I don't get Africans. The mental process doesn't make sence. But at the same time i accpet it more and more. Things are moving along. I had a good meeting with my mushroom group and i'll teach the women in the group to make mud stoves next week. The world continues to turn.
This is an interesting lesson in why Africa is the way it is. Colonialism, African culture, human nature, and myself seem to be the topics of my strange education.
Take care all!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Culture and Mentality, can you divide the two?
Last night, I went out to a very interesting establishment, the paramount of Lilongwe’s cosmopolitan nightlife. It was a casino with an adjunct bar with a dance floor. There I wandered around and gazed on at this “Wonder of the Lilongwe World” – and Lilongwe is a world unto it’s own. There were Chinese businessmen who were endlessly slapping at the slot machines, men from South Asia crowding the black jack tables, and a smattering of people of European descent floating about.
In the true Malawian fashion, I sat down with some men who happened to be of Pakistani origin and started to chat. They were well to do businessmen and had very interesting things to tell me about why Malawi is the way it is. I know that leaves the uninitiated wondering how Malawi is, but that you’ll have to extrapolate from my blogs. The subject of culture was a continuous theme throughout the conversation. It made me realize that culture does matter and can really shape a country and its national character.
America is a land of all cultures and yet no culture. Immigrants from around the world go there and take with their own cultural heritage and undergo a sort of reciprocal cultural transmutation. They are transformed by what they arrive into and transmute what they find already established. The multiplicity of it all made me forget how profoundly important culture is. I never over emphasized my own culture and never wanted to downplay the other effect of others. And for some reason everything in China just made much more sense to me, much more natural. Though my first impressions of the Middle Kingdom were that it was dirty, I was never hit with the feeling of confusion as to how the people function. Perhaps I just have a greater cultural affinity for those people, I certainly gravitate towards them no matter what corner of the globe I’m at. Here, in this unfamiliar land, I’m constantly in a state of mental consternation.
I don’t really understand the way the people think here and I don’t understand the underlying logic of their culture. There is a habit of starting something and not finishing it; which just doesn’t make sense to me! Why would you start something and not finish it? Just don’t do the project at all, right? The gentlemen that I was chatting with at the casino explained this as a remnant of the colonial culture. For quite sometime, foreigners have been doing things for the people of Malawian. All the various tribes have been affected by this in a seemingly similar way – they became dependent. Malawi is a politically dependent country, and yet not. The most recent case of the homosexual men, where they were sentenced to 14 years in prison and then pardoned, shows how international donors have pull on this country. About 70% of the government’s budget comes from foreign aid. This nation is not fully free and independent. Economic independence seems to be the dominant factor in determining political self-determination.
I suppose that is why the goal of our organization is capacity building. Just trying to enable Malawians to do more things for themselves. Money makes the world go round, doesn’t it?
I just had an epiphany! There are many different tribes here in Malawi with differing cultures. What is really puzzling me isn’t so much the culture of the people as it is there mentality. Which makes me think that the underlying root is more economic than anything else. But I’m still not sure; I’ll continue trying to figure it out.
Any thoughts from the outside world? I’m right here in the thick of it and I’m definitely confused.
In the true Malawian fashion, I sat down with some men who happened to be of Pakistani origin and started to chat. They were well to do businessmen and had very interesting things to tell me about why Malawi is the way it is. I know that leaves the uninitiated wondering how Malawi is, but that you’ll have to extrapolate from my blogs. The subject of culture was a continuous theme throughout the conversation. It made me realize that culture does matter and can really shape a country and its national character.
America is a land of all cultures and yet no culture. Immigrants from around the world go there and take with their own cultural heritage and undergo a sort of reciprocal cultural transmutation. They are transformed by what they arrive into and transmute what they find already established. The multiplicity of it all made me forget how profoundly important culture is. I never over emphasized my own culture and never wanted to downplay the other effect of others. And for some reason everything in China just made much more sense to me, much more natural. Though my first impressions of the Middle Kingdom were that it was dirty, I was never hit with the feeling of confusion as to how the people function. Perhaps I just have a greater cultural affinity for those people, I certainly gravitate towards them no matter what corner of the globe I’m at. Here, in this unfamiliar land, I’m constantly in a state of mental consternation.
I don’t really understand the way the people think here and I don’t understand the underlying logic of their culture. There is a habit of starting something and not finishing it; which just doesn’t make sense to me! Why would you start something and not finish it? Just don’t do the project at all, right? The gentlemen that I was chatting with at the casino explained this as a remnant of the colonial culture. For quite sometime, foreigners have been doing things for the people of Malawian. All the various tribes have been affected by this in a seemingly similar way – they became dependent. Malawi is a politically dependent country, and yet not. The most recent case of the homosexual men, where they were sentenced to 14 years in prison and then pardoned, shows how international donors have pull on this country. About 70% of the government’s budget comes from foreign aid. This nation is not fully free and independent. Economic independence seems to be the dominant factor in determining political self-determination.
I suppose that is why the goal of our organization is capacity building. Just trying to enable Malawians to do more things for themselves. Money makes the world go round, doesn’t it?
