MAFIA! (some journal entries from the past week)

8/12

at chileka airport. waiting. air malawi said the plane is fine today, but we were still supposed to take off an hour ago. watching the airline worker in an orange vest push luggage around in a shopping cart. i’d read but all i have with me is Moby Dick, which i thought would be cutely appropriate for a trip to dive with whalesharks, but really its just a more efficient substitute for prescription insomnia meds. (sorry ali)

although in the first chapter, Ishmael says he’s ‘ tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote’  I know the feeling, buddy

11/12

pruney. woke up. swam.dove. they took us out in the dhow to mageni -small rocks. Saw a lion fish an a spiney lobster on the reef directly under the boat. A little ways off, huge coral towers looming over head, 7ft moray eel threading though the fan coral below me. A giant parrot fish chomp away on coral morsels, their huge teeth remind me of a clown in some distant, creepy, memory. A bright yellow and blue school weaves around me. Giggling to myself makes a bubbly cloud. Some candy cane striped shrimp remind me that its almost Christmas. Serious visual overload at this point. Some nudibranchs flutter over the white sand bottom. Neon blue, they don’t give a damn about camoflage. Cant adequately describe the colors, the busy-ness of this underwater metropolis.  luscious.

the dive boat 

13/12

another day, another dive. Saw another lionfish, some black and white fluttering around in an anemone. Anemones like the ones in the little mermaid pop back into their spouts when I flick at them. An Indian ocean cushion star sat unassumingly on the bottom. Highlight? The turtle. A huge female hawksbill ate a coral lunch about 18meters down. Heard her munching before I saw her and then when she was full, we watched her paddle off.

Its sometime around 6:30 or 7 ( not really sure.. no watch, no phone), and twittering bat calls to feed are blending with Islamic  calls to prayer. Every night around dusk swarms of flying foxes cross the channel from Chole island to feed on Mafia mangoes. They look like birds of prey, or blackback seagulls. Flapping their wings slowly and elegantly, not at all like the tiny zig-zagging insect bats at home.

flying foxes over Chole bay 

So soothing to breathe salty air and hear the waves, I forgot how much I miss the ocean. Maybe I didn’t forget, I was just forcing myself not to remember so I wouldn’t feel deprived. Dhows are beached in the sand flats of the east African coast’s exaggerated tides, completely exposed, anchors and all. I wonder if boats feel naked when they’re out of the water?

My new Mafian friends taught me to play bao (a mancala-ish, bead game) after a dinner of charred changu –snapper- and mango with chili sauce. God its nice to speak Kiswahili again and actually hang out with people, unbound by the limitations of broken English. 

14/12

Whale sharks whale sharks! So amazing. Papapoto = sharkwhale kwa Kiswahili. We saw two (wapapapoto wawili) the first was a ‘baby’. 9 ft. Swimming along, mouth wide open, sucking in plankton filled seawater, tail swishing back and forth, wagging like a giant puppy. Still, getting in the water with him was super intimidating. Such poor visibility with all the plankton, that once I was in the water I couldn’t see him until he was 2 ft away. Felt the pulsing water from his gils before I saw the telltale gray polka-dotted skin, then I swam along side him, parallel to the remoras latched on to his belly.

 The second one was bigger, 6 meters and still juvenile. unlike the first, this one swam about a foot under the surface making him even harder to spot, and the water was murkier too. I had no idea where the  shark was when Musa the guide pushed me off the boat. Landed on top of papapoto. Again the soft jets of filtered gil-water pulsed against my belly.  Swimming as fast as I possibly could, I barely kept up. so amazing. When I was too tired to go on, I kicked back to dodge the massive tail. Incredible day. 

interesting to think that a year ago I was tramping around in snowy Wisconsin, finishing a final project (on microfinance, clearly), probably drinking a starbucks latte and stressing out that my advisor hadn’t emailed me back. Mmm college.

Anyway, before I head off to decidedly non-snowy TZ, I want to share with you my also decidedly non-snowy home.



This is my house.  It is also the home of a lovely family of British ex-pats, including misters Luke and Joshua. I live in the guest wing. 

