I wasn’t even invited to this wedding shower. The only reason Dickson told me about it was because I bumped into him in town buying something for his fiancée and it came out that I had never got an invite. So he awkwardly gave me one the next day. Well call me crazy but I don’t fancy accepting a pity invite to something that I clearly wasn’t thought highly enough to invite in the first place. Sure, maybe they just forgot. But that really doesn’t make me feel any better that they’d forget someone that they spend 8 hours every day with… Sigh. Anyways, it ended up with me being hurt and irritated but repressing it like always. I remained polite throughout the whole exchange. I thought it was done.

Well a few days later, Envie (library assistant) comes to me in the library and says that she heard that I refused to buy the chitenje and was super rude to madame about it. What?! I never refused! I just said I didn’t know anything about it. Because if they had explained, I surely would have participated! And I wasn’t rude. Sure I was quiet. But I made certain to stay respectful and professional. Bah. So Envie fills me in on everything. Apparently a bunch of the teachers had been sitting in the staff room talking about how rude I am and how I was refusing to buy it. Only one other lady stood up for me (Nellie – we were SO RIGHT to love her, Mol!) and said that no they didn’t approach me in the right way and that I wasn’t rude, just confused and felt attacked. So I’m obviously upset that such things are being discussed in public. Respect here is huge. The moment that your reputation is attacked and you’re seen as rude, say goodbye to any sense of camaraderie. So I decided that it needed to be addressed at the source, since clearly the 2 madames involved did not leave it in that room where I thought the issue was finished. Envie and Paleisha told me that I should just ignore it. That people here gossip all the time and that I should just let it go like they do. And at first I was going to. I don’t like making waves, especially here where when I do stand up, it’s often cast as me just being a foreigner who is ignorant as to how things go here. But then I decided, no. There’s a small group of people at MIRACLE who treat people like shit (pardon my language) and think they run the place and they get away with it because they are loud and everyone else is quiet. Everyone just ignores it. Enough is enough. I knew that my confronting the issue wasn’t going to change anything, but I wanted them to at least know that it was not okay. Maybe give them an attack of the conscience that would make them think twice the next time.

So I went to Mwadame Mwalweni first because she’s supposed to be the auntie of the school. She’s the counselor and we’re all supposed to go to her with issues. I was careful to make it very clear that I wasn’t attacking her. I wasn’t attacking anyone. I just wanted to bring up the issue in a calm way and explain my side and confusion, apologize if I seemed rude, and request that such gossiping be stopped in the future. Well she didn’t quite understand that I’m afraid. She immediately got defensive and started saying that I just needed to calm down because it’s their “culture.” BAHAODINSODINAO. That’s all I have to say about that. So then I informed her that no – this is not the culture that they preach. They talk about how communal everything is. How you look out for each other and support each other. And that if they were following that supposed culture, I’d have no problem. But they don’t follow it. I’m left out of everything. I had to bite back the word “hypocritical” so many times because I knew it would be a fightin’ word for her. Anyways, it didn’t go so well as she just didn’t understand any of my points. And then she started calling the people who told me, liars. I kept their identities confidential, but she just went on and on about how they were trying to separate us. As if we have some great love bond between us. Pu-leeze. The moment you told me that I couldn’t take communion because I was living in sin and damned for not going to church = those feelings gone, lady. The “informers” were the ones acting out of love, while you’re just sitting there lying through your teeth. What does the bible say about that, Madame Holier Than Thou?! So finally I just decided that that conversation was over as she did not understand any of the logic I was using. She basically dared me to go talk to Madame Principal about it (who was the other lady in the room) and nearly passed out when I told her I would. Clearly she thought I was afraid or something.

So I took a breath to settle my frustrations and went to talk to Madame Principal. And it was like night and day! I presented everything in the EXACT SAME manner. Respectfully. Choosing my language carefully. Not making any judgments or accusations. Just trying to clear up confusions. EXACTLY the same presentation on my part. And wouldn’t you know it, we spent that whole conversation laughing and loving each other. Why? Because she actually listened rather than getting defensive about our differences. Because she is rational enough to make logical connections. Oi. It boggles my mind how different those two conversations went. Definitely solidified my respect for her, not only as an administrator but also as a woman in Malawi. Anyways, sorry for the rambling. To sum up, the issue was all sorted out. Turns out Madame Principal was confused by my “I don’t know anything about it” because she was gone the day that the announcement was made to the women… of course I was not invited to that women’s group… so she thought I already knew what was going on with the chitenje. Laid the issue to rest with more love and respect for many of my co-workers. Much less for one. Oh well. Also, my attempt to lessen the gossiping at MIRACLE failed miserably. As I knew it would. Have heard a couple of tongue-lashings about other teachers and while I wish I could stand up for them too, they’re conducted in vernacular so I’m never quite sure of the content. At least not sure enough to act. But then again, I shouldn’t make excuses for myself – it’s much more likely that I’m just a coward who’s too tired of being branded an unknowing American to risk getting into it with co-workers for the sake of another.

Demonstrations turned riots in Malawi

Fri, 22 Jul 2011 14:02:00 GMT

Whew it's been a long couple of days here in Malawi. I have another post sitting in Word, but I figured I should update on this first since many of ya'll have been following via Internet News and Facebook.

There wasn't any reporting going on until hours later and the articles I've seen since then aren't really very good. I'm posting this article because it's much more accurate of the tense mood that was country-wide for the last days. It only covers the first day though. She lives in Texas (oh what a small world!) but is a political science professor who specializes in Malawi and has lived here multiple times as a Fulbright Scholar. She was following the stories all day via twitter. As was I because President Bingu banned the radios from broadcasting live updates and phone networks were largely down, so twitter was the only source of information really. Here it is:

http://habanahaba.wordpress.com/2011/07/20/a-day-of-protests-in-malawi-a-chronological-account-from-afar/

On 20th July, the opposition party, NGOs, students, lecturers, etc. - basically the majority of the country (surprising to see such unity!) joined together to plan a PEACEFUL demonstration. People were supposed to gather and march to the town's district council (like town hall I suppose) to present the official with a petition/list of grievances that would then be passed in theory to President Bingu. The issues mainly dealt with fuel shortages, forex (foreign currency) shortages, electricity outages, rising food costs, rising taxes, and just general messings up of Bingu in running the country. It was genuinely supposed to be a peaceful day. The police said beforehand that they were not going to resist, but just guide and oversee to make sure it stayed calm. I, however, was dubious. It only takes one idiot doing something reckless for things to get out of hand... I was impressed though that the Malawian peoples were actually standing up for themselves though and doing something proactive. Malawians are lovely, if a bit passive and deferential to authority figures. Rock on for organizing a nationwide march.

Unfortunately, a citizen decided to file an injunction which would ban the demonstration marches. This is where all of the confusion began as the crowds gathered anyway and the police blocked them, refusing to let them march until their superiors allowed it. Unfortunately, that permission came hours too late (after lunch), so the marchers got antsy and forced their way through, which started the fighting between the police and the people which then spiraled into the fires and looting. In all cities, the police were overpowered, many running for their own lives. People were throwing stones and setting things on fire. The police used tear gas to disperse (aka chaos inducing) and beating people. They arrested masses of people and were even beating journalists. And then later in the afternoon/evening, reports that they started using live bullets. Sigh. Shops owned by Chinese immigrants were most targeted as people view China as being aligned with Bingu. Also, the government-run shops - Metro, PTC - were also hit as were the shops owned by MPs and other government officials. Looted and burned. Cars were also burned. A couple of houses too. Police houses were also looted and burned. Seemed to be the theme of the day sadly.

Mzuzu was the worst, it seems. 9 people died there alone, although the government was originally reporting only 1 death for the whole country. Laughable. Lilongwe was also very violent. Peter Ngoma said the city was burning and his family was locked indoors. Blantyre started out very peacefully as the whole thing was intended. I think it only turned violent towards evening hours.

And good old Karonga. I thought we had escaped chaos here. But really they were just waiting. The march didn't start until 3 pm. It was peaceful at first - they delivered the petition just fine. But then afterwards the looting started. Chipiku, PTC, Metro. No burning that I have heard of. After dark Jim called me to say that 2 mobs had formed - 1 outside of Chief Karonga's house. Chief Karonga is seen as pro-Bingu here. His house was damaged and his car torched. The second mob was at the Chief of Police's house. Not sure what happened there. Gunshots were frequent, though Jim said they were being fired in the air to disperse the crowd. One person was killed in Karonga, though he was a looter, not a demonstrator.

Jim and Robyn have been taking care of me. They are AWESOME. They first called and told me to pack an overnight bag with everything important in case I had to high-tail it. Well that induced a meltdown, but I recovered. Poor Banda. They said that if they were evacuated to the mine that they were taking me along. But when that call came, I guess their security guy said I'd be fine at Chaminade since we're so far from town. Thank goodness. So I'm still on campus, but I have a seat on the plane if things get worse at any point.

So that was all on the first day!

Woke up on Day 2, hoping that it was all finished, but not so lucky. The second day was just looting and chaos though. No actual demonstrations, no organization, just groups of people going and breaking into shops and destroying property. Really upsetting to see actually, although not surprising that impoverished people will try to get what they can. Still lots of gunfire and stone-throwing and teargas. Bingu finally spoke at noon on the second day, though he didn’t say much of anything productive. Shocking lol. He basically blamed everyone but himself and said that all of the demonstrators are being led by the devil and that God always wins. Sigh. Forget about all of the economic and civil rights issues that are being trampled on here and that actually inspired the original march. Oh Bingu. He has said that he’s ready for round-table talks now so hopefully those will be in good faith and actually get things going right. The army was called in eventually which seems to be a turning point. The police simply couldn’t handle it on their own.

In total, 18 people have died so far. Although there are many who are still in critical condition at the hospitals. It would be interesting to see a number of how many were truly demonstrators who are victims of police brutality and how many were caught looters. Though I doubt we’ll ever actually see that number since the opposition will want everyone to be seen as demonstrators and the government will try to cast everyone as looters and vandals.

Everything has settled down today, 22nd July. Shops are opening up again, people are going back to work. Grateful that it's returning to normal.

The next march is rumored to be August 17th. Better get our booties out of here before then! Cross your fingers. Prayers please that everyone just calms the heck down and stops being reckless. It seems like there's just a whole lot of anger simmering now. My worry is that even if it calms down for a while - say while Bingu looks the petitions over and decides what to do, etc. - but as soon as he does the next stupid, stubborn thing, it'll boil over again.

Just a word of thanks for all of the thoughts and prayers sent our way throughout all of this. Not gonna lie, I was pretty scared for a couple of days and had a massive headache trying to come up with Plan A, B, C…. Z to keep Banda and myself safe and get out of here. I’m glad that it’s settled down!

Married in Malawi!

Tue, 05 Jul 2011 13:50:51 GMT

On June 22nd, Banda and I decided to make it official! Even though neither of us really needed the government’s piece of paper to make it real for us, we knew it would be necessary in order to deal with all of his immigration stuff. The week before, I had figured it’d be smart to go check out the situation beforehand so that we could be adequately prepared. Didn’t really want any surprise waiting periods or paperwork or blood tests. I should have known better lol. Despite a 30 minute wait and conversation with the Director of the District Council office, I walked out just as uninformed as when I went in because the paperwork was at the other office and he didn’t know any of the information :) Luckily I got a phone number so Banda could call and communicate more effectively. So he ended up calling and going to visit the guys the day before the wedding. Of course they were out of the office and drunk by 3:30 in the afternoon (Shocking! Not.). Nothing needed to be done beforehand (also shocking!). But the officials did make sure to tell Banda that he’d need to bring the equivalent of $200 to pay them as a “thank you” for doing the paperwork. HA.HA.HA.

So we headed down to the DC office one Wednesday morning to make it happen. Brother Beams graciously agreed to be my witness, despite being super busy with his impending move. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been able to make it! Loved having him be a part of that. Banda’s witness was Mr. Gumbo, a former teacher of his from Embangweni (his home village). The whole witness thing here is funny to me. As an American, I would pick someone who I love and want to be there for the event. Here in Malawi, it just needs to be someone from your home area who can verify that you don’t have another spouse in the village. So basically Banda has close friends here at Chaminade and yet he had to pick some guy who he never talks to! So strange to me! But Gumbo turned out to be this adorable, cheerful man so that was fun to meet him.

We showed up at 2:30…. As requested by the DC Director. Keep in mind that he knew about the wedding since the week before AND Banda had been there the day before to finalize everything. One would think they would have taken 10 minutes that morning to get everything together. Nope! We get there and the guy tells us that the necessary papers are still at the other office. So Beams had to drive him over there, where he could only find some of the forms. So they came back and there was another search in that office. By then I was pretty convinced that it just wasn’t going to happen that day. But in true Malawian fashion, somehow it all got worked out.

The “ceremony” happened in the conference hall (had to first kick out a guy who was using the internet there). I put “ceremony” in quotes because it really wasn’t a ceremony… it was just us filling out the official certificate. Beams asked them if they were going to ask us any questions about our desire to wed or have us say any vows… The officials’ response? “We couldn’t find those papers.” Hahaha. People were answering phone calls. Wandering off to look for more papers. Etc. It’s a good thing that I didn’t have high expectations. Or any at all really. To me it was just making it legally official. We’ll have a real ceremony/reception once we get back to Texas. So anyways, we had a fun time taking pictures and chatting while the guys did the writing. Then I signed. Banda signed. And that was it! The only ceremonial part was when the officials made us stand in front of their desk and handed us the certificate. Then I was supposed to hand it to Banda. And then he said “Kiss the bride.” I think he’s watched too many American movies. Malawians do not kiss in public. They don’t hug in public. Hell, couples don’t even hold hands in public! So Banda and I both froze. Banda – the one who had been going on for weeks about how he was gonna lay a big inappropriate kiss on me at our wedding. Yeah right, sir! I recovered from my freeze first and decided “what the hell, you only get married once” and gave him a quick peck. Made everyone’s day I think lol.

Paid the $3 government fee. Then drove across town to the other office and paid an $8 fee. Then was forced to return BACK to the first office where the guy asked for his service charge. Um no. I’m not paying you $200 for actually doing your job instead of getting drunk. So I very firmly said, “We already paid.” He caved immediately thank goodness. Didn’t want to have to emotionally cripple anyone on my wedding day :)

Went home and basically had a normal evening! I wanted to make cookies so we’d have something special but the power went out. Haha. When it finally came back on we made a potato skillet with some of the Hot & Spicy spam and Velveeta that Mrs. Stilz sent in a package. :) Great reception! And I say that without any sarcasm.

The best part? We now have not only 2 anniversaries, but 3. April 2nd which is the one that we really use – when I first moved in and when we and the community accepted us as married. June 22nd when we did the legal paperwork. And June 17th….. which is what the guy wrote on the marriage certificate, despite my telling him that that was not the right date. Haha I’ll have to remember that date now whenever I’m filling out official paperwork!

An update from 2 weeks ago that I never posted….

Fri, 24 Jun 2011 07:58:17 GMT

Nothing too exciting going on! I’ve gotten some wonderful emails and messages and phone calls in the last weeks, which have been great.

Life’s more than a little lonely at the moment actually. Banda is gone to Chilumba (about an hour and a half away by bus) to invigilate national exams. Invigilating is basically supervising, passing out exams, making sure there’s no cheating, keeping records, etc. He left on Sunday for the whole week and then came back for the weekend. The weekend was great – we did our usual shopping and cleaning but spent a lot more time just lounging and chatting. Stayed up until 2 am talking on and on. It was like the old days lol. He left again on Sunday for a few more days. I must admit that I miss him terribly. It’s strange staying in the house alone. Add that to the fact that I don’t have much interaction at work and I’m starting to worry that I’ll forget how to speak soon :) And since phone calls are so expensive here, we’re limited to a few minutes each night which really only just makes me miss his goofy self even more.

I’m holed up in the library still, desperately trying to finish the labeling. I’ve made so much headway in the last month that the end is in sight and it’s making me even more anxious to finish. Yesterday I spent a good 6 hours just labeling. I’m so ready to organize and paint and see it looking beautiful!!

Jim and Robyn came by the house last week with a surprise for me! They brought me 4 cans of tuna and some already made tuna noodle casserole! I was so excited that I hugged them. And let’s just say that Robyn is not a hugger lol. But I guess I had made some random comment at lunch the other month that I felt like the tuna was taunting me because I saw it on the shelf every week but couldn’t bring myself to buy it since it’s so much more expensive. Well they remembered and so they brought me some! Aren’t they just the sweetest?

In further exciting food news, I got a SPLENDID package from Mrs. Stilz and Lauren!! I love that they never tell me that they’ve sent it because then it’s always a great surprise :) It was chock full of exciting food stuff… soups, sauces, spam, tuna, nutella, peanut butter, candy. Oh it was amazing. I’m already perusing the internet, finding the most creative ways of using the ingredients. Spicing up our food life! I used the soup in (what I think was) a very creative way! Soup on its own is not a big enough meal for a Malawian so I served it over rice the first day and pasta the second day. It was wonderful! So many new spices to savor. Banda apparently loves tortilla soup :) Yewo chomene (thank you very much). Love you both.

Ms. Kim’s music students gave a concert at MIRACLE last week, so that was nice to see. And she used her speech that we wrote during one of our English lessons. I could definitely see the performer in her as she had memorized it word for word and yet still made it sound unrehearsed!

Had a lovely evening one night as I walked home from English lessons with Ms. Kim. I stopped by the Liwewe household because I wanted to buy some phone minutes so I could call Banda. The whole family was sitting outside making mandazi (fried bread), so I sat and chatted with them for a little while. They’re such a cute bunch! Eventually I continued on towards home since it was already dark. Decided to stop at the Chawinga’s house because Kat wanted the madame’s phone number. She comes walking out of the house TOTALLY PREGNANT!! I guess that tells you how long it’s been since I’ve seen her, since the last time she looked like usual. But now she’s huge. And utterly adorable. Cutest pregnant lady ever. She was so excited to see me and hear that Kat wanted to chat with her that I couldn’t help but smile.

The water hasn’t been coming for the last 5 days or so. I feel worst for the Chaminade boys who are boarding… they’re wandering around looking for water for drinking and washing their clothes. We are lucky enough that we have two huge basins that we fill, but those were in danger of running out. Water finally came at midnight one night so Banda was a champion, out there filling up buckets from the tap and bringing them in. Unfortunately the water is really dirty (sandy I think), so most of it is just there waiting to be used only in extreme emergencies. We’re surviving on one small bucket for our drinking water and washing veggies. Send out good thoughts that we’ll get CLEAN water soon!

Coming home.

Tue, 21 Jun 2011 06:40:59 GMT

So I’m sure many of ya’ll know by now but I’ve decided to come back to the U.S. Whenever people asked how long I was going to stay in Malawi, I always said that I’d stay for as long as it made me happy. And that if one day I woke up and realized that it wasn’t the right place for me anymore, then I’d move on to the next adventure! Well I’d originally assumed that day would be years from now, but alas it’s already happened. Nothing big or traumatic happened. In fact, I’d had days before when I said I wanted to leave, but that was always following some terrible no-good day. So I discounted them as biased. It needed to be just a normal day.

Which it was. I was completely fine, just sitting at work working on fundraising projects. I started thinking about who I wanted to be witnesses when Banda and I go to get our wedding certificate. Beams, of course, was an immediate choice. But after him, I was stumped. I literally could not think of another single person who I wanted to be there. So that made me think…. Do I really not care so much about anyone here? Whenever people asked me what was my favorite part about Malawi, what makes me love it enough to start a new life there, I always always said the people. So obviously this was troubling to me that I couldn’t think of any real relationships. Especially because I miss my family and friends in Texas so very much. I then realized that if I did go back to Texas, I wouldn’t truly miss anyone here (other than Banda – who’s coming with me – and Beams – who’s moving to Kenya anyway). So if the bonds here are pretty much nonexistent, then what’s the point of being here as opposed to Texas?

