Malawi Jake

"Father's Day in Africa"

Dear Mom & Dad,
Well, it's Father's Day so I'm thinking of you dad. Here in Malawi, it's just another Sunday, Everyday is Father's day here, or so it seems. I'm sure your catching my sarcasm. I must admit, the gender inequality and polygamy is hard to pass as just another cultural difference. I should note that the traditions vary widely from tribe to tribe and region to region. Most of the inhabitants of the Northern Region are form the "tumbuka' tribe and polygamy is more prevalent. Thus, Kalilombe, my host-dad who is Chewa is not a polygamist. So he and I are celebrating with a cup of coffee and a taste of Grand Marnier, Cheers! He is the only one I wished a Happy Father's day. Interestingly enough, when I explained what it was he informed me that while Father's day doesn't exist in Malawi, Mother's Day is celebrated on October 17, annually.........

Sundays are the quietest days I can find here in Zolokere. Many of the people put on their nicest clothes and head to one church or another. When they invite me to go with them I usually respond by telling them I pray at home. If that answer doesn't suffice the response that I'm Rastafarian seems to be accepted and unquestioned. They don't see the irony and literally believe me knowing there isn't a local congregation. It's kind of strange being the only white Rasta among all black Christians. Whatever the case, it makes me chuckle inside, which I'm finding is essential for my well-being. Sense of humor, so far is the only mechanism I have for lightening what's been a pretty heavy load thus far.

Back at home, in the months leading up to this assignment, as I was preparing myself, emotionally I hadn't the foresight to understand what actually would be difficult. At that time, my mind was busy circulating fears of disease or ill-health as my body for the first time would encounter malaria, yellow fever, typhoid or hepatitis A-E. In retrospect, concentrating on physical ailments while in America in a land and time that didn't yet exist was a bit foolish. In hindsight I would have been exploring the internet or visiting the library for information on post-colonialism, polygamy, gender-equality, sustainable agriculture or the psychology of mortality. All social issues which tend to cause more emotional strife and frustration than physiological. Yes, differences are cultural and respect and understanding are imperative when integrating into a foreign place. But that said it doesn't necessarily make them right. I suppose what is more important is that I know and am comfortable with the values inside me as an individual. Thus, with that understanding, I can live by them no matter the place, the practice or the people I'm surrounded by. The moral high road would probably offer more twists and turns than the one I'm traveling now, which is more up and down than anything. I usually explain my culture, my value and my lifestyle but I'm careful not to judge or criticize. After all, the goal of me being here, which is to introduce methods of natural resource conservation could never be accomplished if I make enemies with the men who make the decisions, the people who hold the power. Instead, I lead by example, let me offer you some:
In Tumbuika culture men don't carry water. You might say to yourself, "Big deal"...how hard could it be for a woman to carry water from sink to table or counter? But, remember, we haven't sinks because we haven't plumbing because we haven't electricity. From my home, it is no less than 1/8 mile to the bore hole (well) I don't know when the last time you carried 5 gallons of water was. Let me assure you, water is heavy, particularly when it is 90 degrees and you mustn’t wear clothes that show skin. Every day I make 5 trips to the bore hole, while I've learned to carry a bucket on my head I prefer to fill a closeable 30 liter container and put it on my shoulder. The women, who I would never challenge to a fight of any sort, carry bucket upon bucket all day long, for their entire lives. Needless to say when I arrive at the well with empty containers we get our share of stares. The women's natural reaction is to fill and carry for us but I always refuse. My response is usually that in my house it is customary for men to carry heavy things. Their reaction is usually confused as if the years and generations of conditioning doesn’t' allow their imagination to work properly. So I am their imagination in reality, as I disappear down the past with 150 lbs of water on my shoulder. It makes me smile to know they're smiling as they draw their own.

What I enjoy even more is when we pass their husbands who are usually sitting beneath a tree playing checkers or drinking locally made gin trying to figure out, amongst each other, why they haven't any money. Sometimes they bounce a drunken joke off my swift stride but it never penetrates. I just laugh like a clown knowing that somewhere deep inside them they wish they could do the same when they tell me that men aren't supposed to carry water that it's a woman's job and that I need a wife. I look in their eyes as serious as death and inquire if maybe their wife needs a husband. They laugh and think I'm joking.