Luke and Joshua are six and four and they enjoy LEGOs, submarines, paper airplanes, racing their ‘BMX’ bikes, watching Top Gear, bouncing on the trampoline, and scouting for elephants when they go on safari.



Here is next month’s breakfast: mango and pawpaw (papaya) ripening in the garden-orchard



Our gardener, Rolex (yea, his name is Rolex. it’s pretty sweet) gathering eggs from our chickens. and since were on the topic...why is it still so entertaining every time i see chickens crossing the road? that joke isn't even funny

Aaand… the neighborhood ninjas were gracious enough to pose for the camera

stream...no, flood of consciousness

one of those mornings. i call them the i love malawi mornings. everything is great. no trace of the fever that transformed me into a contagious zombie all of last week. practically skpped to work, listening to some hideously random playlist on my un-updated ipod. looked up and thought..ohhhh yea, i'm in malawi! riiight. hmmm. i really like it here. then started thinking about not being in malawi, like, for example on thursday, when i go to tanzania.

flying to dar es salaam on the infamous Air Malawi - last person i know who tried it, left dar after a 4 hour delay, then had some issue 10 minutes out. they ended up dumping all their jet fuel in the indian ocean and making an emergency landing. back in dar- but i'm trying my luck with air malawi anyway, because theyre cheap and because Remson at the customer service desk says he has my back (not sure how thats going to help if i blow up over the serengetti, but okay) from dar, i'm off to Mafia Island, a blip off the TZ coastline, where i will dive and sleep in a hammock on the beach and swim across the channel to chole island, the land of the flying foxes

then thoughts turned from bats to vampires to other blood suckers to sucking juice out of a fresh coconut to the fact that i should probably take a machete to the coconut i bought in the market yesterday. then i nearly stepped in roadkill chameleon.


have a nice day!

Descent to Madzibango

joined the mountain club. last saturday we went mountain biking. the route took us down a winding red dirt road (~60km) deep into the bush and down the Chikwawa escarpment to a place called Madzibango- literally woods near the water

anticipating a beautiful, spring morning ride, i arrived at the predetermined meeting place, ready to go at 7am. lo, and behold, around the corner came my co-riders... a collection of 7 absurdly fit ex-pats, all orthopedic surgeons or some other form of medical god, and all armed with camelbacks and more suspension than i knew was possible. average height: 6'2''

the ride was absolutely stunning, which i know only because whenever i felt like i was too exhausted to go on i would stop and pretend to be absorbing the view.

and being last in a chain of sweaty azungu (white people, remember?) had its advantages. word spreads fast in tiny bush villages, so by the time i passed through the entire village population had gathered along the road shouting and cheering me on, and a swarm of barefoot children chased me until i pedaled past the last clay hut.

all in all a great day. but by the end of the ride it was 1:30pm, and 42degrees C.

check out the mountain club website: http://www.mcm.org.mw/index.php



the (back) route to Madzibango



Zikomo kwambiri!

no thanksgiving in malawi. duh. but even though i'm going to miss the traditional glassie thanksgiving march... i'm still thankful for some stuff...

1.  that i havent gotten malaria yet, even though i'm too...lazy... to set up my mosquito net sometimes...

2.  for mango season, so i can still have a feast today!

3. that malawi actually turned out to be amazing.. it easily could have been a nightmare..

4.  for the most amazing pair of little blue merrils for letting me (painlessly) trek all over this country

5.  to the assortment of amazing people at home who call, skype, text, email, send candy! and keep me from being lonely even when i'm completely alone

6. for adreneline for tricking me into being brave when any rational creature would turn tail and run

7. for deodorant. i would be lost without you!

sorry. haven't written in a while. 

 so apparently, i'm supposed to be excited that alot of people are reading this.. but the overwhelming number of page visits (thanks?) in the past month is sort of weirding me out. especially since i only have 12 official followers... i do appreciate the interest, but who are you?

i'll write something more interesting in a few days once the minor apprehension dissipates. in the meantime send me an email or something, so i dont have nightmares about mystery blog stalkers.

meteorological schizophrenia

Rains started up again today. Not sure if it’s the real beginning of the rainy season or just another tease. Either way it’s a much needed drenching.

