tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69892880609237727812024-02-19T22:38:20.194-08:00Chloe Meets Malawi; Peace Corps 2010-2012Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-83689672573564000042012-08-30T06:24:00.001-07:002012-08-30T06:24:03.692-07:00the Long Return<p>Today, as of 8:30am, I am no longer a current PCV but a Returned PCV who has no yet returned. It will be a long return, so to speak, as I embark on a three month trip jumping North through Africa with a small detour south, south east. <p>Said my goodbyes to Amayi Rashidi, Inez, and Patuma last week and rode the bike taxi to Ulongwe one last time. The night before I held Amayi Rashidis hand as she walked me home and she gave me rice to take to my Amayi in America. Its always weird to live, in real time, an occurrence you have spent a lot of time considering and contemplating. Almost like the ultimate reality, being able to consider the past and present all in the moment. So many times I thought about leaving for good, sometimes with nostalgia, sometimes with happiness, and sometimes taking pleasure in the mean thought that the villagers would really be sorry when I left. <p>A week and three poops in three cups later, I am off to spend one last week in a Malawian village with my American Seesta, Kala. Together, we will cross the northern Karonga district boarder to Tanzania, jump on the overnight train to Dar Es Salaam and I think we will see some giraffe herds on the way. In Dar Es Es Salaam, I will meet my dear friend Matt and together we will through Tanzania, Madagascar, Egypt, and Greece, returning home December 1<sup>st</sup>, exhausted and just in time for the holiday season. <p>I promise I will try my hardest to better maintain this blasted blog. Actions speak louder than words so I guess only time will tell if I keep my word. <p>Stay Tuned…..</p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-34616068437783276892012-06-20T23:17:00.001-07:002012-06-20T23:17:26.254-07:00Under the Night Sky<p>Countless nights I have sat outside under the moon and stars at my amayi’s house. While village night life goes on around me, I quietly eat my nsima, listening to the rolling Yao language of my family and watching the sky. An hour can go by without speaking and many times my amayi has asked if I am sleeping. But no, I am alert; sometimes wandering through my thoughts but always staying in the present. I just watch and listen, not understanding the words but soaking in the mood, intonation, and night. Children sing loudly and play games, fires flare up and die down, the cat rubs up against me before he is shooed away by Amayi. My young brother sleeps on the mat beside me, steadily breathing and sometimes stirring. I look up, noticing a satellite or shooting star which I sometimes point out but often observe silently and make a wish that will seem silly by morning. All this done in the anonymous darkness of night; passersby don’t know I am here, Amayi’s visitors cant stare, I can pull my skirt up past my knees to better feel the coolness of the night. Peace. <p>Later, I will pull myself up from the mat, slip on my shoes and walk home in the warm night air. Wishing my amayi good night, sleep well, sweet dreams, I will promise to see her again tomorrow and slipping my hands into my pockets I walk 50 ft before she shouts at me to turn my torch on. I comply but only until she is out of sight. On the road, I dodge bikes and pass lone travelers, all of whom I would greet in the day. But at night, the rules change. I no longer feel obligated to greet others and I feel free as I l walk by the light of the moon to my house. <p>I walk past the borehole where a lone woman pumps her final bucket of water until the break of day tomorrow. Someone calls out to me in the dark, to which I respond the last greeting of the day. Walking past the big tree in the clearing before my house, I shine my light, as always, into the branches hoping to see the eyes of a cat illuminated by the light. After that, I walk quickly through the school grounds and arriving at my house, I turn on my torch, unlock the door and enter inside, hurrying to locate the candles and match to make light. Quietly, I brush my teeth, undress and get in bed, tucking the net tightly around me and open my book. The day is done.</p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-67440532246503681012011-07-27T06:17:00.001-07:002011-07-27T06:17:25.417-07:00Elephant Fear<p>Wow, I guess I should be a little embarrassed about my lack of blogging for the last four months. One month sans blog turned into two and then somehow I unconsciously let myself off the hook until just this week when I realized I need to get back into it. For good reason, too, since its safe to say the last months have flown by in a blur of visits to the beach, run ins with elephants, chilly nights, and slow progress on the borehole project. <p>The weather has cooled significantly and we are currently mid-winter. The colors are much more muted since the sun is farther away and a constant breeze shifts through the trees making me feel like it is late summer in the high mountains. It has also put me in a fall-like mind state, yearning for Friday night house parties after morning classes, delicious thick soups, clogs, and fall foliage. Instead, butterflies and bees flit and flutter around my blooming eucalyptus, drinking water stays cool all day long, laundry is not guaranteed to dry in one day (so annoying) and heating bath water has become a <i>must.</i> In keeping with Malawian fashion, I have been rocking a chitenge like a shawl which is a surprisingly fabulous (and warm) look. Life has definitely changed with the weather. <p>The beginning of the cooler weather instigated daily games of what Amayi Kambale calls “net ball” but what is actually a fierce game of keep away; Amayis (including me) versus Achimales (sisters). The court is the dirt area in front of the Kambale’s house and though the object is to keep the ball in your teams possession for as long as possible, there are no rules or a scoring system. And these ladies are hardcore! Grabbing and pushing are apparently allowed, trash talking is enjoyed, and no shoes are allowed; a rule which caused the blackening of my toenail that has since fallen off. <p>In addition to my introduction to the world of Malawian womens sports, the cool weather has signified the return of the herds of elephants in Liwonde National Park. Silent nights are punctuated by beating drums and yelling intended to scare the elephants from homes and gardens and in the day you can see them roaming the shores of the