Final Post (probably)!

So, here I am, still in Lilongwe, but almost done.  The placement is all over, the workshop completed.  I've been interviewed for radio, and listened back to myself (slightly less cringe worthy than I expected but still very odd).  I've travelled almost certainly more than most Malawians ever will and completely fallen in love with Malawi.  OK, so 4 months is hardly long enough to really know a place, and I am ashamed at how little Chichewa I've learned.  There have been quite a few frustrations and I will never get used to those children who on seeing me, or any other white person, hold out their hands and say, quite simply “give me money”.  But that is learned behaviour; too many white people before me have done just that.

Pat arrives tomorrow, no doubt completely exhausted after working way too hard whilst I have been here.  On Saturday we leave for a 10 day tour of Central/Northern Malawi.  There is so much to see here I struggled to decide where to take him.  In 10 days we can’t do it justice.  In the end the beauty of the Lake heading North from here won over the more commercialised (by Malawi standards) Southern Lakeshore.  I toyed with safari and was sorely tempted to head for Mulanje and climb Malawi’s highest mountain, but we will have to come back for that.  I was also tempted by Zambia and the highly acclaimed South Luangwa, even Vic Falls, but all that will have to wait.

We are starting with the wonderful Cool Runnings and the exceptional Samantha – she runs her business in order to make money for community projects and is a complete inspiration.  Her spot on the Lake in Senga Bay was my first glimpse of the Lake and where I really began to see what can be done with a lot of determination and selflessness. 

Then on to the wilderness of Tongole in Nkhotakota for our bit of real luxury – still Eco, of course – then more Lake further North and hopefully Livingstonia, if the weather allows.  The rains have begun.  There was a huge electric storm on Monday which brought down quite a few trees in the centre of town, yesterday was the first day I have felt cool for weeks.  Today we have returned to blue skies, but Livingstonia is only really accessible in a car rather than a 4x4 if it is dry, and in any case, my main reason for going are the breath-taking views on clear days.

Looking back, what are my lasting images?  Lots of laughter, some great friends on and outside my compound, the inspirational people I have met, the different perspective I hope I will carry with me in my life back home.  The wonderful welcome Malawians offer, the lovely, lovely Lake and its many different faces. Nyika, Liwonde, the Zomba plateau, …  I could go on, and on.

I have missed all the people I love back home, and am very much looking forward to seeing everyone, although I'm not looking forward to being cold again!  But I know I will really miss this place, it has definitely got to me!

I would love to come back and very much hope I will.

See you all soon!!!

Long time, no post

Ok, I know I've been useless lately!  So much to do, you see.  But as I am waiting for the storm to subside (yes I did say storm, a novelty - it has rained twice today!) I thought I would quickly let you all know I'm still alive.

So since the fabulous holiday with Vera and Jackie I've been working very hard.  The end of my placement is fast approaching and I have a lot of analysis and writing to do.  Apart from that, I have made probably my last long research trip.  This time I visited Nkharta Bay (because you can't come to Malawi and not go there), Chintheche, Nyika and Luwawa.  All stunning in their own rights.  Nkharta Bay has the reputation of being the backpackers mecca here, maybe I missed that bit of it, what I saw was a different aspect to the Lake - relatively little beach but beautifully clear water and a livelier atmosphere than elsewhere.  It was midweek so maybe the weekend vibe is different.  I expected not to like it, just because so many people I know don't have much love for it, but I loved it!  Though I admit the more I stay here, the more I fall in love with the country, so maybe I'm just wearing rose coloured specs now?!!

Chintheche was different again - the most stunning white beach and crystal clear warm water (even at 7 am, I know I was in there!)  The hotel was pristine, though pretty empty and as a result it all felt a bit too quiet.  It's definitely a couples place.  Watch out Pat, it is on the potentials list!  There is some excellent afforestation work going on up there, including with a deaf school, one of only 6 in the country, which is very few considering the major cause of deafness is Cerebral Malaria that's very prevalent here.  The school amazingly had links with Cardiff and the headmaster spent a couple of weeks there last year - he couldn't get over the amount of tea and cake that came his way at all times of day!  Rather incomprehensibly from my British perspective, he was sick of potatoes and couldn’t wait to get back to a plate of Nsima!

Then the trip to Nyika began. I knew the road was difficult, but I had no idea how long that difficult bit was.  I was expecting the last 16km to be rough - not the last 120 km or so!  I have never felt so absolutely filthy in my life.  The dust gets everywhere.  Nyika is known as little Scotland and it is easy to see why.  It has a unique and completely contrasting landscape to the rest of the country - rolling hills, pine tree plantations, a dam, thick indigenous forest, orchids (in season, of course – although they are increasingly targeted for sale for culinary purposes) some wildlife, although not as much as there should be - the same old subsistence poaching story.  It's higher up and much colder than elsewhere - but the roaring fire in the old forestry cottage sorted that out.  The generator gets switched off at 9pm, I was still in the restaurant, when they told me at 5 to 9 to get moving back up the hill through the forest to the chalet quickly, before the whole place was plunged into darkness!  

The Parks and Wildlife guy who accompanied me was another inspirational character - full of knowledge, ideas and plans.  Thank you Charles - you made it a fascinating trip.

Then on to Luwawa - run by an inspirational Yorkshireman!  Not that I am in the slightest bit biased!  Certainly a place I want to go back to - tucked into the forest, more log fires and yet another vegetable curry (I seem to eat an awful lot of those as cooks here struggle with this strange vegetarianism thing).

