Malawi Jake

Message to all from the warm heart of Africa

Dear Mom and Dad March 10th, 2004
I'm starting to understand why Malawi is called "The Warm Heart Of Africa ". It is the end of my second day here in the village with my homestay family. I don't know if these words will do justice to this experience but I'll do my best. I'll start from yesterday and lead you into right now.....
The college we attended for the initial orientation had every amenity required for "American Style" comfort. We all interviewed with the Associate Peace Corps Director, who gave us an opportunity to discuss our motivations for being there and what our preferences were. This went well for me as he told me I'd be posted in the Northern Region of Chitipa and be able to work with children, which is essentially what I'd like to do. He seemed pleased that I had significant teaching experience and agreed that it is the most valuable skill one can bring here. The skills that need to be taught are easily learned, but teaching itself can't be. After the initiation we all packed up our things and split into 2 groups of 8 according to the language we will learn. Four of us will learn Chitimbuka, one of the many languages spoken in the north. It should prove to be a challenge as most of the country speaks Chizewa, the national language. The other issue is communicating with my host parents who don't understand Chitimbuka. Unfortunately, I won't be able to develop a very profound relationship with them. I'm told though that the North has its advantages, so, all in all, I'll give to take a little.

After loading all of our gear on the roof of the landcruiser we left the college and headed 5 km down a dirt road into the village of Chikonda. Waiting for us in a clearing between a cluster of adobe houses was a group of woman singing a welcoming song while clapping their hands. It is one moment of my life I'll never forget. I stood staring at them in my banana republic pants and tommy hilfiger shirt adorned with a tie and never felt so out of place in this lifetime. I looked behind me and the 7 others looked just as ridiculous with their huge backpacks filled with a bunch of shit we don't even really need; pillows,blankets, nalgene water bottles, books and mattresses. As alien as we looked the women opened their homes and lives to us, never having hosted a foreign guest, let alone seeing one. Mine was the second name called and my host mother approached me with an emotionless face; short, serious and dressed in a blue dress down to her ankles patterned in red and green flowers. Her hair is short, her face is masculine, and she only smiles when there is good reason, always brief. When she does, you feel it and it embarrasses her as if she's not supposed to, but really wants to for a longer period of time. She took the one bag I had and put it on top of her head leading me to her home. Walking down a path with rows of maize and squash scattered in between, we were followed by a group of at least 30 children , some with expressions of wonder and others simply smiling asking me , "Muli bwanji" meaning" how are you?" all expecting individual answers. Following a 5 minute walk we arrived at my thatched roof hut with adobe walls and hard wood floor. I was dark inside, but clean and simple. There are three chairs and a table all made of wood. ON the table was a packet of crackers and a can of fanta, my house warming gifts. My host mother, Elita sat across from me and just stared at me. I wasn't sure what to say or even how to say it. By this time there were a group of women standing outside the door for permission to enter. Each came, one by one, some with children others alone. They entered and got down on their knees offering their hand and asking how I was. It was quite an odd feeling having a woman fall to her knees upon introduction, ironically I felt more uncomfortable than royal, which is the way they were respecting me. In Malawian culture it is proper for a woman to at least bow to a man when she is greeted. It is also disrespectful for a man and a woman to touch each other in public unless they are being introduced Needless to say, this went on for about 15 minutes until I went outside to play soccer with the children. Communication is a problem,because I'm learning Chitimbuka but I'm doing my best. Even hand gestures are hard as Africans tend to use different signs than we do. It took me about 5 minutes to explain to my host mother that I didn't want to bathe yet not realizing that she had boiled water for me. The water sat and got cold and I bathed this morning before school. The bathing hut is outside with bamboo walls, no roof and rocks to stand on. The chimbutze as they call it, is (outhouse) another separate adobe building with a very small hole in the floor. I've yet to explore number 2 but when I do it shall be an event. I might hold out until Thursday when we return to the college for a medical session. I don't know what's healthier at this point. Trying to hold or try and hit the hole and risk a fall!
After exchanging stares with the kids for about 2 hours (they literally sat on my stoop and just stared at me) my host father showed up and explained he understands English, just can't speak. So I speak to him in English and he responds in Chizhewa with the occasional number or simple noun in English. At least we can translate things to his wife like; you are a great cook,I'm very happy to be in your home, your children are beautiful etc. At this point I'm pretty sure that I have 4 host siblings, 3 girls and a boy, although one or two more could show up anytime. This is an ultra-chauvinistic society and he only introduced me to his son, Mika.
Eating is probably the most interesting of all engagements. We eat with our hands. Elita comes with a bowl of warm water, bows and holds it forward for me to wash first. Then Kilalombe, my host father and Mika. The girls are nowhere to be seen during meals. Once washing is complete my father and I sit in chairs at the table while the mother and Mika sit on the floor next to us. I am served the best food in my own dishes while they all share. Today lunch was brilliant. I ate a bowl of rice, spinach and a piece of fish. You can't eat any healthier than that. Dinner was similar with the exception of potatoes rather than rice. So far my stomach is solid but I'm warned the worst is yet to come. It's inevitable, between the water,which is boiled and filtered and the bacteria’s I'm sure to get the squirts.
My host father is about my height and of similar build. He is pleasant and I've made him laugh but he is somehow eternally sad, almost as if he is terminally ill. His mouth smiles when given reason, but his eyes maintain the same somber expression. The only time I've seen them change is when he looks at Mika. I feel sorry for him and can't help but to feel his pain when I'm in his presence.
This morning meeting with the other volunteers for the first time since our separation I was disappointed by their absolute insensitivity to the reality of this living situation. They all commented on whether they had this or that in their huts, or whether they could say this or that. I had no responses as I was struck by the struggle and suffering these people face for their entire lifetimes. There are no vacations,second homes,day trips,bicycles for their kids/ Their clothes are ripped and the kids make soccer balls from tape and newspaper. My host father had never had a cup of coffee. His prize possession is an old shortwave radio that runs on batteries and he left it with me last night. How could one possibly have the gaul to complain in the midst of this poverty ? And to think of the masses of people on earth that live this way ! Arrogance and insensitivity won't help the Malawians. At this point I'm not quite sure what will, but before I do it is absolutely essential to be sensitive to their situation. Whoever is reading this(if posted on the web) think twice before you complain, because these people have never even seen what you throw in the garbage everyday. The irony is , in a weird way, they're happier than you and their smiles mean more.
Now that you've been lectured I'll leave you with hopes and regards from the warm heart of Africa. Keep and be well and share each others love and warmth. I'm satisfied with my decision to come here and have already begun to find a different side of myself.
Love, Jake