Beginning Life in The Village

I am now in the hinterlands at my remote village of Chiyenda in the district of Dowa. Surrounded by the rolling hills and baobab trees, I’m slowly adjusting to this leisurely pace of life. The glorious ceremony at the US ambassador’s lavish residence and my speech in Chichewa came and went. Now, to quote the late, great Michael Jackson, “ This is it.”
If you travel about 70 kilometers on the paved Salima Road heading toward Senga Bay you’ll see a dirt road. Don’t blink! If you do, you’ll certainly pass it by (I have both times I’ve come out here). Take that bumpy, undulating road for about 6 kilometers and you’ll be somewhere near my humble abode (emphasis on the humble).
My home is very typical Malawian house. It is made of fired, red clay bricks and slapped together with mud. The floor is smooth cement, slightly more elegant than the smeared mud norm. The windows and doors have wooden frames with rough timber planks swinging precariously on rusted hinges. Upon arrival, I upgraded the window latches from the standard bent nail to cheap brass bolts made in China. WOW, aren’t I classy. The roof is thatched grass with a layer of black plastic to keep out the rain. It sounds ghetto, but actually it is much cooler than corrugated iron sheets in the hot months. I’m pretty pleased with my accommodations. It’s just my roommates, the bats, haven’t been potty trained. But it can’t be all roses, ay?
My landlord is really awesome. He is a gentleman of venerable age and was educated at the University of Massachusetts during the late sixties. Mr. Masangano speaks English very well and is quite forward thinking. I feel very fortunate to have at least one person in my community who can comprehend the challenges of life abroad. His family wife and children are also well educated. They can all speak English to varying degrees, some quite well. At the very least, they completed high school. Finishing high school is actually a pretty high level of education in a community with only a primary school. He owns a lot of land and as part of my rent I get an entire hillside to farm. It is a beautiful hillside that overlooks a valley, the Lilongwe River and the Thuma Forest Reserve.
The forest reserve is a verdant territory that is in constant battle with the surrounding communities. The uneducated, subsistence farmers charge into the woodlands and illegally extract charcoal and bamboo to sell. And in retaliation the elephants come forth to eat the maize crops of the villagers. It is a vicious cycle where the humans destroy the bamboo supply of the elephant’s, which forces them to eat the human’s food. This unchecked aggression will not stand. Thus I’m confronted with the problem of finding alternative methods of making a living. Hopefully, something will present itself in time.
In the meantime, I’m just getting my bearings and meeting the community. Although I can’t really believe it myself, I’m somewhat of a figure of authority. I’m meeting the local chiefs of various ranks and getting to know everyone. Which is a bit of a trick since I can’t speak their language well and few of them speak English. Right now, both parties have settled for very rudimentary communication. This morning I was hanging out with two guys that were building my grass fence and they seemed to appreciate my attempt at dialogue. However my head began to hurt after a certain amount of incomprehensible, high velocity vernacular buzzed like angry hornets in one ear and out the other. The first four months of service Peace Corps tells volunteers to just work on our language skills, integrate into the community, try to identify possible projects and find motivated people to work with. I get the feeling all of this will take quite a bit of time.
The pace of things here is very slow and unfamiliar to me. People allow the days to drift by and don’t visibly feel the pressure created by the brevity of life. Which strikes me as ironic because the average life expectancy is about 47 years old. The construction of my dish rack, a basic wooden rack of posts and crossbeams, is a multi-day process. To me, it’s bizarre to allow such a simple undertaking to linger on for such a long time. But then again, I suppose the perception of time is relative and what’s the hurry when you are ignorant to any other lifestyle. Life in the fast lane will surely make you lose your mind. Well, for a high energy, goal oriented person like myself, life in the slow lane is also a bit maddening.
This whole experience will certainly be an exercise in patience. Economic development is a gradual process and I’m starting to understand why. Ha, even my appreciation and respect for this maxim is coming slowly. Maybe, this is another one of life’s lessons that can only be understood slowly. Time will tell . . . ha ha ha . . .
Love to all my family and friends. Peace be with you.