Friday, March 26, 2010

Almost to Easter Break

This Thursday my long exile in my home will come to an end- THANK EFFING GOD! For the past month, because I've been strapped for cash, I have been absolutely stuck in my house, eating my stores of American food, and supplementing it with pallah (porridge). I keep a little calendar of the next two years on my wall, but I make it a point to only cross off days when I've had a particular rough time feeling lonesome- and a lot of times I can go weeks without crossing off days, but for the past month, I've pretty much crossed days off first thing in the morning. Yeah, I need to get out of the house.

One kind of crummy thing happened this week- one of our English teachers is leaving the school, the ministry of education gave him a new posting (in the middle of the semester, mind you, way to go ministry, way to put the students first). I've been asked to pick up some of his classes, which isn't a huge problem, since I am a teacher and all, and teaching more than two courses doesn't really phase me, I just wish I'd been given more warning. Also, my headmaster asked me to go with him to some training over the break, so all of my plans have been canceled, I may tell him that I can't go because I have things to accomplish, which is true, but I don't want to let him down.

Actually, this week, I got really frustrated at work. I went home to grab a bite to eat between classes, and while I was there, Hector got out. I should have chased her and brought her back inside, but instead I rushed off to the library, because I could see students were there to check out books, and I wanted to get that done, plus, she's been out while I'm in the library before, and usually she just sticks by me. One thing led to another, and I had to go teach, and didn't have enough time to put her back in my house, so I just shut the door to the classroom, and she sat outside until I finished. Unfortunately, I was teaching the last class of the day, and when the 'open school' kids start to show up, they crowd around the door, and when the bell rings, they trample in like people outside of a wal-mart on black Friday, regardless of whatever teachers, other students or even puppies might be in the way, sleeping on the doorstep. They trampled my dog. The little shits trampled my dog. Hector, however, is resourceful, and somehow managed to get away into the arms of one of my day school students, who handed her off to me in the scuffle. I was pissed. Afterwards, my headmaster asked me to be more careful about keeping her in my house, because people here don't really care about dogs, and don't really feel the same about trampling them- so I told him that regardless, the students shouldn't treat the classroom like a bus terminal, and should act like students when they come in the room, because they are going to hurt each other, and I stormed off to go teach computers, which also sucks, because it takes an hour to create a new folder.

The next day, I was still feeling a little pissed off about it- I live alone for the most part, and basically, when things go wrong, there really isn't anything to distract me. I think my headmaster knew I was still feeling a little sore, so he came to talk to me- he didn't mention the dog or anything, we just talked about Obama, and the health care bill, and other things in America, but I could tell he wanted to make me feel appreciated. I work for a nice guy. That make me feel a little better.

I like when people ask me how Obama is, as if he and I are friends or something, oh Malawi.


Note to Kitty: Ciel (heaven)

Friday, March 19, 2010

Making Guava Jelly

This week, my women’s group decided to make guava jelly, so while the guavas and water boil, I’m sitting under a mango tree on a rock- I tried to find one that was moderately clean because I’m wearing a light colored skirt, but even so, I know that Saturday afternoon, I’ll be crouched over a water basin scrubbing stains out of it with Sunlight soap while I listen to the BBC.

I remember buying this skirt the summer before I went away to college, that was a better time for business, and I spent most of my summer steaming wrinkles out of clothes at a little store until my friends picked me up after dark, when we would inevitably head to a late night coffee shop, where they would smoke cigarettes and I would drink coffee until past midnight. I returned home every night with my eyes stinging, unable to sleep, and I would sit up filled with nervous excitement for the fall to begin. About once a week at the store we cleaned the steamer out with vinegar, and to this day I can’t smell vinegar without thinking of that store. Sometimes my mom sends me packages here with clothes from there, and they all have that same faint familiar smell, which always makes me feel homesick. I remember trying on that skirt one afternoon before the evening rush- my coworker wrinkled my nose when I tried it on, but I bought it anyway because I liked the way it moved when I walked. That August when I moved into my dorm, I wore that skirt to go meet a friend, and walking around campus trying to remember everything so that I wouldn’t get lost on my way home, and I felt like everything I needed was right there, and that I was exactly who I needed to be.