Confused by the early october showers –i blame global warming, the real summer rainy season is from mid-november to february- some people planted. Then, once the dry springtime heat took over, the sun scorched the tiny maize shoots. The leaves of the now fanlike stalks started to wrinkle and curl from dehydration. There was talk of replanting, and for those who couldn’t afford to start over, stunted harvests and hunger this time next year.

But now its raining! Really really raining! And the fresh peaty smell of the wet soon-to-be-mud is simply intoxicating. going to go stand outside now.

Nellie Chimkota

Yesterday, I went with some colleagues to visit one of our agricultural clients. We met Nellie Chimkota a client of 15 years who runs a dairy buisness from her home.

Nellie’s Story:

Before joining a village bank in 1996, she was a teacher in a government school, earning a minimal salary. With her loan, she bought one cow and started the dairy, since her income was not sufficient to provide food and school fees for her nine school-age children. The cow produced about 10 to 15 litres of milk each say, which she sold to the ‘Dairy bord’ bottling station in Mikolongwe. Nellie easily repaid her second cycle loan with her profits and even managed to save! The next loan she used to buy another cow, and then another. . .


With her suplemented income and growing dairy business, Nellie was able to put her nine children through secondary school, and three of them through university. Now, her husband is retired and devotes all his energy to the dairy business. Nellie continues to teach at a private school. Although her own children are grown, she cares and pays school fees for three orphaned children, another three (of eleven!) grandchildren and cares for her 2 year old great-grandson while his mom is in college (which Nellie pays for). Nellie’s income also supports her mother, who lives independently in the village, and her ill sister who can no longer work. Nellie says that her growing business barely keeps up with it all!

The business remains strong and ever-growing. She currently has six cows; 4 are preganant, and she says she will keep the female offspring to grow the business and sell any males. The cows are milked twice daily; morning milk is transported to the same bottler in Miklongwe, and afternoon milk is sold fresh to local villagers.

Without village banking, Nellie says, she never could have put her children through secondary school or college. One daughter is now a (controversial..) member of parliament! Nor would she have been in a position to care for any her "grandchildren", refering to the seven various children at home. This was her advice to me, "you know in life, you have to struggle for a time, it keeps you moving forward, keeps you thinking. But," she adds, " I will not struggle in the future, that is my prayer."



fresh (awkwardly warm) milk that Nellie gave me!



milking 'katarina'



the cow pens



checking out Nellies' new swag



theres no place like home. theres no place like home

haven't clicked my heels lately. and ruby red slippers would be pretty impractical for field work. but still. its starting to feel like home
.
how do I know? recent phone conversation: ..."hi mom. can't talk. super busy. sorry. i'll call you when i get home." . . . hung up. disbelief. no way did i just call malawi home.

but the signs are undeniable. the other day a friend and i made fun of  some western tourists. with huge backpacks on, they looked like a pair of disoriented snails...pff. azungu

life here is best decribed as a strange medley of the exotic and the mundane. but the boundries are beginning to blur. i'm losing track of normalcy. the world is now marbled

last sunday afternoon: lazily reading in the garden. heard a strange whomping noise. looked up. oh. migrating hornbills. back to page 173. wait... migrating hornbills! watched the last ones flap through the break in the foliage.

this morning: fruit for breakfast. correction. mangoes for breakfast. mangoes which i picked from the backyard.

and still. somehow. despite all the oddities. it feels like home.. .  then again, home was never normal to begin with.

Malawian Logic

Back to the office after a morning in the field. The gate is WIDE OPEN. So I went to talk to the G4S (say it out loud... yea thats right. G4s is the biggest security company in Malawi) guard and asked why it was open.

His response: "Madam, its lunch time"

My response: "Exactly. Youre having lunch and not watching, so thives can come in undetected!"

His response: "No, no. You see, even thieves take a lunch hour"

.....this is why nothing ever gets done

went to the field this morning to visit some village bank clients... and this is what i found...

