Slowing Down

7 August 2014
Apart from big events, I am finding it harder and harder to find things to write about. Life here is…. mellow. We finally made the tree nursery fence and I am certain we will receive seeds and tubes to start planting the nursery before the end of the August. I have also finally located the bricks I need to make an improved cook stove at my house. I want 100 of them – they are bigger than the ones you will find stateside and locally made. The stove only calls for at most 60, but I want to use the extras for other projects. To make the bricks they find a termite mound, dig it up and make the bricks from the clay the termites build with. They painstakingly form each one, dry it in the sun, and then build a large shaped pile that they fire with a huge amount of firewood. Unfortunately the process of making them contributes readily to deforestation, but the intent of the cookstove is to offset that with a more efficient mode of cooking. I have to haul the bricks over a kilometer to my house – I already moved half with a borrowed wheelbarrow two days ago (exhausted) and hope to finish today.

Remember when I said patience is a virtue here? Well, my limits of patience are expanding all the time. It took nearly 3 months to get the bricks and has been more than that since I ordered some shelves to be built - My house is tiny and it would be nice to move some things up off of the floor in the name of saving space. You get used to things taking a while here. Transport can take hours longer than expected. 'Programs' (as they call any activities and events here) are always late, postponed, or cancelled. I always have a book on hand to fill dead time, that is unless I have read them all....

All being said, I am becoming more and more comfortable w/ the community and my daily routine. I am also finding more that I will want to work on in the next two years. It will be frustrating - habits are hard to change and I can already see so many cultural issues that will come into play.

It is tough, you try to take it to heart when they tell you during training that even small things will take time. Even though I remind myself of this regularly, you can't help but get frustrated with just how slow the process can be. But then, sometimes seemingly out of nowhere something will click; Someone will just 'get it', or the tree nursery committee comes together and makes an excellent fence with their own time and resources, or someone comes to you with an idea for the community that you know they are serious about and want to follow through with it. When this happens I get all smiles and excitement. (well, maybe just more than I usually am)

I am still trying to decide just how much is too much to take on, what the right balance of my time and skills will be, and exactly what I am wanting to get out of my time here - but I feel it coming. In Service Training is next month and my big community meeting to discuss possible projects is at the end of August. Both of these events, I expect, will help me get a better idea of what the area both wants and needs.

Camp GLOW is this month and I will be traveling to Lilongwe for the Man Panel that takes place on the 16th. Will definitely fill you in on that experience as I expect it to be a good one.

Quite a hike

26 July 2014

For the last month my bike has been stranded at Ian’s house. I kept getting lucky with transport and had no need/means to get to his house to collect it. This morning I sucked it up and walked the 16k down through the mountains to his house with the plans of riding back up. I left bright and early with nothing but my mp3 player and camelback. It took 3 hrs and 6 minutes door to door. So I guess now I know that. The walk was very relaxing and just what I needed. I got lucky again and by chance caught another ride up the beat up mountain road with my bike in the back of a park vehicle that was passing by.

I expect that this hike, both up or down, will happen often in my time here - apart from park trucks and the odd tourist, there is no regular public transport that comes to my site. And while it isn't too terribly hard to get in and out of site most of the time, I hope this gives you a feel for how out of the way Thazima is.

Chelinda

20 July 2014

After waiting for 2 days for the park to have a vehicle that could take me and the university students into Chelinda, I got lucky and found an early morning ride on Tuesday with two Swiss tourists and their 3(!) safari guides/drivers. They had room in the covered bed of their pickup truck and were leaving again in two days. I laid back in the bed and enjoyed the luxury (no joke, this ride was awesome compared to most).

This ended up being a smart decision. I arrived at the small village and ‘resort’ before noon. Transport was largely uneventful except for some zebras close to the car as we neared Chelinda (no time for a photo ) The university students arrived near 10 pm, were cold, and their trip took almost twice as long.