Of course my rational, list-making side prevailed because I didn’t want to make a hasty decision that I’d later regret. I’ve done that once before when I left Rome early and it’s been my biggest regret in life. I’m not willing to make that mistake again. So what did I do?! In true Alyson fashion, I made a pro-and-con list! Two actually. One for Malawi and one for the U.S. When it became clear that my reasons were leaning towards going back to the U.S., I also made a third list – What I used to love about Malawi and why that’s changed. Because I needed to get all my thoughts down about why my feelings 18 months in are different than they were at 12 months. Some of the other reasons:

1. Lack of real relationships. Already discussed.

2. Lack of real conversations/ respectful conversations/ any conversations at all. This has to do with my changing relationships I suppose. I’ve grown tired of the banal chatter that is considered talking here. I used to have interesting talks with students and teachers about cultural differences and life experiences. But I guess those talks can only last so long and unfortunately nothing else has taken their place. The joy and satisfaction that I felt when I talked with Singuini about politics here proves my point since I knew all along that I wouldn’t likely find another person with the same mindset to discuss such issues. And I was right. The second part – respectful conversations. For some reason, the madames at MIRACLE have become both combative and nosy. It seems that every conversation we have involves them lecturing me about how I should behave as a woman/wife (most of which I categorically reject as they place the husband as superior) or outright criticizing my beliefs and lifestyle. Or probing for details about private issues. I’m tired of it. I’m not sure why this has happened. They left us alone as volunteers. All I can think of is that maybe since I’ve moved here to stay, they feel like it’s their duty to educate me. But really it’s just patronizing and intrusive. And hypocritical. Just today they were lecturing me about how I need to go to Dickson’s wedding shower because then if something happens for me, they’ll also show up. Now this idea is great in theory. I fully support that idea of reciprocity. HOWEVER, do not sit there and tell me that ya’ll support me as part of this community. 1. I wasn’t even invited to this shower…. 2. I have been sick for weeks and no one came to see me (a HUGE slap in the face in Malawian culture). 3. I am continually left out of meetings and other visits to women/hospital. So don’t bitch at me and act like I’m the one who is being disrespectful when in reality ya’ll have been excluding me from your little community for the last 6 months. In all fairness, I would like to note that the Chaminade women’s group has been so warm and welcoming! They have been a true source of wifely friendship, as it is intended to be! So I don’t really understand why my co-workers are not the same way. I was never particularly close with any of the male MIRACLE teachers but I did have one who I really enjoyed. Well all he ever talks to me about now is how he wants me to find him a white wife. Not only does this make me incredibly uncomfortable as he told me when I first came back that he wanted me in particular. But it also is just frustrating. Someone who I respected suddenly can’t seem to talk about anything other than skin color. There’s also been a sharp decrease in English used around me. I don’t know why – maybe they think I understand more vernacular than I really do. Maybe they’re trying to teach me. But even when I tell them that I need a translation, they refuse and just keep repeating it in vernacular amongst great laughter. Not only is it frustrating, but I’m not going to learn anything if I don’t know the English equivalent. One can only take being mocked for so long. You might think I’m being oversensitive, but I’m not. One can tell when it’s good-natured and this is definitely not. I know Laura noticed this too when she was here. The madames seemed very hostile and mocking, one of the main reasons why she was often reluctant to go to MIRACLE. This kind of blends in with the third point of no conversations. There are many days where I don’t speak to anyone at all, excepting simple greetings in the morning. And it’s not just that I’m hiding in the library. I spend about half my time in the staff room, surrounded by people. And yet? It’s as if I’m invisible. Also, the students aren’t really around anymore. MIRACLE has gotten stricter about them being in class all the time. This is great, don’t get me wrong, but it means that I never get to sit and get to know them like I used to. These chats with the students, as many of the avid blog readers know, was a main part of my days and was what made me love MIRACLE the most. Gone. I was talking to another foreigner about these frustrations and he said that he used to feel bad about being treated that way too until he realized that Malawians also treat other Malawians like crap. He seemed to think that was a justification for staying. But why would I choose to live in a life like that??

3. Feeling of peace replaced by feelings of irritation and tiredness. I always described my love for Malawi as a general feeling of peace and contentment. That was the main thing that helped me realize that I was in the right place. But unfortunately I don’t feel that peace anymore. I get irritated 90% of the days at work and then I come home and am swamped by the tiredness that comes with all of the household tasks. I do still like having to do things, but there is no denying that it wears a person down. The old volunteers and Banda can attest that my bedtime is usually 8:00 because I’m falling asleep sitting up at the dinner table. And yet in Texas, I’m up until 1 am every night. Why? I’m convinced it’s because Malawi takes it out of you. The heat alone could be something, but then also all of the tasks. Because it’s not just about washing dishes. There’s no sink, so first you have to scrub 3 buckets to make sure they’re clean. And then fill 2 buckets with water from the tap. And then haul those to where you wash. And bring all of the dishes outside. And walk the remains out to the trash pit that’s set apart from the house. And theeeennnn you can finally start washing the dishes. Even when you don’t think you have a lot, it still takes over an hour and a half. And 9 times out of 10, you do have a mountain because you have to do all of the cooking from scratch so you use pretty much every dish you own each day. Oi. Anyways, my point is that it wears a person out because everything just takes so much longer. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve just wanted to call for a stinkin’ pizza. I think my favorite part about going away for a weekend is that we don’t have to cook or clean – forget about the beautiful scenery! And it’s not only the physical drains, but the mental things as well. Like always worrying if the power will go out before it’s time to cook dinner. Which is a legitimate concern since the power goes out at least 5 days a week. Because then on top of everything else, you also have to get 2 charcoal cookers going – without the US blessing of lighter fluid and real charcoal. There’s a whole lot of torn paper and blowing and waving and praying that the crappy homemade charcoal will light. And then once it is lit, everything inevitably burns because the majority of food just isn’t meant to be cooked that way. It’s the wondering if water is going to stop coming each day. And having to fill buckets constantly so that we always have a supply. And even if it is running, it’s usually dirty, so you can’t actually drink it or cook with it. It’s the freezing cold showers in the morning that make me long for my old daily burn-inducing bubble bath. It’s not having a real toilet and instead having to wander outside in the middle of the night to use a hole in the ground. It’s having to boil all of your drinking water. I never minded all of these things before because my thought was always that I gave up a comfortable, easy lifestyle because there was so much else here that made it worthwhile. It was my choice. And an easy one for me. But if those wonderful, beautiful things are no longer here either then the harder life just doesn’t seem worth it. I would like to make a side note that Banda is wonderful about all of this. I don’t want you to think that he’s just sitting around while I do all of this work alone. It’s definitely a team effort, but even so, it’s exhausting.

4. Sickness. It’s been no secret that I’ve spent most of my second trip here sick. I’ve actually felt awesome health-wise for the last month which has been great. I’m pretty sure that the anti-malarial drugs are just suppressing everything. But when I am sick, it’s just very frustrating to feel like no one has any idea what’s wrong with you. And as someone who already hates taking medicine, it’s not so comforting to also know that the doctors will have nothing to say other than “malaria” and that they just hand out drugs like candy, hoping that one of them will work.

5. Fulfilling job. Right now I’m fine because I have the library project. But at the rate I’m going since I don’t ever want to leave the library, I’ll be done with that in a couple of months. And then what? I only teach twice a week. So basically I’ll be left to sit and watch movies all day. I know, it sounds like fun. But as I realized when my back was sidelining me, it really gets old after a few days. I miss being challenged. While I’ve never been one to center my life around my job, I do like having a purpose still. And I want to be a librarian in the US where it’s an actual job. Here it’s just sitting in the library and making sure people don’t steal books. I want to help people do research and find books that will shape their mentalities the way books did when I was a kid. I want to actually be a librarian.

6. Love of self. I think part of the reason why I loved Malawi so much before is the personal growth that happened during my first year. Ever since public high school traumatized me with its hundreds of students, I’ve been quiet and shy. Anxious mostly. But I really blossomed here. Most people who met me in Malawi refuse to believe my other version of Alyson. And I loved that new self. And was afraid that I’d lose it when I went home. But now I know that I’m stronger than that. If I want to be, I can still be my outgoing, social self.

7. Simple lifestyle. Likewise, I’ve realized that leading a simple life that takes time to appreciate the smaller joys is not exclusive to Malawi. I can do that in the US.

8. I miss school. I miss learning. I was definitely burnt out after graduation, but now I’m ready to go back.

9. I make next to nothing. Obviously money isn’t a concern for me. If I cared about money, I never would have come here in the first place. I do, however, care about paying back my thousands of dollars in student loans from undergrad. I also care about making enough to come back to see my family every couple of years. And I care about being able to support my future children. None of these things can realistically happen in Malawi. Especially when the new tax system is going to start taking half of my already measly salary.

10. Also, I’d like those future children to grow up having every opportunity available. I could never sacrifice their future simply because I selfishly chose to live in Malawi. At first I said I’d homeschool so that they’d learn everything they need to know. But now I see how much of a role cultural expectations play in shaping their mindsets. People here are just different. There’s no denying it. From the gender expectations to work ethic to personal interactive styles to logic skills to simple things like senses of humor. There are some wonderful, beautiful differences – but again, I feel like it’d be easy to transplant those differences in America than it would be to bring everything else from America to here. So I changed my answer to coming back to Texas before they started kindergarten. But then I look at the youngsters around campus and realize that even by 3 years of age they already have their attitudes and personalities shaped. Plus, I cringe at the thought of what would happen if my child ever got sick here. That alone is enough for me to pack my bags.

I guess in a nutshell you could say that I’ve gotten close enough to see the cracks. When we were volunteers we were in a little bubble not only in terms of household work, but also socially. But now that I’m back on my own and a ‘real’ employee, I see a different angle of people and actions. I see the hypocrisy and the exclusive mentality and the laziness. You know how when you look at something from a distance, it looks fine. But then when you get close enough, you can see all of the imperfections. And that’s when you have to decide whether those imperfections make it more beautiful or make it unrecognizable and thus undesirable. I suppose the more admirable answer would be that you accept it for what it is, flaws and all. But alas I cannot do that for Malawi. If those cracks did not include the people themselves, I would say sure no problem. I can deal with more chores and less comforts. I can deal with a lazy job. But when it comes to relationships and people’s well-being, I simply cannot sacrifice.

In talking to Ms. Kim during our English lessons, I’ve come to realize even more clearly how much my perception of Malawi has changed. Because talking with her is like talking to myself at month 7 (which is how long she’s been here). She loves Malawi. She feels that her students love her as a mother-figure. She feels that she’s gotten past superficial relationships and that they have a more meaningful bond. She feels that she is making a huge difference in their lives and that they are so grateful for her support. That they will always remember her. It’s really kind of eerie to hear her speak since I swear some of it is verbatim what I used to say, particularly about her bonds with people. But really it just makes me sad. I hope for her sake that her feelings never change. I truly do from the bottom of my heart. Because to see the change is somehow devastating. As for me, I now know that my students and coworkers only ‘love’ me when I’m doing something for them. I stop letting them borrow my computer and suddenly no one comes to chat with me in the library anymore. That I can never give them enough because even when I do go out of my way to help, they’ll always ask for something more. That I will never really belong in this community. That organizing MIRACLE’s library won’t really encourage people to use the library. It was just something to pass my time. That the village children here don’t really know or love me. That to them I’m just an amusing different colored person who behaves strangely. That they’ll never know my name – that I’ll always be “duntu mzungu” (“fat foreigner”). That when I go, people will rarely ask about me. I’ve unfortunately learned this first-hand as no one ever asks about the former volunteers who were dearly loved in their time here. That I’ll just be some mzungu who stayed here for a while and is now ‘their white person’ that they like to tell their friends about as some badge of specialness. There’s this line in Blood Diamond where the Zimbabwean character (Leonardo DiCaprio) says something to the effect of “the Peace Corps types only stay long enough to realize they’re not going to change anything.” Maybe this is where I’m at now. Maybe I’m just cynical. I don’t know. But I’ve come to see that my presence here is nothing big. Not that I ever expected it to be nor did I want it to be. I never wanted to change the world. I wasn’t looking for praise. In fact, it makes me EXTREMELY uncomfortable every time someone at home tells me how proud they are of the good work I’m doing. It makes me cringe. Why? Because I don’t see it that way. It wasn’t some big selfless act. Or some great attempt at humanitarian success. It’s just life. I wanted to live somewhere else so I made it happen. And yet even with all of that uncomfortableness about recognition, it still seems important to me that I be doing something constructive. Something worthwhile. Not to be praised for it, but to know it for myself. That I did something good. Something that will change the cycle. Something that will last. Otherwise, what’s the point of being away from everyone and everything that I know and love? What’s the point in being treated crappily every day? I don’t even know if this rambling makes sense to anyone else. As an end note that is far more positive, I do still believe in my heart that the community libraries that I collected books for WILL make a difference. Hundreds of children will have access to books that would have been out of reach before. That has to count for something. So that is what I am going to focus on… just accompanied by a more realistic assessment of my time here.

The only wild card was Banda. If not for him, I would have been on a plane last week. When I’ve told people that I’m coming back, they always ask if Banda is coming with me. Of course he is! I would never leave him. We’re in it ‘til the end. Another question that we’ve gotten is if I’m worried that he’s just using me for a green card. And I have to answer that one with a resounding no. In 5 months he has never once mentioned a desire to go to the US. In fact, Laura and I had to drag it out of him whether or not he even wanted to visit. He loves Malawi. This is his home. And his love for me has no basis in wanting to get out of this country. Trust me – all of us volunteers were much attuned to that possibility with my potential suitors, so it’s always something I scope out at the very beginning of even talking about dating. But I’m rambling. Far from thinking that he wanted to get a green card, my main fear was that he wouldn’t want to go at all. Because he does love Malawi and he’s really close with his family. But he said “Wherever Alyson goes, I go. How can I not?” Gotta love him. I am still a bit concerned though because I don’t want all of my elements of frustration in Malawi to simply transfer to his experience in America. I don’t want him to have an unfulfilling job or feel like he doesn’t have any real friends or that he can’t understand people or that he misses family and friends too much. We have spent hours and hours talking about a future in America and what he should expect. So I feel like he is prepared. But I guess we’ll see. His happiness will be something that can’t be judged until he’s actually here and then compromising will have to occur.

So anyways, nothing is set yet. We still need to do Banda’s visa stuff which will take months at best. And I want to finish the libraries before I go. So maybe early November hopefully? We’ll see! Good thoughts and prayers that things work out well.

Life is Good.

Tue, 07 Jun 2011 08:25:04 GMT

So the fact that I haven’t been writing so frequently should be taken as an indication that I’ve been keeping very busy at work! I go through phases… on days where my back hurts too bad, I don’t work on books so I have plenty of time to write blog updates and emails. But then I take advantage of days where I’m feeling good – and luckily that’s been the case for the last couple of weeks! So I’ve been on a book spree of late. Cataloging and labeling books for hours on end, stopping only for lunch and the end of the day. I love it although days do usually end up being pretty quiet. Again, fine with me! And it’s great to see more and more rows of numbered books. I’m so ready to finish them so that I can paint the book shelves and reorganize them all. It’ll be a beautiful thing once it’s done!

There was a pretty sizable scandal on Chaminade’s campus a couple of weeks ago that has of course dominated much of the gossip since then. I found it to be very interesting in that while the man followed the norm here…. the woman certainly did not! Go her! Anyways, one of the teachers – married, old, and with children spanning the age of 4 to 16 (aka damn lucky that he found a young woman to manage his household) – has apparently been sleeping around with one of the female support staff members as well as one of his students (high school aged). Again, this unfortunately is not such a surprise here. From talking to Banda, it seems that he’s heard stories about 90% of the teachers having affairs with students and community members. And those are just the ones he’s heard about! Sad but true. Well the teacher’s madame (wife) found out and whoa geez look out. She followed him to campus and started hitting him and screaming accusations at him in front of his coworkers and students. Now I’m not a supporter of violence or public scenes, but I am proud of her for standing up to him. They tried to force her into counseling with him, with the end goal being their reunion. She went for 2 days and then packed up her things and left him. I was very impressed that she did not just roll over and take it, like so many of the other women here either choose or are forced to do because of economic dependence. The crappy thing is that she had to leave her children behind. Which is even worse considering that he isn’t even the one to take care of them. In general, fathers here aren’t particularly involved. But at least the kids usually adore them still – there are a few on campus where anytime their father is around, the kid is practically superglued to his legs. The children of this teacher basically ignore him. So hmmm. Anyways, that’s depressing that she had to leave them behind. And my anger at this injustice increased as I was passing his house a week later and saw an old lady outside sweeping. So basically, he’s still not taking care of the kids but instead had an old relative come to do all of the work.

I got a WONDERFUL phone call from Molly, Kat, and Ily a couple of weekends ago! So good to hear their voices and hear all of their updates! I was a little jealous that they were all together and going to the zoo :) But it was so sweet of them to think to call me and definitely the highlight of my weekend!

One of the teachers – Glory (Hotel & Catering instructor) – had a baby a couple of weeks ago! I didn’t even know she was pregnant lol. I guess I’m still on the outside of the gossip loop because no one ever talked about it around me. Or at least not in English. But anyways, I kept meaning to go visit her, but I never had a chance to go to town to buy her a baby present, so I kept delaying. Finally Glory brought her to MIRACLE so I got to see the baby who is just too cute! Priscilla. Had a fun time holding and playing with her while Glory did some work. We’re gonna be buds.

House update: The concrete floors are finished. The only thing left to do in the actual house is attach the window shutters and doors and install the toilet and sink. However, we also need to do the pit latrine and the septic tank, which is what is slowing everything down. And getting the water and electrical hooked up. Signed up for water but they said they don’t have the equipment so we should check back in a couple of weeks. Went yesterday to do electrical and they didn’t have the paperwork… and they said to come back in 1 week. Lord only knows why it takes a full week to photocopy some forms. So you can get an idea of how slow everything is going…. Also, I finally fired Cosmas, our crap builder who was stealing cement and lying every chance he got. I told him 4 weeks ago to come get the money for the cement so we could finish the pit latrine. It took him 3 weeks to come – despite frequent calls on my part – because he’d gone and gotten another job. I can guarantee you that if he hadn’t already been paid in full, my job would have been done within the first 4 days. But he finally came to get the cement money so I thought we were good to go. But then he told me that it’d be another week because he could start because he had to go to a funeral. Lie. Others had told me they’d seen him working at another job that very morning. Really I was just so sick of his lies, so I decided my sanity is worth far more than the $30 it would take to hire someone else to finish the job. I also got to give him a piece of my mind, although of course that meant nothing to him as he just kept insisting that I was wrong. Whatevs. Despite being rationally justified for laying out all of my problems with him, I still felt terrible afterwards for speaking to another human being like that. Ended up crying for a while but Banda was great, telling me over and over again that I had no reason to feel guilty as everything I said was true and that Cosmas needed to hear it and understand that impact he’d had on my life. Didn’t feel better though until Banda randomly picked out a movie for us to watch. And chose… The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I cannot think of anything better for my mood to watch at that point. Had a wonderful time singing along and laughing at Banda’s reactions to the scandal!

Banda was on a roll for picking out movies because the next night, he turns to me and says “What’s Grease about?” His favorite part? When Danny tries to find a sport to join. He rewound it to watch again and laughed hysterically throughout. He also enjoyed the dance scenes since the popular style of dancing here in Malawi is so different!