Singing and dancing in full branded regalia!

                      

oh my god i love this job!

(the mascot)

eclectic report

learned over drinks last night that Halloween does not exist on this continent. my South African friend even stooped so low as to ask if it was this month or next...crushed.

late for work yesterday. just ambling along when a warm soft sticky thing latched onto my hand. figured that my brain had finally succombed to the heat (it got up to 102 about an hour later) and was fried to a point of crispy insanity. but then i looked down... there was a tiny black hand attached to a tiny black little boy who looked up at me with heart-melting brown eyes. a few paces behind was a chitenji clad girl laughing and apologizing for her son's boldness. so hand in hand, little Gift, his mom, and i walked to school.
also, saw two more condoms in the street, bringing the total count up to 5.

arachnophobia no more

i was never actually afraid of spiders but if i were, i'd either be cured or in shock by now. screenless windows make for manditory interaction with my 6-8legged friends. some daily encounters:

most mornings i wake up to a cockroach or two rummaging around in the garbage.

last weekish, i woke up nose to nose with a giant (approx. 2 inch diameter) black spider on the other side of my mosquito net.

there are giant ants everywhere that make these raised burrows that look like dirt versions of the veins in arnold schwarzenegger's arms. and the ants are strong like arnold too, apparently when they bite they dont let go...

last night a 7inch long praying mantis flew in my window. he sat on my bedroom light and ate the bugs swarming around it with his weird little arms. i should have been grateful. but like a giant cowardly idiot, i was absolutely terrified. it was worse than when the customs officers with AK47s came knocking on my door at 4am and demanded to see my passport...anyway, the green monster stayed a few hours until i turned out the light to go to sleep and everytime i went into the bedroom he rose up, assumed praying position and slowly turned his head to stare at me, amazingly aware of his environment, or dare i say.. intelligent?

mosquitos suck

 swarmy, smarmy, sucking, sucky, wiged harbingers of death. k, i'm being obnoxious and over dramatic, but still, they suck.  i think ive developed an impassioned hatred.

 they managed to get inside my net last night. yep, they breached the bunker and infested my sleep. i spent an agitated night listening to them buzz mockingly in my ear and fruitlessly attempting to smash them mid-flight. then there was the excruciating dilemma of whether to barricade myself under the covers and sweat to death or remain at a comfortable temperature at point-blank range.

I am now covered in giant pink welts, just waiting for the malaria to kick in. thank you mother nature

Misty Mountain Hop

 

Mulanje Massif   the tallest mountain in Malawi, lies about 45 minutes -on a good day- south of Blantyre, surrounded by tea plantations, free standing, looming over farm plains, visible for miles.  I started off from the Likhubula Forest trailhead at 7am last Sunday. Robert, my guide, warned me that on the way up the path was 'steep steep'. So in the 36 degree celsius heat (October is apparently the hottest month here)  we panted up the slope past tiger-striped rock faces, black monkeys (they're actually gray, but whatever), and low-lying cloud banks trapped in the folds between the peaks. Super cool factiod: during his travels through Africa, Tolkien climbed Mulanje and it was there that he was inspiried to write the Lord of the Rings. Four hours later we reached Chambe Plateau and, (it honestly could't have been possible for the place to be any more Middle-earthly) watched the most maginifcent thunderstorm roll in. Robert calls thunder tremors, so I was paraniod about earthquakes for a few minutes before we figured out the word discrepancy. Took a different route down. .  through the rainforest. along the waterfall.
 


 Local myths warned of the ancestral spirits that inhabit the mountain. In order to be granted safe passage up to their dwelling place, one must first seek approval by praying and placing a small offering of maize flour at their feet at the base of the mountain. I didnt have any maize flour. Instead, left a little mound of cane sugar in the path, hoping the spirits might appreciate a little variety.

Seven years ago a Dutch girl a little older than me attempted to climb the mountain without a guide and was never seen again. No remains. People say the spirits kidnapped her. I think she got lost, since there are no trail markings whatsoever. Drank the water. Got...sick... then died of dehydration. Then again, she could have been bitten by a black mamba. Theres a pack of hyenas that live on the top of the mountain and descend every night to steal chickens from villagers, so they can account for no body ever being found.

