The Funeral

This morning I was supposed to attend a meeting with the local community banking group. They were having their very fist gathering and I had been invited by way of a very polite note that was handwritten in chitombuka and left with my neighbor earlier in the week. Late yesterday afternoon, however, I was informed that the village headman for nearby Bowa had died and that the meeting was to be postponed due to the funeral.

Early in our training Peace Corps had informed us that it was good integration practice to attend all community events including funerals. I wholeheartedly agree, and as this is to be my home for the next 2 years, I informed my next door neighbor and group village headman Mzikilla Mhone that I would like to accompany him. (This is the same Mhone from whom I have acquired my adopted surname – I am known as Andrew Mhone here in Thazima.) We left my house at 8 am.

I am very fortunate to have Mzikilla as my neighbor and landlord. He is excited, always eager to learn, and he never fails to help teach me more about life here in Malawi. He is a small, goofy man of about 45. He has thick dark curly hair and just a hint of a beard, all speckled with white wisps of age showing through. I tower over him, as by Malawian standards I am a giant. Most days our conversations consist of lots laughing, smiles, and the male hand holding that is quite common and customary here (awkward to me only, though I am getting used to it). We speak in spontaneous bursts of broken English and Chitombuca followed by awkward pauses and the inevitable return to sheepish laughing when the language barrier prevails and our communication breaks down. He is silly and I am thankful for this as it makes my time here that much more enjoyable.

 I have however learned that when the situation calls for it, he fills his position of leadership with a stoic nobility and quiet strength that always surprises me. It is easy to appreciate, because though it is in stark contrast to his usual behavior, it clearly comes naturally to him and feels very genuine. This was one of such occasions. The walk to Bowa is ~6k away and takes exactly an hour. Apart from the usual greetings to those on the road, and a short conversation with his brothers whom we meet along the way, we barely speek.

As we come into Bowa we walk through the open space of the football pitch and then past the open windows of the unusually nice primary school. The children are singing joyously to each other in class. The house of the deceased was shortly downhill from the school, just out of earshot. We quietly addressed others coming to pay their respects and pass a group of women sorting flowers behind a very large stack of harvested maize, the ears of corn still on the stalks. To the left of them is the path that works its way up to the front steps of the house.

It is a small brick house with three front windows that are draped in heavy green cloth to block out the sun. To the right is a large reed fence obscuring the view of the back yard and in front of this several unusually large logs are scattered and smoldering, collectively sending ash and wisps of smoke trailing towards the sky. The front door is open and in the dim light penetrating the foyer I can see several children sitting on the dirt floor, beyond this only darkness. Inside I hear the low murmurs and muted sobbing of several women.

Following Mzikillas lead, we walk 20 meters past the door to a small grove of trees, none of which are much taller than me. There is a clearing that is scattered with freshly felled branches and several benches. Taking a seat near several other village headmen and a few area principles I wait, I watch, and I listen. The women are all behind or inside of the house, their number is a mystery to me – the men all seat themselves separately from them. I can, however, hear them clearly. They alternate between waves of silence and overt incomprehensible wailing, as this is how the women are expected to express their grief.

At this point there are about 20 men gathered. Many of them are in a position of authority – identifiable by a unique hat that very vaguely resembles a miniature turbin. For an hour groups of 2 to 4 men come and go. When they arrive, they sit in the center of the clearing with those already present and the eldest of the newcomers begins a prayer. The prayers seem to be directed to no one in particular, and vary in length and volume.

One prayer in particular stood out to me. Roughly half an hour after arriving the only man I saw leave the house stumbles out and begins to walk towards us. He is wiping the salt and mucous from his face, crying audibly – unusual amongst the men. He is slender and in his late 70’s. Both his hair and goatee are more white than black. In spite of his grief he carries himself with a clear sense of both physical and mental strength that is required of the people that live here. He takes a seat two spaces from me, breaks down, and begins sobbing uncontrollably with his head in his hands. My heart crumbles to pieces for him. Shortly thereafter he gathers himself up and, very composed, offers his own prayer to the group. He wanders off and I do not see him again.

The pastor and a group of about 8 men dressed in black slacks, white shirt and white suit jacket, and black ties come shuffling up the path while singing. The wailing grows louder at their approach, only to die back down once they arriv and the singing ceases. Next, 10 women wearing matching black skirts, white head wraps and white blouses with large flat black and white collars march in song from behind the maize stack. Singing a different hymn, they carry large bouquets of flowers that seem to shift in hue from deep pink to a crimson purple. Collectively, this church group enters and leaves the house in short order and for several minutes one of the men bangs on a loud drum. I believe the purpose is to alert the surrounding hillsides that the ceremony would begin soon.