I had a very interesting hour-long talk with Mr. Singuini about the political and economic situation in Malawi. For those who do not regularly read Malawian news :) for the first time in 47 years of independence, Malawi is attempting to exist without foreign aid. This is huge, since 40% of their budget last year was in fact made up of such foreign aid. 40%!!! The reason for this change is not some patriotic, “let’s do it on our own” mentality. But instead, the president has pissed off the western world with his recent actions that are not so democratic. So they’ve frozen their support. And he (dilusionally?) thinks that Malawi can just say “F you” and do it on their own. Now, I’d LOVE to see a truly independent Malawi. One that can support itself and thrive and foster a population that is self-sufficient rather than one which is constantly expecting a handout. But realistically, I just don’t see that happening. Because the last 47 years of aid have been wasted and has just “disappeared” into the pockets of the government. So there is hardly anything to show for it. If there had been advances in infrastructure and resource garnering and education and higher education and economic initiatives, then sure, I’d be all with the President in his attempt to make it alone. But there’s not. So where are they going to get the necessary money? Instead, they’re raising the income tax to 46%. Read that again – 46%!!! So basically everything that anyone makes, they’ll lose half of it. And this is a flat rate. So as much as it bothers me as someone who makes a decent wage, it will absolutely cripple the poor, who need every tambala (cent) they earn to pay for the basic necessities. Also, I have a sneaking suspicion that those individuals who do actually make enough to in turn invest those earnings in building up this country, will leave. Why would they want to give up half of their earnings? It’d be different if they’d be getting a lot back, like in the European countries where taxes are high but so are expectations of services. But here it will be the same services (if we’re lucky) but more likely much worse as the government scrounges for money. So there goes any other chance of building the country from within. PLUS they’re raising the taxes that foreign business owners have to pay. Goodbye foreign investors. Oh and the prices of food stuffs will also increase with that same tax. Soooo I really don’t know what’s going to happen to Malawi within the next few years. According to scientific reports, there have been advances in food supplies and supposed standard of living (although that’s hard to see on a local level) made in the last few years… but my worry is that that’s going to come to a screeching halt and then slowly begin to backslide. What happens when the government runs short of money? There’s no one to borrow from. Which civil servants are going to be the first to not receive their pay checks? Teachers. And then it’s only a matter of time before they go on strike and you have thousands of high school students just wandering around. T-R-O-U-B-L-E. And then there’s no money for medicine in the hospitals (even with the aid, there was never enough – people would have to go buy it from the private clinics). And then what if there’s not enough to pay the army and police? Oi. So anyways, I know this sounds all doom and gloom, but it’s not unrealistic to wonder about such a progression of events. I’m hoping against all hope that Malawi somehow manages to pull through and that this is a wonderful success. But my realistic side is skeptical. We’ll see.

I started my “English lessons” with Ms. Kim last week. I was VERY nervous since I’ve never taught English before (my class is more of a communications class). But it turned out to be AWESOME! She basically just wants me to chat with her and correct her when she makes mistakes. Because she says Malawians are too nice and won’t correct her so she’ll never learn proper English. So we went on a walk the first day and I got to hear even more stories about her life, which I love because she’s just fabulous! The next lesson we spent writing an email for her. I could see my value then since she was having a difficult time with getting all of the grammar down. I don’t blame her – there were a couple of times where I even had to think about it! Oh English. But yes, those 2 days a week are clearly going to be bright spots in my already lovely life.

Sad news. Brother Beams is leaving Malawi. He’s getting transferred to Nairobi at the end of the month. I’m so devastated about it that I can’t even think on it. Every time it pops into my head I have to push it away because my throat starts choaking up. Like right now. I love and respect that man so much, I can’t imagine not having him around.

On Saturday, instead of doing our grocery shopping, we spent 1 hour at the post office. That’s right, 1 hour. Sigh. Not even waiting in line. We were being “helped” the whole time. I wanted to send some letters to Molly and also had a small package of stuff for Chris. Well it took about 30 minutes for the lady to figure out how to duct tape the package closed. She had to call over her co-worker to help her. It was all I could do not to rip it out of her hand and do it myself. But I stayed calm and just enjoyed chatting with Banda and Peter Daino who also happened to be there. But then came the real doozy. I asked the lady to check if there were any packages for myself or for Laura. We only said “Laura” because I’ve said “Aldrich” before and that is just too much for them to handle. And I even had Banda say it so that the accent wouldn’t be an additional confusion. So she goes back there and says there’s nothing, only a box for Kat! I’m excited by this and explain to her that we stayed together so I can take it. She makes me show her my passport. Who knows why? But I have noticed that she stopped halfway down the shelf, so she didn’t read all of the names. And I can clearly see 2 boxes from the US postal service sitting on that shelf. How many other Americans are in Karonga?!? Peter had already picked up his box and I doubt there are too many others. It was worth a shot. PLUS the box from Kat had arrived at the post office in JULY of 2010!! 10 months ago! So yes, I think I have a right to be skeptical about their checking of names. Well she was all pissy so she carried an armful out and started waving them one by one in my face saying “See? Not for you!” I wanted to pop her in the face for being a smartass because I asked her to actually do her job for once. But sweet vindication. On the fourth package, well what do ya know?! A package for Laura! She tried to backpedal and say that she needed the last name. Don’t even try lady, that package had been sitting there for months throughout multiple checks where I did tell you the last name and you still failed to find it. So after this she was ready to be done. But she still hadn’t cleared the shelf so I asked her again to finish. Would you believe that she still copped an attitude even after being proven wrong about Laura’s package?! Well she did. And I was justified again as she pulled out a box from my mom that had been there for a month. So despite all of the fighting that had to go into it, I was content as I staggered away from the post office with 3 boxes full of goodies! Banda was proud of me. He refers to it as “Alyson vs. the Post Office Lady.” It was like a replay of “Laura vs. the Nurses.”

We had a holiday on Monday so we had to go back to town to finish the shopping that we never got to do thanks to the Post Office fiasco. Spent the rest of the day sleeping and watching Nigerian movies. Although made some awesome homemade Macaroni and Cheese courtesy of the Velveeta sent in one of the care packages :)

While in town, Banda and I picked out rings because we’re going to get our marriage certificate sometime this month. I want Beams to be the witness since he won’t be here for the actual church ceremony, plus it’ll be good to have it already done when Banda goes to get his visa for the US. And if Banda gets a work transfer order, he might be able to swing a “follow the wife” so that he can stay at Chaminade and I can stay at MIRACLE. Anyways, it just makes practical sense and since we already see ourselves as married, there’s no reason not to get that slip of paper. So we picked out rings. Let’s just say there’s not a large supply here. My ring? 50 kwacha. Which is about 33 cents. And I’ll tell you what. I look at it just as often as I would a huge diamond ring. Because it’s about what it means. I think of Banda and our relationship when I see it. Diamond or no diamond. It means just as much to me. Who needs something that costs 3 months salary? Banda is still trying to get used to wearing a ring since he’s never worn any jewelry before. It’s kind of adorable to look over and see him fiddling with it trying to get comfortable. :) Plus he has really big knuckles and small fingers, so it’s loose once on but he has to struggle to get it off. I told him that one day, he’ll gain weight and it’ll get stuck permanently, so we’ll have to cut his finger off to remove it. Priceless look of fear flooding his face. :)

End note: In rereading this and other blogs I’ve realized that they often seem fairly irritated and that life here is a struggle. It’s really not. I just write about those things because they are vastly different from life in the States and I feel like those differences are more interesting to read about then daily happenings. But rest assured, life here is still wonderful. I love work as I make my way through the library. I still love that life moves slowly here. I am feeling great healthwise (minus the ever-present back which I’ve learned to manage). I love living with Banda. The students still make me grin as do the kiddos that hang around. Life is good. Some days I really do want to go home to the US. So much that it hurts. I hate that I'm missing out on weddings and vacations and big things in people's lives. And the small things too. I miss having a comfortable life where I can relax for hours rather than having to do dishes and cooking and such. But I came to realize that I only feel sick about it when I focus on that desire. When I just let it go and just live in the moment of Malawi, I'm completely fine and I love my life. So I'm going to work on maintaining that positivism as much as possible. Because yes someday I will end up back in the US and then you know what? I'll be missing Malawi. It's just how it goes. So I'm going to enjoy it while I have the opportunity to be here!

A rant, of sorts.

Fri, 27 May 2011 14:08:48 GMT

A rant, of sorts. I do apologize in advance if this rambles on or upsets certain individuals but it’s been irking me all week whenever it flashes into my mind so I must therapeutically release it. Merci.

So the other day one of the Madames at MIRACLE came to me (completely out of the blue, I was just sitting there minding my own business) and asked me when Banda and I are going to “officially bless” our marriage. AKA Get married in the Catholic church. Sigh. I dislike this question but whatever, I hear it all the time, so I’ve gotten used to it. “Next year, when my parents can save enough money for the airfare to Malawi.” Normally this makes people happy and they move on. But nope, not her. She plows on and tells me that that’s not good because until then I cannot take communion (from the Catholic church) since I’m living in sin with Banda. Now let’s take 2 steps back here madame. First of all, where is this offensive judgment coming from? Especially when last week you were sitting there telling me that you were praying that I am pregnant. Let’s get your judgment straight. Secondly, I pretty much lost respect for the church’s dictation of who can and cannot receive communion when they denied it to my friend’s mother after she got a divorce because husband regularly beat the shit out of her. So no, I don’t really care what the church says on that topic. I thought Jesus was supposed to be all about inclusivity and love. Psh. Not here clearly. Thirdly, Banda and I consider ourselves to be husband and wife. We don’t need some piece of paper from the government or some blessing from a church that I don’t even go to, in order to make it valid in our hearts and actions. We are faithful. We are in this until we have gray hair and can’t even see each other anymore because we’re so blinded by age. In my view, our relationship is far more “holy” than the majority of those I’ve seen here where men are treated as superior and also regularly cheat on their wives. In fact, this calls to mind a pillar of our very own local Catholic church who had a major sexual scandal last year with one of the high school girls he taught… So don’t you dare come to me madame and damn our relationship. But I kept all of that inside because I did not want to unleash upon her a whole 2 years worth of frustration about the religious hypocrisy here. I did make my main mistake in response though. I said “Well I don’t go to church here anyway, so…” Sigh. Big mistake. I should’ve known better. But it just popped out. I thought her head was going to explode. So I went on to explain that I don’t understand the Chitumbuka so it’s basically 3 hours of just sitting, not understanding anything being said, and distracting people by playing with children. Really, what’s the point of going? And that instead I just pray at home where I get much more out of it. Normally this explanation satisfies people and they move on. But again, not her. She launched into this whole thing about how I should still go for the community. “Well madame, I get enough community at work and with Chaminade teachers and my neighbors. And those are the same people who have good enough English at church to commune with me anyway.” She remained undeterred. She said that she was going to talk to the brothers about me. Excuse me?!? It is none of your freaking business whether or not I go to church! So don’t you dare bring my bosses into this! Not to mention the fact that they already know I don’t go to church. Next she switched veins completely and told me that I should go with Banda to his church because we are “one flesh now so you must do what your husband does.” By this point I’m ready to pop her a good one. No I will not convert simply because I am married. I am still my own being. I still have my own brain and my own principles and my own ideals. By this point I think she could tell I was more than a little irritated by her preaching. I mean, I didn’t say outloud any of my mental backlash but I’m sure some of it was showing on my face. So she said she’d come to me later with the issue. “Really Madame, you don’t need to come back to me about his.” She left. And then returned an hour later to tell me that even though I said I’d already made my decision that she was still going to come and that “little by little” I’d come to see the right way. OMG. So now I’m going to have to listen to this for weeks on end… I think the thing that is most frustrating about all of this is that I cannot sit down and have a reasonable conversation with her where I can explain my views. Because her conception of faith is just so narrow and confined to what she was brought up with, that she would never understand or accept my side. Just the few things I tried to slip in here, she completely rejected. Because I consider myself to be a spiritual person. I believe in something bigger than myself. It may not always be the God that you believe in, but to my side I think it’s more important that you have something grounding you and keeping you compassionate than to have a specific name for that greater purpose. And I have that belief which pushes me towards a better personhood. I have a set of principles (morals if you will) by which I strive to live my life. Compassion. Generosity. Honesty. Respect. Awareness. Simplicity. Gratitude. Courage. Patience. Acceptance. Peace. Hmm sounds like that’s suspiciously similar to what one would call a Christian life, no? Certainly more so than the thieves who have been stealing cement from my house and yet their main defense is that they’re leaders of their churches. Ha. So sue me if I don’t label my decency as “Christian.” I live a life of service rather than one of personal wealth or power. I strive to be generous with my time and resources in my everyday life while most people’s faith exists merely within the four walls of a Sunday church. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to toot my own horn. I’m just trying to demonstrate my frustration with the fact that the objecting Madame will never see all of this as a valid expression of faith. Nope, it’s just “WHAT?! You don’t go to Church?” packed full of judgment and a desire to convert me to “the truth.” But alas I see much disappointment in her future. I am content with myself and my spirituality. I feel more at peace now than I ever did when I was going to church every Sunday and swallowing wholeheartedly every dictum that was presented to me by the religious educators. I refuse to ever again just accept without question, without intellectual debate, or without a thoughtful consideration of the ramifications. That to me seems to be the useless (and often irresponsible) faith.

Some great weeks

Mon, 23 May 2011 13:37:22 GMT

We were supposed to go down to Blantyre a couple of weeks ago to pick up the donated library books from customs. I was actually excited about the trip as it meant a chance to shop at some grocery stores that carry western products, eat at some new restaurants that serve something other than Malawian staples, and go to a legit hospital to get my back x-rayed to finally see what’s up with that. Buuuut the customs guy called and said the books hadn’t even arrived in South Africa yet! Awesome. So the new expected date of them being in Blantyre is the middle of June – a whole month late. We’ll see if they even keep to that time schedule!

So about my back, I’ve had a couple of bad weeks on that as it keeps flaring up. Really it’s been hurt for 4 months. Constant pain, literally 24/7. It’s mainly in my lower back but shoots up my spine and down into my right leg. Can’t sit or stand comfortably. The only thing that works is laying and even then I have to shift around constantly to find something that doesn’t send pain everywhere. So I don’t know what’s wrong with it. 4 months seems too long for it to be a strained muscle. And yet I didn’t do anything awful to it that would suggest a herniated disc or something. If I were in the US I would’ve taken care of it immediately with a chiropractor or surgery or whatever was necessary because it’s been pretty debilitating. I can’t do half of the tasks at home since carrying heavy buckets of water is a vital step in basically every task. And at work, I will go days without working on the books because I can’t lift them since doing so will mean I can’t walk for the next few days. But there aren’t any chiropractors here and I doubt there are even any massage people who would know what they’re doing either. And I’m not letting someone untrained poke around my back. So in the meantime to make it through I take a couple of breaks each day to lie on the library table. This bothers Envie (my coworker) to no end and has even resulted in her telling me to just go home. But it’s not like I have a choice. It’s either that or crying, darling!

This back pain has only enhanced the MIRACLE staff’s conviction that I’m pregnant. I’ve stopped even trying to convince them that I’m not. Because it’s falling on deaf ears lol. Madame Mwalweni even called me in last week to have a talk with me about pregnancy. Her reasons for thinking I’m pregnant? 1. My face is rosy. She says this is a symptom. Really, Madame? How many azungu have you seen pregnant because I’m pretty sure that African women do not get a rosy complexion… 2. I’ve lost weight. This one makes me laugh. First they were saying I was getting fatter and thus preggars. Now they say I’ve lost weight, so that’s a sign too. I think they’re just searching for any reason now… Cracks me up. Also, Madame thinks that the reason why I don’t know I’m pregnant is that the baby is a girl so she’s just shy and hiding. *Facepalm* She was actually serious. I love that woman so much. So anyways, they’re going to be disappointed in 9 months methinks.

We had a welcoming party at MIRACLE during which I was welcomed (yet again), bringing the total parties of which I was a guest of honor to 3. First welcomed as a volunteer, then farewelled, and now welcomed again as a real employee. Had a fun time chatting with Glory and hearing about her soon-to-be born baby (just found out this morning that she had a baby girl! Yay – soon I’ll have a new baby on campus to play with!). Also drank multiple bottles of Cherry Plum and enjoyed their equivalent of beef jerky. Danced a bit but really just got a kick out of watching the male teachers try to convince the females to dance with them. Looked a little bit like they were just trying to herd some goats together as the girls kept trying to escape.

Last weekend we had a little mini-holiday because we had Monday off. So Banda and I decided to go down to Maji Zuwa which is a lodge about an hour and a half away and not coincidentally about as far as I can go with my back pains. Luckily I was able to sit in the front seat of the minibus so it wasn’t too bad…. Except for when a new mother came in and just spread herself out into my seat. Can’t really elbow a baby in the head, so I just suffered through until she got off. Had a lovely time at the lodge. It still has a really quiet atmosphere which is fine with me, as we just spent our time swimming, lounging around, chatting with Frank, and playing Bawo. I beat Banda for the first time ever so that was a proud moment! Kaunda and his wife and Annie and her husband drove down for one of the days so we also had a fun time swimming and chatting with them. Always funny to run into Chaminade people off-campus. They showed us a little beach down the way that actually has sand rather than slippery rocks, so that was very welcome as well. The waves were particularly rough which, although making me nervous for Banda who is not so great of a swimmer, was also adorable to watch him squeal as the waves almost swept him off his feet. There was a brie (BBQ) on Sunday afternoon so the place was full of people which was a fun change. Although having to sit and listen to the drunk chief ask me for airfare to America was not so much fun :) The brie was sponsored by Matt’s mom who was visiting him with her boyfriend. So that was nice to chat with them and then Matt and I also had a very nice chat as we had a couple of beers and mused about life in Malawi. A lovely weekend away!

We returned on Monday afternoon just in time for a lunch date with Jim and Robyn (our nurse friends from America and Australia). They have just returned from holiday and were forced to move into a new house which is ridiculously huge and not to their liking as they preferred their former small abode. Got the grand tour and then lounged out on the porch which is the best part of the whole place. Enjoyed their cooking and conversation as usual but the best part was dessert – Snickers bars!! I never bought them here because I thought they were too expensive, but upon checking this weekend, they’re really only $1.25. Snickers bars, here I come. It was nice to see them again and as always I appreciate that they watch over me just as they did with all of the volunteers.

Someone’s been jumping over our back wall and stealing things. But in a very odd manner. Things taken? My razor. Banda’s boxers. Banda’s flipflops. An odd assortment considering there were several pots/pans/dishes out there as well as clothes and our stove-top cooker. I am rather sad about the razor since it was one of those nice ones where you just replace the cartridges. Fortunately, though, Banda fashioned a new handle out of half a clothes-pin!

Despite my back, I’ve actually had a really good couple of weeks health-wise. I don’t know if it was all of those meds wiping out anything bad in my system or the fact that I’m back on doxycycline (daily anti-malarial meds) so that’s suppressing everything. But I’ve had more energy and felt more like myself than I have in the 5 months since being back. So that is a huge relief. It’s made all of the difference in my general mood – feeling unwell all the time sucks! – so I’m very grateful and hoping that it keeps continuing this way!

Realized that I need to stop trying to reason with my house builder because it’s just never going to work. How did I decide this? Well Banda and I spent about 10 solid minutes trying to convince him that 50 kgs of cement weighs the same as 50 kgs of corn. Sigh. If you can’t accept that, sir, then I just give up.