 I like my theory better. The spirits seemed kind enough to me.

rain thunder blackout

Longest blackout yet- two and a half hours in and I'm hiding out under the mosquito net armed with book, journal, headlamp and homebrewed iced-tea. The candles scattered around the room have been burning for so long they've been reduced to little stubs with streams of hot magma-wax flowing to the tile floor.

before it was too dark, I spent a while sitting on the windowsill watching thunderheads gob together around Soche peak. Then suddenly, RAIN. So thick it was like looking through a grey veil- or mosquito net- so i climbed back inside.

Rain this early is strange. It's really only supposed to start in November. And there's no fertilizer yet- it hasn't arrived at the farm supply stores. For the Malawian subsistence-farming-majority who need to plant immediately on the first drop of rain, a lack of fertilizer can mean imminent famine. Not sure if its the fuel shortange hindering transport (cars were already lining up for blocks to get a few over priced litres, and now Bingu has halted further fuel offloading to petrol stations...)   or the lack of aid money forcing the nearly bankrupt government to begin rationing the fertilizer subsidy out of the budget or both.

whatever it is, this early rain has turned from a sharp patter to a dull roar. turning off the lamp to lie and listen


http://www.trust.org/alertnet/news/malawi-farm-subsidy-programme-shrinks/

Condoms!

was walking down the road just now and to my delight i found 3 empty condom wrappers floating in a puddle!

i'm generally not a fan of litering, but considering around 13% of the adult population is infected with HIV and  the average life expectancy is 51 years, i think i'll get over it .

so to whomever tossed those little metallic packages out their car window in the middle of last night's monsoon.. way to go!

the daily grind

starting to get settled in. starting to get used to my day-to-day life. but i'm also starting to forget that my day to day life is slightly different from the average. so here is a little piece of my life- my walk to work- in pictures.. thanks marsh for the idea.



out the gate and onto the street.. its 7:15am






 


the corner where i always lose cell phone reception..
some of you know what i'm talking about...






 



this girl is so amazing!she stands on a rock every day
and waits for me to come around the corner
and then starts shouting 'hello!!!' and waving.
 i usually buy roasted groundnuts (peanuts) from her mom





crossed the street and headed up the hill





ladies who always sell me breakfast..
 fried banana and cornflour 'donuts'



corner before the petrol station, lady waiting for a minibus







yet another hill to climb...




some little girls on the way to school




the ground beneath my feet..




still walking down the road... if it was sunny, i'd be sweaty by now




looking down the hill to the city center. before i cross
the street





 


man and goat outside the office wall




Finally! Time : 7:50am







skypey skype???

if your bothering to reading this, you might as well skype me too... skype name = georgiafaith

Circumnavigation

After 3 days at a conference center in Lilongwe for field staff training, yesterday morning I was itching to stretch my legs. So, I woke up far earlier than any reasonable human being should, disinfected enough water to fill my nalgene, slurped down a hot beverage made with equal parts instant coffee and brown cane sugar  and set off. Where? No Idea -but I decided that my mission for the day was to climb a tree.

( Readers note-  Blantyre is great because its sprawled over a bunch of foothills in a ring of small mountains, so you cant really get that lost since all you have to do is look up at the nearest mountian and you can figure out where you are. Its an astoundingly use useful feature for a country where urban planning does not exist)

            3 hours later, having walked through town to Chichiri- the location of the only bookstore with besides the Born-Again-Christian’s Guide to Life-  followed a run-down railroad track to Ndirande because I wanted to see where where it went, ran into three village bank clients and one loan officer, each demanding what the hell I was doing, I found myself at Wenela bus depot. I was hoping to catch a bus to Chikwawa and tromp around in the sugar cane fields, but it had just left and since there is no actual minibus schedule (they only leave when they are completely full) there was no telling when the next one would leave or if I could get back later. Damn.