Shire. Because the elephants move freely around the park, there is always a chance you will meet one (or many) between the fence to the boat dock, a route I take every time I go to Mvuu Camp. Malawians move up and down this road daily, choosing not to worry about encounters with elephants unless they actually encounter one. I, on the other hand, race through the 1.5K, my heart quickening with every falling tree branch, monkey movement, or screeching bird, calling out to all passing Malawians “njobvu alipo? (are the elephants around?)” <p>Malawians are quick to assure me not to worry, advice I used to gladly take until one day, after being resolutely assured the elephants were away, I came across one on the road. I was lucky, since I had just clarified with one of the guides about what to do if you run into an elephant on your bike; stop, slowly drop your bike, and hide. Which is exactly what I did, moving deliberately behind a nearby tree, waiting a couple minutes, and then proceeding back to the dock to wait for someone to escort me. it wasn’t until I began my retreat that the adrenaline rushed through my body, making my arms and legs feel like noodles, and since then I have been unable to relax as long as I am in transit between the two points, regardless if I have been told the elephants are not around. <p>The fear that I feel about this wild animal is uncharacteristic of me, a person who is generally sure that good luck and chance are on my side, which is why I can say I really like elephants. They are magnificent and intelligent creatures, <i>surely</i> one of the most ingeniously evolved animals to walk the earth and though I am pretty sure it is not my destiny to be killed by an animal I respect so much, life can be heartbreakingly random and I am not interested in tempting fate. And so, these not so irrational feelings I have about elephants have urged me to contemplate what is worthy of fear and what is not. Fear is a natural response to certain stimuli, a response one would often do well to listen to; so how do you know when something (or someone for that matter) is legitimately threatening or if your brain and your adrenal glands are getting the best of you? Also, how to explain the worry that thinking about it too much will make it happen? <p>I guess the only legitimate reply I have to that question is that I cant ever really know. Fear is a physical response to a threatening stimuli that can be real or imagined. Because of that, the trick is to control your fear through acknowledgement of the risk as well as the chance that you will still be alive or in good health tomorrow afternoon. It is a feat of balance to navigate the thin line between simply ensuring your health now and making sure you are well enough for tomorrow. Especially considering that simple fact is scary enough. And so, as I cycle through elephant infested bush, risk drinking untreated water in Africa, and <i>sometimes </i>hitch rides in private vehicles alone, I am always aware of the risk I am taking while remaining convinced that it is my lot in life to live to be an old woman. Seems I am not old enough to appreciate my own mortality yet. <p>Which kind of a crazy connection to a visitor I had to my house in June. While I was in Lilongwe for a weekend, I received a phone call from Mr. Kambale who told me a Chilos Souzande from Dedza had come to visit me. Of course I hurried home, amazed that my homestay father I stayed with a year ago in the village of Chipazi decided this was the week to visit. Upon my return, I found he had been sleeping in the spare room of my house and eating with the Kambale’s. During the day I was traveling back, he swept and burned all the leaves around my house and rode bikes with mr Kambale to check out the fence of the national park. Mr Sauzande (I have only recently began to wonder if his is name isnt actually the Chewa version of “thousand”) was so nice and happy to see me, smiling all the time and being so helpful; definitely the best guest who has come to see me, by far! The night we ate together, he told me he heard from the Chipatzi rumor mill I had died and there was a funeral for me. So, he uncovered the crude map I once drew him for directions to my house, and he set off to make sure the rumor was untrue. <p>It is unbelievable to me that someone would have said I died, which is why I think Mr Sauzande could be pulling my leg. However, since this seemingly grim claim has been made about my health, I have heard from a few different people it is actually a sign that I will live a long life. Meaning, I suppose, the mortality I am facing at this moment is that of longevity, not sudden death by elephants. Which sounds like a pretty positive way to wrap up this bloviation on fear. <p>It seems, that there comes a certain point when even though you are aware of the chance you are taking doing such and such thing at any given time, ultimately you must give up the chance and your fear to the unseen power of the world. You must trust that you will land on your feet, that your energy combined with all of the other living energies around you are at least compatible enough to protect you in <i>some</i> way against harm. Only in that way can you continue to move through this life as naturally as possible, allowing the world to present some dangers, opportunities, and adventures while taking the advantage of first refusal. Freak accidents are still applicable to this logic; life shows us we don’t always have a choice in the matter, but we must allow ourselves to face this fact while refusing to alter your course until more immediate facts convince us otherwise. <p>And speaking of immediate facts convincing enough of a change in course; let me update you on the latest news on the Masalema Borehole Committee. <p>After four <i>long</i> months of “fundraising,” Masalema has only come up with 14,000Kwacha; a clear sign that the original aim of a 98,000K cash contribution is not going to happen. Even with the 98,000K cash, it was going to be stretch to make the 25% community contribution and so there is no way it can happen with a mere 40,000k, let alone 14,000K. Way back in November, the Afumu and committee members assured me the community was ready to give but when it came down to it, the people in the village believed the borehole would come without their help. Ultimately, it comes down to the simple fact that access to water in Masalema isn’t a big enough problem to warrant a new borehole. Which is actually awesome! In a country where clean, reliable, and nearby water isnt a right, the people in this community should feel grateful they are not facing