Sister Act 3: African Habits.

Oops…I accidentally joined the women’s choir at the village church. Accidents happen, right?  Or is this fate?  Or Whoopi Goldberg’s next movie? You decide. 

I was sitting, on a reed mat, outside my neighbor’s “nyumba” (house) and this cheerful and plump Mama greeted me and asked that I go with her.  Why not?  So I am walking with her and follow her into the church.  At this point another woman joined us and they began singing.  One by one about a dozen women came in and the voices grew stronger and stronger.  But we…yes we.  Weren’t just singing.  We were dancing too.  This was no average church choir with white and blue haired ladies.  This was a group of women that sang from somewhere deep within, from their soul.  Their colorful voices matched their African patterns that they wore as skirts or head wraps or baby carriers.  Their years of fieldwork, fire starting, wood collecting, child bearing and rearing, nsima preparing, and ground sweeping, were reflective in their movements and in their call and response songs.  The dancing was a mix between a P90x regimen, a Vegas nightclub, a jazzercise at the local Y, and a doo-wop background dancer, with additional farm mocked movements.  Now I know why there aren’t any Curves for Women here (other than the obvious economic reasons) the women have found a safe place to exercise and be free.  The words to sing and dance are synonymous in the local vernacular.  It is well known that I can’t sing…at all…but dance…okay!  I have finally found a choir I can handle.  We danced and sang for over an hour while sweat was layering the room, along with the laughter and smiles and awkward hugs because although I may be white as can be…can hold my own on the dance floor…or in this case, on the church floor. 

So this Sunday I will be joining the ladies in front of the church.  I will resume my spot in the front right, trying to blend in.  You will know which one is me because I will standing about 6 inches taller than the other women and about 20 years younger, and trying to be like my sisters not just as an act, as an act of solidarity.

Oh Happy Day!

Hunger Season

The three seasons of Malawi are: Hot & Wet, Cool & Dry, and Hot & Dry.  Two of these seasons (Hot & Wet and Hot & Dry) combine to create a parallel season, known as, Hunger Season.  When I first heard of Hunger Season I was not sure what to think, it sounded like the prequel or sequel to Hunger Games.  Now it has begun, it is very serious.  Food is sparse, sparse food and water for the better part of 4 months to come.   The traditional meal here is Nsima (C-Ma, a staple food patty made from maize meal that you eat without utensils but with your hands) and a relish or two.  Relish can be a vegetable, meat, or legume.  Now that Hunger Season is upon us the traditional meal is just Nsima. Our market (I use the term loosely because it is just a tree with ladies selling produce) usually sells, on a rotational basis, the following: tomatoes, onions, beans, cabbage, pumpkin leaves, sweet potatoes, bananas, and on a good day avocado.  Last week at the “market” the only produce to be found were tomatoes.  As I asked where the other women selling the other goods were the response was, “ In Kameme we have a relish problem.” Nsima is very filling but has little to no nutritional value, which means vitamin and mineral deficiencies are on the rise.  For the severely malnourished children food supplements are provided by the Health Center and all children under 5 are given Vitamin A shots.  Malnourishment makes common diarrhea a potentially life threatening condition, the solution is a new vaccine called the Rotavirus, which provides immunity against the leading cause of diarrhea, for children, in Malawi.  But these solutions, although necessary, only patch up a complex problem.  On a personal level I am only inconvenienced by Hunger Season because I can bike to the Boma and pay an increased amount for nutritious goods.  But the subsistence farmers have no choice but to wait it out.  Wait for the rains to come and hope that the next harvest is good. Storing food is a problem without canning, dehydration, and refrigeration; food security is food insecurity.   The solutions without macro development of large scale irrigation projects, canning factories, or country-wide electricity are reduced to the increase of kitchen gardens that can be watered year round (so long as the water table stays at a conducive level), food drying practices with proper food storage, and food diversification with nutrition education.  Change needs to be fostered by the people, which is difficult when farming practices here seem to be as age old as religion.

Hearing people bless the food before meals is evidence of the farm-to-table connection.  Asking not only for the hands that prepared the food be blessed but additionally that the land be blessed and replenished.  Grace is a good reminder to be conscientious of the mind, body, and land relationship and this Hunger Season I am very mindful of hunger and the dependency of that relationship.

Grace be with you and also with the hungry.

