Moyo wane, kuno ku Malawi

^My life, here in Malawi

About one year ago, I received my Peace Corps Invitation to Malawi. Had it not been for Madonna or my mild addiction to online map quizzes, I probably wouldn’t have known where this tiny country is. Now here I am, surrounded by the gorgeous mountains of Malawi, teaching Malawian students every day, and clumsily figuring out the language and culture of this agricultural, collectivist, and friendly group of people. I’ve been in Malawi for more than six months now, and I think I am finally getting used to things to things here. But every now and then, I step back and think about how my days here—my activities, my concerns, and my routines—are so wonderfully different from my life one year ago. I’ll ask myself, “Did I really spend all afternoon sewing tobacco and chit-chatting in Chitumbuka?”; “Do I really blush when I see my own knees?”; “Did I really just carve a jack-o-lantern out of this pumpkin and give it to my neighbors, just to see their reaction?” (hey, if you didn’t have TV or the internet you’d probably be finding creative ways to entertain yourself too!).
Where was I one year ago? Presenting my fellows research, working frantically on my senior seminar paper, and trying to manage the anxiety of my approaching move to Africa. Though adjusting to African life is still a concern for me, I recognize that I am really lucky to be in a forgiving culture surrounded by people who laugh easily and want to see me succeed. My job is also making the adjustment smooth: as a teacher, I have a school community which helps with community integration, and I have enough structured work to feel like I'm accomplishing something every day. At the beginning of April, I completed my first term of teaching (there are three terms per year). I found that I really enjoyed being a "site rat" (staying at site for weeks on end), and therefore I was really horrible at updating my blog. So I have a lot of updates and anecdotes from the past few months that I want to share with you all!

Life at Lundu CDSS
My first term of teaching has been wonderfully challenging and rewarding. It makes sense: they say Peace Corps is "the toughest job you'll ever love." Something that is really neat about my work is that I have a lot of freedom to be creative. Although the Malawian school system is very test-oriented, and the student-teacher relationships are very formal, I am a pretty unusual addition to my school. I think that because I'm the youngest teacher and the only female teacher, my coworkers have trouble figuring out what I should be doing (there's nothing close to a precedent!). It's been neat to have the chance to carve out my own niche at the school.
This term, I taught Form 1 Math, Form 1 Physical Science, Form 2 Physical Science, and Form 3 Social Development. Next term I'll trade Social Development for English Form 3, which I'm a little anxious about. I haven't thought about grammar since my high school newspaper days! But, since one of our English teachers was transferred, I'm taking on his class. I’ll try to incorporate social development issues into the English class. English is such an important subject, and I can easily include current issues and HIV/AIDs education in an English class. Students can choose six subjects out of ten total to sit for on their senior year test (the Malawian School Certificate Exam); however English is the only subject that they are required to pass in order to get the certificate.
In addition to teaching, I was the "Sports Mistress," which is a title that I have recently decided to forfeit. I realized very quickly that my position was strictly nominal, and that I really was the wrong person for the job. The girls play a sport called netball that is completely foreign to me, and practices are conducted exclusively in Chitumbuka. The girls are very self-directed and for a while they led practice themselves and I just watched and did time-checks, but as soon as we learned that we had a forthcoming competition against Chikwawa CDSS, the other teachers at my school began to take netball extremely seriously. For one week straight, we had practice every day after school. My headmaster began running drills for the girls to ensure that we would not lose. The Friday before our Saturday game, he offered encouragement: "those who lose will be punished." Thankfully, we won by a landslide.
I have decided to surrender my minimal role in sports, because my job as the librarian is becoming very time-consuming. I really like organizing books and advising students on what they might want to read. But after taking final inventory after Term 1 finished, I realized that I need to be much more vigilant as a librarian… My favorite book, a hardcover children's book called Do Animals Dream? with all sorts of animal-related questions and answers, was stolen. Other books had been taken too, which was really discouraging for me. Although only a handful of books have been stolen, I realize that I need to make some changes next term in the way I manage the library. For the most part, though, running the library has been incredibly enjoyable for me. Many of the students are getting a lot out of it (not in a sneaky, thieving way). I have students who come in every day to chat with me to work on their English, or copy words out of my Peace Corps English-Chitumbuka Language Manual that I've made available to them. Overall, the library is looking like a success. After being at my school for a few months, I've determined that I would really like to try to begin a library-building initiative at my school. I started the "library" at the beginning of Term 1 by moving our books from a closet to a vacant classroom. But next year we will have four classes, so we won't have a vacant room for the books.
I am glad to be at a school that has the potential for a lot of growth and development, because it really makes me feel like I can contribute. The other major development project that I would like to explore is the possibility of getting a bore hole at the school. The school committee is currently building a girls' hostel, and I think the next logical step would be to have a school garden so the girls could grow their own food. Also, I have a vision for a lunch program that would only be possible if we could grow food at school. The major obstacle is water: it is quite a trek to the bore hole to the school. I've heard that some Members of Parliament have promised to put in a bore hole and/or tap at the school, but nothing has come to fruition. During Term 2 I hope to apply for funding for a bore hole. Although I feel much more passionately about the library, I think that water is the more important initiative. An additional way want to help at the school is through offering scholarships to a few deserving students. I’ve e-mailed many of you about this, and thank you so much for those of you who have sent money my way! Though school fees are only about $15 per term, it is a lot of money for many Malawians. I had some students last term who missed the first half of Term 1 because they couldn't scrounge up school fees. Term 2 begins in just a few days, and I have five very happy students who are getting "scholarships." When I figure out who is sponsoring which students, I'll have the students write thank you letters and I'll send them your way!