Margaret is telling a story to the other women in Chitonga, I can only understand about every third word, but I can still tell that it is a funny story, and she is telling it well. The other women are all sitting on the exposed roots of the mango tree, looking up at Margaret as she dances along with the story in front of all of us. They all had the good sense to wrap a chitenge around their waists to protect their skirts, so the soot and dirt don’t bother them. From the way Margaret is telling her story, and the other women are watching her, it is easy to tell why they joined the group, which was Margaret’s idea in the first place. She came to my door one day when I first moved here and stated that she wanted to be my friend, and wanted to invite me to see her house. I didn’t know it at the time, but even then she had a plan. A week later, after she had taken me to her house and fed me eggs with rice, she revealed her motives, and the Umoza* women’s group of Chifumu was born, but we didn’t have a name then. We decided to meet on Thursdays, and it was Margaret who found women to join the group.

That was in December, and we have been meeting on Thursdays ever since, with varied success each week. Margaret found almost fifty women to join the group, but attendance is spotty and varies from three to forty at each meeting. We try to create something each week, and as I said earlier, this week it is jelly.

We boiled guavas over a fire and strained the juice through a piece of cheesecloth. Next, we added lemon juice and sugar and set the mixture back on the fire to boil until the pectin in the lemon causes it to set into jelly. The wind blows smoke into my face, and I raise my hand to cover my nose. My fingers smell like lemon and wood smoke, and somehow those two scents mix into barbeque.

The semester that I graduated from college, I went on a road trip with my boyfriend Zach, and our friend Megan. On our way to Pensacola Florida, we stopped in Nashville for dinner. We ended up eating barbeque in a restaurant where a man with a banjo and a harmonica tried to sing the blues. They were the second best ribs I’ve ever paid for**. Afterwards, on the phone, Megan talked to her vegetarian boyfriend, saying ‘those pigs were so happy to become such delicious food…’ and that is what I think of as I sit under this mango tree, a time when I ate corn bread patties slathered with real butter with my friends in a place where the music was so loud that we couldn’t talk, but we didn’t need to talk.

The women want to take the guava jelly off of the fire to set, but I don’t let them, because if we take it off too soon, our jelly will be soupy. They don’t want to keep boiling it because it will reduce too much, and we will have less jelly. We decide to take it off to set and spoon it into the tin I brought so that we can make marmalade from the left over lemons from the jelly over the fire. When you make marmalade, no matter the type, you need to use lemons. If you want to make orange marmalade, for example, you should use one lemon for each orange, and however much fruit you use, you must also use an equal amount of sugar, so for each kg of fruit (half lemon) you use one kg of sugar. Luckily, lemon trees are all over, even I have one, and today, we have five ripe lemons, a pile of unripe lemons, and about five oranges. We decide to eat the oranges, and make marmalade out of just the ripened lemons. The process is slightly different, and this is my first time making either jelly or marmalade, so I keep the Peace Corps Malawi cook book close by the whole time. It turns out that the women were right about the jelly, and when it cools it is the consistency of gummy bears.

The marmalade turns out a little better than the jelly, but because we didn’t have enough sugar, it is very bitter. I tell the women that I never understood marmalade to begin with, but that we can all enjoy it on bread if we add a little more sugar when we eat it. The women and I spoon the marmalade into containers, baggies or leaves so that we can bring a little home. I can tell that they are trying to be polite as we each try some, and that the marmalade is really too bitter to eat plain, but I think we are all excited to have something to spread on bread this weekend.

Margaret and I walk to the main road together, and she tells me the latest gossip about women we pass, whose husband is ill, and why this one or that one hasn’t been to meetings lately- they are all good reasons, and the women seem to do a good job of sharing the things they learn later, so I don’t think it is a big deal, but I know that Margaret wishes they all came every week. As it is, most only seem to come when they know we are making something, and I can’t blame them.