While our numbers had grown since arriving, they would swell to more than 400 people within the next half hour. The men arrive quietly in small groups as before, all dressed in their best clothes. The women come in waves of 3 to 10. Dressed in chitenges and simple but clean blouses, they all wear head wrappings of various sizes and colors. One or two of the bunch would inevitably be heard sobbing and moaning from a distance, the volume increasing as they near the house. Several  carry bowls of food, also wrapped in chitenges, the exact contents hidden as though a secret. Upon entering the house, the loudest of the women collapse on the floor and then shuffle out of sight. As new women enter the front door, others emerge from the back of the house and sit together opposite the men.

While this is ongoing, there are men walking around with notebooks and collection bags. They would take a donation for the family, and then write down how much and who gave so that later it could be read aloud. Certainly an unusual practice by US standards. I donate some money and politely requested that it not be announced.

The pastor started and spoke for about 30 minutes while more donations were collected. He finishes, at which point those who had arrived later rise to condole the family and view the body. Mzikilla directs us to leave and as we near the school we could hear the whole collective of women howling their grief in unison.

The hour long walk back to Thazima remains quiet, but more of Mzikillas jovial nature shows through. We jok a bit and he educates me on some trees; the drop in levity reminded me that death is much more a part of life here that we seem to be used to in the states. Unfortunately I strongly doubt that this will be the last funeral I attend in Malawi.

5/11 - Volunteer!

Here is the last of the backlogged Blog entries. After this one, everything should remain relatively up to date and current as I now have internet (slow, unreliable) and access to electricity during the day.

 

                Yesterday was my first real day at site. I live here now! It was a good day, Made oatmeal and French press coffee for breakfast (I see a theme starting here) and had a curried vegetable/egg scramble for lunch and dinner – I swear I am a master chef by Malawi standards! (just teasing, the food here is pretty good most of the time). I played soccer with the local team and met new people, I read, I slept. Life is simple and good here. The only real hassle is starting and maintaining a fire for cooking, which I do 2 to 3 times a day – I am sure I will get better at it. (Update, I did improve, but now finally have a supply of paraffin oil which makes starting a fire so much much easier.)

                My Counterpart leaves Monday for a paid month off so it seems I will spend a lot of time exploring the nearby mountains (enormous hills?), getting to know the area, talking with my neighbors, and watching lizards roam my yard in the morning while I drink coffee and either read or write.

(Update here also – Currently I am spending a good chunk of the day in my office talking with my supervisor and reading while my computer tediously downloads updates and charges up on the solar electricity so it can then again download updates at night. It sure feels weird having electricity and internet again)

                So let’s see… where did I leave off? After our site visit we had a fast and busy 3 weeks to finish up classes, make last arrangements before moving, and take the dreaded LPI – the final language test. I received the grade of intermediate high, a step above what is required to swear in as a volunteer w/o mandated provisions to further your language learning. I plan to take a tutor anyways as it will only help to learn more chitombuka.

OH YEAH! I am now an official volunteer!!!

                The swearing in ceremony was at the ambassador’s house in Lilongwe and was followed by trays and trays of delicious snacks. While everyone else watched the dancers all of the volunteers spent the time following the food around and gorging ourselves on so many tasties – rich food that was a far cry from nsima. Afterwards we had pizza at PC Malawi headquarters and finished the day with pre-departure shopping for our sites. It was a good day.

                That was Wed, April 7^th. The next day we had our village appreciation ceremony for most of the morning. Speeches, certificates for our host families, dancing and the like. Certificates are a really big deal in Malawi and any recipient proudly displays them in a place of prominence in the home. This makes for a handy development tool as it motivates people to fully participate in trainings, really pay attention (we hope) and stay to the end.

                Back to the dancing! We were very lucky to have the Gule Wamkhulu or Masked Dancers present at both the swearing in and village appreciation ceremonies. https://www.google.com/#q=masked+dancers+malawi+gule+wamkulu&spell=1

 It was an awesome site to see and a very special cultural experience. My camera died, so I photos will have to come later as I get them from friends.

                I have started to receive my first letters from people and I very much appreciate them. Now that I am no longer in training and have more time on my hands I shall start responding! Again, Thanks for the letters – If/when you feel like sending any, hard prints of photos are awesome!! They give me something to show of my friends/family and home.