Domestic Affairs
At the front of our Peace Corps Malawi Cookbook is a quotation that I quite like: "If you are carefully, if you use the right ingredients, and you don't take any shortcuts, then you usually cook something very good. Sometimes it is the only worthwhile product you can salvage in a day: what you make to eat. With writing, I find, you can have all the right ingredients, give plenty of time and care, and still get nothing. Also true of love [maybe also true of teaching? some days…]. Cooking, therefore, can keep a person who tries hard sane." I've been cooking a lot lately, partly because I like to have a tangible product for my work every now and then. Also, once I mastered the art of fire-starting, a pyromaniac that had sat dormant for almost 23 years was unveiled. I have had some great successes, as well as some great failures, in the kitchen (i.e., maize flour and corn flour are not interchangeable). Baking here is not a piece of cake (ha!). It involves starting a small fire that is kept below the pot with the cake/bread/cookies, then starting a raging fire on a sheet of metal on the top of the pot (or atop the lid). Baking usually leaves me with one or two minor burns and eyes filled with tears from the smoke. It takes me a while to recover. However, right before leaving site I made the most delicious loaf of bread (a dash of honey in the dough--yum!); this reactivated my interest in baking. I'm also surrounded by baking in the village. My headmaster's wife, Victoria, is a scone-baking expert, and she lets me roll the scones sometimes. Everyone knows which scones I've rolled, because they're enormous… what can I say? I like scones. Victoria also helped me bake a devil's food cake that was sensational. It made me want to start an income-generating activity of cup-cake making with a women's group, but when I did the math I realized that it would be close to impossible to make a profit because cocoa powder is so pricey. The women in my area already make good money selling scones door-to-door and at the school.
My worker, Cecilia, sat down with me one day and showed me how to make the best scones in Malawi, with milk powder, brown sugar and good yeast. Cecilia comes every day (except on the weekends), bringing a bucket of water. She helps me clean the house and heats up water for my daily coffee (some habits are just too important to try to break!). Cecilia is becoming one of my best friends at site, and I'm glad she is starting to feel more comfortable around me. When I first hired her, she was so subservient and quiet that it made me feel a little awkward--though I realize she was simply trying to show me respect. But now she sings while she mops, and she calls me "Alyssa" instead of "Madam." We're making progress! Cecilia is a really active person in the village; she always knows if there is a mbotoska dance, or if the church has a community event I should attend. Her English is a little better than my Chitumbuka, so she and I are able to converse pretty easily.
Sundays have become my laundry days. For a long time, I've been trying to convince myself that doing laundry by hand is a cathartic experience. Get all of your stress out as you pound those clothes! Now that the procedure of laundry is a bit more routine, I am finding that I quite enjoy it. Also, the BBC Forum is on around the time that I do laundry on Sundays, so I've got good conversation to listen to as I wash!