We went to a concert at Planet for Organised Family and Wendy (forgot her last name). Unfortunately the people we went with insisted on getting there 2 hours before the guys started playing so I was pretty done with it all before it even started. Did enjoy dancing for a while but then it got to the point in the night where all of the guys in the audience were drunk and staggering and fighting and pushing, which is never really fun to be in the middle of. One of the artists played something suspiciously like a country song that made me laugh. Country music in Malawi – oi vey. Wendy was also pretty hilarious with all of her dancing antics onstage. All-in-all though it still did not even come close to matching the Baska Baska/Peterson concert. It also seems that girls have gotten skankier (and drunker) since I was at Planet a year ago, at least in terms of their clothing. It’s a bad sign when you can’t tell a hule (prostitute) from a college girl. I honestly had no idea half the time who was who. Also, BIG NEWS. Planet is classing itself up, former volunteers. It has its name on the building with a flashing spotlight. There’s a neon sign pointing you to the back bar. There’s a second bar where the couch/lounge used to be – I actually think that was a mistake lol. But most impressively is the bathroom! For those of you who have not had the sheer honor of going to Planet, let me describe the old bathroom for you. There was no door. So everyone stood there and watched you pee. There was no toilet seat. There was rarely any water to flush it. And no toilet paper, so I always had to bring a pocketful from home. And there was a shower right in front of the toilet, so girls would just pee in the shower while you’re on the toilet. Awesome lol. But NOW, there’s a door! Wowzers, this alone is news. Also, there’s a toilet seat and toilet paper. And a mirror and a functioning sink! If I had brought my camera, I definitely would have taken a picture I was so blown away. Next time. Got home around 2 am.

Dragged ourselves out of bed early the next morning to do our weekly shopping. Also went to immigration so Banda can get a passport and then bike taxied all over town trying to go to the water board and electric companies. Failed as they were closed early, so we headed over to the Museum restaurant where we were due to have lunch with Ms. Kim (the Korean opera singer). Her son was here to visit so in honor of that she was having a lunch concert. Her students get better every time we hear them and I thoroughly enjoyed sitting there listening to their new jazz numbers. Ms. Kim wants me to teach her English… eek. I agreed before I realized what she was saying. I thought she just wanted to chat to practice her English. But nope. Twice a week. Paid. That’s nice, but I have no idea what to do. How do I teach English to someone whose English I think is already just fine? We’ll see how it goes….

Bit the bullet and bought the $3.50 can of tuna. Made tuna salad sandwiches and it was GLORIOUS. So worth it. Now if only I can find olives, the meal will be complete… Banda actually loved it too – a surprise since my family makes it with carrots and onions in it – so I think it will be a semi-regular meal, despite the cost.

Health Update

Wed, 11 May 2011 15:20:33 GMT

So. Bad news. Sick again. This time, quite bad. Started out with a simple UTI which have just about driven me around the bend here. I’ve basically had them for 3 months straight. They go away for a couple of days but then always come back. This means that I can’t go anywhere because I have a peeing emergency every 30 minutes. I can barely make it in town much less go to Embangweni or Nkhata Bay or anywhere else remotely fun. So I went to Mbukwa Clinic on Saturday which is a private clinic in town. Was very impressed by the doctor – he really seemed to understand UTIs, whereas the other doctors I’ve told just have blank faces of no recognition. But he went off talking about why women are more prone to them and how they’re becoming drug resistant. I was impressed. Anyways, got the meds. Went home. Ended up having a massive headache that has been persisting now for 6 days. Also was queasy. I figured these were just side effects of the drugs because that’s just too big of a coincidence to get malaria on the same day as the drugs begin. But then I started getting fevers and really bad chills. I’ve never had such chills where I was little convulsing because my body wouldn’t stay still. Thank goodness for Ibuprofen as that would lower it enough so I could sleep. Still woke up a couple of times with the chills though. The next morning (Monday) Banda decided I should go to the hospital since the fever/chills/awful feeling are all classic signs of malaria (plus the headaches and nausea) and were scaring him. Big debate about where to actually go. I’d sworn off KDH. Never again. But none of the private clinics have the laboratories needed to do a urinalysis (which we wanted to determine if the UTI was more severe and thus the cause of the fever). So we went to KDH. And it was a completely LOVELY experience! I was shocked. I’ve decided that they put all of their competent, nice people on the day shift and the awful ones at night :) We walked in and were greeted with smiles and respectful concern. The nurses loved me from the get-go. In fact, I wish I had been feeling better so I truly could have enjoyed our chatting. We were buds. And they told me that Osama Bin Laden had been killed. Love how I was apparently the last person in the world to know. (Side note: People dancing in the streets celebrating it? Oh some Americans (not all clearly), sometimes I shake my head at ya’ll. I wanted to crawl under the table when that news story came on in a crowded restaurant. I get that he was an awful guy. But celebrating an assassination? Yes let’s just meet hate with more hate. Sigh.). The clinical officer was the same guy who called me a drug addict before… I was worried when I saw it was him. But I think he had an attack of the conscience because he acted like he didn’t know me and was very professional and actually listened to my symptoms and treated me with respect. I was thankful. Although I did have one moment of wanting to pop him in the mouth. He asked if I’d had the kidney stone verified by an ultrasound and I wanted to say “no, jackass, you called me a drug addict and sent me away to writhe in pain for 4 days.” But he was perfectly nice, so I acted accordingly. I guess it makes all the difference when there aren’t insane nurses around who scream at you and lie when presenting your symptoms to the clinical officer. Took a malaria test which came back negative. Was told to come back the next morning for the urinalysis and an ultrasound to make sure my kidneys were clear. So we went home and came back the next morning, Tuesday. Spent 4 hours at the hospital. Oi. And that was only so short because Banda kept irritating them so much by constantly checking on the lab that I think they just wanted to get rid of us. Spent most of the time on the floor as there were so many people there. I’d say at least 100 in the lab/x-ray waiting area. God only knows how many there were in the other areas. I can’t imagine working at that hospital… I think I’d spend my life depressed and stressed beyond belief knowing that I’d never be able to serve them the way they should be served. So God bless the ones who manage to do it every day with a smile. I think it would also drive me crazy that things are done so inefficiently. I feel like they could just change a couple of simple administrative things and it would make a world of difference. Anyways, the urinalysis was all clear – not surprising since by that point I’d been taking the UTI antibiotics for 3 days. Had to wait 2 hours for the ultrasound guy to show up, but the scan also showed no remaining stones so that puts my mind at ease a bit. That was actually pretty fun although definitely had no idea what I was looking at! After those 3 hours we then got to wait for another hour to see the clinical officer. Who basically just told me that everything was negative so I should keep taking the UTI drugs and come back next week if I still feel sick. Thank you for that gem of wisdom sir. So it was basically a pointless 4 hours but at least I know I don’t have a kidney infection (which of course I’d convinced myself was the case). So I went home. Wednesday I woke up with a banging headache, massive sinus pressure, and diarrhea (sorry, TMI I know, but it’s important for the story). Again, malaria, anyone? Banda decided that he didn’t care what the test said, I was getting the malaria drugs. This makes me uneasy. But it’s also pretty much the only option. Everything else came back clean and for the other stuff – Typhoid, TB – I have had recently updated vaccines. And if it were a simple sinus infection, I wouldn’t have stomach problems. Likewise, if I’d eaten something weird or had a stomach bug, I wouldn’t have the sinus issues, cough, or headache. If watching ‘House’ taught me anything, it’s to look for the all-encompassing illness. Getting 2 illnesses concurrently is doubtful. So malaria was the last shot. Plus I have multiple friends who have tested negative even though they clearly have malaria and they improved with the meds. So I figured I might as well. Because by this point, I’d been sick for 4 days. My main worry was if I just leave it, then I’d feel pretty stupid/dead in 4 more days when it’s gotten ridiculously severe. So we went to Maneno Clinic this time and got the meds. Took them for 4 days. No real change. The general feeling of listlessness went away, but in the last 2 days of it I developed a wicked cough and then an ear infection to join the stomach problems. So we went to Care Private Clinic in order to get medicine for the ears/cough because to be honest, I am a baby about ear infections. And this is coming from someone who already admits to not doing well with being sick. But ear infections? I was crying from it within 3 minutes of it starting. Went to Care where the guy was ridiculously arrogant. Bent over and got a shot of penicillin in the butt. Spent 30 minutes thinking I was going to seize because OMG what if I didn’t know I was allergic? Made it through that hurdle. Took his antibiotics for 4 days. Still have the cough. And my ears still hurt when I yawn. I’m done with medicine. And incompetent doctors who are just guessing. Because as a summary: 5 trips to 4 different hospital/clinics; 5 different doctors; 5 different medications; 2 malaria tests; 1 urinalysis; and 1 ultrasound. It’s just been a pain in the butt experience overall. Bu-dum-ching. Because my behind still hurts – 4 days later – from that damn shot. At least I still make myself laugh.

General Update

Wed, 11 May 2011 15:16:56 GMT

So my holiday turned out to be not so eventful! Just around the house, watching movies, cooking, and cleaning. Banda went back to work after the first week, so I was alone a lot but that’s fine because the whole morning is consumed by practical tasks – washing dishes, cooking lunch, collecting water, showering – and then the afternoon is relaxing. Back to work on Monday. I don’t think I’m ready for it. I like just being around the house and I don’t feel like it’s been 3 weeks off, that’s for sure! I even had an extra week because the last week was supposed to be First Aid training. But it was in vernacular. And I’ve been certified since I was 15 since I’ve always been a lifeguard. So I got excused from that, thank goodness!

Awful bat experience 2.0: Well I told ya’ll before about the bats swooping in and out, scaring the living daylights out of me. I’ve also had bats fly up out of the hole while I’m over it… again, terrifying. I thought those were the worst things possible. I was wrong. So one night a few weeks ago, the bat was swooping in and out as usual. I remained calm. Tried to finish peeing so I could get the heck out of there. And then the bat’s stupid radar system must’ve malfunctioned because it hit the ceiling – BAM – and a second later I feel something hit my back. That’s right. The bat fell on my back. AHHH. And then to make matters worse, I’m trying to brush it off but it has decided to HANG ON FOR DEAR LIFE. WTF stupid bat?! Apparently I was screaming bloody murder – I don’t remember hearing it – because Banda came running out. By this point I’ve finally smacked the bat off and have run out of the chimbuzi (pit latrine) with my underwear and shorts down around my ankle. Good moment in our relationship. Anyways, the bat escaped. And we started a 3 week vendetta against these damn bats. Because oh that’s right, we realized there are not 2. Not 3. But 4 f-ing bats who have made our latrine home. So we’ve spent multiple nights standing by the door with brooms and mops, trying to knock them out of the sky. When that didn’t work, we tried to Doom (like Raid) them to death and cover the hole to let them suffocate. I think we might have killed 2 that way. But there are still 2 hanging on, swooping up while I’m crouched over the hole. Let me tell ya, there’s nothing much scarier than looking into the eyes of a bat as it’s flying towards your exposed behind. Shudder. I spent a week or so refusing to pee in the latrine after dark, choosing instead to just pee in the bushes. I’ve since gone back in – recurring UTIs, periods, bouts of stomach issues, and malaria will do that to a person. Fortunately, the bat and I have entered into a truce. I walk slowly up to the door, dragging my feet to make enough noise. He flies out and (usually) keeps out until I’m done. Thank goodness.

Had a lovely moment of going to church with Banda. He goes to the New Apostolic church which is apparently similar to Roman Catholic. He doesn’t go very often because it’s in Ngonde (language) which he doesn’t understand, but he still likes going for the community aspect. So we went one weekend and I knew it was going to be wonderful just from the feeling of happiness as we wove our way through the rice fields, barely peeping out above the tall reeds. And when he pointed out the mango tree from across the field and said that’s where the church is. They used to have a building but it was destroyed in the earthquakes last year. So now they just set up a little altar and some school forms (benches) under the mango tree. As I was sitting there I just kept thinking, “This is the way religion should be.” Who needs a huge church that costs millions to build and is so ornate it’s practically a royal palace? Psh. Give me a mango tree with corn fields on one side and rice paddies on the other any day. So since I didn’t understand any of the language, I basically just enjoyed my surroundings and made faces/friends with the baby sitting next to me. They did introduce me (as they do all visitors in small churches here) which caused some excitement and hilarity as first they thought we were brother and sister (really?!) and then Madame Mumba stood up and explained that we were actually married. Good ol’ Madame.

Had a very interesting conversation about politics in Malawi because things here are a little stirred up at the moment. Not in action but more in thought as a lot of people are growing more irritated with the President. Democracy seems to be struggling a bit and he recently kicked the British Ambassador out of Malawi because he’s been critical of suspected human rights violations. So anyways, politics are always a topic of conversation here and I’ve recently been wondering how people think politically here because when I came 18 months ago, people loved the President. My main question was about the different platforms of parties. Because there are a plethora of parties so I was curious as to what makes them unique and thus attractive to different voters. Well in response he told me this whole explanation of how political parties form. AKA the concept of different platforms is not known here. He was very interested when I explained to him how Democrats and Republicans have different notions of how things should be addressed. So basically whenever someone wants to run for office here in Malawi, they just form their own new party. And then they pick a few things as their “causes” – i.e. health, food, freedom. Real examples I promise. And that’s it. No actual explanation of how to implement those things. I mean everyone wants freedom and enough food. But how to do it? It seems like opposing sides could lay out different plans for food security, no? But not here. He said that the opposing party isn’t allowed to pick the same things as their causes because that would be “plagiarism.” So basically it boils down to them just picking someone who is charismatic and who they like as a personality. Obviously in the U.S. charisma also plays its role, but at least (I hope) there’s some sense of the issues.

The madames on campus (teachers’ wives mainly and the 2 female teachers at Chaminade) have a group that takes care of a lot of the social welfare issues around Chaminade. For example, when someone’s in the hospital, they cycle through cooking meals for the family. When there’s a party for school, the women do all of the cooking. And when someone new moves to campus, they come to the house to officially greet and welcome. This is what I was privy to a couple of weekends ago. Madame Mvula and Madame Nkhata stopped by the weekend before (of course while I was washing dishes so I – and the house – was a wreck) to let me know they’d all be coming the next weekend. Enter “Alyson being terrified and nauseous for an entire week.” I was having flashbacks of the first women party where I spent the whole time trying to stave off a panic attack and making everything think I was a weirdo in the process. Sigh. But I bought the snacks, chilled extra water and tried to wring as much information out of Banda as possible about what might happen. Because it’s not just about being shy and having to keep up conversation with a bunch of women who barely speak English. The real anxiety was stemming from hosting. If they’d been coming to greet me in America? No problem. Plop yourself down on the couch and I’ll grab you a soda. But here tradition and expected signs of respect are so interwoven into everything, that my mind reeled. I kept trying to tell myself that 1. I get a lot of free passes for my clumsiness since they just attribute it to me being a crazy mzungu and 2. That they already have impressions of me and I can’t change them, so why worry. That kept it down to a near panic. 5 minutes before 3 pm Banda scooted out of the house and I was left alone to await the masses. Oh but he told me there would probably only be 5 or 6 women. Wrong. Try 18. They “Odi”ed which is the word you call out when approaching a house. I opened the door and squeaked “Tampokelelani” meaning “You are most welcome.” That apparently wasn’t enough because they just stood there until I said “Njirani” which means “Please get in.” Oh man lol I huddle by the door as they come flooding in. We’re all wearing chitenjes. Thank God I knew enough to know that that attire was expected. Madame Nkhata hands me a wrapped basin… without saying anything… I assume it’s for me and take it into the kitchen. They all squeeze in on the floor and our couch and I perch anxiously on my chair. I tell them all to “feel free” and that they are most welcome in our home. Silence. I forgot to go around and shake all of their hands. Whoops. More silence. Finally one of the Madames pipes up. They do self introductions and then tell me about the works they do around campus. This is all interspersed with silence and then Chitumbuka (vernacular language) as they bicker amongst themselves about who should talk. The one female teacher who has perfect English is inexplicably silent lol. So anyways, they finish all of the updates and decide that there’s no point in sitting around because we can’t chat with one another. I do know enough vernacular to get that. So they ask for the basin back. P.A.N.I.C. Oh my god I was mortified, thinking that I had stolen someone else’s flour as my own when really they were just handing it to me for safe-keeping until we went to Madame Mughogho’s house (our next stop). So, face like a tomato and shaking like a leaf, I scurry into the kitchen and return with the basin. Hi-larious laughter. They explain that I can keep what’s in it. They just want the dish back. Thanks universe at least I wasn’t stealing flour. But now the question is where to put it? We don’t have basins. So while they all wait restlessly in the living room, I’m in the kitchen trying to untie the knot with shaky hands. Thank goodness for Annie (the teacher who speaks perfect English) who came in to save me! Of course Banda calls at this point of chaos. The women run my phone into me and I’m faced with a dilemma. Answer the phone while they’re rummaging around thinking I’m an incompetent fool? Or ignore my husband – huge scandal here? I answer the phone. Cut him short. Turn around and see that Annie has grabbed the baking flour bag and is about to dump in their gift. Thank goodness I realized in time… because they were giving us maize flour (for nsima). Would’ve ruined a whole bag! Finally get that sorted out and then we all walk next door together to do the same thing for Mrs. Mughogho. And then on to Annie’s house to give condolences for her cousin who had passed away. All in all, a very terrifying afternoon. Although I do think it is a lovely sentiment and I’m now prepared for the next time when Banda gets repositioned elsewhere in Malawi.

House Update

Wed, 11 May 2011 15:15:48 GMT

So I know I owe ya’ll a house update because it’s been a few weeks since I’ve mentioned it. The only problem is, it makes me so livid and puts me in such a foul mood, that I’ve been trying to avoid writing this post. But I’ve got a little split-screen action going on and am watching “Modern Family” simultaneously, so I’m hoping that wonderfulness will cancel out the rage.

Because let’s be honest. The house is a nightmare. From beginning to end, it’s been one battle after another. It’s probably good that Laura left when she did, because I think she would have lost it long ago and we would have had a recreation of the hospital’s verbal undressing. Which is precisely what I did eventually. :)

So at the beginning everything seemed to be going okay. It was all going very quickly with the actual building. But that’s just because I trusted people and didn’t truly see what was going on. Theft. That’s right, turns out people were stealing from me. Not only metaphorically stealing from me by creating jobs, presenting them as necessary, while I eventually find out they’re not. But literally stealing bags of cement and then reselling them. Cosmas. The builder. The one who I truly trusted and thought was awesome. Nope. One of my neighbors came to me and told me she had seen it happening and her conscious would not allow it to go unsaid. So we halted work on the project and attempted to have some consequences. Many meetings ensued but Cosmas denied the allegations (of course) and unfortunately the lady was too scared to come testify. Because she is old and lives alone in that neighborhood and was afraid the guys would come beat her up. And there’s no such thing as a police or legal presence here that could protect her. Which as a woman, I completely understand. Enter Flipout #1: Cosmas kept calling the lady a liar and when I explained to him why she was scared, he blew it off as if she were stupid. Oh I flipped out and basically told him to step the hell off because he is a privileged man in a chauvinistic society so he cannot understand. But anyways, we had a bunch of meetings and delayed for 2 weeks but nothing came of it. Drives me ABSOLUTELY INSANE that that asshole just got away with stealing from me. And that there’s nothing I can do about it.

So clearly I did not want to continue with him. The only problem is that we’re so close from finishing that hiring someone else to pick up where he left off would cost even more money. And I keep hearing that all builders here are crooked, so who’s to say that the next guy wouldn’t steal too. Which side note is really upsetting to me. Whatever happened to common decency and honesty?! They claim to be such a Christian peoples, full of neighborly goodness and big on respect. But where is that when you’re stealing from me and trying to milk every last dime out of me?! F-ing hypocritical. But I digress. So we decided to keep Cosmas since it’d be too costly to switch. Had yet another meeting where we informed him that we wanted a discount on his labor costs. Because we’ve spent over 100,000 Kwacha on labor alone…. More than the cost of bricks and cement… which is totally ridiculous. I’ll explain why it was so much during another paragraph about their costly “mistakes” and “misunderstandings.” Point being, we got a discount and work continued.