Since then it really had been head down time.  I’ve so much more to do and only 3 weeks left.  I can’t believe it has gone so quickly – at the beginning 4 months felt like forever.  I’m having a sneaky night off tonight and going to volleyball – not that I can play but its fun and I need a night off the keyboard.

Just one interesting incident I’d forgotten until I looked at the photos.  Driving along we came across an overturned lorry, not only did it block the entire road, but a local beer lorry had tried to drive around the edge and had become stuck, precariously balanced over a steep bank.  The tiny tractor that had tried to drag that out was stuck in the dirt too.  There were about 100 people there by the time we arrived, with one policeman who, as far as I could tell, did nothing and spoke to no-one.  The stranded road users found axe and hoes and proceeded to chop down a tree, cut into the bank and fill the dip with as many rocks and stones as people could find to make it level enough to drive around the obstacles.  The whole thing took about 2 hours, and then they promptly and deservedly charged each passing vehicle 200 kwacha to pay the guys for all their hard work.  Needs must of course, as no emergency vehicle is going to turn up here to clear the road – though I wonder if that truck is still there!

Just one or two photos of all these places.  Facebook friends – I apologise for the repetition.  In order they are - Nkharta Bay, deaf children enjoying their Nsima and beans, Chintheche beach (the view from my room!), Nyika landscape, the overturned lorry and the dining room at Luwawa Forest Lodge!

Bye for now.

Holiday

Short and sweet post this time round.

Had a fabulous holiday last week in Senga Bay, Cape Maclear, Liwonde and Zomba - a bit of lake, a lot of elephants, crocodiles and hippos, some stunning mountain scenery and a lot of laughter.  A huge thank you to Vera and Jackie for coming all the way out here to see me and for making the holiday so much fun.  We may not have the right shape bottoms, but we know how to laugh! (Private joke, sorry)

Just a few photos to complete the picture - look carefully to see the baby elephant with his mum!

Paramount Importance

Political power is decentralised here , operating through District Assemblies, although not all Ministries have been devolved.  Tourism is one such function.   On a personal level, this further complicates my task in terms of recommendations on the development of Eco-Tourism.  From their perspective, a snapshot of the impact of this includes Tourism officers across the regions who have no funds to implement their plans, District Assemblies who feel they lack the necessary mandate to act and operators in the North who feel national marketing efforts overlook their beautiful regions and focus unfairly on the South.  Alongside the workings of Government, national and local, there is another deeply entrenched and powerful structure of enormous influence, although unlike MPs and shortly local councillors, they have no vote in local government.

This is the traditional, culturally led system that includes Chiefs, Group Village Headmen and Traditional Authorities right up to district level Paramount Chiefs.  Yesterday, thanks to the District Commissioner and his desire to work hand in hand with traditional powers, I had the honour and privilege of meeting the Paramount Chief of Karonga District.

We were told to arrive at 10 am – the Paramount Chief lives in his own house about 15 minutes’ drive from the centre of town, although there are currently discussions on the possibility of providing an official residence for the post.  The tall wicker gate was opened as we drove up the dirt track.  A large tree stood opposite the steps leading up to the relatively large house by local standards, but by no means grand or luxurious.  Around the tree stood a circle of slanted bricks, and within that circle of line of non-matching chairs.  4 elderly gentleman, all suited and booted, were waiting for us.  We shook hands, exchanged greetings and were asked to sit and wait.  It was whispered to me that as soon as the Chief appeared I should stand.

As we sat I noticed a pair of high heeled silver sandals at the foot of the steps to the house.  A women later appeared from the back of the house, bowed a greeting to the waiting circle, retrieved her shoes and rode out of the compound on her bicycle.  Minutes later, we were told to go in.  I entered the house first, and saw too late that everyone behind me bowed as they entered.  The room was dark, curtains drawn, black settees on 3 sides and dark wood furniture.  I almost didn’t see the Paramount Chief sitting at the far end of the room in front of the TV.  He was wearing a black shirt, black trousers and black shoes.  Fortunately his shock of grey white hair caught my eye.  I later learned this chief had spent years in exile after a disagreement with the previous president, though I still haven’t uncovered what the disagreement was about.

The meeting was very formal.  I introduced myself and was told to introduce the Tourism officer accompanying me.  It was at that point I realised I only knew his first name!  The poor guy was then immediately subjected to sharp and direct questions about what he personally had done for tourism in Karonga.  Questions he of course could not answer as Tourism is not a devolved function.  Three of his advisers sat at the back of the room throughout our meeting.

I was told when I could record our interview and that he would not be answering any questions of mine, but very much expected answers from me.  He did, however, warm up and enter into a conversation about the sites of historical or cultural interest within his District.  Karonga has a rich history, aside the 2.5 million year old jaw bone of what is now called Malawi man found at Malema camp, the Malawisaurus dinosaur skeleton, the fossils and the museum (a rarity in Malawi), Karonga also saw the only first world war battle in Malawi, there are commonwealth war graves, Massacre hill where Mlozi a notorious slave trader killed 1,100 people in one single day, early missionary history and sacred sites.  Our discussion about the sacred site where paramount chiefs hold their investiture ceremonies and visit at night to consult their ancestors will stay with me for a long time.