I just had an epiphany! There are many different tribes here in Malawi with differing cultures. What is really puzzling me isn’t so much the culture of the people as it is there mentality. Which makes me think that the underlying root is more economic than anything else. But I’m still not sure; I’ll continue trying to figure it out.
Any thoughts from the outside world? I’m right here in the thick of it and I’m definitely confused.
A few things that have struck me . . . .
Ladies and Gentleman, I’m still alive, if only barely, hahahah! The dementia is starting to set in! Mwhahahaha! This life that I am living is so very different from those that I’ve known before, although there is one element that ties them all together, it is a strange life. The sheer contrast to my previous life is far to overwhelming for me to cope with right now. My mind is quite a jumble of what to write about. The basics are that I am eating well, I’ve not been sick, and that things are still going. As I’ve been quoted as saying, “Always forward, never straight.”
Perhaps, I’ll just pick and choose a couple of things that have struck me as different and wrote this in a James Joyce-esque stream of consciousness sort of way. Let’s give it a try, shall we? DISCLAIMER: None the things listed below are meant to belittle the Malawian people.
1.Fish tied to the front grill of mini buses barreling down the highways. This is a unique phenomenon that I was really taken aback by. The first time that I witnessed it I naively thought, “Oh, look as a symbol of how much these people like fish they strapped some fake fish to their care. Oh, isn’t that cute.” But that didn’t really make any sense. I asked about it and I got the simple explanation that it is a method to dry fish. Now you’d think with the way they use charcoal and firewood with reckless abandon that a little to smoke the fish would be a good way to preserve them. But no, here in Malawi they strap them to the front of the cars, blaze down the road, and pick up little bits of extra insect protein as they go.
2.The facts that I have seen no Malawian in this entire country use the restroom once! When I was living with the Chingualu family in Dedza I never saw a single person use the bathroom once. Now, I am spending lots of time at my landlord’s house and I never see any of them use the toilet. Apparently, the reason for this is that Malawians don’t like it when other people know they are defecating. This drives the locals to do two things that I find silly; one is to stealthily use the facilities by cover of darkness, and the other is to cop a squat in the cornfields. The fields do need to be fertilized, but I can approve of untreated waste being dumped in the open when cholera is a major concern here.
3. How incredibly objectified I feel in this country! Being a male who grew up in the United States, I successfully avoided being thought of as an emotional object. However the Malawians have cut me down to size. My landlord, who is 70 years old and studied agriculture at the University of Massachusetts, tells me that when he was a little boy in Southern Rhodesia (present day Zimbabwe) white people weren’t considered people. White people weren’t “anthu=people” because we had no souls! When little children see me, they scream, “Give me money!” (Makes me question the merits of international aid programs) The children stare at me, which is “normal”, but then they also follow me. That makes sense too, cause they really have nothing to do, no toys to play with, and no place to go to “chill”. What makes me feel dehumanized is when I tell them in their own language not to follow me, they repeat what I say, laugh, and continue to follow me. The adults also laugh at me when I do normal things that the Malawians do. I’m very accustomed to being stared at, with and without gaping mouths. But when I’m treated like that it makes me feel as if they don’t recognize I have feelings- a soul if you will.
4. The jealousy of the Malawians in their society. My village is more or less all extended family. But they are very jealous of each other and covet many material possessions of the other villagers. It causes them to be very cruel to each other. A very common occurrence is for villagers that plant trees, especially fruit trees, to have them uprooted. Or another more anecdotal example was when a pastor told me how higher leaders of his church wouldn’t help facilitate the creation of a pen pal system for Malawians and members of the church abroad. He said they didn’t want other people to learn to speak English well. These things don’t make sense to me. Why not steal the fruit of your uncle’s trees? Why hold down poor children who just want to learn? It appears to work as follows; in a society where everyone is living in abject poverty even the smallest bit of property or knowledge can be used to make an individual feel superior. The result is that no advancement in their world is ever made. They have a very strange culture of jealousy, whose ugly head is only starting to be reared.
Hmm, that all does seem a little bit negative. Let’s see if I can think of something happy to write about.
Oh here is just something that I have been musing about that makes me laugh. I’ve been walking around meeting the locals and whenever I go about they always give me peanuts. So, I’ve always got peanuts to eat and that is a good source of protein. I’m really thankful for the food type things I’ve got going on for me here.
I get so excited now whenever I go into town and just drink a Coca Cola or have a bag of salt and vinegar chips. I never knew how awesome processed foods were until I started a diet that involves pretty much zero processed foods. The guilt factor of shoving handfuls of lays potato chips in my mouth is gone! And I found this macadamia nut honey that is amazing! And there is this farm, Mchenga, they produce real milk that is so rich I can’t help but buy at least a liter each time I go to town and chug it on the spot. I never knew the luxury of having such a varied nutritious diet. Nor did I ever really appreciate eating three sumptuous meals a day. Many people eat just one meal a day in my community and it consists of just corn mush. Very, very sad.
Anyway, I’m Ok. Things are moving. I’ll report in later. Love ya’ll!