So at this point, the house is basically finished. They’ve finished the plastering and flooring. They just need to do some plaster around the foundation to keep the bricks from washing away. And then the plumber needs to install the toilet and sink. And then they need to do the septic tank and pit latrine. I’m just so ready for it to be finished. This really just has been a nightmare. To be honest, my 4 months of being back in Malawi have been filled with infinitely more frustrations than my year before. And I’ve had many more moments of wanting to come home. Not only immediately. But also in the future. I always said that I’d stay here as long as it made me happy. Well lately I’ve been envisioning that change to not being happy coming a lot sooner than previously imagined. But just today, I realized that 90% of that frustration has come from the house. Having to fight people on every single step, feeling like no one is listening to you, and being cheated repeatedly by people who are supposed to be your neighbors? Really not good emotionally. So I keep reminding myself that soon it will be over. And that I will not judge my return to Malawi until it is. Because then I think everything will shake down to living here still being a good life decision for the present and near future.

Side note: I’d stopped Modern Family to go check on some boiling eggs and then came back and was typing without restarting the show…. All of a sudden I just noticed that my stress level had risen dramatically. Reason? I’m saying the lack of that hilarity.

So I wanted to give some examples of these frustrations so that ya’ll can get an idea of what I’ve been dealing with every single day. There have been so many things that they’ve done which are contrary to my express instructions. Or they don’t even ask but just do stuff and then tell me about it later. And all they say is “sorry” but who has to pay for it?! Me. That’s who. Because there’s no concept here of professional accountability. They do whatever they want and then just show up with the bill and you can’t object because they’ve already “done the work.”

- Simple House vs. Perfect Advertisement. The main root of the problem. At the very beginning of all of this – when Cosmas and I were discussing floor plans – I made it expressly clear that what I wanted was a simple home. That I just needed somewhere to move for now that would be safe and big enough for 2. That this was not my dream home where I would spend the rest of my life. That Banda would be transferred at some point, so it would spend most of its time being rented. Now how on earth would one translate that into “Please make something perfect that you Mr. Builder can use as an advertisement of your skills.” Not at all. But that’s what he told me when we questioned him on how the cost had ballooned into twice as much as the original budget. That he wanted it to be perfect and top of the line. So that other people would want to hire him in the future. Even though every time I was presented with an option, I would always pick the cheaper one. Never once did I say, “Oh yes please pick the best one.” No, I always said “whatever is cheaper.” Lime, paint, window frames, doors, wall supports, bricks, cement mixtures. EVERYTHING. Always went for the cheaper option. But nope, he found his way to use more supplies and use more workers and Bam. I could have smacked him when he said that about it being an advertisement. And all I got out of him was a “sorry.” Well tell you what buddy, your “mistake” and “advertisement” just cost me a few thousand US dollars. But your “sorry” really makes up for all that. Not.

- Sheer Laziness. This mainly centered around assistants… he went and hired multiple assistants without telling me until the job was almost done. And then what can I say? They’ve done the work, they have to be paid. Note: They were never around when I came to the site. I kept telling him that I hired him as a builder… not a contractor. If you’re too lazy to do the work yourself, YOU pay for the help, not me. But again, that concept is lost on him. We’ve had huge fights about this and yet for the pit latrine and the septic tank, they’ve requested more assistants. I just want to scream at him: “are you kidding me?!” He never learns. The thing that actually made me lose it completely and start unleashing my anger on him was about assistants. When we did the discounts, their current assistant decided that it wasn’t enough money so he quit. They failed to hire a new one. I was happy since I’d never authorized an assistant in the first place. And then Cosmas came to me when the job was finished and said that he was claiming the assistant money because… get this… he was his own assistant. Hold the F up, buddy. How can you be your own assistant for work that you were supposed to be doing on your own anyway?!?

- I say one thing, they do another. I tell them not to make a door yet. I come home one day and there’s a door sitting outside my house. I tell them specifically which lock to buy. The guy shows up and tells me that he has bought one that is far more expensive. I ask for the driver to go look to see if the road is passable and to come back to me with feedback. He decides that it’s not and then just goes and buys bricks elsewhere without consulting me about any of this.

- Not doing things honestly or rationally. Not carrying full truck loads of materials. Huge problem when transport somehow became the most expensive part of the house-building. The carpenter just cutting the door instead of doing measurements. Now there’s an inch gap up top. So we need a new door. Cannot even imagine the fight that will ensue, even though it was clearly his ineptitude that caused the problem. Women still carrying water and expecting to be paid… when we’d halted work on the house. Who carries water when no one is using it?!?!? The carpenter comes to me and says he needs timber for fischer boards. This to me means that it’s necessary for the structure of the house. I then show up and find out that they’re just some stupid boards that are put up for decoration. Every time I look at those damn boards it makes me want to spit. We spent a good hour fighting with the water ladies about finishing their job. Namely spreading water over the concrete floor so that it wouldn’t crack. Everyone knew this was a necessary task. The job isn’t done until we decide that things have been done properly. I’m sorry, but a cracked floor is not okay. So their job isn’t finished until the floor is fine. The whole time I just kept thinking “I can’t believe that we’re fighting about something so obvious.” Clearly just another case of people trying to get more money than they deserve. We had another fight with the builders about the septic tank. He claims that building it should be a separate job and thus deserving of more labor charges. Umm no. It’s a self-contained house. This means that it has a toilet and a shower inside. How can you have that without a septic tank?!?! It just doesn’t make sense. It’s part of finishing that house. Without it, that whole room just doesn’t work. Now to Banda and I (and hopefully to ya’ll) the logic of that is clearly sound. But nope, he just kept saying that it was a separate job. And could not give me a rational reason when I asked. Well I’ll tell you what, sir, you’ve destroyed your right to say something is so and have me just believe it. That fight is still outstanding… Let you know who wins. And finally, the sand. The truck owner comes and says the builders requested 3 more loads of sand. Now that’s funny, because I had seen them the day before and they never mentioned that. So I go to talk it over with them. The sand is already at the site. It was there when they got there that morning. They never asked for it. So basically, the truck owner 1. Flat out lied and said they needed it and 2. Did the work before I authorized it. I’m so sick of all of this dishonesty!! So now there’s just sand sitting there unused. And yet he’s going to try to charge me 15,000 for the trips. Again, another fight still waiting to be had.

- Guilting the mzungu. We spent over $100 on food for the workers. Now, I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but here in Malawi it’s an astronomical amount. I don’t even spend that much in a month at the market buying everything (3 meals-a-day of food, household supplies, etc) that our 2 person house needs for the whole month. So how can it be that much for 3 guys’ basic lunches for 3 weeks? Oh that’s right, because the water ladies were also hanging around so they could eat. Totally unacceptable. Way too much money. Especially because we weren’t even obligated to be feeding them. Yet another thing that they presented as necessary only to find out later that it wasn’t. But yet when we told them that we were no longer feeding them, they freaked out and we spent yet another hour fighting about it and explaining to everyone involved. And then the best part. The guilting. They tried to make me feel bad that they hadn’t eaten any lunch that day. I’m sorry but no. When I showed up at the house, one guy was sleeping and the other was off at the video show. So clearly you’d stopped working for the day. If you’re so freaking hungry, go home and eat. Stop sittin’ around waiting to have something handed to you. You have wives who have spent years cooking for you and will willingly prepare lunch for you so you can pop in and eat. So don’t try to make me feel guilty when you’re not taking the initiative to do the rational thing.

So those are just some of the lovely things that I’ve gotten to deal with virtually every single day since being here. It’s been very defeating emotionally. Am ready for it to be over.

No internet for Alyson...

Tue, 26 Apr 2011 14:58:15 GMT

Once again, apologies for the long gap! This time it’s actually not a product of my own laziness but rather a lack of internet. We went on holiday last week so I don’t have access every day and when I’ve walked to the wireless spot for the last 4 days, it’s been off. Thanks largely in part to other human beings turning off the router or electricity going out 5 minutes before I arrive. Thanks, Universe. And then we do finally get it to work, but not on my computer, so I’ve had to be borrowing one from the brothers. But today, it’s finally working so I’m seizing my opportunity! I’m very excited as I’ve been feeling very disconnected and homesick without any communication.

Things have been going well with living at Banda’s place. It was 3 weeks last Saturday and we seem to stay well together. We cook and clean and do dishes together. The pair of us had a terrible cooking day the other day, with Banda first burning beans and then rice and then I turned the dinner pasta into pasta porridge mush. But other than that, we seem to do ok. We had a lovely laundry lesson yesterday and it turns out, I’ve been doing it wrong the whole time! No more bleeding knuckles for me!! So I’m gonna keep practicing on that because it’d be nice not to have to pay someone to do it, plus it’s a bit of a pride issue with the other madames. He loves my fried rice which is awesome since that means I get to eat it all the time! And I’m just getting spoiled with food in general. I never bought meat here because it’s expensive and we get it 3 times a week at school for lunch anyway. But Banda eats all of his meals at home, so he does buy it. So basically I get meat every day, sometimes twice a day! Alyson’s gonna start gaining weight in Africa, the likes of which have only been seen by one Chris Tavares. :)

There has been massive flooding in Karonga lately because we had torrential rain storms for a week straight. Several houses were knocked down and something like 10 people have died as water levels inside were up to the windows and outside of buildings it was above neck-level. The marketplace was closed because it was completely flooded out, so they set up outside of the market. It’s still like that 2 weeks later. Not going to lie, working our way through that crowd was rather panic inducing. Gondwe’s shop has dramatically downsized as one of the walls of their main shop was washed away.

Met a geologist from Paladin the other day as he picked us up and gave us a lift to town. It was fun to hear all about his job and the workings of uranium exploration. Only lasted 5 minutes and yet it was just one of those random meetings that I love about Malawi.

Vitu’s still a little problem. He quickly went from adorable to annoying as he shows up at the house constantly, screams “Mzungu” at the top of his lungs, demands money from us, calls Banda a liar, and tries to break his way into the house. Thank goodness for locks.

We tried to go to Banda’s home village during the first week of holiday, so that he could present me to them. Oh the pressure. Terrifyingly nervous, but it had to happen at some point and I knew in the end I’d end up loving the trip, so I got over the nerves. Got up at 5:30 to prepare for the journey and then got delayed by rains. We intended to walk to town, but with the rains decided for a lift instead. None of the brothers were picking up their phones, nor were the half dozen taxi numbers that we tried. Finally Brother Paul came through and dropped us at the bus depot. Unfortunately I started having back spasms about 30 minutes in and since we were squeezed in so tight – Banda was already halfway off the seat due to lack of space – there’s no chance at shifting to a more comfortable position. I have been having constant back pain for the 4 months of being here – if you remember I messed it up shortly after coming here – but there are no chiropractors here and even if the problem’s more serious, there’s no way in hell I’m letting some untrained doctor poke around; oh and no chance at pain meds because Lord knows, then I’d be a drug addict. Anyway, the pain is always there but it dulls sometimes and then I’ll do something that kicks it up again, like shifting books in the library or hauling buckets of water. It just so happens that I hauled water the day before our trip. And being on the minibus aggravated it even worse with all of the bumps and sitting in a god-awfully-uncomfortable position. Result = back spasms with pain shooting up my spine and down into my legs. So I ended up crying silently because the pain was so excruciating and I knew that I had 7 more hours to travel in that same manner. Banda noticed pretty quickly and insisted we get off at Chilumba – about an hour’s drive. I tried to make him continue on his own because his family was so excited to see him and we’d already canceled once before. But he maintained that he would only go with me. Felt incredibly guilty, but there was simply no way that I could stomach that pain for 7 hours. So we turned around and came home. Tried to get a taxi but the prices were outlandish, so instead settled for the front seat of the minibus. Still uncomfortable, but at least there was space to shift a bit. So next time, we’ll aim for that seat or else a coaster which has established seating so there’s a bit more space. Definitely a disappointing experience. Banda was wonderful of course, trying to assuage my guilt, insisting that I lay in bed for the rest of the day and making sure I eat his prepared meals. And his mother called and said that she wished me a quick recovery and that she “accepts and welcomes” me as her daughter-in-law. Very sweet. And makes my stomach butterflies calm down a bit when I think about going there.

Banda’s birthday was on Saturday and it turned out to be just not our day. Went shopping like usual. It was raining heavily which meant we were soaked 30 seconds into the shopping. I then spent a good hour walking through every inch of the market – three times – in an attempt to find a present for Banda. I even had a backup option, but failed to find either. Eventually gave up and we went home. Where we realized that I had somehow lost the keys. Big mystery because we both saw them in my bag as I was climbing into the car for the last time. Who knows. We’ll probably find them in the brothers’ car a couple of weeks from now. So we ended up sitting on our front porch, wet and starving, waiting for Clifford to come and break us into our house. We did get to enjoy some lovely Snickerdoodles though and watched “Penelope” which Banda calls the “pig-face movie” and simply loves.

How did 3 suitcases turn into 2 truckloads?!

Wed, 06 Apr 2011 11:44:39 GMT

This was the major question running through my mind most of Saturday and Sunday. All of my worldly possessions (at least for my current life here in Malawi) fit into less than 3 suitcases when I came here 3 months ago. And yet somehow it took 2 truckloads to get everything into Banda’s house. But I’m jumping ahead of myself.

Last week I told Madame Principal of my upcoming move to Banda’s house because – I don’t know why but – things like that are shared here. Personal details are expected to be told to management and if they’re not, well the moment something happens you get a talking to about “why didn’t you share this before?” So I told Madame who promptly told Madame Mwalweni… and everyone else found out lol. Doesn’t bother me, I knew it would happen, but it does make me laugh at how fast news travels here. I feel like even people I’ve never met before know of my living situation now. The awesome thing about Madame Principal telling Madame Mwalweni is that Banda and I were called in for a meeting. Sounds daunting, but it’s actually a lovely sentiment. She was taking me as her daughter and as such she wanted to give Banda her blessing and also ask him to take good care of me and treat me well. And to offer herself as an Auntie with advice if ever we need it. It was all very sweet. I definitely teared up a little bit as she was talking about how I was a daughter of herself and MIRACLE in general and how they love me and want me to be happy.

Of course I failed to really pack beforehand so I spent a couple of frantic days throwing everything into boxes and suitcases. Let me tell you, even packing here seems more arduous. It’s not like you can run down to the store and buy some cardboard boxes or even trashbags. So there hits a point where you’re at a loss as to where to put things. Laundry baskets saved me. As did the box that Laura’s parents sent (thanks!). On top of this, there’s no air conditioning and it’s unbelievably hot in that house whenever you’re not lounging directly in front of the fan. So hot for most of those 2 days of packing and additional day of cleaning that I thought I was going to faint. But I made it. So on Saturday, after a rainy shopping trip in town where we navigated our first joint shopping trip and I got to play with Baby Doreen (yay!), we loaded up the truck and drove across campus to my new home. Thank goodness Banda is the most patient, eternally optimistic, helpful man I’ve ever known because I probably would have collapsed from exhaustion hours before finishing loading the trip. For the first trip, no one was around except for children. But by the second trip, all of the wives on Zimbabwe Line had “casually” gathered to “chat” a.k.a. to watch the happenings. Makes me laugh. Side Note: Zimbabwe Line is that they call the row of 5 teachers’ houses where I now live. It is called that because funding for the project came from a Zimbabwe-based NGO. I think. Former volunteers, correct me if I’m wrong. Spent all day Sunday cleaning the 2 houses – his so that there was clean space to move in – and my old house so that it was good for the brothers. Swept out the whole house – which, by the way, seems way bigger when cleaning it all. Scrubbed out the whole bathroom so it’s now cleaner than it was when we arrived. And I learned how to mop. Sigh. I wasn’t a fan of squeezing out by hand all of that dirty water from the mop. And I don’t really even see the point of mopping. It looked exactly the same afterwards. But I did it. We also burned trash one last time – with Banda burning off his arm hair and me nearly scorching my shins.

Not gonna lie, I was a little nervous about moving in. Had a couple of moments of panic in the car as I was driving across campus. Not about being around him all the time because that I am looking forward to, but more so in terms of household stuff. Since we come from 2 very different cultures, we obviously have different lifestyles/ways of doing things, so I was just nervous about joining those. Plus coming into someone else’s house is always a bit strange. It’s not like we found a new place together and are starting fresh. He already has his own routines and even simple stuff like where he stores things and how he manages water buckets. It seems silly and small but here those things are a huge part of life because they don’t fade into the background thanks to technology and plentiful cupboards like they do in America. Here it’s a real managing task that takes up a good chunk of your time. Where does one wash hands when there is no sink? Which buckets are for dishwashing? Are those inside or outside? Is cooking done inside or outside? Where does he store clean dishes? So it’s a bit strange getting used to the new surroundings, but I’m figuring it out quickly and the nervousness has dissipated. Plus it was simply adorable how excited he was. Like a kid on Christmas morning. So that contagious joy was hard to beat.

I’ll post pictures of the place soon, but for now a bit of a written description. The house is not as big as the last one that I was in, but it’s still way too big for 2 people. There are 3 bedrooms, an outdoor kitchen, and an outdoor shower. So we’re cooking and storing dishes in the kitchen but all of the food and water and refrigerator are in one of the extra bedrooms. I’m definitely stoked about the shower! Namely because the shower at the last place didn’t work, so we had to use a bucket and cup to wash ourselves. You never really feel clean when you can’t use both hands. Always seems to be a layer of soap still on you – which admittedly is far better than a layer of dirt. But anyways, there’s a working shower here – no showerhead though, so it’s like standing under a hose. But to me, bliss. I haven’t felt this clean and refreshed in a long time. The worst thing though is that there is no toilet. Whomp whomp. So I’m using a pit latrine all the time. It’s fine during the day (although a bit of an annoyance to have to walk so far, since I’m one of those 5 year olds who always waits until it’s an outright emergency) but nighttime is another story. Had 2 near-death-from-fright experiences with the not one but TWO bats that live in the pit latrine hole. The second fright was much worse as I was pants-less and thinking that all existing bats had vacated the premises. Wrong. Also had an epic battle with a cockroach the size of your face that took two smashing to kill. But I’m surviving. And getting used to it. Finally using my head lamp. And using the MIRACLE bathroom every morning upon arrival and every afternoon before going home :) There is also no sink which is rather difficult. There’s always a bucket of water around that you can use, but then the question becomes where to pour the water. Because you can’t pour it right out the door or a lake will form. So I’ve placed a handwashing bucket in the shower so it’s easy to access and the drainage problem is solved. Since there is no sink, teeth are brushed in the front yard. I kind of like this though as it gives me a reason to stand outside and stare up at the stars. Another difference is that we wash dishes outside. Must buy a little stool or something because I’m tired of crouching or bending over and it’s only been 2 days. This also means that we don’t do dishes after dinner since it’s dark outside, so dishes are washed in the morning. Must wake up 20 minutes earlier in order to not be late for work. Today I was late :) Oh and there are ants everywhere. You walk away from a plate for 5 minutes and BAM come back to a swarm. I realize all of this sounds a bit awful. It’s really not so bad though, I promise. Just little quarks that take getting used to. And it’s worth it to have electricity and be on campus and to be with the best friend all the time. Vomit.