On the one hand, it was clear the Paramount Chief welcomed my visit, sees the potential benefit to his people of eco-tourism and is keen to encourage it.  However, it was also clear that this development sits entirely on my shoulders.  The conversation veered between driving civic education to raise awareness of key environmental issues, the need for development, protection and support of places of interest, and the abject poverty of his people - sometimes encroaching uncomfortably on how all hinges exclusively on outside help.  I was criticised for not visiting the border and told I also needed to understand by seeing for myself the development potential of local beaches.  To that end, he had set aside some of his morning to show me the part of the Lake he was referring to.  It was not an invitation I could refuse.  So we were again asked to wait outside whilst he concluded his business of the morning. 

Forty minutes later, he emerged from the house, we all stood, a short conversation with his advisers ensued and he returned to the house.  We sat and did it all again when he emerged a second time a few minutes later.  The Chief and 3 advisers got into his car, we followed, or tried to follow, in ours.  The Chief drove at speed down the dirt tracks and our driver struggled to keep up.  Once at the beach, which was beautiful and completely remote, we walked along with his entourage behind us.  He was more relaxed and chatted a little with a woman washing on the shoreline.  He moved off a few steps, took a brilliant white handkerchief out of his pocket, unwrapped a small wad of notes, and returned to give the woman a little money and shake her child’s hand. 

We parted back at the cars, with his assurance that now he had given his approval for the development of eco-tourism there would be no barriers or challenges.  I could get on with what I am here to do! 

As I climbed into the car, the Tourism Officer was called back by the Chief, “I expect to see you again, with her report.”  No pressure then!

Good old public transport

Boarded the bus from Mzuzu at 6.20 am today, at 7.05 am (dept time is 7 am) the conductor got on and addressed the bus.  I am assuming he asked someone to bless the bus because the woman in front of me sprang out of her seat and began a long, long spontaneous prayer.  The only words I understood were driver, which she said 5 times, clearly a big concern, and the whole way (you get odd phrases in English in the middle of Chechewan sentences).  Prayer over, the entire bus said Amen and we left the depot.

Just before 11 am the bus  stopped.  In the middle of nowhere.  Access to the engine, or at least part of it, is via a large trap door just behind the gear stick.  Our driver half disappeared down the hole, tried a few things causing the bus to splutter, but not start.  He stood, said something else I didn’t understand and half the blokes on the bus filed off into the road.  I asked the man next to me if he could translate what was happening. “He wants us to get off and push” he said and immediately returned his attention to his Blackberry.  A minute later, sure enough we began to move and after the odd bunny hop the engine started.  15 blokes filed back on the bus, no-one said a word, maybe this happens every journey.

The only other thing of note – aside the odd supposedly comic neo-nazi zulu film which ‘entertained’ the passengers in between pop and gospel videos and ads promoting abstinence to help reduce the spread of Aids was my falling down the steps and off the bus, dignity out of the window and I’m now sporting a lovely bruised elbow in exchange!

Livingstonia (from last week)

It’s just after 6 am Wednesday 12th Sept – I am at Lukwe Eco Lodge perched high on the Livingstonia escarpment and I am sitting on the deck on my handmade wooden chalet gazing at what is perhaps the best view in Malawi.  I am surrounded by wooded hills, often a remarkable view of itself in Malawi as deforestation is such a predominant feature of the landscape.  Dotted around the hills are occasional tiny settlements of maybe 4 or 5 local houses.  In the distance, through the morning haze, I can just make out the Lake.  All I can hear are birds and so far I have not seen a single person this morning.   Not a bad start to the day.

Yesterday was an inspiring day, renewing my passion to do the best I possibly can for this placement, after the frustrations of last week.  I was expecting a roller coaster experience of highs and lows, I had not anticipated that the biggest barriers would come from my own programme office, the very people who are supposed to be here to support us volunteers.

I travelled to Mzuzu by ‘deluxe coach’.  About a five and a half hour journey on a packed bus – no chickens or fish on the deluxe version, at least not on the one I got and only as many people as there were seats.  I was very glad to have found a seat very near the back.  It might have been  an uncomfortably bumpy ride, but at least I could not see what was coming towards us!  There was a slightly hairy moment when the local tourism officers who had promised to meet me with a taxi from the bus didn’t arrive for about 40 minutes and during that time darkness fell and the numbers of people on the street dwindled to single figures.  My taxi driver for the next hour, once en route was keen to chat.  He taught me a few words of Timbukan, one of the 6+ languages of the North and happily answered my questions about the changes he’d observed since Joyce came to power and what he hoped for the future.  Of course, I’d forgotten the Timbukan before I got out of the car.

We arrived at Matunka after dark and in a power cut – another early night.  Perhaps this was just as well as the school turned out to be just across the path from my room and the bell rang for prayers at 7am before the start of the school day at 7.30.  Matunka is Christian run, as so many projects are here, but the focus is very definitely on supporting the community and helping them improve their lives and those of their children.  They using income generating activities, such as goats, donkeys, chickens, crafts, bee keeping, bakery, carpentry and, of course, tourism which is why I was there, to support  their social projects.  The school, where 50% of the children are orphans living with their extended families in the surrounding villages and 50% are girls, a clinic which when completed will provide palliative care for local people and a feeding programme for the schoolchildren and as an emergency in times of famine.  Here in the North eco-tourism is not aimed at the super rich, those people tend not to make it this far North because of the condition of the roads (although there are a couple of private airstrips to very upmarket places on the plateau), the majority are over landers in 4x4 here to camp, backpackers or expat volunteers, so luxurious it isn’t but it is clean, the food is pretty good and the people a delight.