Perhaps, I’ll just pick and choose a couple of things that have struck me as different and wrote this in a James Joyce-esque stream of consciousness sort of way. Let’s give it a try, shall we? DISCLAIMER: None the things listed below are meant to belittle the Malawian people.
1.Fish tied to the front grill of mini buses barreling down the highways. This is a unique phenomenon that I was really taken aback by. The first time that I witnessed it I naively thought, “Oh, look as a symbol of how much these people like fish they strapped some fake fish to their care. Oh, isn’t that cute.” But that didn’t really make any sense. I asked about it and I got the simple explanation that it is a method to dry fish. Now you’d think with the way they use charcoal and firewood with reckless abandon that a little to smoke the fish would be a good way to preserve them. But no, here in Malawi they strap them to the front of the cars, blaze down the road, and pick up little bits of extra insect protein as they go.
2.The facts that I have seen no Malawian in this entire country use the restroom once! When I was living with the Chingualu family in Dedza I never saw a single person use the bathroom once. Now, I am spending lots of time at my landlord’s house and I never see any of them use the toilet. Apparently, the reason for this is that Malawians don’t like it when other people know they are defecating. This drives the locals to do two things that I find silly; one is to stealthily use the facilities by cover of darkness, and the other is to cop a squat in the cornfields. The fields do need to be fertilized, but I can approve of untreated waste being dumped in the open when cholera is a major concern here.
3. How incredibly objectified I feel in this country! Being a male who grew up in the United States, I successfully avoided being thought of as an emotional object. However the Malawians have cut me down to size. My landlord, who is 70 years old and studied agriculture at the University of Massachusetts, tells me that when he was a little boy in Southern Rhodesia (present day Zimbabwe) white people weren’t considered people. White people weren’t “anthu=people” because we had no souls! When little children see me, they scream, “Give me money!” (Makes me question the merits of international aid programs) The children stare at me, which is “normal”, but then they also follow me. That makes sense too, cause they really have nothing to do, no toys to play with, and no place to go to “chill”. What makes me feel dehumanized is when I tell them in their own language not to follow me, they repeat what I say, laugh, and continue to follow me. The adults also laugh at me when I do normal things that the Malawians do. I’m very accustomed to being stared at, with and without gaping mouths. But when I’m treated like that it makes me feel as if they don’t recognize I have feelings- a soul if you will.
4. The jealousy of the Malawians in their society. My village is more or less all extended family. But they are very jealous of each other and covet many material possessions of the other villagers. It causes them to be very cruel to each other. A very common occurrence is for villagers that plant trees, especially fruit trees, to have them uprooted. Or another more anecdotal example was when a pastor told me how higher leaders of his church wouldn’t help facilitate the creation of a pen pal system for Malawians and members of the church abroad. He said they didn’t want other people to learn to speak English well. These things don’t make sense to me. Why not steal the fruit of your uncle’s trees? Why hold down poor children who just want to learn? It appears to work as follows; in a society where everyone is living in abject poverty even the smallest bit of property or knowledge can be used to make an individual feel superior. The result is that no advancement in their world is ever made. They have a very strange culture of jealousy, whose ugly head is only starting to be reared.
Hmm, that all does seem a little bit negative. Let’s see if I can think of something happy to write about.
Oh here is just something that I have been musing about that makes me laugh. I’ve been walking around meeting the locals and whenever I go about they always give me peanuts. So, I’ve always got peanuts to eat and that is a good source of protein. I’m really thankful for the food type things I’ve got going on for me here.
I get so excited now whenever I go into town and just drink a Coca Cola or have a bag of salt and vinegar chips. I never knew how awesome processed foods were until I started a diet that involves pretty much zero processed foods. The guilt factor of shoving handfuls of lays potato chips in my mouth is gone! And I found this macadamia nut honey that is amazing! And there is this farm, Mchenga, they produce real milk that is so rich I can’t help but buy at least a liter each time I go to town and chug it on the spot. I never knew the luxury of having such a varied nutritious diet. Nor did I ever really appreciate eating three sumptuous meals a day. Many people eat just one meal a day in my community and it consists of just corn mush. Very, very sad.
Anyway, I’m Ok. Things are moving. I’ll report in later. Love ya’ll!
Monday, May 10, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, April 26, 2010
My first post in Malawi!
Dear family, friends, and adoring fans around the world, this is my first post of substance from Malawi. I’ve journeyed from the beautiful shores of my homeland, to the frigid land of my forefathers (Pennsylvania), to venture to a place no Engelman has ever gone before - Malawi. My goal is to bring ya’ll up to speed on what’s been going on this side of the equator. However, please excuse this missive if you find it a tad bit mechanical or sterile. The amount and variation in the emotions, misadventures, and new experiences I’ve had is too much to relay succinctly. Hopefully in the future I’ll be able to post regularly and provide detailed accounts of my activities that are informative and not so stiff.
Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? I left home on a red-eye flight on the evening of March 25, 2010 heading to Philadelphia to begin my odyssey into the unknown. The brief orientation held on the east coast was redundant and unnecessary. There was nothing said that hasn’t been repeated a million times since we arrived in Malawi. But it was the place I met my fellow trainees, ate an authentic Philly Cheese-Stake sandwich, and ate one last authentic Chinese meal in a Chinatown.
The bus from Philly to New York was far too early and the plane ride from New York was long and uneventful. But at the Johannesburg airport I bumped into a crew of Chinese people, and my suspicion about the creeping presence of the Chinese in Africa was confirmed. The flight from J-burg to Lilongwe was short and when we arrived there was a throng of Peace Corps volunteers yelling, “Peace Corps!” They were extremely enthusiastic, perhaps a little bit too much so. All of us trainees were tired and disoriented; to hit this mass of people was a bit shocking. My friend and comrade in arms, Ben Nebo, was there to greet me and it made my day. After brief introductions, we were whisked away to the Malawi College of Forestry and Wildlife.
The college was our home base for training. The first week in country we spent at the college getting vaccinations and introductions to the schedule for training. The dorm style living arrangement set the summer camp tone that would carry through till the end of training. Everyone was having a great time getting to know each other and trying to figure out what brought them to be in Malawi as Peace Corps trainees. Our new group of environment volunteers has young, energetic, positive agents of change from all over the US. It is extremely novel for me to meet people from all over the states and hear their stories. We are fairly diverse in almost all aspects except ethnicity, and it makes for a stimulating environment. But it was our similarities that brought us here. Together we hiked the hill behind the college and enjoyed the beautiful greenery of the landscape that is characteristic of the rainy season. Flora and fauna were a common point of interest, all of it new and fascinating as if we’d landed on an alien planet. The diversity on this Earth never ceases to amaze me.
After that initial week we began our home stay adventure, returning to the college every Thursday to have group sessions. The twenty-one of us were divided ten and eleven to two villages - I was amongst the ten in Mzengereza. I stayed at the home of the Chingualu family. Their compound was home to an extended family of eleven people: Grandpa, Grandma, my host Mom-Emily (26), my host Dad-Paul (30), Emily’s sister-Loveness (20), Emily and Paul’s kids- Masautso (boy, age 12), Gibson (10), Priscilla (8), Gloria (2), and Loveness’ kids Ellen (3), and Kevin (1). They have a compound with two parts, the family of the Emily and Paul in one part and then Grandma and Grandpa with Loveness and her kids in another. All the buildings were fired bricks with mud mortar, except for the kitchen that was a separate dried grass hut. Some roofs were made of tin sheets and others had straw with a layer of plastic. The floors were all smeared clay. The roof beams were raw, stripped tree branches or tree trunks. None of the houses in the village had electricity or running water. To get drinking water we had to walk about 800m to a borehole. They lived a pretty austere life, with a thin margin between them and the edge of survival.
Despite their lack of material wealth they were very nice and respectful. Emily barred with my inability to accurately communicate. The boys helped me out with my various projects around the house. The whole family was very helpful in showing me what life is like for Malawians. My only complaint was the constant screaming at the house. Since there were three little kids they could take turns to cover all my waking hours. I woke up to the sound of roosters and screaming kids, ate lunch to the ambient wailing, and drifted off to sleep with a baby wailing away. I was fairly burnt out by the end of my five weeks at their house. But as rough as I’d like to pretend it was staying at there home, the life they lived was infinitely more arduous.
Everyday the women woke up early to sweep the yards, fetch water, and start preparing breakfast. Soon after the men would rise to work in their fields all day. The children would infrequently go to an elementary school that was located 8 or 9 kilometers away. During the day the women did all different kinds of domestic work along with the children. They peeled beans, pried kernels of corn from the cob, and took the corn to the mill to make flour. This labor was all done by hand, all the physical labor makes Malawians tough. Feet that had rarely known the comfort of shoes were thick as leather and hands without gloves became as calloused as their feet. Our most basic of comforts and necessities were out of reach for them.
Education, healthcare, transportation, and nutrition are all on levels that Americans can’t even comprehend. Only primary school is free and mandatory, but the reality is that few even complete that. Schools might not be near rural communities and there is no way to enforce attendance policies. Harvest time pulls all the children to the fields and schooling is neglected even more. Clinics are free in Malawi, but they are staffed by individuals with a high school diploma and eight-weeks of medical training. There is a constant shortage of medication and they are often far away. Dirt roads, that can be seasonally impassable, will prevent all vehicles from taking passengers to where they’d like to go. This also limits the exchange of goods; people eat what is grown locally and are at the mercy of the seasons. In America, we can eat anything anytime. I never realized what a luxury having a choice in what I eat is. A common Malawian meal consists of corn flour paddies, Nsima, and a small amount of some vegetable side dish. Meat is eaten infrequently and most of it will go to the men in the household. I’m glossing over a lot of details, but basically the point is we got it pretty good in America. It gives me a stronger desire to help these people and work hard during training to learn as much as I can.