The views on the drive in are fantastic. Scenery slowly shifts from seemingly endless Brachystega woodland to rolling hills of short grass interspersed with towers of bare rock and forest in the damp parts of the valleys. By the time you reach Chelinda it is nothing but grassland as far as the eye can see, with one very prominent exception. The Chelinda area sticks out like a sore thumb.

The village has ~200 people not counting the guests (currently very few). The whole area backs up onto a tremendous pine plantation, and the village area is scattered with blue gum trees (Eucalyptus). The weather is damn cold and regularly misty for hours. The village houses are constructed from great pine planks, layered like shingles – very un-Malawi like. The upscale (in cost) Chelinda lodge looks as though it belongs in the Swiss Alps. The whole scene is surreal given the context of location and feels as though it has been plucked from an entirely different continent.

I get to spend my nights in the simple youth hostel for free. It is decorated with paintings of animals from the park and has three old elephant jawbones that are speckled with lichen sitting outside one of the huts. I have brought some rice and sweet potatoes to hold me over for the time I am there. I buy some mpangwe (mustard greens) for 20 kwacha to accompany my dinner.

I have come to meet with the assistant park manager, who is also the research manager, in order to discuss the possibility of conducting my own ecology research project in addition to my other Peace Corps duties. I also want to talk about another possible project with the manager of the safari company. Wilderness Safaris currently holds the park concession at Chelinda for the tourist lodge and camp and I have some rough ideas for an eco-tourism project that could benefit the people of Thazima and also the safari company. I will keep you posted on this if any of it seems feasible to pursue working on.

Unfortunately the manager of the safari company is busy and leaving early the next day so I will miss that opportunity and with the research officer also out I have some time to kill. I am limited in the few areas that I can access by myself on foot but over the next few days I explore all of them (though I am later told that as a park employee this restriction does not hold for me).

Here is a short list of the things I see: Roan, Sable, Eland, Reedbuck, Zebra, Bushbuck so close I could tackle one should I choose, some large buzzards, and a day old leopard kill that is gone the next day along with leopard scat and foot prints but no leopards! Next time I hope….

  I also walk through the pine plantation. It is so vast and the trees so large that the sky darkens as you enter and all you can see are the trunks of trees. Exceptionally few animals can use the pine woods and no native plants grow there. The wind howls in the treetops and the trunks sway and creak. It is beautiful, haunting, and slightly depressing. The pine and blue gum are over 50 years old and are monstrous in size. I shudder at the thought of one tipping and squashing me flat – I have been told they collapse on occasion and it has caused damage to buildings in the area.

My meeting with the research officer is productive and it seems like I will get to come up with my own project for studying the reptiles/amphibians around Thazima and I will also get to contribute to other research projects in the park when time and transport allows. I will now have to think up a project.

After 2 days and nights of shivering and spending the time with a constant cold in my fingers and toes I am eager to get back to my village. The same Swiss couple that gave me a ride in also share a meal with me and  provide some very pleasant conversation. I am quite grateful as they are willing to give me another ride back out early Thursday morning. Overall it was a great experience and I look forward to braving the road in the rainy season when over 200 species of orchid are in bloom.

I have come to Mzuzu for the weekend to get some work done for Peace Corps and to use the good internet to update this blog. Next week I hope to build an improved cook stove at my house in order to teach my neighbors, counterpart and supervisor. I also hope to take the community elected leaders of the tree nursery into Rumphi for meeting with Total Land Care! This is particularly exciting to me as I plan to make agroforestry one of the main focuses of my time here.

It should be some time before my next blog post goes up – I won’t have much internet over the next month and hope to be fairly busy. I have been elected to be a part of the Man Panel (Manel for short) of a female youth empowerment camp that Peace Corps is hosting in Lilongwe in early August. I will get to candidly answer anonymously posted questions from Malawian 2ndary school girls (high school age). The purpose is for them to get honest answers to questions that they might not otherwise be socially able to ask of men. Expect more updates around that time and some photos later this weekend.