From Matunka I spent a very informative couple of hours with the Director of Planning at the District Assembly.  Power is devolved, albeit not completely, to local Government here.  Their challenges are enormous, but so far the Directors of Planning I’ve met have been articulate, very bright and driven individuals. 

After lunch it was on the road to Livingstonia, stopping after about an hour and a half at the cultural museum and basket weave bridge over the South Rukuru river, near Rumphi – provided to allow villagers on either side of the river to cross without danger to get to their agricultural land, to get provisions from the tiny trading area and to access the clinic.  This area in the foothills of the Nyika plateau is home to the Phoko tribe, who speak a slightly different person of Timbukan, with a lot more intonation!  I was the first visitor in September (Sept 11^th) although they get around 40 to 50 visitors a year.  I was greeted by Abel, Treasurer of the CBO (Community Based Organisation) who run the area, look after the tourists and make sure the funds they receive are spent according to community wishes.  The ‘museum’ was tiny – barely enough room for 3 chairs but Abel was determined I should have the full tour – barely pausing for breath, let alone questions – songs of his forefathers in Timbukan, swiftly followed by a second rendition in English.  Then on to the shrines worshiped by the forefathers, including an interesting take on the role of beads in the spread of HIV and Aids and unsurprisingly concluding in an optional opportunity for donations, for which he stepped out of the hut and then returned immediately to scoop up my donation, count it and give me a written receipt.  All very transparent.

I’d seen the basket weave bridge in the guidebook – now I have crossed it!   Given the very wide gaps between the lengthways bamboos in places, Abel’s advice to step only on the cross strands seemed entirely sensible!  I’d probably have preferred to know there were hippos in those waters after I’d left the bridge, but I did ask the question, and at least I didn’t have to worry about the crocodiles!  I have to say Abel looked after me very well, he did not let go of my hand until we were back on terra firma, whilst the locals skipped by with babies strapped to their backs and huge buckets of produce balanced on their heads.  Yet another occasion where I felt excessively white and clumsy!

The road then took us a further hour and a half up to Livingstonia.  Although road may be overstating it a tad.  We bounced up the potholed track after leaving the lakeside at about 5 mph, snaking round hairpin bends, with sheer drops and tremendous views to finally emerge 15 kms later at Lukwe.  Quite a day!

The lovely, lovely Lake

I’ve now spent a whole week in Senga Bay and have fallen in love with it, or parts of it.  The Lake is stunning.  Vast, as I knew it would be, but seeing it for the first time is breath taking.  The wind can whip in in a matter of minutes, creating waves worthy of body boarding, if not surfing.  Not always gently lapping the beach as I’d imagined.

Senga Bay is spread over probably about a 15 to 20km long thin stretch, with a small market, the ubiquitous newly painted red Airtel kiosks everywhere, a few shops (with the usual service hatches, none you can physically walk into), makeshift bicycle repair stalls here and there and several fishing villages, including one right by the guest house we stayed in last weekend.   A guest house I loved so much I went back and spent most of the week there too.  The owner is an absolute inspiration and couldn’t have been more helpful.  I would not have seen or understood half of what I learned, had it not been for her.  Watch out anyone who comes to stay, Cool Runnings is on my ‘can’t be missed’ list.

The Lake is a vital part of the lives of the communities who live by it – apart from the fishing (unsustainably over fished and that’s just one of the myriad of more obvious issues the country faces), many of the locals wash and do their laundry at the Lake.  On Saturday morning we walked by entire weekly wardrobes having been washed and laid flat on the sand to dry.  Meanwhile, their owners sat chatting in their undies, waiting for the sun to do what it does best.  There’s a spot for men and another a little further down the beach for women and children.  Driving around Malawi I’ve seen a few advertising hoardings proclaiming the extra lather attributes of certain soaps.  They aren’t kidding!  I saw lots of locals turn themselves completely white with suds on the shoreline, before diving in and coming out squeaky clean.

Children everywhere have learned a little English, so whenever they see a white face they are keen to say “hello, how are you?”  or “I am fine, how are you?”  One little boy of about 4 I passed in the street with his Mum said hello, so I asked him how he was.  “I am fish”, he replied with a huge smile! 

Not all of it is lovely.  There are way too many bars having obtained liquor licences where they shouldn’t in residential areas, with all the loud music, litter, drunkenness and sanitation problems that come with them.   Deforestation is currently unchecked. There is no clinic, the 2 primary schools are desperately over-subscribed (at worst up to 150 kids in a class with one teacher), corruption is rife, bureaucracy depressing and poverty very apparent.  The worst are the rich lodge owners who feel it is their right to ride roughshod over the local communities, cut off their access to the lake, try to remove signs of their daily life from the sight of rich tourists and ignore their needs – but that’s just part of Sega Bay’s story.  There are those too who fight hard alongside the community to make life that little bit brighter – the ones I’d like to help.

Sorry a bit worthy this week.  Spending a week in the heart of it all has left a deep impression.  Just a snapshot or 2 worthy of the tourist brochures!

This is Africa

Anyone likely to worry about me – don’t read this one!