Breaking News in Kameme

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The Headmaster at the Primary School had to leave the village for training and entrusted the keys, to the school, with a teacher. It was later discovered that the keeper of the keys had allegedly left the door to the school purposefully unlocked. The keeper of the keys was in-cahoots with a thief who stole 20 bags of cement, which was to be used to construct a new classroom. The getaway vehicle of the perpetrator was an ox-cart (a very slow moving escape). On the outskirts of the village, heading towards the Tanzanian border, the thief was stopped by the Senior Chief of Kameme. When the Chief began to question him as to how he acquired so many bags of cement the man ran towards the border, in a full sprint, leaving behind his ox-cart, cement, and family. All the villagers want to know will this criminal return? He straight up fled to the border. Classic.

In other news…

I saw a birth and will have you know that I handed the nurse the forceps. But turns out there is much to take in while witnessing the miracle of life. I had to sit down. I wasn’t even the one involved and I thought I was going to either vomit or pass out. (Mom, this is why I can’t be a nurse like you.) This was my thought process throughout the event…wow, cool, gross, the human body can do that, weird, miraculous, I see the head, I think I might vomit, she is in pain, where are the forceps, find them, this is all you have to do, found them, close call, whoa, crazy, I need to sit down I might pass out, this is embarrassing, this is how life starts, it’s a boy! Phew, we all made it through this alive!

Things I could do without…

• The excessive nose picking. Apparently Malawi didn’t get the memo that picking your nose is gross. Everyone does it here…without shame. In the same vein it isn’t uncommon for someone to use an object like a pen cap to go digging in his or her ears for something magical. I am not going to say that either of these events aren’t enticing but no shame…no shame.

• Grown men calling me “Mommy” I think it is meant to be an endearing direct translation but it comes off more creepy than endearing

• Hot Season is here...Hot!

Things I can’t get enough of…

• My 8-year-old neighbor, who I hang out with a lot, came over completely covered in Ash and said “Sella, Azungu, Azungu, chimodzi modzi!!!” (Translation: Sarah, white person, white person, the same, the same) and started dancing. An eight-year-old boy does white face and it is adorable. If I were to do the same thing…racism.

• The mom run is universal.

Things that are developing with work…

• We are making plans in our community to dig a new rubbish pit, placenta pit (still gross), and a building project to house mother’s waiting to deliver since they must travel from other villages. As well as how to bring some technical training into the village like carpentry, tin-smithing, welding, tailoring, etc.  YES! Living here does feel like the computer game Sim City, sans technology.

• Also, as many of you know I was involved in Camp GLOW, the girls empowerment camp put on by the Peace Corps and I was elected by my group to be the Program Coordinator. Which is a big responsibility and will require quite a bit of travel but I am excited to be part of something that has been so successful here in Malawi and will have a lasting effect to come.
  
  

Don't be chicken...

I was gifted a chicken by a man named Loyd. He came by my house to tell me that we had a meeting at 8am the next day and that he fulfilled his promise. I had no idea what promise he was talking about but I miss so much of many conversations here I didn’t give it much thought. Later that day I went into my “kitchen” (which is merely an outdoor room with a thatched roof and my mbaula – charcoal stove) to find a chicken flocking towards me. And then I remembered, Loyd. Loyd promised me he would give me a chicken. Thanks? I lost that came of chicken! I closed the door and counted to 10 to go back inside to untie its feet. I did this three times…fail,fail,fail. I then went and asked my neighbor to help me. Turns out I have a fear of bats and chickens and mice too. Well I am more just really annoyed at the mice. I don’t know why they say, “quiet as a mouse” because it is my experience they are not quiet at all and wake me up every night. At the moment I am a little extra peeved because they ate through one of my headphones. Come on!

A few weeks after that episode I was gifted another chicken. Thanks but you shouldn’t have…no really you shouldn’t have. I was at a meeting with a Community Based Organization (CBO) that supports those living with HIV/AIDS. It was a really kind gesture to provide me with “relish” but the walk home was awkward to say the least. I carried it with no ease at all. Many people offered to carry it or just laughed. I must look like such a strange bird being the only one in the village that is uncomfortable around chickens. I hope this is an egg laying chicken because I know I don’t have the guts to slaughter it and I still want eggs. I walked it to my sitemate Mark’s house where he has a room to keep it. He is almost as uncomfortable around chickens but helped me cut off the ties around its feet. The chicken quickly escaped and the neighborhood kids were helping us try to catch it. I was just pretending to help because I didn’t want to pick it up again. A kid ended up cornering it after some time. He was wearing a blue Nike t-shirt so naturally we started encouraging him by calling him Nike Blast. “Get ‘em, Nike Blast, get ‘em!” And he did!