Ever since the group started Margaret has been telling people that I am her daughter. She must know a lot of people because everyone outside of the school addresses me as anya Banda***. As we walk, she adjusts my shirt and chides me:

‘Melissa, you should not fail to put a button here’

‘no ama, that’s the style, to leave the front open, and wear a shirt under it’

‘style… you say it is the style, but still, a button Melissa’

We part ways at a crossroads, and I get on my bike. I don’t normally like the ride going home from Umoza meetings, because it is mostly uphill, but it is late in the day now, and it is getting cool. There is thunder to the East, but I’m not worried, because for the past week there have been vague threats of rain, but no proper storms. I ride past fields of cassava and corn as I make my way home, and am relieved when I finally get to the top of the hill. It is too dark to see now, but in the daytime, you can see the lake off in the horizon on this road, and when you are riding downhill, you can see it both directly in front of you, and to the right, almost as if you are on an island.

I realize that some day, I am going to be doing something completely different, and suddenly some article of clothing or a smell will remind me of Malawi, and I’ll suddenly remember something like riding my bike home at dusk through cassava fields, or sitting on my back stoop listening to the BBC with a coffee on a Saturday morning and I’ll feel homesick for this place too, but mostly, I’m sure, I’ll miss my friends.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

*They say that you cannot translate Bantu languages directly into English, you can only describe each word, but the women named the group Umoza because it is a word that means people coming together to learn from each other

**the best being Sandmanns in East Grand Rapids, where they cook the ribs in steel drums, but of course the best ribs overall are the ones that my uncle spike makes, but I don’t need to pay for those

***daughter of Banda, of the Bandas- it isn’t a direct translation

Friday, March 12, 2010

Back to work

Oh mom, your frustration with the internet amuses me. I'm glad you were able to post.

things I realized this week:
-Malawians love to use autotune
-Hector the puppy will contentedly eat an entire bag of flour, but won't eat beans
-Ground coffee from home makes mornings in Malawi awesome
-My market is capable of being open while at the same time being completely free of all food
-I can live off of rice and beans for a week (see above)
-The ladies in my womens group can be kinda raunchy

Not much happened, I've just been adjusting to being back at home, I've read a book a day for the past few days, it's a good life charlie brown. I just wish they were selling food in the market near my house, but I guess this is the hungry season. The food from home has been a godsend this week, especially the protein powder and protein bars.

About the t-shirts, we are having them printed here in Malawi- prices are really cheap, you can get them printed here for much less than you can in the states. The group that is making them is comprised of Peace Corps volunteers, and what we do is plan camps for girls, give out scholarships for secondary school and other things like that, and we sell the shirts to other volunteers, ex-pats and people from home to raise money for the camps and scholarships and whatnot. Any designs can just be emailed to me, and I can print them out here from my local internet cafe.

ok! Stay safe everyone, I love you all!

Saturday, March 6, 2010

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step

...and ends with me asleep on a minibus

This is it for the frequent updates guys, later today I get on a minibus and hopefully pass the eff out once I get home. I'm excited to not have to worry about carrying around a big hiking pack for a while, also, I miss Hector the puppy.

Mzuzu was nice, though extremely muddy. I had a good time wandering around in the market yesterday, though I was really disappointed to see that the ENTIRE Tanzanian section of the market was closed, I guess they didn't pay their licenses (according to the drunk guy on the street)

One little thing- a bit of a beg- I know a lot of you out there like to get involved and help out, and I know a lot of you who read this are pretty good artists. Here in Malawi, we have a group called GAD (gender and development)- and as of right now, we are trying to think of a way to fund raise. We thought of a tee shirt design that would be pretty cool, and I was hoping that maybe one of you could help out with the art: we want a Malawian Rosie the Riveter. Cool, right? Only not a lot of us are artists, so we can't draw it. Just thought I'd put that out there.

That's about it, I'll write again in a few weeks! Peace,

Beeb

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

home?

Hey guys! So I'm in Lilongwe for another night, I decided to take some extra time to recover a bit before I headed North- I'm going to show my friend Amy around Mzuzu's fabric markets, Amy and I bonded during homestay when we made our own national wear outfits for swearing in. Also, I have a meeting to go to on Friday.

Megan, your comment on my last post confused me- I had to read it a few times to figure out that when I said home, you thought I meant the US, but really, I meant my little house here in Chintheche. I guess I didn't realize that I started thinking of that place as home.