The instruction we’ve received can be divided into two parts, technical and language with culture. The technical trainers are forestry extension officers who’ve taught us about all sorts of things: gardening, composting, tree planting, bee keeping, candle making, HIV/AIDS in Malawi, mud stove making, income generating activities, and even how to slaughter a chicken. My Chichewa language teachers were Chrissy and Agatha. I spent most my time studying with Agatha and think she is an excellent educator. Class was organic and grew from our questions, interests, and problems. Because one of my classmates had serious bowel issues we thus ended up learning all sorts of potty vocabulary. He would fart, we’d evacuate the classroom, and we’d learn how to say, “Don’t fart in class!” Whenever we’d come across some kind of slightly embarrassing subject Agatha would hide her face behind the chalkboard. She was also very open-minded and we had some good discussions about Judaism and homosexuality in this conservative Christian nation. And now, for the edification of my friends who love languages, a note on Chichewa.
There are a countless number of different Bantu languages in Malawi alone, not to mention in Africa. The one I have been learning is called Chichewa, language of the Chewa people. It is completely different than any language I am familiar with. Verbs are the crux of each sentence and everything is built with them or off them. The language only has seven true adjectives, the rest are derived from conjugating verbs (EX: kukongola- to be beautiful, kokongola-beautiful). Adverbs are also either made by conjugating verbs or nouns (EX: kuchedwa- to be slow, mochedwa-slowly; Chisoni-sadness, mwachisoni-sadly). Many nouns are derived from verbs as well (EX: kuvala-to wear, zovala-clothes). Verbs are the glue that holds sentences together and all other information is structured around the verb. The subject, object, tense, and other information can be tacked onto a verb with different suffixes and infixes (EX: Munandithandize- You should have help me, the root verb being kuthandiza-to help). Another interesting, yet perplexing, linguistic phenomena is noun classes. Nouns are classified and the class of the noun will affect the conjugation of just about everything in the sentence. Noun classes don’t have a straight- forward organization, some are by sound, some are by parts of speech, and some are occupations. Most have a singular and plural form of the noun, but some only have one form that acts as both (EX: chala-finger, zala-fingers, mbuzi-goat, mbuzi-goats). The starting consonant of the verbs, adj, possessives and numerals all change to match the noun class they are discussing (Ex: chitenje changa chimodzi chokongola chili ku nyumba yanga –My one beautiful wrap-skirt is at my house, the nouns are chitenje - wrap-skirt and nyumba - house; or zitenje zanga ziwiri zokongola zili ku nyumba yanga –My two beautiful wrap-skirts are at my house). And even the class, whose nouns don’t distinguish plural and singular will identify the nouns as plural through changing the consonants of the other parts of the sentence. It is difficult for me to understand, but I’m learning. Chichewa is a common language in Malawi, but it is only one of many.
Malawi is a country of many different tribes, the main ones are the Chewa, Tumbuka, Yao and Ngoni. The Chewa are the largest tribe in the country and were the earliest Bantu tribe to move to this part of Africa. They wipeout the pigmy people who lived here before, but the pigmies influence can still be seen in the short height of the people and the Chewa’s symbol of bow and arrow which they learned from the pigmies. The Tumbuka are a tribe concentrated in the North of the country and are a close relative of the Chewa. The Yao are a Muslim tribe that came from Mozambique with the slave trade. The Ngoni are related to the Zulu’s of South Africa and left their homeland around the time of King Shaka and conquered territory going north. It is common for the Chiefs of villages to be Ngoni, though most the inhabitants are not. Interestingly enough, very few can speak the Ngoni language and yet they retain a tribal identity with certain cultural practices, such as dances. Despite the retention of tribal identity and culture, foreign religions are more prevalent than indigenous ones.
The majority of Malawians are religious Christians. Every Sunday the churches are filled with people praying. I went to services a couple times and I found it fairly interesting. Worship was conducted in Chichewa, but the general format seemed to be similar to that of protestant churches in the states. One of the major differences was the soulful choral prayer. With no accompaniment these guys belted out harmonies that resonate with the soul. My family also prayed before every meal and all public meetings begin and end with prayer. People are definitely very religious in Malawi.
In addition to Christianity, Islam also has a strong following in Malawi. Arab slave traders introduced the Yao, who are a Bantu African tribe, to Islam. As the slave trade pushed into the interior of the African continent the Yao moved from Mozambique and settled around Lake Malawi. After becoming a British Protectorate, many Muslims from the Indian Subcontinent started to immigrate to Malawi, now there are many Pakistani’s here. When driving along the paved roads there are many madrassas, Islamic parochial schools. Both Christianity and Islam are very visible in Malawi, but there are other beliefs in the unknown that are subtler.
Malawians are really superstitious and believe in witchcraft. They talk about witchcraft planes, stealing money with magic, influencing people with spells, stealing bones from people, criminals changing into animals to escape being caught and just about anything they can’t explain is attributed to witchcraft. The targets of these outlandish accusations are generally widows and social outcasts, similar circumstances to those of Europe in times gone by. Occasionally mobs will do physical harm to the accused, it is crazy. It seems so obviously ridiculous when I see these outlandish statements in the newspaper or hear them on the radio, but it is something people really believe in. Witchcraft is probably the most widespread local belief, but it certainly isn’t the only surviving one.