Men also don't cook here. They aren't even supposed to enter the kitchen when their wife is present. Cooking is actually one of my favorite pastimes when I have the time to pass. I usually tell them it runs in the family, that my father cooks every day and my mother doesn't even know how to cook (it's a small lie but justified in making a point).... The question that usually follows is "So then what does your mother do?" My response, "She's the boss of many men at her work as well as the boss of our family." Theirs, "America is a much different place." which is actually a good forum for establishing a discussion on development and the unquestionable need for women to be involved in their development process. I find myself often saying, "You can't develop a country with 50% of the people. I don't think they realize that I'm referring to the 50 % who actually work, the women. When all said and done I find it fitting that they are the ones who provide the two most essential elements of survival, food and water. Nourishing an entire country of malnourished practices and priorities.

On a lighter note I'm writing this letter from inside the kitchen that we're about to eat our first dinner in. We constructed a table on it front side out of sticks, dried reeds and bark (used as string). I cut up some of the cardboard from all of the parcels I've received from my fan base (make sure you communicated my gratitude x 100) and layered the top with cardboard followed by bubble rap and water proof UPS envelopes (Brian would be proud) I haven't any duct tape so we're using reeds to hold down the bubble rap cut outs. When we finished it looked like a flag with 6 triangles so I painted all of them with various colors and designs. The plan was sent by Tony Paul but it was the bottle of Grand Marnier he snuck in the box that brought out the creativity. (I'm guessing it's the first bottle even seen in this village, probably the last) I've recently been taking slides and wonder if Don would be able to transpose them on the site. If so, you will see the finished product of my first mud-rammed, thatch roofed kitchen with mud stove herb bed and all. (Photos to follow)

The mud stove is a method we're supposed to be promoting as a way to cut down the amount of fire wood consumption. Again, there's no oil, natural gas, or coal so wood accounts for 93 % of household energy use. That figure is evidence that the country is quickly becoming deforested. Unfortunately, some of the most striking and exotic forests in the world are quickly disappearing. In 1999 the Malawian gov't introduced a collaborative approach to resource management. Rather than having their parks, forestry and wildlife officers acting as patrolmen some of them were made extension agents, which is what I am. An environmental extension agent is someone who works with the villagers showing them where resources may be collected, demonstarting different ways of utilization and establishment of nurseries. The forum can be a school, a home, or in the field. Since I live between a game reserve and a National Park there are a number of Natural Resource committees already established and active. Last Friday the local committee in Zolokere came for my 1st mud stove demonstration. I built the stove from used bricks, clay from an anthill and ash. Basically, the bricks are framework, the mud the adhering agent and the ash serves as insulation. When built correctly and working properly it should save about 30 % of firewood, which not only preserves deforestation but lightens the 300 lbs of logs and branches the women carry on their heads. (I forgot to mention Tumbuka men don't collect or carry firewood. We’ve been waiting for it to dry ( it cracks and requires resmearing) and tonight is our 1st test. If it works well, in the future I will go out in the field and begin showing villagers how to build them. Again after the demonstration is complete it's a good forum for a talk on diet and nutrition.

Now you have an idea at least of why I am actually here. In the future I plan on writing more information and including photos of our work. Currently I'm taking things slow; building a comfortable home and garden, meeting people and staying healthy as instructed by my program direction. By the way, he was here on Tuesday and seemed pleased with my progress. As a returned PCV from Haiti he has a very good understanding of grassroots development as well as the difficulties we face. It's good to know I can be honest and straightforward with him. It was also a delight to speak some American English. My chitumbuka still sucks but my British English is improving.

In conclusion, I want you to know I’m happy in my current life. While difficult and challenging 99% of the time, it is what I have chose to do and where I've chosen to be-all for the incessant search for self-understanding which continue to improve my relations with others, myself, and Earth. Amid so much suffering it's impossible to complain. What I gain, selfishly, in an hour here it takes a lifetime to gain in the United States. Regards to all, wishing them health, understanding and love form the warm heart of Malawi Jake.
Love,
Your son, 'Rasta Jake'