The Day My Site Mate was sent to America
One day, I arrived at school and received a message from one of my fellow teachers. "Madam, one of the students came with a message for you today. I'm very sorry, but your site mate Emily has been in a motorbike accident and is now in America." I was immobilized by this horrible development. Emily? In America? How did this happen so quickly. We're not allowed to ride motorbikes--it's a Peace Corps policy. So, if she were in an accident and Peace Corps found out, she'd be kicked out of Malawi! Although Emily is not a rule-breaking ruffian, I knew she had been traveling, and the story seemed plausible. My fellow teacher told me that Amalia, my other site mate, had the details (mistake #1: I assumed Amalia has sent the message to me). So, at my headmaster's request, I leave school to figure out the whole story. I began the 45-minute bike ride to Amalia's house, and when I arrive find the house is empty. Her neighbors inform me that she left and hour ago with two friends. They were going to the village where Emily lives. So… I begin the bike ride to her village. The whole time, I'm consumed by confusion. Who is with Amalia? Is it Emily? I ask a shop owner along the way if he saw any white people biking, and he says yes, one male and one female. Who? He doesn't know. The confusion persists.
On top of all this, my brain is still in its hyperactive post-coffee state. I'm playing through what would happen if Emily were gone. Would I get a new site mate? Who will finish Emily's mushroom houses? Who will show me around Nyika? All these questions are tormenting me as I arrive in Emily's village. I pull into Emily's house, where I see three people sitting calmly. They don't look like the type of people who are cleaning their friend's house because she has been removed from the country--which is what I expected to find. I get close enough to see that the three people are Amalia, Emily's boyfriend, and (are my eyes deceiving me?) Miss Emily herself. When I frantically ask them to relieve me of my confusion, they are just as mystified as I am. I begin to tell them the story of my morning, and Amalia says, "Oh, I heard Lauren [a Canadian grad student in the area] got a flat tire on her motorbike and got it fixed near your village. And I am going to America soon because I'm done with my service…" And that is how a terrifying rumor was born: a few facts jumbled together, and distorted in a game of telephone, and suddenly my site mate is in a body cast in America. Though I was frustrated at my crazy morning of exhausting worry and bike-riding, my aggravation was overshadowed by my relief that Emily is still here. After I returned to school to deliver the good news to my headmaster, I went back to Emily's house. I had to celebrate Emily's health and presence! For the first time in a while, I gave myself a nice break. Instead of taking library inventory, I enjoyed a nice afternoon of chatting with friends and sipping Carlsberg beer (probably the best beer in the world… certainly the best [er…only] beer in Malawi!).

The Funeral
One Sunday, I had resolved to spend the day vegging, reading, and maybe doing some laundry (if I could muster up the ambition). Although I often go to church on Sundays and realize that it's very important for community integration, it's not always the most pleasant. Because I am a woman, I need to sit on the floor (the women's side of the church does not have chairs like the men's does). Some days, I'm just not in the mood to sit on the floor for three hours and try to pay attention as people lecture in a language I don't understand (though the experience does help me empathize with my students…). On top of this, every now and then, the minister mentions my name and it makes me nervous. But there is one thing that keeps me coming back on Sundays: the music. I should mention that it is also really beautiful to see such a large group of people united through a common belief and to see the passion with which they worship. But the music at church is the most incredible thing to me. Both men and women can do amazing things with their voices, and the falsetto harmony when they're all singing together is astounding. There are so many different sounds represented, and they all seem to fit together (mom, there might even be a spot for you!). But what I really love is the drumming. I can't help moving when I hear the drums. The drums are the real magnet that pulls me to church.
On this particular Sunday that I began this section referring to, I'm sure my decision to skip church was only faintly driven by the fact that the choir gave up drums for Lent. So, I was sitting in my house, lazily enjoying a cup of coffee, when I heard a forceful knock on my door, coupled with the familiar voice of my next-door neighbor, my headmaster: "Madam, there's a funeral. Let's go."
We learned about funerals during our Peace Corps cultural training. The gist of it was: funerals are very important, and everyone in the village goes. Teachers should definitely go, especially if a student is connected to the funeral. This funeral was the grandfather of two of my students. So I let go of my plan to be lazy and prepared myself for a cultural experience.
We walked for about more than an hour before reaching the family's house (and many of my students have longer daily commutes than this!). My headmaster bumped into a female friend on the walk there and asked her to be my "escort." Funerals, like so many other things here, are gender-segregated. My headmaster and I were both relieved that I would have a guide for this! When we arrived at the compound, I sat outside on the ground with the women, and the men went elsewhere (though I never actually saw where they went, I think it was a tent-like structure). There had to have been hundreds of people at this compound. We waited for the church service to begin. My "guide's" English was about as rough as my Chitumbuka, so my understanding of the whole event was pretty limited. After waiting for an hour or so, a staggered parade of family members arrived and entered the house. They were wailing—as least the women were. The men were rather stoic. The women were visibly grieving. This seemed to be a major difference from in America, where people try to maintain their composure. The older women were especially animated in their grief, shouting "my brother" or "my husband," and requiring the help of others to stand up.
Once the individuals who went inside the house (maybe to observe the body? Maybe to eat nsima? Not sure why) emerged, the church service began. During the service, a shoe was passed around as an offering plate to collect bereavement money for the family. About two hours later, we went to the cemetery. The body was in a wooden coffin that male family members carried. As we were walking, women were still crying and grieving audibly. As I've mentioned before, cemeteries are in forested areas. Villages have cemeteries; from what I understand, graveyards aren't segregated by religion. Everyone sat on the ground while men dug the grave. There was a small choir singing songs as this took place. When the grave was dug and the body placed and covered, the choir did a modest dance where the body was resting. After announcements were made and a donation summary was read aloud (any big monetary contributions were recognized), we were free to leave.
Although my lazy Sunday had taken an unexpected turn, I am glad that I was able to attend the funeral and show my support for the family. It was also a very interesting and important cultural experience. It is very fortunate that there haven't been too many funerals in my area. Right now, it is "funeral season" here, because there is a period of a few months in the rainy season before crops are harvested, and many people are very hungry. One of my PCV friends has had three people at site, with whom she was close, pass away--just in the first three months at site. She and I have talked about how it is hard for us, because we are so used to having our emotions run as an undercurrent to everything else in our life. Malawians seem to have an ability to turn their emotions on and off. At the funeral, it surprised me to see ordinarily composed women sobbing and grieving with every fiber of their being. But it seems like once they have grieved fully, they can move on.