that problem. <p>In the meantime, another village, about 7K away from Masalema, has approached Mr Juma and myself, claiming they have 300,000K <i>in cash</i> and are suffering greatly from using an open well that is far away from their village. I am eager to meet with the new village to learn more details but we must wait until we have backed out of Masalema in an appropriate way. I was worried that the ending of the project in Masalema would make Mr Juma look bad but he was the one who told me no one would be talking badly of him because it is the failure of the village, not ours. Phew, because I was a little worried. I am beating myself up a little wondering if I could have communicated better, been more motivating, or better at setting smaller goals within the larger one so I do sort of feel like I is my failure, certainly not Mr Juma’s though. But, its true the project was of a large scope for a village with only a smaller need for water so I am trying to give myself a break on this one. <p>In an attempt at conclusion, I would like to say, despite the roller coaster of daily, weekly, and monthly ups and downs, how content I am with my African life. Despite the borehole saga, my fear of elephants, and the temporary possibility I was dead, my life feels pretty regular for the most part. Or maybe not as much regular as pleasantly predictable. <p>The other day I was sitting with Mr juma at his house as he carved a hoe handle out of a tree branch with his machete. He paused to roll a cigarette from notebook paper(!) and tobacco grown in the surrounding fields and I grabbed a burning stick from the fire to assist him with his vice. Two days prior, there had been a funeral for his young granddaughter and Inez had been pretty sick, sleeping and resting all day for two days on the mat. We sat in silence for a while as Juma smoked and carved. Feeling free, I attempted conversation but then realized quiet was better. I wondered if he was sad about his granddaughter, contemplating his life. <p>The next day, I again sat with Mr Juma. Inez was feeling better, the hoe handle was looking extremely beautiful, and we wondered about the new project. As we ate, mr juma told me he used to spend the night at Inez’s house when they were teenagers. He also told me there are some kinds of medicine you can get from the witchdoctor to attract men to you and also to prevent your man from going to another woman. I asked Inez if she was using that on Juma and she said quote “there is only one god (pointing up) and that is not medicine. Medicine is to help your body.” Which is very true. Juma then informed he was not going to any other woman so its not like she really needs to use it anyway. Juma continued on, telling me he is becoming very fat living with Inez. She was his first girlfriend and the one he wanted to marry when he was young so he is content now that is finally with her. Wow. As the risk of sounding too gushy, my heart truly feels bigger when he tells me these things. <p>How comforting it is to think that someone like Mr Juma, a poor 50 something Malawian man living in a thatched roof house on less than $250 a year, can be truly content with his life. How many people in America, living on more than $50,000 a year can say they are as happy as he is? I think Juma is a very fortunate man, a combination of his own making and compassionate nature. I also think hanging with him makes me fortunate by extension since he respects me, teaches me, and treats me as an equal. How lucky I am that part of my life journey involves Mr Juma. <p>Which I guess sums up the state of my life at the moment; contentedness. I have been here a year, enough time to adjust to my village life but not enough to be stressed about an impending departure. The future seems a comfortable (sometimes) way off and though it is constant practice to stay present, I feel there has been no easier time in my life to do so. Though I am certainly not claiming to be some ‘living in the present master’ as I do spend some part of every day and night dreaming about frosted baked goods, chilled white wine with dinner, wall to wall carpeting, and guaranteed hot showers. In the meantime, where I am is the perfect place to be, though I do know I will desire to return to the land of plenty someday sooner than later. <p>Sending my love to America, a rather belated Independence Day greeting but no less sincere, and also to all those people who love both America and me. </p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-37691598847505415292011-04-01T01:41:00.001-07:002011-04-01T01:41:14.454-07:00cold cokes and kwacha<p>Even in Malawi, March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. Which would explain why I am feeling more peaceable as the month ends than when it originally started. In with unease and jaded self-examination, out with acceptance and calm. Maybe it’s the thought of the two beach trips in my near future or the fact that I feel like I am getting my stride (finally! after 10 months!). <p>My relationship with Mr. Juma continues to be a source of happiness and learning in my life and I am continually amazed by this unexpected friendship and partnership. His outlook, experience, and intrinsic sense of right and wrong has truly influenced my constantly expanding insight and knowledge of Malawi. Last week Juma and I made an appointment to meet with the local Member of Parliament, MP Mpawen,i at his home/hotel, a 10k bike ride and 30 minute minibus ride away. It was so easy to make the appointment; all I did was call the MP, who was extremely happy to hear from me, so I really had no idea what to expect. That day I ate nsima made by Ines, Juma’s extremely petite wife, and we traveled to the meeting. <p>When we showed up to the hotel, we had to wait a little while for the MP, since he had been attending a funeral in another district. We were served cold! cokes and when he showed up, he escorted us to sit on the veranda. He was quite pleasant, actually, charming and interested in the borehole we are working on. He even recognized Mr. Juma since, as I have said, Juma is a man about town. In the end, he told us the government only allocated funds for three boreholes in our area (what is essentially a county) but that he knows water is a problem, wants development on this level, and is happy to help us move forward. Which means he will give us 40,000K (260USD) initially to site the borehole with the high possibility of more for the mandatory fundraising, sanitation, and pump maintenance trainings that are not included in the cost of the actual digging. Horay! <p>The entire time we were