Oh, I have been meaning to ask, want to come over for dinner?

In more impressing news…

I helped at a girl’s empowerment camp called CAMP GLOW (Girls Leading Our World). It was a really great week with many inspirational moments and fun with 70 of the brightest girls in Malawi. Peace Corps has been hosting the camp for a few years and has been able to acquire some excellent speakers. This year was no exception…the Secretary of State, Hilary Clinton came by to share some words of encouragement. It was a very hectic week preparing for Hill O’ Beans especially because I was serving as the resident gopher. It was such a great opportunity for Peace Corps staff as well as the girls, I was very impressed with it all. But still some of the highlights of the week were the Dance Party (I won at least a few dance offs! Earning some real street cred) and the Bonfire, where girls wrote down something they “can’t do”, shared it with the group and then threw it in the fire, which was pretty powerful. A lowlight of the week was speaking directly after HC left, giving a talk with my colleague/friend Ian on Human Rights and Democracy…wah wah. Come on girls you just met with one of the most powerful women in the world…now listen to what we have to say! Too bad CCN didn’t stay for that because I think we nailed it.

They say that Peace Corps has really high highs and really low lows and most of the time those are in the same day. I call that Manic. But it is sort of true. I have been having some incredible experiences juxtaposed with some very slow moving days. Village life is really good but can be really slow! Adventure is always lurking. But when adventure is taking a hiatus here is an average day, however, no day looks like the day before but just to take away a little mystery.

5am Wake up and tell Splinter and his rat friends to leave because I am up. Maybe I go running or run to my chimbudzi (outdoor pit latrine).

5-6am Start the fire, which still varies with success, fetch water, sweep my house

6am Enjoy Coffee or Tea and Oatmeal and try to listen to BBC News.

7am-8am Read/Write or do my laundry by hand…these hands.

8am Realize I have already been up for 3 hours and am running out of things to do so I heat up water for my Bafa (outdoor bathing area where I take a bucket bath).

9am Head to the Health Center or to meet with a CBO

Noon. Lunch time…Join someone for lunch or start another fire…oh man…again…I just finished a fire…maybe I will just skip lunch

1pm Back to the Health Center or another group that I invite myself to observe

4pm look for something to do and make my way to hangout with my neighbor friend Gertrude who is 19 and has a 2 year old. Sometimes she lets me watch while she puts in a weave for a friend. That is usually a Sunday afternoon activity and takes a long time!

6pm It is pitch black…so I will read for a bit by candlelight.

7pm…Tell myself I should probably try to stay awake until 8pm.

Living Positively

I have made a very good friend in my first month in the village. She is the head nurse and mid-wife (her title is head nurse but she is the only nurse at the health center). Mrs. Banda is a petite woman with beautiful teeth, strength for days, and frizzy unkempt cornrows, which she often keeps covered with bright patterned fabric allowing her to add some flare to her white nursing uniform. She has time and time again provided me with a hot meal while I have been getting accustomed to starting a fire to cook, something that takes a great deal of time. When she isn’t nursing she spends her time looking after her 3-year-old granddaughter, Doodoo. Doodoo and I bonded rather quickly, which makes my time at the Banda household comfortable and easy. Several years ago Mrs. Banda worked in another village with a Peace Corps volunteer so she is aware of the cultural differences, making her and her home a gift. Mrs. Banda also spends her time harvesting maize, groundnuts, and sunflower seeds. When I help her she insists I wear a beanie so my hair doesn’t get dirty, although I try to refuse there is no luck because she insists. So it is hot outside and I am wearing a Steelers Beanie. Despite me looking and feeling foolish I enjoy the time we spend together. She is generous with no anticipation of receiving anything in return, not just with me with all.

Two nights ago she had me over for dinner and we were debriefing my day of helping distribute ARV’s to the HIV/AIDS patients. She said in a very somber yet matter of fact tone that I would be very surprised by who takes the medication to keep immunity up and opportunistic disease at bay. I said that I was. I was surprised that young healthy looking men were taking the pills and saddened by the children who were coming in to receive treatment although encouraged by their high level of activity and low-grade side effects. She said again that I would be surprised at who takes ARV’s, she then proceeded to tell me her story. In 1988 after she became a widow a European Doctor advised her to be tested, she was in fact HIV positive. Listening with great devotion I heard her story. This strong, constantly working and caring for others grandmother is infected. Mrs. Banda has had one prayer for over twenty years that God keep her healthy as long as her children still need her. Her selflessness is something I may never know but I do understand this…she is teaching me what it means to live positively.