In-Service Training in Dedza
Along with the rest of my group, I was at the Peace Corps' training site in Dedza from April 6-15 for language intensive training as well as technical training (In-Service Training, or IST). It was really nice to see everyone in my group and hear how their first term of teaching went. The first few days we worked on our respective languages: some of us need Chichewa, others Chitonga, and others Chitumbuka. It was amazing how much everyone's language has improved—at least I noticed this with the PCVs in my language group. We learned a lot of technical language during this time, as well as HIV/AIDS-related vocabulary. Our language trainer, Shupe, was also willing to go off on a lot of culture-related tangents. Many of us had questions about cultural issues such as polygamy and witchcraft.
For the rest of the time in Dedza, we were learning about funding sources for secondary projects, discussing problems and successes in the classroom, and hearing about various things like permaculture and how to use sports to educate about AIDS. It was a very productive training session, and I was really glad to see that so many of us are really thriving at site and generating some great ideas for how to contribute. Every year, the education volunteers coordinate an academic camp after Term 3 called Camp Sky. As a group, we discussed how we are going to run Camp Sky this year. I am on the curriculum committee, so I get to help design different "tracks" for students (i.e., a business track, a science track, an arts track), and I will also help recruit volunteers from different sectors to help with teaching. During IST, we also had "elections." There are two things you can be elected for—the Volunteer Advisory Committee (VAC). VAC members meet with the different directors and serve as liaisons between volunteers and the administrators. There is also Volunteers Supporting Volunteers (VSV), which is a support network for volunteers. VSV members help other volunteers when they're having tough times by visiting sites, providing a listening ear, and perhaps bringing chocolate. I was elected as one of the VSV members, which I'm really excited about. I will go to Lilongwe in June for VSV training.
Aside from learning tons of stuff and holding student council elections, we also went on a really neat field trip during IST. We visited a place called Mua Mission that is a cultural history museum featuring the different ethnic groups of Malawi. There were beautiful paintings and carvings there, too. It was quite the treat, and we just happened to go there on my birthday! In addition to this lovely coincidental birthday treat, we also celebrated my birthday at Kande Beach…

Kande Beach
Because Grandma and Grandpa Lakin, as well as Grandma Morley, decided to give me a little bit of money for my birthday, I thought it would be nice to take a beach vacation after IST and before school started back up again. I used my birthday money to rent a chalet on Lake Malawi with four of my friends (Caitlin, Kelly O, Kelly P, and Margaret). We went to a resort called Kande Beach Resort. It was beautiful and remote. For almost three whole days we just sat on the beach, listened to music on my new ipod (thanks so much mom and dad!) and chatted and played games. We have become very creative these days, playing games like "would you rather" or "sticktionary" (Pictionary with sticks!) because we don't have all that many resources.
We met some nice people at Kande Beach—an older Canadian couple working in Mzuzu, as well as some PCVs who had just been evacuated from Madagascar because of the political situation there. Because Malawi is opening up a uranium mine in Karonga (I think it opened yesterday actually), there were a lot of miners at the beach too. I returned from Kande yesterday, and I'm in Mzuzu now getting a few things in order before heading back to site Thursday. The term begins on the 27th. Last time I returned from site after being away, my cat was missing his whiskers… who knows what surprises I'll have waiting for me on Thursday!

Until later,

Alyssa