talking, though, people kept showing up to ask him for money. A woman came needing money for transport to the hospital, two men asking for money to buy cement to finish building a mosque, another woman and a small child needing money for a funeral. Every time a person would kneel in front of him (and Juma and I by extension, since we were the guests of the MP), he would pull out of a huge wad of cash and peel back the bills). It took me a minute to realize this was completely normal but I didn’t make a connection with these people and myself and Mr. Juma until the end of our meeting. <p>MP Mpaweni wrapped us up with another chilled soda, saying he was going to Lilongwe for the following week to get the money together, but would plan to come to the village to give the money to committee in a little ceremony. AWESOME!!! Then he completely surprised me by giving Juma and I each 500K (plus 4,00K to Juma for a pit he dug at the health center) and telling us his driver would drive us back to the village. First though, the driver would stop at the market so that we could spend our kwacha. I couldn’t believe it but Mr. Juma played the whole thing totally cool. I bought cabbage and eggs, Juma; sugar, laundry soap, and a couple of manufactured cigs (since he normally rolls his own). <p>When we ate together that night (goat because Juma was feeling flush with Kwach), Mr Juma laughed at me for being so completely blown away by the afternoon. I asked him if he knew he would be getting some pocket money when we left for the meeting that afternoon (which he did) and why didn’t he prepare me?? Then he told me that 500k isnt really even that much; the MP before Mpaweni would have given us 1000k. oh geeze. <p>Needless to say, we were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves. Until we had a meeting with the Water Committee and were faced with figuring out who we are going to trust the money with between the time the MP gives it to us and the guys come to site the borehole. I don’t want to keep the money since I don’t think that is my role and neither Mr. Juma’s, but that makes the most logical person the elected treasurer of the committee. Except that I don’t trust this woman for a couple different reasons; her daughter stole some candy and a couple of bars of soap from me (minor things, I know, but I also know she knew since everyone in the family is using the same bafa and the same soap, not just the daughter) and she was weird about it when I said something, immediately turning it around and asking me for money to buy rice. And also, she was entrusted by another committee she belongs to store vegetables and she ate them all instead of selling them. That second thing I learned from Ines <p>At the meeting, though, even though I stressed how important it is that the person in charge of the 40,000 Kwacha cash is trustworthy and that the MP will not be pleased if the money is used for something else, they still insisted she is the right person (she wasn’t at that meeting). They even said, at the end of the meeting, “Don’t worry about the money, Chloe.” I AM WORRYING ABOUT IT, THOUGH!!! I don’t trust this woman! However, I have repeatedly expressed my concerns with Mr. Juma and he continues to assure me. Essentially, his logic is that because the people of the community will all know she has the money, she won’t steal it. However, what about other family members of hers that are desperate and even less trustworthy? How easy would it be to reveal where the money was being kept and then look the other way? or to take some of the money for her own use? She certainly doesn’t have money to pay it back, and neither does the community. Obviously I am still thinking about this, worry about it. However, I am beginning to think this is going to be a lesson in trust in the larger scheme of things. A lesson in giving it up to a higher power while thinking positive. <p>I guess it is sort of weird that in the midst of all this I am still able feel calm and collected. I think its because of how much I am enjoying gardening and working around my house. I obsess about my flowers, and spend at least 30 minutes a day thinking about them, which I think gives you an idea about the state of my romantic commitments at this time. All my clothes are finally in drawers after my three month wait for a dresser to be built and my books are cute on the shelf. The furniture is plain wood, the curtains are flowery linen, and my village-made wicker chairs complete a sort of French Countryside in Africa feel. A look completed by high waisted, flowy skirts, oversized lace tops, flower and check prints, and bright colors. Nice aesthetics are key. <p>I continue to feel happy about my current geographic location and content with my lifestyle, though every day I miss the beauty of Western America and dream of luxuries like walking anonymously down the street, going to a movie theater, and eating frosted baked goods. I cant imagine how it will be when I finally return. <p>Sending my love, all the time. <p>Cheers! Chloe</p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-75202931340807100442011-02-26T04:49:00.001-08:002011-02-26T04:49:57.265-08:00Mr. Juma<p>Oh man, I cant believe February is over! My life is flying by which is good but sometimes I worry I am going to wake up one day when I am 30 and think oh god, where has my life gone. I am someone who likes action, though, and wouldn’t have it any other way. <p>For the past two months I have been focused on boreholes. Reading about them, talking about them, and looking at them in hopes that later this year, the small village of Masalema will have one drilled. At this point, a census of three villages has been conducted, borehole usage monitored, a water committee of ten community members formed, prices and options for this water source have been gathered and the committee has made some important decisions regarding finances and community contribution. All of this could not have been done without the help, influence, and direction of Mr. Juma Chilembwe, a respected member of the community who is genuinely committed to serving others. <p>When I first came to site I was introduced to Mr. Juma and would see him out and about occasionally but it wasn’t until January that he revealed himself as an significant relationship. He sits on a lot of committees in the area, is a member of the Malawi Cotton Growers Association, knows many people, is friends with many of the chiefs and even the Traditional Authority (sort of like the district government) has expressed her desire to see him head the Village Development Committee which is responsible for