Feeling slightly deflated, I stumbled around a corner.. and into an oasis:  Doogles Bar and Lodge- a shady courtyard bar with a swimming pool and a lazy yellow lab….  mmm yep, time for a drink.

     Over my Hunter's Hard Cider, I discovered that Doogles is a local South African hangout spot and I met a mister Jounnik Nicolau, and crazy Greek-South African guy who runs a Turkish coffee shop in town. Go figure.

            Eventually, I left and made my way back through town to Mandela House, an old colonial tobacco estate with an amazing art gallery and garden cafe, where I climbed a huge mango tree overlooking Blantyre market and ate miniature bananas and chocolate toffee. Mission Accomplished.

The old man is snoring....

The rainy season has officially begun!

in the office and about 30 seconds ago there was a huge slap as all at once the first drops hit the tin roof.  now its downpouring

dry red dirt replaced instantly by mud. . i'd call it a burnt sienna in crayon-speak. . its already gushing through the street trenches, and the air smells absolutely incredible

ahhh it just got even louder!

People are Strange- Exhibit A: malls and movie theaters

the other day I decided I wanted to go to the movies. So I walked 40 minutes to town, hopped in a minibus and 7 minutes later arrived at the Chichiri shopping center. It was 5:30 and the only movie that night started at 6:30. A hindi flick… weird, but i bought a ticket anyway.

tried to window shop, but forgot that everything closes at 5, so I headed to the food court to write, listen to bluegrass on my ipod and observe…. Interesting...

Surrounded by Indians, and a smattering of Non-Malawian Africans, all eating fried garbage and wearing high-heels. It felt like a Bollywood version of mallrats. Why would these people ignore their amazing culture to adopt the worst parts of mine- consumerism, pop-culture, transfats. its absurd

the movie was pretty good, but as usual, my whiteness attracted attention. . .the ticket guy insisted on holding my hand to escort me to my seat, saying that he didn’t want me to trip down the slanted aisle. again, absurdity.

Malawian Pop-Culture

Discovered that there is no Malawian Top 40, instead there is a Top 2 that are played on repeat at every possible opportunity. . .

(fast forward to about 27 secs)

Lakeside

Lake Malawi is nicknamed the lake of a thousand stars because at night the fishermen head out in log canoes with paraffin lamps to cast their nets, so the lake looks like a continuance of the night sky.

Haven’t seen that sight yet, but last Sunday I got to walk the shore of Mikono beach a few miles out of town and it might have been one of the best days of my life. The white girl wandering through the beached canoes attracted the attention of the local kids who had never seen a white person before. I quickly gained a following.

Little girls poked my arms and giggled and the little boys reached out and touched my hair and then dove into the sand. “Mzungu, mzungu.” This time I didn’t mind.

 All along the beach were beautiful, wet people enjoying the water. People really are the same everywhere. Black or white. African or American. Young or old, rich or poor, we all laugh when a wave sneaks up from behind. I got to sit in the sand at dusk, something I haven’t done since I left home. A little boy in hello kitty shorts attempted back flips off of a piece of driftwood, and it felt like all was well with the world.

I miss you all

On Minibuses

Of the trip up to Karonga, Pam (my travel partner) and I spent a majority of our waking time traveling via some means or another. For Malawians, the minibus is a primary mode of transport, so I thought it wise to inform my unenlightened readers- the following are the Seven Wonders of the Minibus…

1) Minibuses are surprisingly small: Envision a Volkswagen hippie bus, but replace the shag carpeting with rows of school bus seats.

2) Minibuses are not surprisingly uncomfortable: These miraculous vehicles have a Mary-Poppins-suitcase effect of being able to contain not 10, not 15, but on average from 17 to 20 full grown adults. Overcrowded is a vast understatement. Try clogged, teeming, sardine-stuffed…On the bright side, they would be exceptionally safe in an accident, as there is no need for seatbelts.