*** An additional note to my climbing buddies – I hope at least one of you has the chance to visit, I am in climbing heaven – There is a huge boulder field with some monster rocks right in my front yard and I am developing as you read this! This country is a hidden gem, Malawi is dotted in boulder fields, and exposed faces of rock. The chance for first ascents abound! There is a smattering of trad routes around the country, and if someone was truly adventurous and willing to put in the time/money, sport routes could be bolted. Bouldering seems to be the best option though if willing to visit this great country.***

                Take care!

Address and...... Suprise Baboons!!

My new address for those of you wishing to send me letters:

Thazima Wildlife Camp
P/Bag #6
Rhumpi
Malawi


As I am writing this, in the office of the camp, I looked out the window to see a family of baboons casually making their way through the grounds. Not 50 feet from my window are several large males and females with young close behind. Too Cool!

4/20 – Ug!

The serenity of meeting this new place yesterday was spoiled last night by a bought of terrible diarrhea. Fortunately I was feeling better by mid-day. Oh well, as they say, Shit Happens.

I have braved the most perilously slow and unreliable of internet connections to bring you this photo. I hope it worked and uploaded. This picture is from the top of my mountain.

4/19 Site Visit!

I awoke to discover my site this morning. Gorgeous Mountains covered in endless trees and an impossibly beautiful grew up around me while I slept. I left Kasungu district yesterday to travel to see my final living site for the first time. At a crisp 530 am we rolled away from the village of Chinkhombwe with its flowing plains and sparse hills that is dominated by the towering, lone Kasungu Mountain that has watched over us during our training. First stop is the hotel in Kasungu Boma where our counterparts are staying so that all of the people traveling north may cram on a minibus. (Boma is the term used for major cities and trading centers – a remnant acronym from British rule, I don’t remember what it means!).

‘Mini’ is the key descriptor there. We fit 26 people and gear onto a vehicle designed to carry 15 – glad I packed light. Such is travel in Africa, and by now we have become well aware of the regularity of this situation. Unfortunately this makes the situation no more tenable. I find myself precariously wedged between three people’s knees and the back of the front seat. The first stop is a little over an hour away and while we lose 4 people when we get there, we gain 2 more. Now I find myself in nearly the same spot, this time sitting in the lap of Jackie. Jackie is an intelligent and joyful woman who is much smaller than me and remains quite a good sport about the situation.

We complete the second leg of the journey with her acting as the ‘big spoon’ – you really have to be comfortable with your fellow volunteers. She departs at the next stop with her counterpart but the general theme of seating remains the same for the duration of the trip. I also sit on Brittany and Amy’s laps and finish with Matt in mine before we finally part ways 2 hours later as we head towards our respective individual homes. The last leg of minibus travel from Mzuzu to Rhumpi is much more tolerable.

My nearest volunteer will be Ian, another trainee, and we meet up in Rhumpi Boma around 2 pm. I will be working with an extension and education agent at Nyika National Park and my counterpart has arranged for transport the remaining 40k (Ian) & 60k (me) to our sites. I will be living on Thazima Mountain in Thazima village, a kilometer from the park entrance. We expected to be at my site by 3pm or so, but have arrived a little later than planned and our park transport is tied up for the afternoon dealing with some poachers that were caught removing a large portion of park fence from nearby Vwaza Marsh Wildlife Reserve with the intent of reselling it later.

We don’t leave Rhumpi until almost 7 pm. We pass the time talking to our counterparts and to Brooks, the volunteer that Ian is replacing. We learn of specific projects and activities he has taken on and discuss his experiences as well as the general social climate of the country. It is dark and chilly by the time we start the last leg of the journey. The road is a wide, rutted, and pot hole filled adventure – we ride in the back of a heavy duty park truck. My bones are jarred by the time we drop Ian off.

Then it gets interesting. The driver knows an off the beaten path shortcut that surely only the burliest of off road vehicles can take. The twin track we drive up and down requires the truck to be paced in mechanical 4 wheel drive. Much of it resembles mountain bike trails I have tackled in the states. By this point I have ridden much of the way standing while grasping the roll bar, probably the best way to keep from being rattled to pieces by the bumps or tossed from the truck bed.

There was no moonlight. All that I can see is the stars and the small bit of red earth ‘road’ or trees that are illuminated by the headlamps. When we arrive I can see very little of the immediate area around the house. I meet the headman of the sub village I live in and I take a meal with my counterpart. We eat a bit of bread, some nsima, and fried egg before I finally sleep – exhausted.