Cheers!

The woods are my church

14 July 2014

Yesterday my alarm went off at 5am. I hit snooze until I was sufficiently satisfied with my Zz’s and finally awoke at 5:30. I looked out at Bwerumbwe hill, a nearby mountain inside of the park and my destination for the morning. The sky was a dusty ochre hue with highlights of amber. A halo of deep red surrounded the peak. It was still dark enough that I needed my headlamp as I dressed and inhaled my breakfast of cold oatmeal. I was anxious to start my hike, hopeful to see some animals in the early morning hours.

By 5:45 the cloudless sky had turned to shades of pink, peach, orange. I began my 1km walk through town, thankful that it is early enough on a Sunday that few people were awake enough to want to stop and chat. I wanted only the quiet and comfort of a morning spent in the woods alone. As I passed the gate and walked on the path that passes through the park employees housing complex my thoughts begin to ramble… Eager to escape the rising sounds of humanity I pick up my pace.

The ceaseless cackle of roosters begins to diminish behind me and I finally slow when I reach the fire road that descends to the creek that marks the start of the long climb to the crest of Bwerumbwe. Today the air is particularly frigid, lower 40’s. I am bundled against the cold, hands deep inside the pockets of my light jacket and my ski cap pulled tight against numb ears. The sharp chill makes my sunburnt nose feel wet, my eyes water and cheeks sting. I have slowly become accustomed to the morning temperatures, always just cool enough that I start every day with it deep in my bones.
I shake off a shiver as I listen to the birds come to life while the daylight brightens. The fire road borders a long leaf pine plantation on my right and as I walk the sounds of dew falling from the musuku trees on my left repeatedly give me pause, causing me to think I am hearing the snapping of twigs made by a fleeing animal. The path eventually turns to the right, becoming single track, and takes me into the pines. This stretch is eerily silent; the non-native trees give few local animals reason to use this space. The undergrowth is sparse, here and there stunted native plants struggle to survive against the poison released by the pine needles.

I come across an old pile of elephant dung, long since engulfed and then abandoned by termites. It gives me reason to think on why I woke so early. I would love to see an elephant so close to my home and to the park boundary. It is unlikely to happen, but this is the time of day for it. I have already been fortunate enough to see some on an earlier day trip into the park with the local beekeepers group. A family of 8 had walked in line into the bush as our truck drove slowly by. I remember the bull male made an imposing visage, standing guard with his ears flared and trunk held high while the rest of his troupe slipped into the woods.

What I really want to see though is a leopard. Oh how I wish to see a leopard! The locals tell me one lives on Thazima hill, the mountain that my house backs up to, and the last time I hiked Bwerumbwe I found some leopard scat. Apart from some klipspringers that we glimpsed for only a second, scat was about the only thing we found on that hike. I was accompanied by 3 university students who were far too loud to allow for any animal sightings. This time it is just me, and with the day free of obligations, I could take all the time I needed.

It is not long before I am rewarded. Shortly after leaving the pine strip I hear a twig snap and the swish of grass being parted. I freeze in place, waiting for my guest to appear. To my right, 30 meters off, the silhouette of a bush pig comes into view and I immediately drop to a crouch. He moves in short bursts – quickly moving a few feet then stopping to listen. This repeats several times and for a few moments I think he may pass right in front of me.

If there ever was a time I would call a pig beautiful, this is it. He is large, much stouter than I expected. I would guess in the range of 80lbs. His coat is mottled in black spots and a simple but clean reddish/tan fur. Long wisps of hair swirl about his face and give image to a small beard. Suddenly he gives an extended pause, sniffing the air vigorously. I am immediately aware of the steam coming from my breath. He turns away, holds for a moment more, and then vanishes into a thicket.

Soon afterwards I cross the stream. It is a simple, elegant thing that steadily burbles as it carves a path through the granite bed. By this time the sky is a milky white, the color of baby’s breath and giving hint to the clear blue sky of day. The sun is barely hidden behind the mountain, surely shining on the other side of the valley. It is warm enough that I can take my hands from my pockets and lift my cap above my ears in the hopes of hearing something new.