Since I have a little extra time to hang out here in Lilongwe, I guess I'll write a bit more about the traveling that I've been doing the past week or so:

The weekend before last, I went to Senga Bay for a birthday party. I got to the lodge a day early with another volunteer because travel is a bitch, and I like to settle a bit once I go somewhere. We ended up being the only two guests in the bar, which led to us hanging out with the owner of the lodge and his family. They were Shari Lank an, and we had a good time getting tipsy and telling jokes- here's the thing though, most jokes don't translate cross culturally very well, so basically, I'd tell a joke, and everyone would stare, then one of the owners would tell a joke, and Greg and I would stare- it was still pretty funny though.

I don't really think the beach in Senga Bay is quite as nice as the beach in Nkhata Bay, but maybe I'm just partial to my Boma. I got to help some iwe* fish, which was cool. Basically, they just cast out a net into the shallow water of the lake (think Lake Michigan) and kind of do a little dance in front of the net, then, they bring it up, and it has minnows in it. Sometimes the iwe would catch a little eel, and they would freak out about it, once an older kid took one and drop kicked it- which I thought was a little dramatic.

The birthday party was fun- the owners of the lodge made a cake for the party, and one of the guys we were chatting with the night before bought a few rounds for the group, which was really cool, and made me feel a little like a rockstar.

The next morning (Sunday) I had to get up early so that I could get to Lilongwe in time to catch Peace Corps transport to Dedza for my IST**. I got a good hitch with some other girls in my group on the back of a pickup truck. Ok, maybe it wasn't the best hitch seeing as it was raining, there was a giant catfish hanging next to us, and two giant buckets of formaldehyde, but at least it was free. The drive from Salima to Lilongwe is gorgeous, you drive through mountains, and since it is the rainy season now, everything is green and misty. It is hard to describe, you'll just have to come visit.

IST was great, I got to see my friends, and we went to a kind of anthropological museum and saw more Gule Wamkulu dances, which I got video of. Once I get home to America, I'm sure you'll be so sick of the stupid videos and pictures.

I feel a little overwhelmed by all of the information I learned at IST though, I don't really know how to begin putting my projects into action, I know I have two years to do it, but yeah, it is a lot of new stuff to process.

That is it for now, I'm sure I'll post one last time before I go home (to Chintheche) on Sunday, this little two week holiday from school has been really nice, but it will be nice to get back and start working again. I miss my bed and my puppy.

Keep in touch, stay safe and all of that!

Beeb

*little kids
**inter service training...?

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

...ow

Hey guys, so I'm writing from Lilongwe after a successful IST (Inter Service Training?) I ate a lot of meat on Peace Corps dime, it was amazing.

Unfortunately, last weekend, I got sick and didn't eat anything for three days, which was a damn shame, because I was staying at Jen and Kris' house with the lovely Esther, who cooked for us, and I didn't feel well enough to eat any of the food.

On the good news end of things, I got a bunch of packages from Carrie, Megan & Thom, My Mom, My Dad, Zach, and Zach's Mom's Friend. I feel very loved, but I don't really know how to get them all home- if you want your packages to reach me faster, you might consider using my new address in Chintheche, which I posted about earlier- as things are now, in order to get packages I have to take a day off of school, catch a 6 hour bus ride to Lilongwe, spend the night there, and go back home the next day on the 6am bus. Each bus ride costs 1,000 Kwacha, so to go to Lilongwe round trip costs the equivilant of 20 Carlsburgs (aka, "probably the best beer in the world"- their actual slogan). Not to mention that in addition to going to Lilongwe, I have to take any packages back with me on my back... it gets heavy. Please use the new address.

My glasses broke this week :( but I get a new pair today :) -I can't say that my new glasses are the nicest pair in the world, but at least I'll be able to see

This weekend the new group of volunteers arrived! We met them at the airport, and they seem nice- I'm happy not to be a newbie anymore.

That's about it for now, I'm pretty tired from lugging my packages all over the country, but I have a plan for getting them home, fingers crossed.

Beeb