When I wake the view is, as previously stated, overwhelming. I am greeted by an exceptionally cheerful dog (unusual in Malawi, dogs are typically not treated well here). I later learn his name is lion, no surprise as I have begun to wonder if every dog in Malawi has been named the same. We are fast friends before I am through with breakfast. The house is small, two rooms with a fenced yard. Outside is a nice open aired kitchen, the bafa (bathing room) is reed/bamboo with a cement pad and the chimbuzi (toilet) is a touch removed from the yard. I am a stones throw (ha!) from climbing; there are some marvelously large boulders up the mountain from my front yard. Fruit trees abound and the soil seems good, I hope to have a great garden by the rainy season next November.

This place, this country, and the people here are amazing. In the time I have written this out the weather has turned from sunny to cloudy to foggy and raining and back yet again. My neighbors have brought me fresh cooked corn on the cob, a very common treat here. It is all nearly too much to take in and since arriving in Malawi I often feel many waves of emotion washing over me. The fact that I am fortunate enough to be here never ceases to astound me. I look forward to the times to come!

Letter to home Mar 25th

This is a copy of a letter received from Andrew on April 9^th.  It was mailed from Malawi on March 25, 2014.

Hey All,

First off, I miss everyone very much.  I am eager to read your first letters that come in.  This is the first I have written.  Postage is very expensive here – they charge per sheet of paper and by weight.

I have been enjoying the experience thoroughly.  I have yet to snap a photo, which means I am living every moment.   I will soon take pictures.

This feels like the perfect fit.  I am excited to see what my next few years here will bring. I am 20 days into Africa as of this writing!  We (there are 37 of us) first started off in the Malawi Institute of Management (MIM) outside of Lilongwe after 30 hours of total travel time.  We were there for five nights. We did some initial language and cultural training, vaccinations, and initial medical briefings, etc. 

We have since moved to the villages of Chinkhombwe (chink-ohmb-whey) and Dombolera (dom-bo-rey-rah.)  L’s and R’s are often interchanged in both spelling and pronunciations.  I live in the Chinkhomobwe village in the Kasungu district.  We were each assigned a host family.  My “Dad” Elijiah (pronounced as in the States or as Ey-li-ah)  is 77, my "Mom" is Irice (Iris) and is 56. My younger brother is Steven, often called Sidi, and is 21. He is actually Elijiah’s nephew.  I have two younger “sisters” – Delibe (Day-Lee-bay), the granddaughter is 16, and Martha ( Mar-ta ) also a granddaughter  aged 4 almost 5. Delibe attends secondary school when the family can afford it, but she mostly works around the house cooking, cleaning and looking after my other sister.  Currently she just started class for this session (trimester).   Martha rarely wants anything to do with me.  I find this hilarious, esp.  when compared with the other “Iwe’s” (this means ”you” but is often used to refer to children) in the village.  They always smile and wave to us on the way to classes.  They also yell “abo,” “abobo” or ”wawa.”  These are all informal greetings similar to “hey.”

It is beautiful here and I live near a mountain “Mount Kasungu”, for now. I started playing soccer today with the village team.  Also, we got our bikes, mine is a good MTB.  I have already organized the first mtb race and I also rode on it to Kasungu boma to go to the market.   

I was well prepared for this experience and have yet to be “culture shocked”.  I expect it might happen in 7 weeks when I move to my site.  I am learning “Chitombuca” and will be placed in the mountains up north! Yeah!!   I packed very light compared to most people and yet I still over packed.  It is OK as it will come in handy after I move.

We are a diverse group and we are learning a lot from each other.   There are a few people age 30, one is 32, another 64 but most are between 22 and 26.  The courses we are taking are very extensive & seem most relevant.  I am doing /will do well – I hope that stays the case once I really get my feet on the ground. This week’s concept for the majority of classes is HIV/AIDS education & I am learning a lot.  It will offer its own challenges within the context of whatever specific work I end up doing here.

I wake between 5 & 6 every morning with sunrise and the roosters – usually 5:30. I started this on day one with no issues from jet lag.  Most days, Delibe starts the fire to heat my bath water and then cooks if there are going to be a breakfast other than bread and peanut butter.  My family makes me bathe two times a day which I find very excessive!  All of the other PCT’s (Peace Corps Trainees) get the same! I usually take tea with my father at breakfast and then study language while I wait for class.

Oh!  I forgot, I am assigned very few chores.  I think this is for two reasons: 1) my family takes pride in providing for me as a student staying in their house, and 2) I believe it is part of male privilege.  I am still trying to find ways to push back against this but it is difficult for cultural reasons.  Some mornings I help Sidi & Delibe sweep the dirt yard!  I find this tedious because it is conceptually bizarre – they do it to keep the area clean but in the process have constant soil erosion w/o vegetation.  Rarely do I get water for the house from the “borehole” (the word they use for well) with the exception of for doing my laundry.  I refuse to let anyone help me with the laundry.  Hey, you’ve got to pick your battles!  I do get teased for the manner in which I do it, mainly because it is not the same as everyone else. They tend to be very process oriented and it is a cultural faux pas when you don’t do activities in the same way.  Faux pas might be a bit strong – I should say they find it very funny and always try to ‘teach’ you the ‘right way’. All said and done, my clothes are still plenty clean at the end of the day.