Last Friday I joined a cultural visit to Mua Mission.  From there we felt we were just too close not to take advantage of my new found contacts and head to the Lake.  Our driver gave us a lift into a small town on the outskirts of Salima where we jumped out in search of transport.

The only transport option as far as Salima turned out to be bicycle taxis.  It was almost 4pm, we needed to get to Senga Bay before dark and hey it was my first time.  Bicycle taxis have a padded seat over the back wheel.  Sometimes they come with something to hold on to, but otherwise it’s down to balance and grabbing hold of what you can around the seat.  Women here often ride side saddle, but I thought that was pushing my luck.  Thankfully, I had my stuff in a back pack – some ride with suitcases, but I haven’t figured out how they manage that, there’s not a lot of room between the driver and his passenger!   I relaxed once I realised I wasn’t going to fall off and that the driver did have the presence of mind to leave the road when there was a car coming,  if a bit abruptly, given at the back you can’t see anything other than his back.  It’s not only fun but a great way of covering a couple of kms in super quick time.

Arriving in Salima was the usual frenzy of taxi drivers and Matolos vying for trade, there were at least 6 round me before I’d even stepped off the bike.  We agreed our price and yes I admit it, climbed into the back of a pick-up truck, sat on the side with everyone else, holding on very tightly to the frame at the back of the driver’s cab and rode the 10 km into Salima with the wind in my face – not to mention elbows, knees and other less savoury body parts as more and more squeezed on.  OK, so it’s not our Western idea of the safest mode of transport, but it is the only public transport and believe me I’d rather do that than get in some unlicenced ‘taxi’.  As ever, lots of people chatted to us – the usual questions, who are we?, how long have we been in Malawi?, where are we from?, do we like Malawi?, etc plus the constant ‘hey this is Africa’ whenever something makes us laugh.  I know I keep saying it but people are incredibly friendly and helpful.

Coming back was the real delight – not only did they pack on the people but most of them returning from the Lake brought with them bags of fish – from huge bin liners full to small supermarket carrier bags and that many fish do tend to ooze a bit.  I washed my rucksack as soon as I got home but even now I can sense the faint whiff of fish in the air!

More from the Lake itself in the next instalment!

A very long engagement

On Sunday I was collected by one of the drivers at 6.45 am.  The thought doesn’t seem to occur here that blasting the car horn repeatedly at that time on a Sunday morning might be seen as a little unsociable – sorry compound buds, hope you got back to sleep ok!

 

At the office, I climbed on the Ministry bus with the other guests – almost all women, and only two or three I recognised.  All I’d been told before we left was to dress up and bring money in small denomination notes! 

Blantyre is a good four hours away and the journey dragged.  Everyone was chatting away in Chitewan and hardly anyone spoke to me!  There was a quick halfway stop where I bought a fruit juice and almost everyone else bought either the beef liver which sat in a pot on the shop counter, or meat from the grill outside – I’ve no idea what it was, but it didn’t look like chicken!  Then of course, there were the mice kebabs from the roadside vendors.  Someone actually asked the driver to stop to buy some.  About five mice skewered, as they are, fur and all, and grilled.  I’d heard a lot about these, but hadn’t seen them up to that point.   Delicious!

Eventually we arrived at Joseph’s (the future groom) parents’ house.  Then the signing started on the bus and Patricia took me in hand.  As we got out of the bus, two guys with drums appeared from nowhere, women took whistles from their handbags and the whole party sang as they danced up the drive, me included.  Somewhere in the middle of all this was Joseph!  Lots of women in aprons danced down from the house to meet us as we slowly processed up the drive.

Once in the house (quite big I think by Malawian standards) there were huge pots of food everywhere.  There must have been 50 people for lunch and apparently this one just one of a series of lunches typically given by the groom’s parents leading up to the engagement ceremony itself.  It appears weddings are now more westernised, but the Malawian tradition of engagement remains strong.  We were told to line up, there was a sink in the corner of the dining room and each person washed her hands before taking a plate.  For me, it was a serious carb overload – rice, potato salad, bread, beans and coleslaw – I declined the beef or chicken stews!  Oh and a choice of Fanta, sprite or coke to drink – fizzy drinks here are everywhere too – much more common to see than water.  I learned that Joseph’s dad is a Pastor and the women in aprons, people from the church.

We all ate without actually meeting any of the family – as far as I could see the meal was put on for us and the family and helpers ate elsewhere.  No-one introduced themselves or came to chat.  Immediately after eating most of those who’d arrived with me disappeared to get changed, put on make-up , … Then it was back on the bus for round two.  This time, it was awash with bright colours, red lipstick and extremely high heels.  And they sang all the way – not that I understood any of it, but it was certainly lively!  Even the blokes at the front of the bus (alongside the spare tyres and the huge jerry cans of fuel for the return journey) sang along.

The actual ceremony takes place at the future bride’s parents’ house.  When we arrived there were probably about 50 people sitting on chairs in the yard outside the house, full Malawian dress including headdress everywhere, kids dressed up to the nines, but also people in jeans and trainers (and jackets).  Yet more dancing and singing marked our arrival, until we were guided into our seats.  Patricia insisted I sat right at the front with her.  I have never felt so white!!! My dancing, not understanding a word, my dress, my skin, everything!!!!