Meals are different too. I’m a creature of habit that’s for sure, so my meals here before generally consisted of spaghetti, pasta salad, pottage (a bean, potato stew-like mixture), eggs, and rice. To be honest, I had a menu calendar so that I wouldn’t get bean-ed out and would always have food on hand. Man I’m lame. Banda also seems to be a creature of habit for meals but just different ones. Chips (huge French Fries) and eggs are his mainstay. He also makes a lot of rice. And of course nsima. It makes me laugh though because everything either has cooking oil as a major component or is fried in said oil. Chips, the tomato sauce (basically tomatoes, onions, and oil), cabbage salad, even rice has oil in it. And best of all, hard-boiled eggs! That’s right. He fries the eggs after they’ve been hard-boiled. Timing is different too. My mother can attest to the fact that 12:00 = ready for lunch. Dinner between 6 and 7. Always. Even here where things are trickier. But Banda’s more free-spirited :) Lunch at 2, Dinner at 9. Or whenever it happens to come that day. I guess now I understand why he was always late for dinners at Laura’s and my place. Again, I’m getting used to it though.

Got to watch Banda cutting a chicken one night. What’s the right word for that? Paring? Anyways, it’s a real skill that he fortunately learned from his mother. So many different pieces and you have to know where the joints are to slice through, otherwise it all is just a big mess. I was proud of my queasy self for making it through the whole thing. And the benefit is that we get to eat all of that chicken! I feel so spoiled lol eating chicken for 4 or 5 straight days. In my 3 months here with Laura, we bought meat once…and that was only because we were having the boys over for Hamburger Night. So strange to get to have meat more than the 3 school-lunches per week.

I also had the joy of ‘babysitting’ five 4-year-olds on Sunday afternoon. I put it in quotes because really children just roam around here, so my being there was more of an entertainment than supervision. They always hang out at Banda’s place because he lets them watch TV and gives them Sobo (juice) and cookies. Alas he had to leave in the middle of this hanging out and so I was left with them. Normally I would take this as an especially fun experience, but my tiredness from moving and cleaning was pretty intense. And of course the power went out, nixing the music video option. But I managed. Bribed them with bubble gum and snacks, let them play beauty salon with my hair (until she started making knots), watched the boys play soldiers, took pictures, and danced to our own singing. It really was a very fun time! I have decided though that it’d all be much more enjoyable if I could talk to them. They’re at the age where they just chatter on and on – I just wish I could understand their stories because I’m guessing they’re hilarious!

Unfortunately I had a little meltdown re: the children the following day. 2 days in a row with them there for hours. And apparently they were waiting outside our door, just waiting for one of us to come home so they could hang out inside. Don’t get me wrong, I love them. I think they’re adorable. And I enjoy playing with them. Buuuuut I am not a fan of working for 8 hours, coming home exhausted, and then walking in the door to 8 children who are listening to music at full-blast and screaming to each other (they don’t talk, they yell. Constantly) and who I cannot communicate with. Not really something I want to do every day, especially when I am looking forward to just coming home and relaxing with Banda for my 2 hour window before I have to start making dinner and doing house stuff. Also, their presence nixes the more practical things that needed to be done. I wanted to take a shower, but I cannot walk through the room in a towel when they’re there. I wanted to bake brownies, but nope, cannot because they will then expect treats every single day they come over. And lord knows a nap is always out because they’re screaming in the next room. Not that I can go into the bedroom while they’re there because 1. They will take food 2. That would be rude of me. and 3. They climb dangerously all over the furniture. Sigh. So I ended up in the room anyway, having a little meltdown. Sorted it all out though and I’m crossing my fingers that there visits will be not so frequent and thus appreciated.

Discovered a lovely Malawian tradition with my move. Whenever a new person joins the housing community, everyone comes individually to welcome that person and tell them to “feel free” and to feel at home, to visit their houses and to play with their kids. Mlotha was the first to come over. Mumba’s already told Banda he’s coming tonight. I guess sometimes in America you get the random neighbor who will come over with baked goods on moving day, but I just love that it’s a normal thing here for everyone to welcome the newbie, even if they’ve known you for over a year. I got a little choked up and didn’t know how to adequately express how grateful I was but Banda said I did just fine. I guess I should have learned by now that most Malawians I know don’t get all sappy and emotional like I tend to, but I always feel the desire to try to express such things…. Because being so far away from home and everyone I grew up with means that stuff like being welcomed or getting good healthcare or being welcomed inside for a meal… those are the things that really count. So maybe when Mumba comes, I’ll be more eloquent.

HUGE success on Sunday night. I made nsima for the first time SUCCESSFULLY! Oh words cannot even say how proud I was of myself. Banda stood by and gave instructions – and yelled “fast fast” when I wasn’t adding flour fast enough – but I did it all! Oh my arm was so tired, especially because I’m not really tall enough for the height of the table. Must get a stool :) And the result was just the way it was supposed to be. Not just “good for a first try” but legitimately good nsima that I would be willing to serve people. Oh so proud. So with some more practice, I’m sure I’ll be a pro in no time! Then maybe I can work on figuring out different densities. It’s based on the amount of flour that you add – some nsima is really solid and you feel stuffed even after one patty, others are lighter so you can eat more patties but aren’t so full. I prefer the latter as does Banda. I’d say mine from last night was middling – not as dense as the stuff Raymond made but more so than MIRACLE’s which I consider the best – so I want to keep working at it. Great excitement though!!

Community reception has been fabulous. To our knowledge, at least, everyone’s been very excited and supportive (minus some open school girls who are crushed that Banda is off the market). We have had some moments already though of people just not understanding that our relationship is different. That it doesn’t function the way that a stereotypical ‘Malawian’ marriage does. That’s it’s a team, not a master and a servant. And that, as such, I am not going to get up at 4 to prepare warm bathwater and cook breakfast and wash dishes and iron his clothes…while he sleeps an extra 2 hours. Yes, I will do my fair share of course, but I’m sorry, he has two working hands, is an adult and can do it himself if he wants hot bath water or a fancy breakfast. One of the madames was questioning me today about whether I’d cooked him breakfast this morning. She simply would not relent even as I told her that he’s not hungry when he first wakes up (and when I’m eating) so he comes home mid-morning while I’m at work and makes something for himself. Foreign concept to her. She just said “oh pachoko pachoko.” Which means “slowly by slowly” so basically implying that I’m just a newbie and that one day I’ll come to realize that it’s my duty to do such things. Umm no. I think she would keel over and die if she realized that we prepare our meals together, diving the work, and that he still washes his own clothes. Thank goodness he is not the typical Malawian man about such things…. Not that I would be with him if he were.

I feel like with all of my moving I’m getting progressively closer to a realistically Malawian lifestyle. To be clear though, I’m still really pampered since I’m still in teachers’ housing in a place where there is electricity and running water. First, volunteer house. Basically Little America in the midst of Malawi. Cooks, huge house, power, water tank, next to no responsibilities at home. Then came the Lalanne House. Definitely more work – doing our own cooking and cleaning and water boiling. Next to no running water, a.k.a. lots of bucket carrying and water storage when it did come. But still had a feeling of luxury and separation. And now I’m at Banda’s. It’s still on campus so it still has water and electricity. Evenings are much calmer – marking exams together and then early to sleep. Talking and sharing stories during dinner instead of watching a movie. That lack of technology banging into my head constantly is actually really nice. But it also feels much more in the midst of everything. Maybe it’s because we’re surrounded by the other teachers and kids now. Or maybe the difference is just in living with a Malawian. There’s just a different rhythm and styles of doing things. Yesterday the power went out while we were cooking dinner, so we switched to the charcoal cookers. Halfway through the power came back so we switched back and killed the charcoal fire. 2 minutes later, the power went again. Rebuild the fire. Now it’s raining so we have to bring the cookers inside the house. Smoke wafting through. Doing everything by candlelight. It was one of those moments where I just thought, “oh Malawi.”

Oh and Suzie’s pregnant. Suzie is one of the brothers’ dogs but she’s ancient. The Matriarch of the whole clan. Cannot believe she is pregnant at her age. But alas she is. And so is Special the little hussy. So I think we’re gonna get a puppy! Whoohooo! The only reason I didn’t before is because I didn’t make nsima at home… yes dogs eat nsima too…. But now we do, so why not! Now the only question is which litter to pick from. I’m leaning towards Suzie because she spawned Special who’s awesome. And while Special is great, her offspring? Meh. Teteza? PJ? I’m not convinced of her breeding skills. So I think it’ll be Suzie if she has any that I ‘connect with.’ Looking forward to that day! I miss having puppies around.

Taking the good with the bad.

Thu, 31 Mar 2011 11:11:53 GMT

So one of the things about living in Malawi is that there is no curbside trash pick-up. Shocking, I know. So this means that you have to burn your trash. I know, it hurts my heart to release all of those toxins into the air, too, but there is nothing else to be done. I would like to add that this is why the roadsides are often littered with trash. I don’t want to perpetuate some stereotypical image of trash heaps in Africa with fly-covered children picking through them. That’s not the way it is in Malawi. It is, however, totally acceptable to drop any piece of trash you might have onto the ground, since there are no waste bins and no government sanitation system for trash. So yes there is a lot of trash on the ground and there are frequent piles of garbage waiting to be burned. Anyways, our outside kitchen (that we never use) had become our trash station, as we first waited for the necessary paraffin and then for Banda to come over during the daylight. As you might remember, Laura and I attempted to burn trash before and it took forever, used a whole candle, and was fairly ineffective. Banda told us later that people use paraffin to get a good fire going. But we didn’t want to set a forest fire or light ourselves on fire, so we waited for him to assist. This resulted in a huge pile in the outdoor kitchen. I was actually quite embarrassed about it as I opened the door, feeling like a hoarder. But the weekend after Laura left, Banda finally came over to assist. It was fairly terrifying to watch him douse all of the bags in paraffin and then drop them one-by-one onto the roaring bonfire. Especially when one of the bottles would explode with a bomb-like sound. And the fact that he was kicking things back into the fire and touching burning objects. Oh Malawian fingers that feel no heat.

I’ve tried to start teaching myself Chitumbuka again. I have a Peace Corps language book that I’m bringing to work now, so whenever I have free time and I’m feeling inspired, I’ve been memorizing vocabulary words. Because I think that’s really the problem – I just don’t know enough words to follow more than a few conversations. I’ve also realized that I’ll never really get it until I start thinking in Chitumbuka. Back in college when I was doing German, I was really good and actually thought in German half the time. I need to do this for Chitumbuka because it is SUCH a fast language that there’s no way I can hear the word and then translate into English to understand. By that point they’ve said 10 more words and I’m lost. So it needs to be instantaneous. God only knows how many years that would take… so I’m not stressing about it.

The student teachers are gone! Oh how sad I am that I don’t get to see Raymond every day. He was like the brother I never had lol. Seriously. I’m so grateful that they ended up staying with Banda so he basically automatically became our friend. Chaminade had a goodbye party for them so I was happy to attend. And then immediately afterwards, I escorted Raymond to the bus depot, gave him a scandalous hug goodbye and then had to run after the truck as it left me. I’m crossing my fingers that he gets posted in Karonga or else somewhere that I visit frequently so I can see him every now and then.

Cobby and Isaac got expelled from MIRACLE for stealing equipment. Stupid idiots. Although not entirely unexpected in a town where students have notoriously sticky fingers. I will miss seeing them around though.

Hurt my back again moving books. I wish there was a chiropractor in Karonga because I’m pretty sure it’s all still from the original injury. The pain has never really gone away – just abated a bit – and flares up into seriousness again the moment I lift anything heavy for an extended amount of time. It really has been messing up this library cataloging though which is frustrating to feel like I can’t do anything at work.

I figured out how to make Snickerdoodles!! They call for cream of tartar but I doubt that’s even in Malawi, so I found out you could substitute baking powder. I guess they don’t taste exactly like Snickerdoodles but they are pretty darn addicting. I regularly lose count of how many I eat in a day. Fortunately Banda is making a dent in them too so it’s not just me. And the way he says Snickerdoodle with his accent is just too adorable.

I bought a coconut from the market the other day and Banda finally cracked it open with my handy-dandy pocket knife. I was very disappointed. I thought coconut milk was supposed to be sweet?! It was salty. Maybe we let it sit for too long? Does anyone know? But then the next question would be, how on earth do you know when a coconut is ‘ripe’?? I did thoroughly enjoy Banda proposing that maybe the milk would be sweeter from one of the other holes. His rationale? That different mannered babies come from the same stomach, so maybe we’d get sweet milk from the same place that also had sour. :) And then he discovered that the coconut bounces like an out-of-control basketball. Laura, you would have loved it.

When the Hotel & Catering students have their practical lessons, they invite select teachers to eat the outcome. I’d never been invited before, so I was thrilled to join them this week. It was like being back in America! They had cereal with milk (hot milk – new but surprisingly tasty), sausage (!), a huge omelet with vegetables in it, bread and butter (forgot how much I love that), baked beans (from a can – wowee!), chips, and cocoa. Oh it was just lovely. I was very impressed since in the past, food prepared by classes tended to be subpar and we wondered what on earth they were learning in there. But the new teacher really seems to know her stuff and the students are learning a lot! Awesome. And I got a great meal :)

We went to a music concert that Ms. Kim was putting on with her voice and instrumental students. It was strange to hear them singing English songs that they could barely wrap their words around, but they pulled it off and they sounded beautiful. Ms. Kim was just brimming over with pride – as she rightly should be! I also met the other Korean lady who lives in town and works at Lusubilo. I’d only met her husband before but she was wearing a beautiful dress so that gave me a conversational in. Even better, I found out what tailor she used, so I can use my favorite chitenje cloth to get a respectable yet adorable dress made! I’m excited! Also nearly peed my pants from laughter as Beams scared the begeezes out of Banda by pretending to be upset about my moving in with him. More on that in a bit… But yes, good old Beams pulled off the fatherly role and it was fun seeing Banda lost for words for the first time in a year and a half of knowing him.

So as mentioned I’m moving in with Banda this coming weekend. I can’t stay at the Brother’s guest house anymore since they want it open for other guests, so it’s time for me to move out. It’s actually purely a practical move to join Banda. I mean I love the kid and it would definitely have ended up happening eventually, but it wouldn’t have been this soon if we weren’t in Malawi. And by that I mean that the house that I’m building won’t have power for months, maybe years. And I’m not comfortable staying alone in a house off campus that doesn’t have lights. I’m far too jumpy for that. And it just wouldn’t be safe. Hence, him moving in. But it also doesn’t make sense for him to give up his $5/month house that’s on campus and has power. So I’m moving into his house and I’ll rent my new place until power comes. Then when electricity is set, we’ll shift to the new house. I am pretty bummed that it was so stressful and costly to build that house and yet someone else will live there first :( I already love the place and was really looking forward to decorating and making it a home. Stupid power company for being so inefficient. But that day will come. And in the meantime, I’ll hopefully be able to get some rent money to make up for the costs. One of the Malawian benefits of moving in with him is that I will now be unofficially Mrs. Banda. Haha no more creepy teachers hitting on me and asking me invasive personal questions. Yessss. In Malawi, if you live together, you’re married. Regardless of my telling them that an official wedding is not happening for a while. So that’s that.

I’ve unfortunately had some problems with the house lately. Specifically with people charging money for things not done, doing subpar work to skimp and sell the ‘extras’, and even worse, outright stealing materials from our storage house and reselling them. Had a meltdown in Singuini’s office as I expressed all of my frustrations about such a small house costs twice as much as the original budget proposal set out. We’ve also come to realize that the builders have been presenting things as necessary when really they are optional. Alas it’s nearing the end so not much can be done. Having a meeting this afternoon though to address the stolen properties.

Construction-wise, it’s still trucking along. They’re plastering the walls now. It actually looks like something you could live in! The window frames are done and adorable. Doors are being made and are just waiting to be attached. And flooring. Cool beans. I’m just ready for the outflow of money to stop, that’s for sure!

Had a Facebook Chat date with Molly yesterday that was absolutely wonderful! So nice to chat with her and hear about her life. Stayed at MIRACLE until it was pitch black and the mosquitoes were eating me alive. Totally worth it!

Also had a heart-filling afternoon with the teachers’ kids. I was sitting on Banda’s porch, waiting for him to come home so we could go visit the house construction. I hear a bunch of giggling and people running through the forest and thought to myself “oh it must be some students.” But nope, there comes Banda skipping and running along with a trail of my 3 favorite teachers’ kids behind him, Muche, Euclid and Hope. Of course this led to a photo shoot of the boys who were soon joined by two of Clifford’s sons, Owen and Clifford Jr. And then they followed us all the way to the new house, entertaining us and holding our hands along the way. They’ve all gotten so much braver around the mzungu than they were last year! And it was kinda adorable seeing them racing through the house exploring the rooms and then lose interest and go play with the long grasses in the front yard – they play horsie too! Beams met us on the road so we all piled into the car, where the boys danced in the backseat to Beams’ awesome music. Hung out at Banda’s place afterwards with Muche, eating cookies, drinking Sobo and watching music videos. Just one of those lovely afternoons with the kiddoes!

Updates

Tue, 22 Mar 2011 12:12:48 GMT

So Dad asked for more background about health care in Malawi, which is good because for me it just seems normal now after taking other volunteers and about a hundred students to the hospital – normal, not acceptable of course. It also helped to get Laura’s input since our late night trip was her first experience. To start off with, when you’re visualizing the hospital, you shouldn’t think of it as you would an American hospital. Laura said it seems like an olden-days insane asylum where they’re going to conduct all kinds of experiments on patients. You walk in and there’s no one there to greet you, so you just kind of wander along without any impediments. The hallways are not lit so it seems very dark and dreary. It’s completely deserted actually. Granted it was night time but I can attest that during the day it’s not too different – no medical personal bustling about, just patients. So you wander through these halls passing a bunch of gates, some locked, some not. There are 3 main wards – male ward, female ward, and the maternity ward. The wards are just huge open rooms with probably anywhere between 50-75 beds for patients. We obviously went to the female ward, which is further split into two sections, tuberculosis ward and general, where everyone else is just thrown together. I’d imagine it’s a miracle if you make it out of there without catching some additional disease. We were particularly worried since there were mosquitoes everywhere that had likely bitten multiple malaria patients. There’s no security at all – like I mentioned before, TB patients were just wandering in and out. It is expected here that someone accompanies you to the hospital and stays with you. So they sleep on the floors next to the bed. Molly has a particular horrid story about being attacked by an army of ants while staying with Matt. There is food at the hospital but it’s considered disgraceful if you have to eat it – your relatives, friends, or coworkers are supposed to bring 3 meals a day to you and stay for awhile to keep you company. I do actually think this is a lovely sentiment. The one good physical thing I can say about the building is that there were mosquito nets for each bed. I was shocked to see that actually. So you walk into the female ward and there’s a desk where the nurses sleep on the counter. You sit on a bench and give your symptoms to the nurse/clinical officer/doctor there. No privacy or confidentiality at all, just telling your tale for all of the other patients to hear. There are a couple of private rooms that the other volunteers got to use in the past, but according to a new sign on the door, it seems to have been reallocated as nurse sleeping quarters. Dad also asked how often Malawians would go to the hospital – for regular care or just emergencies. Considering most of them cannot afford the private clinics unless it is something really serious or their employers pay for it, I’d say they usually go to the hospital for everything. Especially since they seem to assume even the slightest feeling of weakness is malaria, so they’re quick to go for the free medicine. The hospital in Karonga is a District Hospital so it’s supposed to serve the whole area, not just the town. It’s run by the government. Apparently the private and mission hospitals are much better – both in staff and facilities. The teachers here threw a (justified) fit when discovering labor/delivery expenses were not covered under their medical coverage… this means that they can’t afford to go to the private hospital in Mzuzu and would be stuck with the Karonga District Hospital. They were livid. So clearly they do prefer the private ones as well. However, none of them were particularly surprised by the drug addicts story. There tisked but weren’t horrified as were Jim and Robyn. So I take that as an indication that they’re simply used to such horrible treatment. I feel like it would blow there mind to see an American hospital. I’m gonna take Banda to visit Brittany at work when we come home, just to see his reaction.