The Chewa tribe has a native religion called Gule Wamkulu. It is more of a secret society mixed with witchcraft where members dress up in costumes, wear masks, and do dances. The dances are done in graveyards (a place that no one goes) for the members only and sometimes in public for displays. Each dance and costume has a special meaning and they tell different kinds of stories. Sometimes the local Gule Wamkulu elders tell people to wear their costumes and run around their village for a day. They are said to be plentiful in the months of June, July, and August. I am told that I will be living in an area where the Gule Wamkulu are particularly active, so maybe I’ll learn more. In general, I’m learning a lot about the different beliefs and customs of the people here in Malawi.
I’ll quickly relate some of the more interesting cultural habits I’ve picked up on. There is a Chichewa phrase that goes “love is in the hands”, so people always want to shake hands. People insist on stopping and greeting each other on the way to wherever they are going. They also put the left hand on the right elbow when they shake hands to make it visible. The Ngoni used to hide knives behind their backs and stab the locals when falsely making treatises. Malawians and Americans have a different standard of what is erogenous and what is not. Women breast feed their babies in public all the time and don’t even attempt to conceal their breasts. They where very loose shirts and sometimes forget to put their breasts away after feeding. But women must cover their legs. And the last thing I’d like to relate is how bizarre the Malawian concept of homosexuality is. It is illegal to be a homosexual in Malawi but the funny thing is that Malawians don’t bat an eye to many things that set off the Gay-dar’s of Americans. Men holding hands, walking together is a sign of closeness, but doesn’t have a sexual connotation. And when dancing, the sexes dance separately, and the men do some very exotic movements up close and personal. Lots of hips thrusting, movements that seemed very suggestive, and other movements that would make most American men feel very uncomfortable.
Ok I have a ton more to say, but not enough time to say it in! So you’re gonna have to settle for this preliminary post and wait for more. I’ll be swearing in as an official volunteer and reading a speech in Chichewa in front of the ambassador on Wednesday. And I’m going to be moving to my site on the border of Dowa, Salima, and Lilongwe districts, next to the Thuma forest reserve on Thursday. I’ll have plenty of stuff to talk about. Take Care all!
Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? I left home on a red-eye flight on the evening of March 25, 2010 heading to Philadelphia to begin my odyssey into the unknown. The brief orientation held on the east coast was redundant and unnecessary. There was nothing said that hasn’t been repeated a million times since we arrived in Malawi. But it was the place I met my fellow trainees, ate an authentic Philly Cheese-Stake sandwich, and ate one last authentic Chinese meal in a Chinatown.
The bus from Philly to New York was far too early and the plane ride from New York was long and uneventful. But at the Johannesburg airport I bumped into a crew of Chinese people, and my suspicion about the creeping presence of the Chinese in Africa was confirmed. The flight from J-burg to Lilongwe was short and when we arrived there was a throng of Peace Corps volunteers yelling, “Peace Corps!” They were extremely enthusiastic, perhaps a little bit too much so. All of us trainees were tired and disoriented; to hit this mass of people was a bit shocking. My friend and comrade in arms, Ben Nebo, was there to greet me and it made my day. After brief introductions, we were whisked away to the Malawi College of Forestry and Wildlife.
The college was our home base for training. The first week in country we spent at the college getting vaccinations and introductions to the schedule for training. The dorm style living arrangement set the summer camp tone that would carry through till the end of training. Everyone was having a great time getting to know each other and trying to figure out what brought them to be in Malawi as Peace Corps trainees. Our new group of environment volunteers has young, energetic, positive agents of change from all over the US. It is extremely novel for me to meet people from all over the states and hear their stories. We are fairly diverse in almost all aspects except ethnicity, and it makes for a stimulating environment. But it was our similarities that brought us here. Together we hiked the hill behind the college and enjoyed the beautiful greenery of the landscape that is characteristic of the rainy season. Flora and fauna were a common point of interest, all of it new and fascinating as if we’d landed on an alien planet. The diversity on this Earth never ceases to amaze me.
After that initial week we began our home stay adventure, returning to the college every Thursday to have group sessions. The twenty-one of us were divided ten and eleven to two villages - I was amongst the ten in Mzengereza. I stayed at the home of the Chingualu family. Their compound was home to an extended family of eleven people: Grandpa, Grandma, my host Mom-Emily (26), my host Dad-Paul (30), Emily’s sister-Loveness (20), Emily and Paul’s kids- Masautso (boy, age 12), Gibson (10), Priscilla (8), Gloria (2), and Loveness’ kids Ellen (3), and Kevin (1). They have a compound with two parts, the family of the Emily and Paul in one part and then Grandma and Grandpa with Loveness and her kids in another. All the buildings were fired bricks with mud mortar, except for the kitchen that was a separate dried grass hut. Some roofs were made of tin sheets and others had straw with a layer of plastic. The floors were all smeared clay. The roof beams were raw, stripped tree branches or tree trunks. None of the houses in the village had electricity or running water. To get drinking water we had to walk about 800m to a borehole. They lived a pretty austere life, with a thin margin between them and the edge of survival.