Apart from the wonderful views of rocky, boulder strewn woodland, the hike up is largely uneventful. I pause often, half to strain my ears for sounds of wildlife and half for the sake of catching my breath – exercise has hardly been part of my routine lately and my lungs struggle to keep pace with my feet. The view of the peak is obscured by trees and just before coming upon it I hear a strange grunting noise from my right as a bushbuck slips away on my left.

The top of Bwerumbwe is marked by two large rocky outcroppings. The first of which is capped with a stone hut that the park installed along with a relay tower for staff radios. The hut reminds me of images of montane Europe and the relay tower has long since collapsed – its guide wires cut in the night by poachers some time back. I drop my bag and shed my jacket in the rising morning temperature. It is now 7:30 and the sun is well in the sky. The woods are fully alive with the hum of insects. Several times I am buzzed by bumble bees larger than my thumb as I sit on the cliff staring into the park below. I have borrowed some old military binoculars and scan the area.

I discover two bushbucks 1km away on the valley floor and follow them for 10 min before finally losing sight of them. As I get up and take a few steps to the other side of the hut a male klipspringer sprints down the hill and hides behind some trees. He is followed by a female who stops atop a boulder, back to me but neck craned and eyes fixed, ready to flee. She repeats a very loud nasal warning grunt that surprises me given her small size. A tiny thing, weighing only ~25 lb at most. 1/3 of the weight seems to be in the thighs, a product of a life spent jumping from rock to rock.

I am nearly still, the only movement my hands as I scroll with the binoculars. She must be curious to find if I am friend or foe, she has turned to face me. Painted in a raccoon like guise, her eyes are locked to mine. For a full 5 minutes she grunts her alarm call, occasionally supplementing it with a small bounce of her front legs. The resulting crack from her hooves striking the rock echoes a sharp report in the area around me. Her call has been answered by a third klipspringer, another male. Eventually they regroup beneath a tree 50 meters away and linger in the area for 20 minutes before they decide I am not worth their time and move around the other side of the hill.

I spend another half hour or so on the second outcropping, a tremendous monolith with the best view in the area, before I finally begin my descent. I am sweating and in a T-shirt by the time I reach the stream. It is around 10 am and the temp has climbed steadily to the mid 70’s. This swing in temperature is common during the cold season and most pronounced on sunny days like this one.

Before the sounds of humanity reach my ears again I spend the last of the walk contemplating. I think about what it means to me to turn 31, to spend this time on a new continent, the work I hope to do and how I am happy to be here but simultaneously lonely for so many friends back home. Eventually I hear the pounding of maize and the howls of children and my thoughts turn more to the day at hand.

I did not get to see a leopard, maybe luck will be with me this week. This afternoon I am supposed to leave for Chelinda, the camp/village in the center of Nyika National Park. I am going with the university students (they are from the University of Livingstonia, Malawi) for some training on park research and a meeting with the manager of the safari lodge there.

I am bringing my camera this time.

Meetings, Counterparts, Activities and stuff

12 July 2014

It’s been over a month since I have sat down to write. With my counterpart coming back on duty from his yearly mandated leave, and me falling into far more comfortable of a routine, there has been less compelling material for me to write about. Here is what I have been up to lately.

Mid June my counterpart and I did our first community development tool. We had a community meeting to draw a map of Thazima. This is one of the initial tools that Peace Corps encourages us to use early on in our time at site. The purpose is less to give me a map of the Thazima and more to introduce me to the community and to get them talking to each other and thinking about making changes in the area.

We split them into 4 groups: men, women, girls and boys. This gives each group its own voice – that way no group is overshadowed which often happens if done all together. It also highlights the different ways each group functions and shows the different views and uses each group has of the surrounding area.

The meeting was scheduled for 8 am.

