Nyumba Yanga

In my house there are Ants. Everywhere. Oh my god, I woke to them crawling on me at 4am last night. They are small but they are numerous. And, big cockroaches and big crickets in the chimbutzi, plus one huge purple centipede. No mosquitoes though. Which means the question is; what’s worse: mosquitoes or ants in the house, mosquitoes or roaches in the chim. At first I thought anything was better than god damn mosquitoes but now I don’t know. Especially since roaches are so quick and will run over your foot with no problem. And, I know there is no way I will ever get rid of all the ants. Even as I write this I feel as if there are ants crawling on me. I have sprinkled my house with ant poison, called mankwala (medicine), but I think I am fighting a losing battle.And, my kitchen and bafa smell like bat urine since before I moved in, my house was a bat cave. Guaranteed the smell will never go away.

However, despite these relatively minor inconviences, I am so glad to FINALLY be living in my house. After three months in country, I have officially arrived. Each day I wake to the sounds of goats bleeting, babies crying and my neighbor, Amayi Kambale, laughing. After waking, I attempt to make fire, usually unsuccessfully the first two attempts, and then take my first trip to the borehole. Carrying water is officially a pain and I am currently working on finding a young woman to help me. I will pay her school fees and she will carry water for me.

I have been unofficially adopted by my neighbors, the Kambales (meaning small plate in Chichewa), and I am so grateful to have a host family that is so happy and welcoming. The father, Tedman, is the principal of the school that sits in front of my house, and so I call him Tedman the Headman. His wife, Flora, and their oldest daughter Nelly, who is 16, have a small business making mandazi, the African equivalent of a donut, and they are always checking in with me and sharing their baked goods. Richard and Vincent, 12 and 9 are darling and very nice and Danwell, who is four, is always hanging around looking as if he has just smoked a huge joint. His eyes are really squinty, he always has this goofy grin on his face, and he sort of waddles around, but with purpose.

Our houses are right next door and when I am in my backyard, I can hear Flora laughing. She is always so happy and says the funniest things in English. Like when I come over she is always commanding me; please get in; meaning she wants me to come into the house. And also, when she is at my house and is leaving, she says, I am out. She wears this black gangster beanie which makes me think that she is putting all the thugs in America to shame with her true gangster expressions and hat. But the funniest thing is when she is describing something or giving me directions. Instead of just saying it all the way through, she will sprinkle in Whats throughout. She will say “The things you want to keep, put them what? in your house. Because people will what? take them when you are not here.”

The Kambales are so different than the family I lived with during homestay, and I am very grateful for their positive energy and their loving presence. Just this evening, Tedman told me he loves his wife so he does not do naughty things to her. I cant even tell you how hard it was for me not to laugh when he said that.

Even though I am so lucky to be welcomed by the Kambales and glad to finally be living in the village, it is truly the ultimate reality check. This is actually where I am going to spending the next two years and these are actually the people I need to build relationships with. In the mornings, I enjoy my little routine of making fire, getting water, and having breakfast but often it is hard for me to leave the house. Once I do I usually enjoy myself, but my presence attracts so much attention and demands so much energy that I always have to be on point. My Chewa is fine and people are always impressed that I know what I do, but really I dont know what they are talking about much of time so after meeting someone and going through the initial greetings I dont really know where to take the conversation. Plus, it’s so hard for me to remember everyone’s name but of course they know me. I am meeting so many people everyday; people with names I have never heard before and can barely pronounce once, let alone remember them even ten minutes later. However, one thing that does make it a little easier is the fact that it seems Africans don’t have a huge repertoire when it comes to names. Margret (yes that’s how they spell it), Yesnati (or any equivalent), Shamila, Shamimu, Ayisha, and Patoma and of course Omar, Hussein, and Mohammad since the area is predominately Muslim. However, yesterday I did meet a boy named Whiskey…

That’s all for now, I suppose. Time for bed. Since I am in my new house I have been waking up and listening to the new sounds in the middle of the night. Hyenas, children crying, women making noises to scare away the elephants that are known to come through and literally trample houses down (people actually come to the health center with broken bones from elephants coming to their houses at night). Sometimes I get scared thinking about witchcraft, which people take very seriously here. Many people have asked me if there is witchcraft in America and the Peace Corps actually had a training on it, basically telling us to stay away from people associated with it because it is a serious matter. During the day its never something I think about but of course, in the middle of the night when I am all alone in an African village listening to women hooting and whistling, I can assure you its not far from my mind. Its okay though, Amayi Kambale has assured me its not witchcraft.

Sending you all my love, as usual. I have been dreaming of fall evenings in Montana and missing the back-to-school feeling that always comes along with it. Even though I am enjoying the hot African sun, I will never be able to get the West out of my mind. XOXO