Despite their lack of material wealth they were very nice and respectful. Emily barred with my inability to accurately communicate. The boys helped me out with my various projects around the house. The whole family was very helpful in showing me what life is like for Malawians. My only complaint was the constant screaming at the house. Since there were three little kids they could take turns to cover all my waking hours. I woke up to the sound of roosters and screaming kids, ate lunch to the ambient wailing, and drifted off to sleep with a baby wailing away. I was fairly burnt out by the end of my five weeks at their house. But as rough as I’d like to pretend it was staying at there home, the life they lived was infinitely more arduous.
Everyday the women woke up early to sweep the yards, fetch water, and start preparing breakfast. Soon after the men would rise to work in their fields all day. The children would infrequently go to an elementary school that was located 8 or 9 kilometers away. During the day the women did all different kinds of domestic work along with the children. They peeled beans, pried kernels of corn from the cob, and took the corn to the mill to make flour. This labor was all done by hand, all the physical labor makes Malawians tough. Feet that had rarely known the comfort of shoes were thick as leather and hands without gloves became as calloused as their feet. Our most basic of comforts and necessities were out of reach for them.
Education, healthcare, transportation, and nutrition are all on levels that Americans can’t even comprehend. Only primary school is free and mandatory, but the reality is that few even complete that. Schools might not be near rural communities and there is no way to enforce attendance policies. Harvest time pulls all the children to the fields and schooling is neglected even more. Clinics are free in Malawi, but they are staffed by individuals with a high school diploma and eight-weeks of medical training. There is a constant shortage of medication and they are often far away. Dirt roads, that can be seasonally impassable, will prevent all vehicles from taking passengers to where they’d like to go. This also limits the exchange of goods; people eat what is grown locally and are at the mercy of the seasons. In America, we can eat anything anytime. I never realized what a luxury having a choice in what I eat is. A common Malawian meal consists of corn flour paddies, Nsima, and a small amount of some vegetable side dish. Meat is eaten infrequently and most of it will go to the men in the household. I’m glossing over a lot of details, but basically the point is we got it pretty good in America. It gives me a stronger desire to help these people and work hard during training to learn as much as I can.
The instruction we’ve received can be divided into two parts, technical and language with culture. The technical trainers are forestry extension officers who’ve taught us about all sorts of things: gardening, composting, tree planting, bee keeping, candle making, HIV/AIDS in Malawi, mud stove making, income generating activities, and even how to slaughter a chicken. My Chichewa language teachers were Chrissy and Agatha. I spent most my time studying with Agatha and think she is an excellent educator. Class was organic and grew from our questions, interests, and problems. Because one of my classmates had serious bowel issues we thus ended up learning all sorts of potty vocabulary. He would fart, we’d evacuate the classroom, and we’d learn how to say, “Don’t fart in class!” Whenever we’d come across some kind of slightly embarrassing subject Agatha would hide her face behind the chalkboard. She was also very open-minded and we had some good discussions about Judaism and homosexuality in this conservative Christian nation. And now, for the edification of my friends who love languages, a note on Chichewa.
There are a countless number of different Bantu languages in Malawi alone, not to mention in Africa. The one I have been learning is called Chichewa, language of the Chewa people. It is completely different than any language I am familiar with. Verbs are the crux of each sentence and everything is built with them or off them. The language only has seven true adjectives, the rest are derived from conjugating verbs (EX: kukongola- to be beautiful, kokongola-beautiful). Adverbs are also either made by conjugating verbs or nouns (EX: kuchedwa- to be slow, mochedwa-slowly; Chisoni-sadness, mwachisoni-sadly). Many nouns are derived from verbs as well (EX: kuvala-to wear, zovala-clothes). Verbs are the glue that holds sentences together and all other information is structured around the verb. The subject, object, tense, and other information can be tacked onto a verb with different suffixes and infixes (EX: Munandithandize- You should have help me, the root verb being kuthandiza-to help). Another interesting, yet perplexing, linguistic phenomena is noun classes. Nouns are classified and the class of the noun will affect the conjugation of just about everything in the sentence. Noun classes don’t have a straight- forward organization, some are by sound, some are by parts of speech, and some are occupations. Most have a singular and plural form of the noun, but some only have one form that acts as both (EX: chala-finger, zala-fingers, mbuzi-goat, mbuzi-goats). The starting consonant of the verbs, adj, possessives and numerals all change to match the noun class they are discussing (Ex: chitenje changa chimodzi chokongola chili ku nyumba yanga –My one beautiful wrap-skirt is at my house, the nouns are chitenje - wrap-skirt and nyumba - house; or zitenje zanga ziwiri zokongola zili ku nyumba yanga –My two beautiful wrap-skirts are at my house). And even the class, whose nouns don’t distinguish plural and singular will identify the nouns as plural through changing the consonants of the other parts of the sentence. It is difficult for me to understand, but I’m learning. Chichewa is a common language in Malawi, but it is only one of many.