development on a county level (for lack of better comparison). His involvement on so many levels shows his commitment to service and understanding of the power structures and protocol. We have been spending a lot of time together, traveling to Balaka to meet with the waterboard, attending meetings and talking about our plans. He is volunteering his time, just as I am, and I am energized by his dedication. I think we make a good team and he even told me he is feeling “alive” working with me, which I took as a compliment. Not only is he smart and well respected, but he is helpful, respectful, and takes me seriously. <p>2010 was a hard year for Mr. Juma because both of his wives died within months and he was out of the village a lot, caring for each of them at the hospital. When they died pretty much back to back he was left him with who knows how many children and, since in the Yao culture, the man moves into the home of the woman when they are married, no home of his own. So now, Mr. Juma needs a house and someone to cook him nsima, wash his clothes, and carry his water. He has a piece of land in the neighboring village where he will build a house, but in the meantime he needs to move out of his deceased wife’s family’s house. I was honored when he shared his thoughts about women in the village in need of a husband and it was so enlightening to hear such a different way of thinking about marriage; one that doesn’t involve love. <p>It is refreshing to work with Mr. Juma after dealing with so many annoying Malawian men wherever I go. Malawi is a country full of young people but as a man in his mid 50’s, he represents a different generation of Malawian men whom I have not had much contact with prior to this. A group of men I can only describe at this point as soft spoken and very stylish. Mr. Juma wears baggy pants, flip flops, and loose oxford shirts in colors like coral, sunflower, and peacock purple; looking sort of professional and sort of gangster. <p>It is so mind boggling to think that my path has crossed with Mr. Juma and what I would have thought last year if I knew what I would be experiencing this year. Every day I am filled with wonderment about how lucky I am to be here and how amazing and crazy all the people I am meeting here are. <p>Sending my love, as usual, and hoping all is well in America. <p>Love, C</p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-30431056445672953902011-01-30T03:45:00.001-08:002011-01-30T03:45:26.335-08:00Year of the Self<p>Sitting at the Peace Corps office delaying the inevitable dark hole of research into available peace corps money and grant writing making this the perfect time to write what I am sure has been a long awaited blog post. I have been enjoying the cooler, rainy weather of Lilongwe, the wonderful warm showers of Mustafas, and the company of a random group of some silly peace corps volunteers. <p>The month of January has dragged on, flown by, and proven to be a significant transition month into the next period of my service. I have started two pretty intimidating projects; drilling a borehole and starting a medicinal garden at the health center. The acquisition of a new borehole in the community is a huge undertaking that will take a legitimate commitment from the villagers and the medicinal garden has the potential to bring an entirely new set of health resources for many groups in the area. However, people believe (at least I think they do) that I will be their leader to obtain a goal I am not quite clear about yet. I have never done anything remotely similar to this but the committees in my village are looking to me for information, guidance, and obviously resources. I am incredibly intimidated by the depth and scope of these two projects; worried I don’t possess the ability to empower others to help themselves, to lead through service, to communicate through action and authenticity, not words. <p>Of late, I have been reading and reflecting on a book about leadership I received for Christmas from my dear old mother, Sally. The slant of the book is about leading from the <i>inside out</i> (please note the facetious tone I am using) through the examination of yourself. The book has been very helpful, though I am struggling to apply the concepts effective in corporate America in a cross cultural setting, mostly because I am not receiving the kind of feedback I can easily interpret within the comfortable setting of straightforward american-ness. As a result, one part of me is yearning for feedback from those people who have known me for a longtime, people who have analyzed situations and pumped me up when I was feeling uncertain. Yet, there is the other part of me that acknowledges this as living up to my personal theme of 2011 which will be the year of the self; self-reflection, self-motivation, independence, self- support. January embodied this theme perfectly and I have every reason to believe February will follow in its footsteps. <p>As the leadership reflections have urged me through the winding path of this crazy thing we call my life, the I can tell the luster of Malawi is wearing off and the realities of my challenges are appearing. I can feel my level of positivity, which has been unnaturally high this past year, returning to a more regular level. I still feel strong at this point in my journey and am in good spirits, just feeling the burn as I move up the mountain. <p>Thank you for the plentiful birthday wishes and happy energy I know you all have been sending me. I feel so much more mature and legit now that I am 24 and in the last year of my early 20s. I am <i>definitely</i> taking myself more seriously now (also note the facetiousness). Ha <p>Love! Chloe</p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-40315517913373042652010-12-15T22:24:00.001-08:002010-12-15T22:24:52.617-08:00Holiday Greetings<p>Because of I have been living in the present for the last five and a half months, I didn’t send out any Christmas cards; a fact I am a little ashamed by, considering how much fun I had last year. So, instead, I will have to wish you all a very merry Christmas via my blog; a little unconventional, I know, though no less sincere. And so, here is goes; <p>Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say on a bright Malawian Christmas Day. That’s the island greeting that we send to you from the land where palm trees sway. Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright, the sun to shine by day and all the stars at night. Mele kalikimaka is the wise way to say Merry Christmas to you. <p>Also, Peace on Earth is a probably a good holiday greeting, since I am promoting peace and friendship in Africa. <p>All in all, wishing you a lovely, warm, and fun holiday season and a Happy New Year filled with new beginnings and adventure. <p>Love, Chloe <p>P.S. Don’t forget to drink some egg nog for me</p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-5619316472817272942010-12-15T21:28:00.001-08:002010-12-15T21:28:32.165-08:00A bit on the weather (and the landscape)<p>Just returned from a two week In-Service Training (IST) at the College of Forestry in Dedza on Monday. Week 1 was the 15 health volunteers staying in on hostel, attending workshops from 8-4:30, and then going to Ed’s Bar for beers afterwards . The dynamics changed in Week 2 with the arrival of our Malawian counterparts, but the topics we touched on that week were much more relevant (in my opinion) than the first.The food here is delicious and plentiful, there is running water and warm showers, and though there are even more bugs here than at my site, they are only beetles, moths, and grasshoppers (which Malawians sautee in oil and eat. And of which I was adventurous enough to try); no ugly spiders, thank god. It was fun to be back at the college after three months at site. Not only am I so much more worldly and wise (haha), but the weather is different, the group is better adjusted, and our views on Malawi are more well rounded. <p>A couple days ago I had a chance to check my email and briefly read an article SF sent me in which a former Malawian PCV described Malawi as looking like Iowa in both the landscape and the fact that maize is the main crop. After reading the article, I began mulling it over in my head, wondering how it could be possible that Malawi looks like Iowa. Then, after climbing the small, yet surprisingly tall mountain behind the college and gaining a beautiful and far reaching view of the surroundings, I realized how different the Malawian landscape is from anywhere I have ever been. The land is admittedly flat, yet punctuated by tall (though small compared to the west) mountains. Even at my site, which is flat as a table, I can look into the distance and see mountains. So, despite the fact I have never visited Iowa, I would wager Malawi looks nothing like it. <p>The rains have come and the country is turning green and lush; finally Malawi looks like what I always imagined Africa to be. The foliage is amazing, the flowers are bright and colorful, and the birds and bugs are constantly singing and humming. The rains are like nothing I have ever experienced before; it literally pours and pours and then the sun comes out, making everything steamy, warm, and tropical feeling. However, though the weather in Dedza was pleasant and cool at night, upon returning to my site, I am dismayed to discover it has gotten even hotter with the arrival of the rains. The humidity is outrageous and my body is constantly sticky. <p>And so, back in the hot, wet weather for a week and a half before Christmas in Cape Maclear, I have dug and planted my garden, will build a classy bookshelf made from bricks and plywood, set into motion work plans for the beginning of the year, and think about my New Years Resolutions. I must admit I am feeling apprehensive about the first of the year, since it will mark the true beginning of my work as a Peace Corps Volunteer. <p>Until this point, the expectations have been fairly straightforward; you were expected to show up and be present for training and then observe and learn as much as possible in the first three months . However, now that we have a level of comfort in the village, an understanding of our community, and the tools from IST, the pressure is on to get serious. Thus far, I have had fun weekend trips, IST and Christmas vacay to look forward to as I move up and down (as the villagers say), but once the New Year hits, its business time (even though it is too freaking hot to wear any kind of socks, let alone those of the business persuasion). <p>But oh, I am just taking it one day at a time, which is a surprisingly great way to live. Despite the fact that Malawi is the 4<sup>th</sup> poorest country in the world mainly because of the Malawian way of living day to day, there really isn’t any other way to go about life here. The American style of hurrying about, traveling large distances day to day, and being able to access whatever you want, whenever and wherever creates a frenzied energy; a feeling that would drive a person living in the village crazy in one day for want of results and action. However, in the village, no one wears a watch and everyone is flexible to a fault (like when you planned for a month to have a meeting on a certain day and then the week before someone breezily tells you that day isn’t good), making living in the present a necessity. </p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-68418235563588686942010-11-18T23:57:00.001-08:002010-11-18T23:57:36.229-08:00work work work?<p>Mid November already, and I can say that already I feel sufficiently baked from the sun. Just this week, a slight wind has blown in, doing what little it can to keep us all slightly cooler in the sweltering heat. However, the aluminum roof on my house click click clicks constantly from the sun and what little respite is given from the wind is compromised by the extremely loud banging of tree branches falling on the roof, day and night, and the dust that sticks to my sweaty body. Yet, my house is becoming my home, my surroundings more and more familiar, and the people of Kalimira are becoming used to the Azungu woman living in their midst. Lately, instead of being asked if I cook nsima at home or being told I must speak Chiyao, villagers have come to me asking for medical advice and medicine; neither of which I have much to give. <p>I think most people within the vicinity think I am a doctor, or at least a nurse. Last week I was in the Park and talking with one of the staff members who, upon learning my name, promptly called me Doctor Chloe (a title I was sorry to have to deny). Later that same week, I was asked if my husband in America was a doctor; a question whose response could be approached from so many angles that I was initially flabbergasted. And so, as there has been a request for information about my “work,” I will honor it by devoting this blog to what I have been doing in Africa besides sweating, battling ants and spiders, and not speaking chiyao. <p>I have already been in Malawi for almost five months; three of which have been spent in the village. Next week, I will return to Dedza for In-Service Training, a two week training on what to do with the information we have gathered about our villages. So