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)