Tailored

I recently finished helping to coordinate a tailoring training with the women of our HIV/AIDS support group.  Although it was incredibly challenging to organize a training at the village level it proved to be well worth the effort.  We had a small celebration in which they received a certificate, a coke, and fried dough called a mandazi.  Also, on their graduation day a peace corps friend of mine came to lead a session to teach them how to make reusable menstruation pads, known as The Pad Project.  It is discouraging to see how normal natural things can result in making life so difficult from a lack of resources. One of the many things I never thought about in regards to the developing world.  So the women were so excited to put their new skills to practice to fulfill such a practical need. 

The tailoring group of 10 amazing ladies have a sewing machine to share and use for free.  The group has made some items to sell to start generating some income.  In which a portion will go to the HIV group to help purchase supplies for homes based visits and the remaining portion will go to the individual that made the goods.  I hope that these small funds are able to improve the quality of life for the women working and also for those that are homebound. 

Getting the sewing machine to my village was a logistical nightmare! 

I traveled to a city in the North, called Mzuzu, to buy the machine.  I was making great strides to be prudent.  The sewing machines here are massive.  They are foot powered manual beasts.  If “the beast” were a car it would be a Buick compared to a modern day swinger machine you can buy at your local Wal-mart. This was one of those ventures that made me realize how scarce resources can be here.  I purchased the machine and the men at the store carried it to the bus depot so I could start my trip home.  We get “the beast” into the back of a mini-bus and we are on our way.  The conductor of the mini-bus said that I was going to need to pay for the whole row of seats because people were not going to fit.  I agreed.  But then he continued to cram people into the 12-passenger vehicle.  So when people began to pay and we were on our way out of the city I announced I would only be paying my portion.  Sometimes I can be stubborn.  Everyone on the bus agreed that this was fair, except the conductor.  Everyone on the bus began talking at the same time to resolve the issue.  I then was asked to get off the mini-bus.  I think he was bluffing and thought I would cave and pay.  I called his bluff and got off.  Sometimes I can be stubborn.  I was then walking down the street, more like waddling.  Because this machine is a beast.  On top of it I am balancing a package, which I am transporting for another volunteer.  I was struggling.  In time I make it to a staging area to catch another mini-bus.  But this change of buses sets me back which means I will have to spend the night in another stop over city to avoid traveling at night.  I was annoyed. And defeated. But stubborn…no…let’s say determined.

The next day I gear up for another mini-bus ride.  I properly negotiate a deal.  We get to the town that is nearest to my village and unload the machine onto the pick-up truck that will go to my village.  Within no time the mini-bus drives away.  With the package I was taking to the volunteer.  Not on my watch. 

I begin sprinting down the street after the mini-bus.  Yelling for people to help me.  Another man started running with me and said he can call the driver.  People were yelling…The white woman is running!  Thanks for the heckles.  I begin to cry while running (a new experience).  I felt so responsible.  Care packages here can really brighten gloomy days.  I then see the mini-bus driving towards me.  I am standing in the middle of the road in a lean to.  Sometimes I can be stubborn.  The guy that was running with me said that driver/thief came back because he called.  So I owed him money. I said, “I am not giving one more Malawian one more kwacha! (kwacha = currency, exchange rate $1 = 380 kwacha).  A small amount…I can have a flare for the dramatics. The mini-bus stops.  I then have this exchange after I retrieve the package. 

Me: You stole my package!

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: You stole!

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: You are a thief!

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: I should call the police

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: You don’t understand what I am saying.

Thief/Driver: Yes

Me: Ugh

Thief/Driver: (Blank Stare)

All the while there was a man named Alipo (his name means present) who was tagging along for this episode.  He was standing behind me and kept saying “This is NOT REALITY!” 

At one point I responded…This is REALITY!

After I walked away I was talking with Alipo who kept saying…”This is not reality.”

And finally I said, “Alipo, this is reality”

And his response, “Well, this is not the reality I choose.”

The bottom line is we do not get to choose reality.  Reality exists.  The reality of life here is raw and…real.  As in your face as it is I think of two things. I recognize that I am still ignorant to so many of the problems that are hidden from onlookers.  And two: as difficult as it can be to be exposed to complex issues at least it is a reality that lives and breathes.  It is not a reality that is conjured up inside of a computer or on social media.  I am not looking at the world through a device.  I feel it and smell it and live it.

This is reality.

We may not be able to choose it but maybe we can change it, maybe we can mend it, and maybe we tailor it. 

                                                                        Tailored.