it seems, this is a perfect time to write about my activities, as I am already reflecting on the information I have gathered and what my next step will be. <p>Mornings are spent at the health center, observing, manning the registration book, chatting with the staff, and warding off attempts to teach me how to give shots to the Under 5 crowd (no thanks). My observations have been surprising, frustrating, and intense at times, and have really given me an understanding of the challenges Malawi faces not only in terms of providing proper diagnosis and care to its people, but also how the information is received, processed, and used by consumers. Women are being sent away with no contraception, including condoms, because they are unable to remember the date of their last period (which shouldn’t be surprising in a culture where people don’t even know their age, let alone the date of their last menses), patients are brought in after months of suffering and only when it is too late to save them, and the most basic medicines are unavailable even when people do come in (for example: a terrible case of pink eye developed in my neighbor just last week and despite my advice to go to the health center and to NOT touch her eyes, there was no medicine available at either of the two closest health centers and now, even though it has cleared up for her, the rest of the children in the house are currently suffering from varying stages of it). All of these problems seem inordinately out of my league. <p>Besides observing at the health center, I have also met with the local chiefs, some of the leaders of local committees, and interviewed community members to gain an understanding of the specific problems faced within my local community. Writing up the interview questions, translating them into Chichewa and then trying them out to see if they were even understandable was a challenge. I quickly discovered their answers lacked the depth of critical thinking I was expecting (even with the chiefs) and some of the questions, especially a few I was particularly interested in hearing what people had to say about, weren’t even answerable. However, interviewing was a valuable exercise that really put me in my place, so to speak, in terms of what people are (and are not) thinking about, their values, and how they are perceiving the world around them. Overall, I suppose when your main concerns are the location of boreholes, transportation (by bike) to the nearest health center, and elephants trampling your crops (and kids), there is not much extra time for contemplating such worldly matters as the state of foreign aid in Africa, the presidents stance on resuable energy, and developing a support group for survivors of relationship abuse (especially since there seems to be a unanimous belief that there is absolutely no violence in the community). <p>Finally, I conducted a PACA (participatory analysis for community action) meeting under a mango tree in front of Kafulafula school. I invited about twenty people with the intention I would split up the group into men and women and conduct the activities in separate groups who would then come together to present and discuss their conclusions. However, in reality, eleven people showed up and so I quickly readjusted our activities. First we did a community mapping activity to get an idea of what the area looks like; where the boreholes, schools, roads, football fields, maize mills, community based organizations, etc are. We created a map for each of the three villages represented by the group; Tambala, Maselema, and Kalimira. It turns out that as a new person to the community, I remembered places that the others had forgotten. After that, we created a seasonal calendar, charting out weather patterns, agricultural patterns of planting and harvesting, disease cycles of malaria, cholera, TB, and colds, major holidays, when people have more money, less food, and a lot of time. At the end, I asked what people had learned from this exercise. One man said he didn’t realize there were some communities with more resources than others and another said he didn’t know that diseases came and went according to patterns; two pretty significant things to come out of a meeting, I think. <p>And so, now it is time to put all this information together, sort through it, and see what can be done; an admittedly daunting task, all things considered. All together, community members expressed a pressing need for a borehole, followed by a bike ambulance. Additionally, and I think it goes without saying, most people wish there were more opportunities to earn a living, though given the chance, the likelihood of them taking advantage of an opportunity is questionable. Overall (and this is definitely subject to change), I think key areas of focus for the next two years are going to be education about nutrition, contraception, using locally available plants as natural medicine, and growing kitchen gardens to supply food for families. Also, I am interested in exploring IGA (income generating activity) options for the women of the village; perhaps baked goods to sell on the road, peanut butter, etc. I would like to start a women’s group at the school to sort of channel all this information through, as I believe the women who would attend such meetings are the ones who would be more apt to influence others. <p>Lastly, I want to take advantage of the time women and patients are waiting to see a doctor at the health center to educate them; basically using the health center not only as a place to receive medicine and weigh babies but as a learning center. Training the HSA (health surveillance assistants) will be key, as well as creating interesting and informative posters. Lessons won't always have to be scheduled, mostly impromptu on an as needed basis (the need being all the time, I suppose). <p>Phew! Now that I have just outlined it all out, I feel a little more prepared to write up my thoughts in a more official document. Obviously, there is no shortage of work to be done, however, I must admit to feeling incredibly overwhelmed by the outrageous amount of opportunities I could take advantage of. I think creating goals and a structured plan for the next year will prove useful as a reference to me; someone who needs a little structure to keep me on track. However, I also hope the Peace Corps will provide some useful tools for me in terms of a jumping off point. <p>Although I am feeling overwhelmed, it is one that presents a challenge, rather than a wave a despair. I am still so content and happy to know I am Malawi, doing what I have thought about for a long long time