3) Minibuses are exceptionally hot. Not only do excess capacity and the African climate  contribute, but there is limited engine  insulation. So where the metal floor has not completely corroded away, it is very hot. One particular journey, I was seated straddling a cardboard box of yellow chicks that peeped relentlessly. The floor was so hot through my sandals that I had to continually shift my feet to avoid melting the robber soles. So two hours into the trip when the chicks stopped peeping I was sure they’d roasted to death. Yet the peeping began again in earnest before too long. This brings me to the fourth wonder of the minibus…

4) Minibuses are frequented not only by humans, but by various feathered customers as well. I have yet to ride for any extended amount of time without a live chicken onboard. Wait, no, there was one trip. But the lady next to me was carrying a string of fresh lake fish.

5) Minibuses break down with some frequency: It makes sense, they are old and over-burdened. But considering, they do manage quite well. 3 hours each way through the mountains to Chitipa on the dustiest, unpaved, basically naturally cobble-stone, road didn’t phase the bus either to or from. And the brakes are quite well maintained as I discovered when we lurched abruptly to halt on the way down a different mountain to avoid hitting the family of pink-butt baboons crossing the road.

6) Its hard to sleep on minibuses: whether it’s the heat, the noise, the smell, somehow I generally can’t manage to use my time wisely and catch up on sleep. There was just one success. After nodding off, I fell forward somehow and woke up at my destination with my face comfortably nestled into the hen sitting on top of the luggage in front of me.  When I abruptly sat up to get my stuff together, the bird started clucking and then an old lady at the back of the bus started screaming that I was stealing her chicken. It took a while to explain myself.

7) Minibuses are absurdly fun and entertaining vehicles, if you have even the faintest glimmer of a sense of humor: see above.

the chicken that turned into my pillow

Back from the trip: Karonga and Chitipa

Got off the bus in Karonga to a swarm of sweaty men shouting “ Hey! Sister! Taxi? Where are you going? Let me take you” Then once it was clear that I didn’t need a ride, the shouts changed course. “Mzungu! Be my sweetie. Talk to me, Baby. Be my girlfriend. Auntie! Mzungu!”  Infuriating. I’m learning to master the art of the cold shoulder.

Karonga is a bustling trading center close to the Tanzanian border. A sort of frontier town, mostly men, rude, loud, aggressive. Its like the wild west of Malawi. The streets are teeming with bicycles that will carry you anywhere in the town for 50 kwacha, but will run you over if you’re not careful.

But its bursting with life as captivating as the patterns of chitenji cloth sold in the market stalls. New buildings are sprouting up like weeds. In a few months it will be a brand new town.  So excited to see this kind of growth and commerce. A breath of fresh air.

Got off the bus in Chiitipa to a deserted dirt street of derelict buildings and a severely bruised butt. Stark contrast to Karonga. The road to Chitipa has yet to be finished, and its completion is apparently a common political campaign promise. The road project is funded by China so the hills between the two cities are filled with Chinese road workers and Malawian miners who labor in the nearby uranium mines.

ndapita on an adventure!

Headed off tomorrow at 6am on a marketing trip up north to the towns of Karonga and Chitipa. Wikipedia them. . . yep, thats about all I know too, and 12hours on a minibus should be grand. No computer, email only when i can find an internet cafe. be gone for two weeks. I'll post if/when i can

Top-up

Went to a birthday 'top-up' this afternoon for one of our loan officer (KP)'s daughter. A birthday 'top-up' is a sort of public dance party where friends and well-wishers step one at a time into the circle of guests to dance and throw money at the birthday girl, ie. top her up with cash. 

So I boarded a minibus and headed to KP's home in Ndirande township. Compared to the houses I've seen, KP's house is quite comfortable, set back from the main path with a little front porch for watching passing neighbors and cooking on the charcoal stove. But considering it lacks indoor plumbing and is home to KP, her husbands and their six kids and grandson, I'm guessing it gets pretty cramped. 