In brief, it goes like this – there is a master of ceremonies, a ‘head of protocol’, some cashiers, some extra assistants and a DJ.  The MC calls for specific groups of people (the bride’s friends, the church, the bride’s family, the groom’s workmates, etc, etc) and then says ‘Mr DJ please’ (yep one of the rare bits in English) and as the music starts the group concerned get up, dance around a large flat basket and throw cash (hence the small denomination notes) into the basket.  This goes on a while, collecting more and more cash which is collected by the assistants and counted by the cashiers while the head of protocol organises who does what and the MC basically shouts at everyone!

Later there are baskets of food donated to the bride and groom (symbolic of providing for one another), in this instance brought in by very cute dancing kids, but then they are immediately taken from the future bride and groom again to be auctioned off for more money.  There’s a kind of ceremonial area where the groom and his best man sit at some point, and eventually are joined by the bridesmaid and bride to be.  The whole thing went on about 3 hours and much cash was thrown about during the whole thing.

                      

The actual ceremonial bit involves an uncle from each side being called to the front and (after paying up of course.  One asks the other what he is doing there, the other replies he is searching for someone he has heard will be there, then there’s all sorts of shenanigans about no strangers here, then going to look for a stranger in the area, the prospective groom being brought in (dancing again), what do you want here?, I've seen a girl I’d like to marry,…, no you must be mistaken, there are no eligible women here, … lots of women come in dancing, including four hidden under chitenjes, the first one unmasked is an old woman, great hilarity, then the future groom eventually finds his future bride …..

In between all this and the money throwing, there are lots of welcome thanks from both sets of parents.  Not a drink was served and it was all over before darkness fell.

It was fascinating to watch and my boss Patricia was a delight translating what was going on.  It was a real experience and one I doubt I will ever see again.  I was tucked up fast asleep by 8pm, somehow didn’t feel the need for dinner! 

Cheesecake Heaven

Early Saturday morning saw us heading to the bus depot to find a bus to Dedza.  The depot in itself was a new one on me – I’ve never seen so many minibuses in one place, with all the noise and chaos that goes with it.  The problem with getting on a bus, is that it then doesn’t go anywhere, or not very far – until it’s full.  We were lucky, our conductor was a real hustler, I’ve no idea how he was persuading people, but almost all those who said no ended up getting on, mainly when there was clearly no more space.

At various points on the journey we had live chickens in carrier bags, all poking their poor little heads out through the plastic to breathe, huge sacks of maize that somehow got forced into the boot and under the seats. “Sister, lift up your feet!”.  Oh and the real highlight, which not only happened on the way there, but on the way back too – a massive basket of (relatively) recently caught fish – no ice, just the fish humming nicely in the heat.  Combine that with the massed body odours of a dozen or so people who haven’t washed in a while, and you begin to get the idea!

The journey took about 2 and a half hours, including all the times the driver stopped for coke or chips and all the times we waited for our conductor to hustle, which included him successfully tempting people off other buses going to the same place!

Dedza mountain apparently has some rock paintings near the summit, unfortunately I didn’t find this out until Sunday morning ….

After a long walk, almost to the top, we followed some very helpful local boys who showed us the shortcut back to the Pottery – where the toasted sandwich turned out to be fried, but by that time I was too hungry to care.  The cheesecake that Dedza pottery is famous for proved well worth the wait  - the service very much on the relaxed side, apparently another thing Dedza pottery is famous for, oh and pottery of course!

Back to School

I had the absolute pleasure last week of visiting a community school – not an ordinary school, but one set up at the request of women who didn’t go to school as children who want to learn to read and write.

The school set was set up by a community association, funded by tourism.  They provided the equipment (about a dozen text books and a a blackboard), trained a volunteer teacher and monitor on a monthly basis.  The women have been coming to school to learn to read, write, do basic maths and amongst all this pick up some basic heath, sanitation and environmental awareness for 10 months and are about to take the basic school certification exam, also funded by tourism through Lilongwe Wildlife Sanctuary.

The women were inspirational.  School was a walled area behind a house. No roof, a bit of tarpaulin on the floor and those who couldn’t fit in this area, sat in the dusty courtyard outside.  They were delighted to show us what they had learned and gave us a speech and presents of sweet potatoes and peanuts before we left.

More and more villages on the outskirts of Lilongwe, those who live with almost nothing and survive on what they can grow to eat are asking for educational help as a first step towards helping themselves and it was an absolute pleasure to meet some of them.

I’m seeing for the first time, why I am here.

Marriage

I find it amazing how quickly I am getting used to life here.  Saturday afternoon is complete chaos in town, particularly at the minibus station (basically the side of the road near one of the local supermarkets).  Minibuses don’t leave until they are full, there must be at least 40 of them lined up, reversing into spaces way too small, arriving and leaving in all directions.  The driver of each one peeps the horn constantly, whilst hanging out of the window, waving and shouting the destination of the bus, they also have conductors, or rather guys that encourage you to get on their bus rather than anyone else’s and collect your fare at some point during the journey, they too are all shouting and waving.  At the same time you have traffic trying to drive up and down the road, with varying degrees of patience, street vendors banging on the windows trying to sell a bag of ice (or more often water), cassava, strawberries, Irish (potatoes to you and me) or whatever – all this is going on in the heat and dust and is completely unremarkable – Lilongwe life!