Malawi is a country of many different tribes, the main ones are the Chewa, Tumbuka, Yao and Ngoni. The Chewa are the largest tribe in the country and were the earliest Bantu tribe to move to this part of Africa. They wipeout the pigmy people who lived here before, but the pigmies influence can still be seen in the short height of the people and the Chewa’s symbol of bow and arrow which they learned from the pigmies. The Tumbuka are a tribe concentrated in the North of the country and are a close relative of the Chewa. The Yao are a Muslim tribe that came from Mozambique with the slave trade. The Ngoni are related to the Zulu’s of South Africa and left their homeland around the time of King Shaka and conquered territory going north. It is common for the Chiefs of villages to be Ngoni, though most the inhabitants are not. Interestingly enough, very few can speak the Ngoni language and yet they retain a tribal identity with certain cultural practices, such as dances. Despite the retention of tribal identity and culture, foreign religions are more prevalent than indigenous ones.
The majority of Malawians are religious Christians. Every Sunday the churches are filled with people praying. I went to services a couple times and I found it fairly interesting. Worship was conducted in Chichewa, but the general format seemed to be similar to that of protestant churches in the states. One of the major differences was the soulful choral prayer. With no accompaniment these guys belted out harmonies that resonate with the soul. My family also prayed before every meal and all public meetings begin and end with prayer. People are definitely very religious in Malawi.
In addition to Christianity, Islam also has a strong following in Malawi. Arab slave traders introduced the Yao, who are a Bantu African tribe, to Islam. As the slave trade pushed into the interior of the African continent the Yao moved from Mozambique and settled around Lake Malawi. After becoming a British Protectorate, many Muslims from the Indian Subcontinent started to immigrate to Malawi, now there are many Pakistani’s here. When driving along the paved roads there are many madrassas, Islamic parochial schools. Both Christianity and Islam are very visible in Malawi, but there are other beliefs in the unknown that are subtler.
Malawians are really superstitious and believe in witchcraft. They talk about witchcraft planes, stealing money with magic, influencing people with spells, stealing bones from people, criminals changing into animals to escape being caught and just about anything they can’t explain is attributed to witchcraft. The targets of these outlandish accusations are generally widows and social outcasts, similar circumstances to those of Europe in times gone by. Occasionally mobs will do physical harm to the accused, it is crazy. It seems so obviously ridiculous when I see these outlandish statements in the newspaper or hear them on the radio, but it is something people really believe in. Witchcraft is probably the most widespread local belief, but it certainly isn’t the only surviving one.
The Chewa tribe has a native religion called Gule Wamkulu. It is more of a secret society mixed with witchcraft where members dress up in costumes, wear masks, and do dances. The dances are done in graveyards (a place that no one goes) for the members only and sometimes in public for displays. Each dance and costume has a special meaning and they tell different kinds of stories. Sometimes the local Gule Wamkulu elders tell people to wear their costumes and run around their village for a day. They are said to be plentiful in the months of June, July, and August. I am told that I will be living in an area where the Gule Wamkulu are particularly active, so maybe I’ll learn more. In general, I’m learning a lot about the different beliefs and customs of the people here in Malawi.
I’ll quickly relate some of the more interesting cultural habits I’ve picked up on. There is a Chichewa phrase that goes “love is in the hands”, so people always want to shake hands. People insist on stopping and greeting each other on the way to wherever they are going. They also put the left hand on the right elbow when they shake hands to make it visible. The Ngoni used to hide knives behind their backs and stab the locals when falsely making treatises. Malawians and Americans have a different standard of what is erogenous and what is not. Women breast feed their babies in public all the time and don’t even attempt to conceal their breasts. They where very loose shirts and sometimes forget to put their breasts away after feeding. But women must cover their legs. And the last thing I’d like to relate is how bizarre the Malawian concept of homosexuality is. It is illegal to be a homosexual in Malawi but the funny thing is that Malawians don’t bat an eye to many things that set off the Gay-dar’s of Americans. Men holding hands, walking together is a sign of closeness, but doesn’t have a sexual connotation. And when dancing, the sexes dance separately, and the men do some very exotic movements up close and personal. Lots of hips thrusting, movements that seemed very suggestive, and other movements that would make most American men feel very uncomfortable.
Ok I have a ton more to say, but not enough time to say it in! So you’re gonna have to settle for this preliminary post and wait for more. I’ll be swearing in as an official volunteer and reading a speech in Chichewa in front of the ambassador on Wednesday. And I’m going to be moving to my site on the border of Dowa, Salima, and Lilongwe districts, next to the Thuma forest reserve on Thursday. I’ll have plenty of stuff to talk about. Take Care all!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
I am alive and well in Malawi! Things are awesome and I have a ton to say, but no time to saty it! I am going to my site today in the district of Salima, in Chilombo village on the north side of the Thuma/Tuma Forest Reserve. I have a new cell phone tower near me and thus good cell phone reception. My phone number is 0991950404. Call mE!!!!!!!! I love you all and now I'm going back out into the world of madness! I will try to post stuff soon!
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