I have become completely accustomed to what us volunteers now call ‘Africa time’ – That is to say that patience is more than a virtue and things will happen when they happen. You become used to events starting hours later than planned, transportation having unpleasantly long delays, people not showing up etc. etc. People have to take care of their homes and families first: Food needs to be cooked, water fetched, the field tended, the house cleaned or repaired, and the list goes on. My counterpart and I take this time to discuss our current projects and activities, and to plan future community events.

As per usual, the meeting started at 1030, over 2 hours ‘late’. I was lucky as 56 people showed up, most of them youth, but I had enough men and women to make a go of it. The maps turned out well (though surprisingly simple compared to the ones we had our villages make in training) but I gleaned more than a fair bit of information from the activity about community behavior. Surprisingly the young girls, very reluctant at first, ended up really embracing the project and turned out the best map. I think my counterpart was the one to gain the most from the activity though, He claimed it has taught him new ways of viewing and interacting with the villages in his catchment area.

At this moment I am taking advantage of ‘Africa time’ again while I wait on the start of another set of meetings. The first is to make a seasonal calendar for the community. This is another development tool that helps my counterpart and I to better plan projects so as not to interfere with the community needs, to further educate my counterpart on how to initiate development with a new area, and to continue to build community familiarity with my presence and purpose. I am taking advantage of this time to think about possible projects and how to approach them.

The second meeting is to start the committee for the community tree nursery. I am setting up all projects I do so that the community has ownership of them and learns from available local resources so they will be better able to solve problems and manage projects on their own after I leave in 2016. The goal of this is to make the projects more sustainable and impactful. Let’s hope it works out that way. The community is going to elect a committee to take charge of the nursery. They will choose a representative who I will guide through the process of finding local NGO’s that can teach them about starting and maintaining the nursery. This representative will then bring the NGO to teach the community. We are planning on using Total Land Care as they have an office in nearby Rumphi Boma.

With all of these activities I first teach my counterpart what I know and work until it seems he has a strong understanding and then have him take the reigns and lead the activity when it happens – This is so that he can initiate them on his own in other communities and effectively (I hope) create the same sense of ownership we are trying to instill here. He is a good leader and comfortable in the role of public speaker and facilitator, my work would be exceedingly more difficult without him.

About my counterpart… M.C. Khunga is in his early 40’s. (That really is his name – Musandivute Chizizimu Khunga) He is ~5’8" and extremely lithe - maybe 140 lbs and all of it muscle. His voice is deep, gruff, and raspy with a hint of melody. The first time I met him one of my friends said he sounded like the rapper DMX. Except for an extremely thin goatee that comes and goes he is generally clean shaven. When not in uniform he always wears a baseball cap with the number 32, a black button up collared shirt with thin neon blue and green stripes, color matching flip flops, and dress slacks. Everyone here seems to wear dress pants at all times, even when working in the field. When on duty he wears park issue military fatigues branded with the Malawi National Parks emblem and carries an M16A1. A relic of a firearm that likely saw service in Vietnam, branded with ‘property of the US govt’ below the receiver.

M.C. Khunga is an Education and Extension officer for the national parks system. He has worked for MNP since 1991 and has alternated between Ed. & Ext. and Wildlife management throughout that period. He has lived in Thazima since 2006 and for 3 years prior (1997-2000). I am extremely lucky to be working with him. He knows the communities and the areas around Nyika well. He is motivated and eager to learn and is aware that he needs to teach me every bit as much as I am teaching him.
When I first asked him why he wanted to work with the park system he said it was because he had a love for it. His personality feels a perfect pairing for me. He is typically serious and focused - with his demeanor matching his burly vocal affectation – but with frequent bursts of laughter emanating deep from his belly, belying his small size. He smiles big, and when you look at his eyes you know it is genuine.

I have become convinced that we will accomplish much here in Thazima and the other areas that we will work. I just hope that some of it holds up after I am finished and that at least a few people take the lessons to heart.

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!