A further slice of Lilongwe life is delivered at very frequent intervals throughout the working day.  People wander into the office, selling all manner of things.  Today’s combination was oranges, lettuce and then a book seller.  The latter arrived in the office, very politely sat down and said ‘Mwadzuka bwanji’ to each of us individually, and then sat quietly waiting until eventually someone asked if they could help.  At this, she fished 2 hard backed books out of her bag.  I was sorely tempted to buy ‘Highly Effective Marriages’ but couldn’t find any advice for women who’d left their husbands behind to live in Africa for 4 months!  Sorry Pat, we will have to keep making that bit up!  What was in there was an array of usefully entitled chapters like ‘Are men’s brains normal?’ ’21 ways to love your wife’ and ‘Deciding who submits to whom’!!! Incidentally, I didn’t bother reading the first – given I already know the answer.  The second involved things like getting home on time (most disappointing) and I was too busy spluttering to read any further on the third!

Anyhow, that’s way too much blabbing and my Kindle beckons …..

Skeffa night

Hey

Sorry people, it’s been a while – you can tell I’m working a bit harder now!

I think there were 2 highlights in week 3 – the commencement of interviews, which, after all, is why I’m here and the momentous arrival of a new fridge!! No more unintentionally frozen veg.  Just in the nick of time too, as the temperature is rising.  Ok, I know millions of Malawians live without fridges, but once I found out there were unused VSO fridges from the days when there were many more volunteers here, it seemed daft not to ask for one.

The initial interviews (I’m now up to 6, I think) are unsurprisingly a mixed bunch – ranging from huge passion and enthusiasm for eco-tourism and total delight that I am here to draw attention to it, to complete disinterest.  I’m currently trying to get my head around the size of the task – it’s a big ask for one person.  Fortunately, the Lilongwe interviews are providing a lot of background, which will be invaluable once I get on the road.

Getting on the road is proving more of an issue than I thought.  The fuel crisis may be over but getting money to pay for it is a feat in itself.  I work for a Government Department, but there is no money to pay for fuel this week and garages aren’t prepared on this occasion to give the Ministry credit – so no money means no fuel, and no fuel means no travelling.  This shouldn’t bring my plans crashing to the ground, but it does adjust the ground rules and stops me taking anything for granted.

On a lighter note, last Friday saw a small group of us heading off to a ‘sports and leisure complex’ to see Skeffa, an apparently famous Malawian singer.  This was “a vibrant joint” or so it said on the sign on the gate!  It was basically a big car park, a bar and an enclosed open air concreted space with a stage at one end.  The electricity failed within minutes of our getting there.  A very common occurrence for everyone in Lilongwe, unless, like me, you live near the Prison – funny how our supply is preserved!  Half an hour later, the generator sprang to life and this time wasn’t instantly blown by the amps on stage and the music began.  Kind of a mixture of reggae and ska, played all night by the same musicians, whilst a series of singers performed their sessions, often then becoming one of the backing singers for the next act.  The show was billed to start at 8pm.  The ‘main event’ came on stage at 1.20 am, apparently not unusual for Malawian singers, and we should consider ourselves lucky, as he was billed to perform somewhere else the following night and I hear didn’t appear at all.

Crowd watching was fascinating.  The whole question of personal space and touching is so very different.  Men dance happily with men, often holding hands as they do, with no sub text.  There were noticeably fewer women and very few groups of women friends together.  People come and say hello, encourage you to dance, want you to prove you are having fun by jumping around and then wander off again.  There’s a complete lack of self-consciousness, people dance as if no one is watching, often completely in their own worlds.  It was relaxed, fun – and vibrant!!  It was also one of the funniest nights I have had in a long time – I stayed out way beyond my bedtime (but given that’s 9pm it’s not hard!) and I loved it.

A snapshot of week 1

So end of the first full week and on the whole things are going pretty well on the whole.

I’ve been keeping up to date with the Games on the radio every night.  From my distant perspective it feels like it would be really exciting to be there, I’d certainly rather be watching and getting excited with the tv commentators, than listening on the world service, but hey I chose to be here!

From reading Pat’s ‘the life of a volunteer’s partner’ blog, it’s probably harder for him than me.  Here all is new and different so far and I’m excited to be going to the Lake soon (or at least I hope it will be soon as that’s why I’m here).  Keeping in touch isn’t always easy, but I have to say it’s much easier so far than I thought it would be.  Sorry Pat, I will try to stay awake after 9pm so we can Skype occasionally!  For those of you who know me well, being an early bird really isn’t me, or wasn’t until I came here.  I’ve woken up every day this week at 5.40 am!!  Hopefully I will be out to a more conventional hour tonight so I can sleep a little later tomorrow!

So my days start with that early start, I put on a pan of water to boil as soon as I get up and manage to make it hot enough for a coffee at about 6.30 am – oh yes, it really is taking that long!  I’m at work just after 7.30 am, and stay til 4.30 pm – not the official knocking off time, but for me the necessary knocking off time to get home before dark.  Everyone else I share offices with drives, so I feel like I’m shirking.

So a quick snapshot of some of the memorable images and events from the week:

- army officers leaving the nearby supermarket with bags of shopping in one hand, and a rifle in the other

- cars with windscreens so broken they can’t possibly see to drive

- lorries with no windscreen at all, which I guess is much preferable to the above

- gorgeous, brightly coloured birds – turquoise and violet, and as common as blackbirds at home

- learning to cope with a MUCH slower pace of life – this may be the capital city but it certainly isn’t buzzing

- learning a phrase of Chichewan, and promptly forgetting the one I learned yesterday

- thinking I’ve got the greetings at least sussed, then not recognising them when I hear them!