Batters Up

My only experience with a bat, thus far in life, has been with a ball and glove involved or once when our family was on a vacation in Maine. The cabin we were renting had a bat living in the attic. My Mom rounded us kids up and we ran to the car for refuge while my Dad scurried around the house with a broom until he emerged victorious, forcing the bat to fly away. It never occurred to me that bats would live in my house here in Africa…side note: I moved into my house the pit latrine was dug! I can deal with the two-dozen spiders, the lizard, the frog, the mice, the chicken, and the teenage neighbors (some would consider them pests) that battle me for home ownership but the bat, I can’t handle.

The first night I heard the sound that was unmistakably the fluttering wings of a bat and yet somehow I was able to ignore it. It is impressive what the mind can choose not to acknowledge. The second night as I was reading by candlelight I could feel the fluttering as the bat brushed by my head. Ahhh! It is impressive what the body will not allow your mind to ignore. Cowardly I turned out my light, tucked in my mosquito net extra tight and hid under the covers like a child afraid of the dark. The wings were taunting me all night long. I didn’t sleep much because I was fearful the bat would some how get stuck in my hair…I have never wished for a hair tie more in my life. I have plenty but it would require me leaving my mosquito net refuge. Why did I wear my hair down? Tonight as I go to bed I have my hair tied tight, a bandanna on my head, and a broom next to the bed. Looks like I am in the Batter’s Box (the puns could really go on for a while).

Oh, and thanks Dad for teaching me to swing a bat or in this case swing at a bat.

Cool...not cool?

Here I will post some things that I can’t decide if they are cool or not cool…you can decide for yourself.

Cool…not cool?

My house isn’t ready to move into because it isn’t completed…the chimbudzi (pit latrine) needs to be built. And by built I mean a hole needs to be dug.

Cool…not cool?

Riding 6 hours on the back of a potato truck because it was the best option for transport? Part of the time I was carrying a stranger’s baby.

Cool…not cool?

Because Rs and Ls are interchangeable my name is pronounced Sella…so I have taken to telling kids my name is C’est la Vie, which I find is invigorating to hear. That’s okay, right?

Gross…not gross?

When they said this job wasn’t going to be glamorous they should have said that my first project might be to organize the building of a new placenta pit because, get this, the current one is overflowing. GROSS! I guess this is why they say…it is a dirty job but someone has to do it. But let me say it one more time…GROSS! Wait…one more time…GROSS.

Cool…not cool?

The general reaction to the death of the President went something like this…”People are very, very concerned…about the lack of sugar…oh, and the President died…but did you hear about the lack of sugar?”

 

Did I mention it is remote?

Training seems like it was a blink of an eye at this point! We had over a month in village home stay where we had the opportunity to stay with families to learn the culture. It was a great introduction into normal life here, the normal arduous life of subsistence farming and lack of modern convenience. My host family was the real deal. They were so welcoming and worked hard to ease my adjustment while showing me how to survive in Africa. The main difficulty was that they spoke the main language of Chichewa while I was leaning the lesser-known Northern dialect of Chilambia. During training our time was divided between language intensive, technical training, and basic safety and security lessons. There are 36 other volunteers in my group, half in the health sector and the other half environment, most of which I can call friends or at least colleagues. We had 39 but unfortunately three have decided to go home. From home stay we had more training at the College of Forestry before swearing in and getting shipped off to site.

My site is beautiful! The mountain ranges of Zambia and Tanzania surround the remote village of Kameme, Malawi. The people are so very welcoming and are very busy greeting one another in passing. If you look down the dirt roads you will find fields of wildflowers and sunflowers influencing the beautiful fabrics the women wear, called chtenjes.. The sky is wide and open featuring all different types of clouds, cumulus nimbus mostly (and yes I know this is a dorky detail). The night skies are so clear, so clear that you are not sure if the falling stars are lightning bugs or if the lightning bugs are falling stars, mystery solved…it’s both! I have only been in Kameme a week so there is much to learn. I do know it takes about two and a half hours to bike into the Chitipa Boma (trading center). I have made this trek twice now on my Peace Corps issued Trek Bicycle. Did I mention it was remote? Because it is. I will be spending the next few months doing community assessment and looking for sustainable projects to start. I think I am going to start teaching Life Skills at the secondary school once a week to get to know some of the youth in the area.