Follow-up on the health care issues: Even a few days after using the medication from Maneno Clinic, I was still sick. So we decided to make another trip to the clinic to see if he had any other options. He didn’t. His advice was to go to Mzuzu to the private hospital there, since they have the proper lab facilities to do tests for anything other than malaria. Awesome. Well, let’s be honest, with my stomach issues there was no way I could sit on a bus for 5+ hours without having any chances of getting off. Instead, I called Jim and Robyn who – wonderful people (and nurses) that they are – came right over. After listening to my description of the severe pains I was feeling, they recommended that I most likely had a kidney stone. Considering that it came on quickly and was the worst pain I’ve ever felt and that it had gone by morning. Plus it’s apparently very common for foreigners who relocate to a tropical environment and never drink enough water. And I never had a fever, so infection/virus was automatically out. Seems like a doctor here would have known that? But anyways, that was the pains and they said the stomach problems were just the body reacting to the trauma. It’s very comforting to know that they are there for me with solid professional knowledge. Had a bit of a relapse a couple of days later as the stomach issues resurfaced. Had a major panic attack complete with uncontrollable sobbing and an inability to breathe. Laura was gone by this point and poor Banda just didn’t know what to do since panic attacks don’t often happen here and if they do, they certainly don’t have a name and explanation. The next day, we became convinced that the reoccurring stomach issues were happening because I was drinking litres of juice – a known diarrhetic – with the hydrating powder instead of water. So I laid off of that and the next day and the following days I’ve been back to my normal self. A little more tired than usual from the whole ordeal, but definitely on the upswing.

Laura’s Departure: Sad times. I can’t believe the time went so quickly. In some ways it feels like we’ve been in Malawi forever, but when I think about her time period here, that seems to have gone very quickly. She spent her last day hanging artwork in the library – posters of beautiful urban scenes as well as various paintings. I love it – gives me something to look at other than white walls. I’m going to do her painting project soon, which will also add a great splash of color to the window frames and the bookshelves! We spent our last evening finishing “Out of Africa” and having dinner with the brothers. That was lovely since it was really just us, Beams, and Paul having our own little sub-party, so we got our fill of them. And Alick made a cake! Oh it was wonderful – how I’ve missed their cakes. I drove her to the bus depot the next day (my plans of accompanying to Mzuzu were scratched because of the sickness) and was happy that Banda, Raymond, and Envy all love her enough to come along. I’m glad she got to meet such beautiful people. Anyways, goodbyes and tears were had in the middle of the bus depot and then she was off! It’s strange being the only American on campus now. I do like living alone in terms of household stuff, but there are certainly a couple of hours of loneliness squeezed in between being content upon arriving home from work and when Banda comes over for dinner. I foresee a very clean house as I get antsy from just laying around – I’ve already cleaned my former bedroom (that I vacated after the decaying lizard incident).

Football Fun: I finally went to a MIRACLE football game which I’ve been promising to do since coming back but always seem to miss out on thanks to lake days. It was a great time! Settled myself down to watch and thoroughly enjoyed myself even though the boys lost. They were playing against Livingstonia Technical, which is actually where Banda’s younger brother goes to school. And he just happened to be on the football team! What are the odds of that? Lol So I got to meet him which was fun although he was certainly much quieter than Mr. Banda.

Domestic Duties: As mentioned, I’ve become a cleaning machine. Also since Laura was our only tall person, of course the universe decided to burn out 2 lightbulbs the day she left. Of course. So short little Banda stacked 2 chairs and a table on top of each other to switch them out. I could see death approaching. Especially when we had to turn off the fuse box and have him tinker with wires that had become unattached. But it was successful! I’m also on a recipe mission… I’m so sick of eating the same things all the time. So I’ve been scouring the internet for simple recipes that I can recreate here. Let me know if you have any suggestions! Keeping in mind that meat and dairy (except for butter and milk) are essentially out. So eggs and beans are the primary protein source. And lots of vegetables. Basically anything rice or potato based that actually tastes like something would be great! Last night I made fried rice for the first time and I’m pretty sure that it will change my life. So much better than plain rice which I get sick of daily. And I made Mom’s potato and ham skillet which was heavenly. I’d eat it every day except for the depressing fact that my spam supply is about to run out. Feel free to send more even though I’m sure the very idea repulses many of you – trust me, I was equally disgusted by the concept until I moved to Africa where meat is too expensive for me to buy! Or if you feel so inclined to send packets of powdered sauces… they must sell those right? I can recreate pasta-roni if I have some good sauces. Pretty sick of the pepper, garlic, salt and beef bouillon mixture that goes on everything here.

A rant about gender (in)equality: I very nearly lost it recently during a meeting at MIRACLE. We received updates about multiple girls who had gotten pregnant and who were thus kicked out of school. And it literally made me sick to see every single teacher cackling with laughter over the situations and shaking their heads about the stupid and seductive girls. Even though I think I’m used to the inequalities here, every now and then it just smacks me in the face and it still continues to shock me how there is just no accountability for the men. Not only do the fathers get to stay in school. But even the acts of sex and pregnancy themselves. That it is all the women’s fault. They are temptresses and the men just cannot – and should not have to – help themselves. And that there’s no inkling in anyone that maybe the profound lack of respect for and subjugation of women in this culture could be a foundational problem that is simply unconquerable for most women here. Socially, financially, educationally, emotionally. Everything is all wrapped up together. All under the guise of “respect.” Well I’ll tell you what, that respect should go both ways buddy. But if the man doesn’t want to wear a condom, there’s pretty much nothing to be done other than abstinence which often doesn’t even work here since the man can just take whatever he wants. And if they are financially dependent – as younger girls are SO OFTEN here because students will go stay with relatives for their high school years – then there’s really no way out. One former student was even arrested because she got pregnant, went home and was chased by her family. So she ended up in Lilongwe with friends and decided to get an abortion, which is illegal, so she’s in jail. And the teachers just laughed their heads off and said she got what she deserved because she was stupid enough to get pregnant and that the man was her sister’s husband. Now yes, the fact that it was her brother-in-law upsets me. But in a Malawian context, I’d be willing to bet almost anything that he was the aggressor and that because she was his financial dependent and staying in his home, he felt like he could have whatever he wanted. And that he’s likely sitting pretty in his home as I type this, still being taken care of by his wife and not dealing with any consequences. I thought I was going to burst into tears right on the spot. Where is the compassion and equality in God’s eyes that’s supposedly preached in their churches every weekend?! Oh and the fact that 5 minutes later they were discussing a kid who was skipping school in order to do piece work. Expressly against the rules and grounds for expulsion. And the reason they decided to let him stay was… get this… that he has several children all over the place and he needs to graduate. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! Not a single chastisement about his promiscuity. Just taken for normal. Whereas any girl with even one child would be kicked out of school and branded a slut, deserving of ostracization, mockery, and even arrest. It is one of those situations that make me incredibly grateful for being raised in America since the hypocrisy drives me crazy and makes me feel hopeless about true ideological change in this country despite all of their chatter about teaching gender equality in schools.

House Update: To end on a more positive note, the house is flying along! Of course I feel like I’m hemorrhaging money and am way over budget. Sigh. Stupid first quote left out basically everything. If I’d have known it’d be this much, I’d never have done it. But I keep telling myself it’s a good investment. So anyways, the roof is on. I was pleased that even with the roof and walls, it’s still very cool in temperature. Cooler than any other house I’d been in on a fairly hot day. Good airflow and the tall ceilings really help. Today they are starting to plaster the walls and then all that is left is pouring the concrete floor and attaching doors and window frames. And then doing the pit latrine and septic tank. Very exciting! It’s just adorable and I love it already. When I went to visit last time, my neighbor came over and gave me a gift – 2 guava tree seedlings. My heart was full.

"You are drug addicts."

Wed, 16 Mar 2011 10:19:13 GMT

This next story just had to have its own post because it was so f-ing ridiculous. I woke up the next morning and said to myself “Did that really happen?!”

So after coming home from our Lusubilo adventures, I was totally fine. Very happy and in love with Malawi.

Around 6:00 pm, I started having some stomach pains, which was strange since I hadn’t eaten more than an egg since lunch time. And the egg was fine. And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t have caused days worth of agony. So I laid down, figuring maybe I just needed to stretch out for a bit.

Well I ended up having severe stomach pains that were not only in my lower abdomen but that stretched all the way up to my rib cage and around my back. I literally could not lie down because the pain was too intense. Oh and my hands were going numb, I was nauseous and dizzy, and running to the bathroom at least every hour if not 30 minutes. But of course I’m stubborn. Especially because no one wants to go to the hospital at night here since it’s 10x less efficient than during the day (which is already dismal). So I laid there until about 10, hoping the pain would fade and that I would just pass whatever the problem was. But then Banda came over and I was still in pain, so he forced me into agreeing to go to the hospital. Which I knew all along would happen. I was just waiting for him to come so that we would have a Malawian speaker on our side. Woke Laura up who motherly yelled at me for not telling her the situation 4 hours ago.

Drove to the hospital, where I was the only patient waiting to be seen. One would think this would mean good service, yes? No. The first doctor’s first question was “are you sure they’re not just hunger pains?” Yes, dumbass, because I came to the hospital at 10 pm because I’m hungry. How stupid do you think I am that I can’t tell the different between hunger and something seriously wrong?! After I convinced him that I was not hungry, there was no exam or anything, just me telling him the symptoms. Of course he decided that I had malaria. Shocking.

So I stumble down to the lab where the guy pricks my finger for the test. By this point – I’m guessing from the walk and from being severely dehydrated – I’m about to pass out on the chair. So I lay down, but of course the pain is worse when I lay, so I was about 5 seconds away from vomiting from the pain and also about to have an accident. Matt would have been proud. Avoided both, thank God. The test came back negative – no surprise to me.

But of course the doctor had left by this point. Ummm awesome. So the nurses that were there – who had been SLEEPING the whole time I was telling the doctors my symptoms – decided that they were going to take over. So they wanted me to come back in the morning to see the doctor. No problem, I was fine with that. My one request was that they give me a painkiller strong enough so that the spasms would stop so I could sleep through the night. Reasonable request, no?

Well they give me the equivalent of Pepto Bismal and Ibuprofen. Umm no. So I try to explain to them that 1. The pain is not only in my stomach, so the pepto bismal is not going to be effective and 2. I have this strength painkiller at home and I know it won’t work because it doesn’t even cure a simple headache for me, so I clearly need something stronger for this. Thank goodness we had Banda there to help translate because I don’t think even that would have been communicated effectively, not that they took it into consideration or anything.

But this is where shit hit the fan. Pardon my language. But it just all went crazy.

They started asking if I had already taken any pepto or ibuprofen earlier. And no I hadn’t. Mom, don’t cringe. I had a good reason. Because I knew I’d get forced into going to the hospital anyway. And DUH one of the first things you learn as a child is that you don’t stack medicines on top of each other. I knew that I was going to get stronger painkillers soon so if I had taken ibuprofen I would have had to wait hours before taking the better ones. Why would I take something I know isn’t going to work, just for the sake of it? Sigh. This idea was completely lost on the medical professionals of Malawi. They started yelling at me that well here in Malawi it’s okay to mix drugs and that it was my fault that they couldn’t give me something stronger since I was refusing their medicine. Might I add that they were horribly rude the entire time, snickering amongst themselves, talking in vernacular which they didn’t realize I could understand/Banda would translate for us, and refusing to listen to our logic.

So we requested that the doctor come back so that we could talk to someone who was actually qualified. Because seriously, the nurses here have about the training that we receive in First Aid for lifeguarding. And because of the Malawian school system, there’s a complete lack of any critical thinking skills that would allow for a diagnosis other than malaria. So yeah, we wanted a doctor who had the authority to give us something stronger than ibuprofen . We mentioned vicodin or codine, simply because we didn’t know any other drugs that they would have, but were also very clear that even something in the middle of the two would be totally fine, just to hold me until morning. Our request for codine or vicodin was met with a diatribe about how those pills are addictive and that’s fine in America because the doctors give you an antidote for the addiction at the same time… what?! Not only is this untrue and stupid, they failed to listen when I tried to reason with them that I only needed 1 pill for tonight and then in the morning they could refuse to give me more if they were really thinking I was gonna get addicted from one vicodin pill.

Oh and to add to the list of incompetence: 1. A bottle exploded in another room. No one moved to clean up the mess. 2. A nurse walked from the lab (a good 3 minute walk) to where we were, carrying used bags of blood and needles, completely exposed. 3. Tuberculosis patients were just wandering in and out of the waiting room, hacking away. So yeah, we weren’t exactly inspired by their professionalism.

So I think the doctor request was completely legit. Well oh man they fought that one. But finally said they’d called a doctor.

In the interim while we were waiting for him to show up, the nurse also thought it wise and helpful to inform me that had I really been sick they would have given me something strong. EXCUSE ME!?!?! Apparently I didn’t look sick enough to them. I’m sorry my outward expression of pain is not exactly the same as a Malawian’s. I’m sitting here, white-faced and incommunicative, unable to lie down and feeling like I’m ready to vomit because of the pain, and you’re telling me that I’m not really sick?! And that “pain is all perception.” All I could say to that was SERIOUSLY?! Ok, lady, I’ve been to the ER before and the first thing they ask you is to rate your pain on a scale of 1-10. Why? Because, yes, pain is relative. But that doesn’t mean that just because pain is an 8 to the patient and to another it is a 3, that you will only treat it like a 3?! No, you treat for the pain that the person is feeling. Stupid witch. So by this point, I’m so irritated by their incompetence and rudeness that I’m just stunned into silence. But good old Laura has swooped into irate mother bear mode so she kept hounding the nurses until the doctor came. By this point, the nurses have been openly screaming at us and proving that they are not going to be calm and fair, so Laura requested that we be able to see the doctor alone once he arrives so that I can just start over with explaining the symptoms and getting another diagnosis since the malaria one was not accurate. They refused. Confidentiality anyone?

So the “doctor” finally arrives. 2 hours into the ordeal. So we sit and listen to the nurses tell their side of the story. Even I knew enough vernacular to understand that they were grossly misrepresenting. And Banda was sitting there shaking his head the whole time. Calm, patient Banda was even getting frustrated. But we sit and let them have their piece. Most laughable was when she said Laura jumped out of her chair, banged her fist on their table, and refused to leave without codine. Ha.Ha. So after they talked, it was our turn. We gave the real story. And then Banda gave his story of events too. And then the “doctor” gave his opinion. We had the same fight about mixing drugs. And then he wouldn’t believe us that I already knew that ibuprofen wouldn’t work in this situation.

And then the real kicker.

He got up in Laura’s and my face and said loudly point blank: “You are drug addicts.” So my mind was reeling, thinking “Is he joking? Is this really happening?” So I asked if this was a hypothetical to explain why they just can’t hand out codine to anyone who asks… nope. He was actually accusing us of being drug addicts. After meeting us for 3 minutes. And not doing any exam whatsoever. WHAT THE HELL?!?! I have never been so offended. I was already about to lose it from the rudeness of the nurses alone but then to have this guy tell me I’m a drug addict?! No sir. Fortunately, that caused a whole bunch of adrenaline to flood my system so I was shaking with anger but no longer feeling as much pain. Let’s think about this logically. I doubt I would have told you my real name and that I was a teacher at Chaminade if I was trying to score drugs. You know I’ve lived here for 18 months – pretty sure I’d have tried to get some before this moment. And I doubt I would have come at midnight to do it. But no, logical reasoning isn’t big here.

So he said that he personally could not give us codine but that he would call in the head of the hospital so we could get his opinion. To which I said, “But you are both doctors, so why is he going to give us a different answer?” because it was clear to me that they were not going to listen or help, so I just wanted to go home, take 3x the normal dose of ibuprofen and pray that it’d work. In response to my question: silence. That seemed suspicious. So I said, “Are you a doctor?” Silence. Repeat. Had to ask the question THREE TIMES before he finally admitted that he was not even a doctor. WHAT THE HELL. So basically they all just lied to us and he pretended that he was a doctor. Oh how I wish we were in America so there could actually be sanctions against him. Tell you what sir, I’m pretty sure it’s not W.H.O. (World Health Organization) procedure to impersonate a doctor and to accuse a patient of drug addiction within 3 minutes, without an exam. Jackass. Oh and when I called him on this, he tried to backtrack and say that he said “are you drug addicts?” instead of accusing us with “you are.” I don’t think so! I thought even Banda was going to yell at that point.

So Banda and I were stunned in silence by these new developments. ButLaura was irate. She told him to call that other guy. And then we sat and waited. The nurse for some reason couldn’t keep her mouth shut though and kept shrieking about us and how we were faking. So Laura basically told her to sit down and be quiet because she didn’t want to hear her lies anymore. I was so proud and almost cracked a smile but I didn’t want the nurse to see it and pronounce me miraculously healed. I also had a shining moment in Banda’s eyes too. I’d managed to stay quiet the whole time – 1. Because I felt too terrible to fight and 2. Because it makes me incredibly uncomfortable to make a scene here in Malawi where I am a visitor and unfamiliar with processes. As such, I always try to fade into the background as much as possible. So yes I stayed quiet except that one “Seriously?!” But then the lady decided to say that I was lying – that I had in fact been sleeping on the bench. No f-ing way lady. I wasn’t even lying for more than 1 minute because I had to get up from the pain. So out slipped an “iwe” said with all of the disgust and disrespect that can be packed into the word. “Iwe” really only means “you” but when said with attitude, it hits the right note. Banda is still talking about it with glee, 2 days later.

We finally just decide to ignore each other since nothing productive is coming out of this. The nurse goes back to sleep. And the fake doctor takes Banda out into the hall to talk to him. Where Banda apparently guilted the heck out of him, telling him that it wasn’t even our idea to come ask for stronger drugs, but his. And that he was highly offended, as were we – not that they cared about our impressions – by the accusations of drug addiction. So the fake doctor called the higher doctor again, who this time refused to come in, saying that they stood by the protocol to mix medications and that they would not give me anything stronger than ibuprofen. Again, all of this without a single doctor actually examining me and considering an option other than malaria, even after the negative test result. What if my appendix had burst? What if I had liver failure? What if I was having an ectopic pregnancy? What if I had a staph infection from my cut? Obviously this was not the case, thank God, but it’s not like those jackasses would know.

So we left. But first they tried to get me to have myself admitted overnight for observation. You know, because watching me suffer in pain for 4 hours wasn’t long enough. I asked if they were going to give me anything stronger than ibuprofen? Nope. See ya. First we asked for their names, though, because I fully intend to write a letter to the administration about their unprofessionalism. Not that anything will come of it, but you know the principal of it. I say nothing will happen, because since this night, I’ve heard many horror stories. 10 years ago, a Chaminade student died of malaria because the nurse just refused to treat him. They let him lay there in a bed without giving him FREE medicine that is readily available.. and by morning he had died. His parents did nothing. I’ve lost count of how many babies have died because of negligence. And also have heard stories about nurses refusing to serve accident patients because their lunch hour is simply more important. And all of this goes unsanctioned. So my little letter will do nothing. But I’m still doing it. But I digress. The nurses refused to tell us their names. Hmm, seems like if they thought they were following protocol and acting professionally, there’d be no reason to withhold their identities. Finally got it out of them though when we said we’d just check the schedule.

Went home around 2. Popped 3x the allowed dosage for ibuprofen. Still took another 2 hours of writhing before I was finally so tired that my body gave out and I was able to sleep.