- actually feeling quite comfortable (just the once so far) on a minibus!

- gospel music, and lots of it

- being called sister – and the lady who drinks lots of tea!

- the disappointed look on the faces of the interns in the office when they realised I’m not the famous Armstrong they thought I was (!)

- wondering if I can actually go to bed at 7.30 pm! (in my defence there is no light in the lounge so it’s much cosier in the bedroom)

- the lizard who lives undisturbed in our office

- the electric socket falling off the wall when I went to plug something in

- the hotplate socket sparking (a little disconcerting and I did get up 3 times that night to check the place wasn’t on fire!)

- the bedroom light that flashes all night after I switch it off (how do I manage to get all that sleep?!)

- the excessively large spider who invited himself in when I opened the back door one morning

- the impromptu residents meeting we had over cups of Tetley tea and choc biscuits after work yesterday when my fellow volunteers agreed it would be a good idea for me to refuse to sign the lease til they have sorted my flat!

- my fridge that freezes everything I put in there

- the debate I’ve just had with one of the above mentioned interns about just why the British are so bad at sport (he’s watching the cricket!)  At least I made him laugh!!

And probably so many more!

So here we are, 3.30 pm, the office is largely empty, I’m still waiting to hear if the meeting I’ve been promised with my boss on a daily basis (and believe me I’m pushing for it!) will happen today – my guess?  Not a chance!

Vacancy

Letter received in the office I work in today. 


Dear Sir, 


I would like to apply for the position of xxx, previously held by the recently deceased xxxx.  I am often writing for jobs, but am always told there is no vacancy, but this time I know the vacancy exists.  I went to his funeral to make sure.  I enclose my CV and the copy of his death certificate.  I look forward to hearing from you.


This apparently isn't one of the usual recruitment channels.

Home, but not as I know it

My unexpected little house is somewhere I’m beginning to understand I will see a lot of when I’m in Lilongwe.  Night falls very quickly around here, almost at 6pm on the dot and clearly there are no streetlights.  Unless you are in a taxi the advice is very much to be home before dark – so the aim is to be back by 5.30 pm.  Before I came, the recommendation was very definitely not to use the minibuses, here that’s exactly what you have to do – there is no other affordable option.  So at the weekends it appears we walk pretty much everywhere in daylight hours, but the journey home from work involves the minibus experience.  I was very grateful to be following other volunteers who’ve done it all before on my way home from work tonight.  It didn’t stop me losing a shoe, a fingernail and almost my dignity trying to get off tonight!  Can’t quite believe how many people they pack in them!

Once it’s dark outside, my curtains (!) are drawn, the evenings feel very long.  I will have to get used to living at this pace and with this level of solitude.

That said, the girls in the compound have been absolutely great.  With their help I’m slowly getting my head round the nameless streets of Lilongwe, I’m also learning the best places to go for all the essentials to make that allowance go a little further!  I’m yet to explore the Chinese supermarket but that and the flea market are next on the list.  I need to make my place feel a little less bare and unloved! 

So far, so good.  My fellow VSO volunteers are all lovely.  I can’t wait to see that lake I keep hearing so much about.  Started work the actual placement today – no-one told me I had to curtsey when I met the Minister.  Oops!  I’m also the only women in there who is not wearing 4 inch heels and a suit jacket – maybe I didn’t quite bring the right wardrobe.  I have to say I didn’t do a lot – hopefully it won’t always be like that or 4 months will never be enough – which is exactly what the Minister said to me (that 4 months is too short, not that I’m not doing enough work!)

And finally, a photo or two of home sweet home – it was a great sunset tonight – or the bit I could see over the wall looked pretty good!

Photo 1 - my huge room called the West Wing in the guest house

Photo 2 - Genki, the intrepid Japanese assistant teacher and I outside the guest house

Photo 3, 4 and 5 - home sweet home

Photo 6 - the little bit of sunset I could see!

Missing everyone at home – Dog and Puppy (yes they really are called that) who live on our compound are no substitute for Herbie!

Better late than ...

A mere 71 hours to get here!  Nothing to do with Malawi and all to do with a technical issue on the BA flight.  Finally arrived to a chaotic airport at about 3pm yesterday.  Just the one baggage carousel, with barely any room around it to grab your luggage as it sailed by, but a vast customs area.  My luggage and I got through intact and here I am.  Stayed last night in the VSO guest house - with a huge bedroom all to myself and slept like the proverbial.

Day one at work so far has been great - lots of meetings and more information than I can take in but I know where I will be working, what I am intended to be doing AND the bonus is I am to have a base here - I won't be officially homeless for the duration.

That has to be it for now, off for more briefings - but loving it so far!

Well off I go then

OK, so maybe I really am going after all!  After all the fundraising, the training and the talking about it, the time has come.  I really am going to get on that plane tomorrow.  Last night my amazing friends gave me a fantastic send off.  The mobile cocktail bar made its presence felt again, and the resulting headache did slow down my packing a little today I have to admit! Tomorrow I will have to take half the clothes I've packed out of the rucksack because there is just no way it is going to close otherwise.  Then its off to the airport, a goodbye lunch with Pat and Claire and off I go.  Wish me luck!!!!