I often find myself asking the question what will win out, during my time here, my greed or my laziness? For if I want I must do. If I want eggs I must raise chickens. If I want vegetables (a variety) I must plant a garden. If I want water I must carry it on my head, from the borehole. If I want anything Western (internet, mail, powdered milk) I must bike 30k to the Boma (I just told you that is the trading center…did I mention it was remote?). It takes a lot of work just to exist. Where back at home that is also the case the only difference is the level of complexity. Instead of dealing with car trouble I am dealing with the troubles of hitchhiking (don’t tell my mom). Instead of worrying about bills I worry if the devaluation of the Kwacha currency will impact my new community. Instead of trying to figure out what to wear…who are we kidding I still do that. Instead of making plans and checking the time I check the time and go make plans. For now the simplicity is still a novelty…a profound novelty. Part of me feels as if I have seen the wizard behind the curtain. My food comes directly from the ground and is cooked over the fire I must first start. My water is not magically purified from my tap it is filtered by me...three different ways if I am prudent. Should I mention the pit latrine…I think you get the point. It is refreshing, a very time consuming life that is very simple. I know the day will come when seemingly basic tasks (laundry) take the better part of the day and I grow frustrated but for know I am basking in the simplicity.

I should go I need to go figure out how to raise chickens…turns out I am greedy.

I just swore…in.

I had the distinct privilege of delivering a speech at our swearing in ceremony on May 2^nd after the completion of Pre-Service Training. The occasion was held that the American Ambassador’s home (home doesn’t quite do it justice it was incredible and a little ridiculous) in Lilongwe. It was a great honor made even greater because U.S. Senators were in attendance. The speech was written by five of us and delivered in the four languages learned, followed by an English delivery by yours truly. Here is the speech…

Honorable U.S. Senators, Madame Ambassador Jackson, Distinguished Malawian Officials, Peace Corps Staff and Volunteer, My Fellow Trainees, and Invited Guests thank you for joining us as we celebrate our acceptance into the Peace Corps family.

In being sworn in today we devote ourselves to facing the global issues of our generation. We have been encouraged by family and friends, past and present Peace Corps volunteers, and mentors to assume this responsibility. We have arrived here today through a number of diverse paths and with varying purpose but with a common anticipation of meaningful service. Further still, we recognize the true obstacles of our assignments lay ahead.

As a Peace Corps family, guided by a patient, supportive training staff, we have embraced the joys, growth, and adjustments presented by Pre-Service Training. During village home stay we were graciously accepted into Malawian households participating in their lives. Allowing us to come to know and understand the deserving moniker, “The Warm Heart of Africa.”

At a time when many worldwide are living with the reality of preventable disease and the world’s environment is placed under increasing stress we come to Malawi to offer creative approaches and to facilitate communities of solution.

We see a beautiful Malawi.

We see a beautiful World.

We envision a Malawi

• where those afflicted with HIV/AIDS can find a healing community,
• where the search for fuel wood no longer means deforestation,
• where the malnourished find a sustainable harvest,
• where entrepreneurs find access to thriving markets, and
• where labor is compensated by fair living wages.

With Past and Present Volunteers…

We envision a World that

• Promotes Peace,
• Demands Dignity,
• Claims Equality,
• Gives a Voice to the Voiceless, and
• Invests in a Healthy Earth for Generations to Come.

We thank you for joining us today and we invite you to join us.

Join us and see what we see.

Join us and envision a better world.

Join us and envision a world that is possible.

Fifty-one years ago President John F. Kennedy called upon a new generation. A generation to represent the United States of America’s presence in the world through volunteer service in a peace corps. We represent those Americans who believe in continuing this humanitarian effort. Today it is our privilege to accept both the responsibilities and challenges of this once in a lifetime opportunity.

Thank you for joining us as we officially begin to honor our commitment to making Malawi our home and its people our family.

Thank you and please…join us.

Well...  

This. is. happening.  

I am moving to Malawi...like tomorrow...morning. And by morning I mean at 1:30am the bus will pick up our training group from Philly and take us to New York to fly out.

In Malawi I will be working as a Community Health Advisor, with the HIV/AIDS initiative, for the Peace Corps. For the first few months I will be in training  so that I can learn the language of Chichewa (no I did not make that up), as well as cultural and technical training.  During this time I will be staying with a host family and preparing for my post assignment so that I can be productive in this time.  

Because of this journey I have decided to keep a blog (I will try to write about interesting things and things that might make you laugh), which leads me to why I have brought you here, will you malawi me?   

Blog me!

Sarah Weber

aka

swebs