But back to the party... It was fantastic! Haven't seen so many smiles since I've been here. The entire village showed up to dance in the dirt. Most wandered over from neighboring houses or followed the blasting music (congratulations Rihanna, you have saturated the Malawian market), up the path from the paved road. And as always, so many little kids- I never anticipated the low life expectancy to be so eerily apparent. Tiny creatures, probably only two or three, toddled around- live ragdolls with runny noses. Their independent ability to run around the neighborhood unaccompanied is mildly ironic given that in their lifetime, most wont ever make it out of Blantyre. But nevertheless we danced, and sang and drank Carlsburg and Fanta all afternoon. It was a good day

ps. turns out it was just a bad head-cold

Unfortunately, marshmallows dont exist in Malawi

Came down with a cold yesterday. Odd considering I spend my days drenched with sweat, trekking dusty hills and dodging minibuses. So, it can't possibly be a cold. . .its definitely malaria. Just spent a good hour researching early onset symptoms and its official. Taking my temperature now...waiting for the thermometer to beep...and...shit, the thermometer's in Celsius. Not quite sure of the conversion but 37 degrees seems high. Going to bed because that's probably what my grandmother would tell me to do. Dreaming of marshmallows and chocolate sauce

Gonna keep it brief from now on.. the last two posts were out of control. Besides, I’m tired and there are only two things of importance to report:

1. Malawi is great

2. This morning I passed a man in the street selling roasted fruit bats

village bankers and the road to Chilomoni village

                                     

Village Banking

On this first day in the field I went to meetings of two different village banks, ie. groups of 15-30 local entrepreneurs who have received a jointly-liable loan to fund their productive micro-businesses…. That definition sounds absurdly bland and clinical. What I mean to say is that I met the most unbelievably inspiring, industrious, resilient, joyful people.

Along the path to the first meeting, I met Sayari. She’s five. She also has shoes, goes to school, and lives next door to Cecelia the chairwoman of the Atpatsa village bank. Broken conversation regressed to hand signs due to the constant interruption by passing chickens and goats. Then she reached home, and I reached the meeting. The Atpatsa ladies are all amazing; gathering each week to compile their loan payments and collective savings, and simultaneously  commiserating about the slow market today, passing around babies, and chattering about new investment ideas- Chisomo wants a hanging scale for her fruit stand.

 To the market for meeting number 2… Loved the paths through the stalls and the collective bustle about the place. But the best part of all is how the market smells!  Roasting peanuts and corn still in the husk, chili powder and spices, dried fish, chips frying in oil with some other interesting fried-doughnut-cakes, ripe bananas, and the usual kitchen fire. Incredible.

Another good village bank. While laughing along at my silly, infantile Chichewa as I helped them with their calculations its was easy to forget how truly poor and neglected these people are. But one look around and I realized we were lounging on bales of straw bundled as broom brushes in a market storeroom, and that my pocket money for lunch and the minibus ride back to town was three times the weekly payment of the man smiling next to me. People, this is microfinance.

Left in the Dark

Blackout. Writing by candlelight, which is cool and soothing after a hot day.  The blackouts are government issued power cuts  that happen every week right after dark. There’s only one electric company, ESCOM (Electricity Supply Corporation of Malawi), and it’s government run…so because ESCOM can’t produce enough electricity to go around,  there’s escaping the blackouts.

This morning we went Limbe-  a bustling, commercial area with extensive outdoor markets where you can buy anything from shoe polish to roast goat (mbuzi) - to check on the progress of the new branch office there.

On the way back to the head office we heard sirens and Gerald, who was driving, pulled over to let a convoy of hummers, and black Mercedes’ pass. Camo-ed soldiers with AK-47s shouted out of the windows for everyone to get out of the way. Bingu is in town! The president roared to his Presidential Palace past blind widows and heaps of burning trash. The irony is absurd- probably would have laughed if I’d seen it in a movie.

The blatant poverty in this country is unreal. The number of children running around abandoned by parents too poor to feed them anymore, or orphaned by HIV and AIDS or malaria, which kills 1 million people per year in Malawi, most of them children. Idle people sit along the street: day laborers (waganyu) roam about looking for piecework, women sit together nursing babies and selling bananas and roasted peanuts to passersby, and the old, crippled and homeless merely lie around. The need is overwhelming.

Choking on the dust from Bingu’s convoy, I had to think: this is why I’m here.