Back to the meals; lunch and dinner vary regularly because PC (Peace Corps) gives my family food and a menu to follow in order to supplement my presence.  About 2/3’s of the hot meals consist of nsima.  Nsima is a patty made from corn meal flour and is typically served with a relish of chicken, soya pieces (look it up) or vegetables cooked in sauce.  The vast majority of the time you eat with your right hand only & no utensils.  It is kind of funny because nsima is very sticky.  It is only scooped out as a patty for the first 2 patties and is then spooned out like a very thick porridge after that. It gets all over your fingers.  BUT whenever a meal has rice instead if nsima, we use spoons because it is “messy”!!  Overall the food is very good, if not monotonous.  Chicken is served at about 4 total meals (lunch & dinner) per week and is the richest food we eat.  I have come full circle as I now look forward to it and I even suck the bones!

 I still expect to be mostly vegetarian in diet here and fully vegetarian when in the USA.  I have had mphalabungu (small green caterpillars) 3 times now and they are quite good.  They are boiled and fried.  Even better are ngumi, (large termites)   also boiled then fried.  I have had those twice.  I was excited today to have part of a custard apple!  I’m super happy to know that they grow in this country.   I have also been eating guava nonstop –ripe & unripe- love it & in season now.

I go to bed around 8 or 9pm most nights, depending on homework, if there is dancing in the village or socializing with locals or volunteers.  It is dusk at 6pm and dark at 6:30 almost year round.  For now we are like children and are not allowed out after dark without an escort.  Sidi typically comes with me if I am out in the evening.  Classes end at 5pm which does not leave much time to do more than bathe & study.  Darkness redefines everything.  I try to use my head lamp very little.  The family uses one “torch” - a large dim flashlight - that lights a small area, plus some candles.  Dinner is always taken in the dark with some poor light from the torch & my paraffin hurricane lantern which is nearly broken!

I have become completely use to insects at all times, but it really isn’t as bad as you would think.  I have used insect repellant one time ever.  My mosquito net is a sanctuary at night though and I keep it tucked in all around my thin foam twin mattress.   Occasionally (frequently) I am awakened by the squeaks and sounds of mice and rats scrambling in the rafters and on the tin roof.  In the last week,    I have begun to find a small pile of rat droppings in the corner of my room as they drop them over the edge of the wall in the ceiling!  With the doors of the house open while cooking in the evenings, bats fly in & out of the rooms and the living room while they catch insects.  My USA mom would go crazy!!  (Oh, I saw my first snake –my sister killed it - an African House snake, just like the two I had as a kid.)  But really the food is clean, my clothes are clean and my bed is clean & dry, so what else do you need?!  And I don’t miss AC or heating!

It is raining tonight & whenever it gets heavy the house gets very loud with the sound on the tin roof.  I actually find it quite soothing.  I keep my water clean via either Iodine (emergencies,) water guard (a bleach treatment) or by boiling.  Then the water is run through a British Berkefield water filter.  This consists of ultra fine ceramic filters – simple design but actually quite nice.

I take Malarone for malaria prophylaxis (oral! LOL) every morning.  I could have chosen Doxy (daily) or Mefloquine (weekly) but avoided those because of the higher potential for side effects.  If I feel I need the other benefits of Doxy.  I can switch to it later on but doubt that I will.

Cultural exchange is interesting.  I am fortunate because Elijiah speaks pretty decent English, so we often alternate in telling of traditions/cultural norms in Malawi and in the USA.  I dropped the gay rights bomb on him the other day and he took it quite well, though he did state “We do not agree with it in Malawi even though it is here.”  Interesting conversation indeed!

I have been writing for two hours now and I am running out of things to say!  There is so much more that this medium cannot convey!

 Everyone please know that I love and miss you.   Tiwonanenge!  (See you later)

Love,   Andrew

Here is a quick language lesson for you:

“B”s typically pronounced like “W”

Monile = hello                  Yebo =thank you          
Muli uli? =how are you?               Nili  makola = I am well

Kwali  imwe? = and you?    Nili  makoslaso, yebo = well too thanks!

Tiwonanenge = see you soon/later !