Woke up in the morning still in pain. Not as bad but still enough to want a doctor and medicine. And by then I was also severely dehydrated from all of the bathroom trips. And just to see, I took their stupid pepto bismol equivalent. And shocking it also didn’t work. And that was the next morning when it was far less severe. So Laura and Banda loaded me up into the truck and took me to the private clinic in town, Maneno. And sweet lord it was like night and day. He treated me with kindness and respect and was actually concerned about my symptoms and how weak and ashen I was by that point – which was actually better than the night before. He did a thorough exam checking out my abdomen and blood pressure and everything else you’d expect from a doctor. Turns out I have a virus and severe dehydration. Left his office loaded down with antibiotics, muscle relaxers, rehydration packets, and the very painkillers that I’d asked for the night before. And with my dignity intact without the labels of “drug addict” and “liar.” Fortunately he also gave me his personal phone number and urged me to call him the next time I have a late-night emergency. Never again will I set foot in that dump of a hospital.

Since that night, Banda’s come up with a new theory about why the “doctors” and nurses were so hostile. Pride. He thinks that they didn’t even have the medication requested. But that to admit that would make their own jobs and professional worth completely invalid. And that they could not bring themselves to do that. Which is ridiculous because if they’d told us that from the very beginning, we’d have said thanks anyway and left peacefully as soon as the malaria test came back negative.

Good things that came out of this whole experience:

- - The Maneno doctor has my back in the future.

- - Laura is an amazing mama bear who will stand up for me even when I cannot. Even when she is sick and feeling crappy herself.

- - Banda is a wonderfully calm and supportive man who shushed us when we tried to apologize for making a scene and is still maintaining that it’s his job to take care of me.

- - I’ve decided that I will never have my children here. They will be born in the States. I will not endanger them with someone else’s incompetence and negligence. However, multiple teachers are now convinced that this illness is in fact pregnancy. Oh sigh.

I’m on the mend. Terrible first day after the meds as by that point I was so dehydrated that I was forced to chug a bunch of water and that nasty-flavored rehydration mix. My mind and body were resisting as it was making me nauseous, but Laura was great, pushing me to keep going. 2^nd day, still definitely ill but I can feel an improvement. We’ll see what tomorrow brings!

Wonderful Happenings

Wed, 16 Mar 2011 10:15:58 GMT

Wow, I’m sitting here reading my notes and realizing that baking cookies for Beams seemed like forever ago. Has it really been that long? Sorry for the gap.

As mentioned in the last post, I broke a luvre and sliced my hand. The resulting pain lasted for a good 6 days, the first 3 of which were so bad that I couldn’t even move my fingers without it throbbing. So of course hair-washing was out. And after a couple of days I was feeling gross. It might have been easier to get Laura to wash it for me, but both of us knew it’d be way more amusing to force Banda into it. So we pulled a chair up to the kitchen sink and after a quick tutorial from Laura, set him free. We were a bit worried that he’d tangle my hair into a big knot since mzungu hair is waayyy different than Malawian hair, but he did a marvelous job! Very gentle and was very meticulous – I kept telling him that he could be done and he kept saying he wanted every piece of hair to enjoy the shampoo. Of course a photoshoot occurred. And we like to think that he had a fun time! Good man that one.

Update on the hand: It has now healed. It took about a week to finally close up and for the pain to subside. Cool scar though. And grateful that I avoided infection!

Dr. Who in Malawi: Laura and I decided (for some unknown reason) to have a Doomsday photoshoot one night. For you non-Whovians, it’s from a Dr. Who episode where Rose and the Doctor get separated in different universes. But there’s a shared wall that they lean against and can feel each other’s presence. Judge all you like, but it’s a very heart-wrenching moment. I’m not even sure why we came up with the idea since we weren’t even watching Dr. Who at the time, but we positioned a confused Banda on one side and myself on the other. Photoshoot a success. Banda still confused so we made him watch the episode. Bad idea. He remained indifferent and Laura and I ended up depressed lol.

Cooking adventures: We made vegetable tacos one night just like the ones Alick and Vicki used to make! Oh Matt, you would have been proud – they were so tasty! Laura also mastered the art of chipati making since my hand was messed up. You Georgetownians are in for a treat with all of the new things she’s learned to make here! Although I don’t know how thrilled ya’ll will be about nsima :)

Ash Wednesday: Ash Wednesday was a holiday for us since we’re a Catholic school. We made the most of it since Laura’s time is drawing close to an end. We went to Lusubilo to hang out with the kiddos which was fun as always. We also went to the museum which I’ve wanted to do ever since coming. It is a beautiful space with lots of neat animal remains and interesting information about Malawi’s history and peoples. Definitely a fun time! Laura and I had lunch at the museum and then wandered through the market, buying chitenjes for my house and for her friends. We also got a hold of some of those beads that Madame Mwalweni was talking about (Molly). Successful journey. We also went to check on my house, which turned out to be even more fun than usual as the Gondwe children and their friends accompanied us first to the house and then all the way back to campus, carrying our bags for us. A lovely day all around!

House update: The walls are up! Had a moment of difficulty as we realized that one of the windows was on the wrong wall (in terms of a breeze making it inside – vital, especially during the hot season!). But Cosmas was wonderful and agreed to knock down one of the walls in order to fix the mistake. They put the roof beams on yesterday and today they are putting on the iron sheets (roofing material)! So basically the structure of the house is done. Now we just need a plumber and electrician to come in. And then they’ll plaster the walls and pour the concrete for the flooring. And then the house is done! Just remaining with the septic tank and pit latrine to build. So maybe another week or so. Exciting!

We finally got to spend time with Ms. Kim, the Korean opera singer who has moved into the former volunteer house. She invited us over for lunch and it was definitely one of the best days here! She made such wonderful food. She knew we were tired of Malawian meals, so she made us European foods. The best pumpkin/butternut squash soup I’ve ever tasted, lemonade, salad with lettuce, another cold vegetable salad with olives, spaghetti, pizza, and banana bread. Oh my goodness, I haven’t tasted food so flavorful in such a long time! It was marvelous. Laura and I just kept eating and eating. Ms. Kim brought all of the non-perishable things with her from Korea. So she basically only buys the vegetables from the market and then she also drives down to Lilongwe once a month to pick up other supplies. Laura and I did have some problems with our table manners, though not from lack of trying. It’s just that, especially with eating lunch at school now, we’re much more adept at eating with our hands than with a fork. Turned to look at Laura at one point and she had strings of spaghetti hanging from her mouth. Now instead of biting them off onto the plate like most people (uncivilized ones of course, myself included) would do, she tried to shove it sheepishly into her mouth with her hand. She failed and thus turned away to try again. It took a good 30 seconds of struggling before she got it, all under the watchful eye of Ms. Kim and my hysterical laughter. Not only was the food amazing, but we had a wonderful time chatting with her. What am amazing lady! She is 66 years old, single, and has decided to come spend her “retirement” in Malawi. She traveled to several different African countries before deciding that Malawi was the one. She randomly met Peter, deputy director of Lusubilo, while visiting some Korean friends in Lilongwe and instantly knew that her calling was to open a music center at Lusubilo. So she’s done that and is teaching lessens to a dozen students – voice, piano, drums, trumpet, violin, guitar. So amazing! She’s also opened 4 new CBCCs (is that what they’re called, former volunteers?) which are community centers in surrounding villages – places where kids can go for recreation, libraries, nutritional supplements, etc. We also loved hearing about her life as an opera singer. She has lived such an interesting life and we loved her perspective of time – she cannot even say what was her favorite place to live because she feels that at each moment in time, that was the best. And when it was no longer right for her, she moved on to the next adventure and happiness. Laura and I were pretty much in awe of her. We hope we can say such things when we were older. We also were treated to her playing the piano, watching videos of her son’s orchestra and her singing, as well as albums of her in all of her opera costumes. Such an amazing day!

Ms. Kim invited us to come visit the music school the next day to check it out and listen to her students rehearse for an upcoming Easter concert. It was great to see the building and all of the instruments and see Ms. Kim coaching the kids. It’s pretty apparent that virtually everyone loves her! After the rehearsal we headed over to Lusubilo because it was Peter’s birthday, so Ms. Kim wanted the kids to sing for him. We ended up getting invited to his work birthday party. Haha I love how often things like that happen in Malawi. When we went to town we had no idea that would be a part of our day and yet it turned out to be the best part! Had a fun time chatting with people, dancing, and holding little Agnes (one of the babies). Our cheeks hurt from smiling so much!

Sad news: Laura is going home early because she can feel herself getting sick again and none of us want her to ruin the next year for the sake of a few weeks. So she’s leaving in 2 days. I’m still in denial. As is she. Don’t really want to think about her not being here!

New Picture Albums

Mon, 14 Mar 2011 08:17:13 GMT

So I decided to split the house album from the general Malawi album because it was all just getting out of control. I'll still be updating both though so check back often!

Here are the links:

General Malawi Album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2030791&id=61900829&l=744ff8b211

House Album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2031924&id=61900829&l=cc2e7024dd

Updates!

Sun, 06 Mar 2011 14:27:30 GMT

Buying supplies for the house: We went into the town one day to buy supplies for the house. Really it turned into Laura and I just handing over money to the wonderful Cosmas and him going to get this. Purely a practical move – he knows what he needs and a white face just makes prices soar in most circumstances. So this meant Laura and I had plenty of time to explore, picking up extra groceries and making friends. Our favorite new baby to play with is Doreen, the daughter of a man selling lumber. We wandered into his stall in an attempt to avoid the sun, so he laid down a mat for us and we perched ourselves on the timber. Of course the baby was in my lap within moments and we spent a good long while playing with her. And then when we went back a few days later, we somehow ended up there again. Shocking! She’s just adorable and such a happy, contented baby. I was able to make myself entirely too useful at one point – While driving the truck, I cut a corner too short and ended up with one wheel suspended in thin air in a ditch. Awesome. Of course this meant there was nothing to catch traction on, so the guys had to get out and lift the truck and shift it onto the pavement. Driver extraordinaire!

Exciting shopping moment: There was a 50 kwacha discount on spaghetti! (Roughly 20 cents) Of course this meant that we stocked up, buying 5 packages. :)

House construction update: Very upsetting moment when Cosmas and Singuini told me I couldn’t come to the land/house regularly anymore. I must explain that they’re coming from a place of love and helpfulness on this. And I want to respect their requests because they’re the ones having to deal with the obnoxious people who are trying to gauge me out of money simply because I’m a foreigner. But it still hurts me and upsets me that these people are going to be my neighbors and yet they’re still trying to suck as much out of me as possible. Particularly laughable since I am very likely the poorest mzungu they will ever meet. I make less than half of what even the government teachers here make! But of course they fail to consider that possibility. Anyways, I was barred from the land and Mr. Singuini so graciously picked up the task of walking there daily to get a progress report and let me know how things are going. So kind of him. Still upset though. And Banda was utterly outraged, which I appreciated more than he’ll probably know. He was all set to march down there, camera in hand to take pictures, ready to give them a piece of his mind. But fortunately they’re letting me come every few days – just only for big events now. So I got to come when the foundation was finished and then when the walls started to go up. So I’m contented with that I suppose. As long as I don’t think too long about the reasons behind it.

More positive update: Like I mentioned, the foundation is poured and the walls are starting to go up. The back wall is half done and they’re put up the front door frame. It’s just bewildering how fast they go! I’m used to American standard where it takes months or even years to complete a house! Granted the whole house is about the size of my parents’ living room, but I still think it’s impressive. When we went to see the foundation for the first time, Laura and I freaked out a little bit. Well moreso me probably. Pretty sure it was written all over my face. It was just so tiny that we weren’t sure a double bed would even fit in the bedroom, much less a set of drawers! But then we stood over it and it looked better from that angle. And when we went the next day when they had the foundations laid for where the walls will be, it looked even better. Still tiny but livable which is all I’m going for really.

Football news: Chelsea beat Manchester United!! Big deal since Man U. is having a great season and Chelsea’s has basically imploded. Alas I did not get to watch because the staff room’s tv signal was out.

Worst day of the month: Pretty sure. I don’t know, maybe I should go back and read my old posts to verify, but I don’t really want to remember those days anyway. All I know is that this day was terrible. It started out with such potential too. As a member of the Chaminade planning committee, I was on the food subcommittee, so our first task was going into town to buy all of the groceries for the day’s 600 guests. This actually sounded like fun to me because it was going to be with Mbale and Kaunda, two of my favorite people and I always love a good market day. Except for that I forgot the level of indecision and inefficiency that often pervades activities here in Malawi. Somehow I ended up being in charge of all the money. Awesome. So I got to work and of course none of the money was ready. Spent 2 hours running back and forth between both schools, trying to wrangle checks out of people and having the right people sign things. All things that should have been done beforehand by…say.. the financial person for the schools?! But whatever, I finally made it all happen and we were on our way to town. Had to go to the bank to cash the checks, so I suggested that the other teachers take the cash that we did have and start buying things. I mean they’re grown men. I’m 23 years old, cannot speak the language, and still have a very limited understanding of how market bargaining should work. Seems logical that they go for it and start on things while I go to the bank. But for some reason that suggestion only earned me a look that said I was clearly insane. What, divide and conquer?! What an insane idea. We should all stay together in a little group, discussing every minute detail multiple times, taking 5 HOURS to complete a shopping trip that Laura and I alone could have done in 2. I love both of them dearly and I kept reminding myself to breath and not get frustrated but by the end of the day I was just about ready to rip my hair out. I’m gonna keep that in mind next year and refuse to be on the committee like all of the other MIRACLE teachers did this year. No more getting thrown under the bus for me.

Holiday fun: Fortunately we had a holiday the following day! It was very nice to just hang out and relax after that chaotic day. Got to go see the house construction and then we stopped at Gondwe’s on the way home for a mineral. Laura and I had a great time forcing Banda into a photo shoot and taking video confessionals of him. We were going to also go to a concert that night at Planet K.A. which I was stoked for since the last concert was a blast… but alas it was pouring rain, so we failed.

Chaminade Day: The actual morning of Chaminade Day unfortunately started out just as chaotically as the shopping trip had been. Out of the 6 committee members… I was the only one there that morning. 2 had gone out of town for the whole day. 2 were MIA. And Kaunda was late. It’s a good thing he showed up eventually though because I was woefully ill-equipped to deal with the fact that the firewood guy never came or to force the assigned women to cook when they were refusing to do so. I decided that since the women were refusing, I would suck it up and go to the kitchen myself. So even though I don’t know how to make most of the things they were preparing, I joined the Hotel & Catering students who were doing the bulk of the work. Not gonna lie, I was thrilled when the ladies acquiesced somewhat and agreed to help supervise. I ended up having a BLAST though! Laura and I started out cautiously, learning how to chop cabbage and new ways to dice tomatoes and onions. Spent hours doing all of that prep stuff, loving the opportunity to hang out with the madames and the students. It was truly lovely to be a part of that sub-community on campus. I also got to learn how to make hot cabbage – one of my all-time favorite meals! I was a bit nervous because I was preparing it for 70 people in one huge pot and I was terrified that I’d ruin it. But Cathy supervised me and I managed it all despite having aching arms from stirring such a large quantity. So proud of myself!! And apparently the other teachers were very impressed, ticking off the Malawian woman’s qualifications box of being able to help the other madames cook for large parties. I do believe I will volunteer myself for the job next year too! I had way more fun talking with the women and preparing food than sitting through some boring speeches. A great morning and a well-needed reminder of why I love Malawi. Side note: Laura and I have been talking a lot about this lately. With all of the frustrations, it seems easy to get down in the dumps. But Malawi never lets you stay upset with it for long. It always finds a way to woo you back into loving it. Be it a great conversation or an adorable kid or a learning moment or a random visitor. There’s always some wonderful moment just waiting to pop up. More Chaminade Day: After lunch was ready, I was free as a bird! Thoroughly enjoyed eating lunch in the courtyard with Banda and Kalua. Cabbage was a smashing success and we were treated to an obscene amount of beef and even chicken! Met Mrs. Kim, the opera singer from Korea who has occupied the former volunteer house. Lovely lady and she even invited us to lunch next weekend (though we are having to reschedule). Was a bit disappointed because the teachers’ football game was canceled due to time restraints. I was really looking forward to watching the old teachers run around. But the students’ game was fun to watch although it unfortunately ended in disarray as a fight with the referee broke out. Disappointing to see students acting that way. But the sitting and watching was fun. We were with Beams which is always a blast and Vitu came to hang out with us too, spending the whole time lounging on our laps. Except for when he abandoned me to go sit with Banda. Although mine was the lap he fell asleep on lol so I was in charge of carting him home. Carried him all the way home, his dead weight like a sack of potatoes, but my stubbornness won out of course.

Little blessings: Oh how I sit here giggling to myself about the pun. Because Vitu is short for Vitumbiko which in English means Blessings. So anyways, we were met with one of those Malawian blessings early one morning as Vitu and his relative Monica arrived at our doorstep lugging a basket of maize. Vitu so adorable as he tottered along trying to lift the basket that was probably half his weight. I didn’t want to assume it was a gift and I didn’t want to offend by trying to pay. But unfortunately I only know the word for gift, not “to buy.” So I pulled out my Peace Corps Volunteer Chitumbuka workbook and found the translation. Loved the flash of excitement that lit up Monica’s face when we both realized it was a gift. We didn’t have much in our house by way of return gifts, so Laura gave up one of her chitenjes for Vitu’s mum and I filled a bag of candy for the kiddos. Hopefully my broken Chitumbuka was enough to convey how grateful we were to their family and how much it made our hearts swell.

Minor medical emergency: In the midst of an African thunderstorm with booming thunder and torrential downpour, I attempted to close the windows in my bedroom. They’re not like American windows but are luvres. So basically rectangular pieces of glass that are moved by a lever. But sometimes they get stuck. So I was pushing on one of them in addition to pushing the lever. Bam. Glass broken and my hand gushing blood. Everywhere. So I go running into the bathroom and stick my hand under the faucet. Thank God we had running water that afternoon. Laura said I freaked out… AKA I got really quiet and closed my eyes. She was great – called Jim right way – he’s a nurse – and gave me a new white shirt to use to apply pressure. He came over a few minutes later (despite the pouring rain – love him!) and checked it out. Fortunately it’d clotted by that point so we could see it wasn’t too deep. No stitches required and he put on some iodine and Neosporin and a bandaid and pronounced me fine. I’ve just gotta keep it clean and dry and it should heal up in 4 days or so. Hurts like the dickens whenever I stretch the skin too much, but I’m grateful that it was less serious than we originally worried. Rather terrifying moment as I laid down to take a nap and the blood pressure of failing to keep my hand in the air resulted in the wound reopening and blood gushing everywhere again. Oh and when I went out to greet Cosmas and in the span it took to walk around the house, I began dripping blood again. Fantastic. Fortunately I made it through the night without any more mishaps though. Whew!

Vegetable taco masterpiece: Laura was a dear and ended up cooking dinner for us that night. Mastered the art of chipate making and we figured out how to boil maize and make the wonderful vegetable tacos that Alick and Vicki always made for us. Fabulous dinner – one that will be repeated many times I’m sure!

Thanks Universe: I should’ve known that the Universe would never send me a right-handed boy to love. Spent a year and a half thinking Banda was right-handed. His one flaw lol. But seriously, on my list of goofy things that I’d love to have in a boyfriend, left-handedness is right up there :) Along with twin-hood and red-headedness. But some things have to be abandoned right? Anyways, I was struggling to wash dishes left-handed in an attempt to avoid further bleeding and he was amused because apparently he’s a pro at using his left-hand. So after some follow-up questions from me, I discover that he is in fact one of those Malawians who were forced as a child into right-handedness! As a kid, he always tried to eat and write with his left hand but his mother forced him to change. So now he only writes and eats with his right and does everything else with his left. What are the odds of that?! I knew the Universe was lookin’ out for me lol.