and the challenges I face seem, for the first time, to be of the “real world” nature. Even as I jump around shaking ants off my back after foolishly leaning on a tree crawling with thousands of them, listening to the hoots of the amayis and knowing I should feel embarrassed, I am know I am where I am supposed to be. <p>sending you all my love, all the time. and sorry for the long post this time. you asked for info about work, and info you got! <p>P.S. Check out what the spiders at my house (which aren’t actually spiders) look like. Some poor fellow out of his mind seems to want to keep one in his aquarium when all I want to do is run away from them. <a title="http://www.faunaimportuk.com/caresheets/cswindspider.htm" href="http://www.faunaimportuk.com/caresheets/cswindspider.htm">http://www.faunaimportuk.com/caresheets/cswindspider.htm</a></p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-50787194817647054042010-11-07T00:40:00.001-07:002010-11-07T00:40:56.372-07:00Spyders, Sweaters, and Simple Theories<p>Wow, can’t believe its November already. I have been here four months, the better part of a half year, and the time has flown by. I can only hope the rest of my service will go by this quickly! I keep thinking this is the honeymoon period of my new life and soon I will grow disillusioned. But, I as of now, I am happy, or at least content, with pretty much every aspect of my life…minus the enormous scary spiders I find in my house daily. <p>As I settle into my new life, my thought processes about what it means to be a Malawian are developing. I am constantly trying to make sense of my surroundings; why are people acting the way they do, why is Malawi in its current state of poverty while other(western) countries in the world can not only feed, but clothe and provide electricity for most of its people. Thus far, I have only been able to explain it in a psychological way (which I am sure no one is surprised by). Here is my amateur theory; When we talk about malnutrition and food insecurity, we always think about children. Every day, I see children in the village with Kwashiorkor’s and Marassmus (two types of severe malnutrition) or protruding bellies I am sure are filled with worms. However, it seems like the conversation about malnutrition stops when children grow into adults. Sure they are skinny and of course we are worried about anemic mothers who cant produce breast milk, but what we forget is that along with stunted growth comes stunted neurological development. Strong neurological connections are not created because children’s bodies are working overtime just to keep them alive and also because their mothers aren’t even talking to them, let alone encouraging exploration of their environment or <i>gasp </i>reading to them. So then, these children grow into adults incapable of critical thinking because they literally lack the neurons necessary for moving beyond life necessities of carrying water, making babies, and building houses. No wonder they are having problems distributing medicine, establishing democracy, and pushing for women’s rights! <p>So, as of late, I have been working on remembering that whenever children yell “Give me my money!”, as I ride to the health center and as I look over the simple, universally identical answers I received from all 20 villagers I interviewed last week. To compare the actions of the Malawians to those of Americans would be a fatal mistake. However, as western culture is my home base, I have nothing else to compare it to and can’t help but sign in exasperation when women stare unashamedly at me while I wait in line for water at the borehole. <p>Onto more domestic issues; my cat Spyder (which looks way cooler with a Y than with the regular I) is turning out to be quite entertaining, in fact. A little orange tabby with a pink nose, with ears that seem in proportionately large to the rest of his body. And speaking of large; his testicles are definitely growing, too. I have never had an animal with balls and I have to say sometimes I catch a glimpse of them and can’t help but giggle. I feel like he should put on some pants or something…. <p>Hard to believe its sweater and hunting season as I slap on sunscreen and roll around in bed sweating every night. Rain has rolled in these last couple nights, pounding on my tin roof and cooling the air and reminding everyone of the season yet to come. I am excited for the rain and the idea that the country will be transformed into a jungle of verdant flora and fauna. However, along with the rain come the spiders into my house, attempting refuge from the water. This means I spend the nights running around with a flipflop trying to squish something the size of a deck of cards. Even at night in bed with my net tucked in around me, I wake up feeling my skin crawl with imaginary bugs. Many times, after related an especially disturbing story of spider killing to Amayi Rashidi, she just looks at me like I am the crazy one for caring about huge spiders that move at the speed of light in my house. <p>Next week I am off to the lake for another weekend of swimming in the ocean-like lake and laying on the beach. One of the PCVs has befriended a group of Greek brothers who own a house on lake and have invited us for the weekend. At first I was skeptical but the temptation of free lodging on the lake was too much to resist. Although I must say, if I don’t develop skin cancer in my later years, I will consider myself a lucky girl. <p>Sending my love to all of my sweater wearing friends in the west. I think of you often. <p>XOXO Chloe</p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-62968979666975665382010-10-24T00:30:00.001-07:002010-10-24T00:30:54.060-07:00The Usual<p>Another week in the village gone by. Can’t believe it’s already the end of October and I have been at site for2 months and in country for 4, the better part of a half year! I have been very good about living in the present and so the days go by quickly. I wake In the mornings at 6:30, often to a neighbor coming into my backyard. Half asleep, I rise and after realizing I cannot make conversation in English, let alone Chichewa 2 minutes after getting up, my neighbor leaves and I begin to make a fire. I sit at the breakfast table and read my book until around 9 and then cycle to the health center. Afternoons are spent eating lunch with friends and walking around the village chatting. I begin making dinner at 6pm, which is when the sun sets every day, eat and bathe by candlelight and then retire to my bed after doing a thorough search of my bed for insects. <p>Last week I acquired a small, orange boy kitten who I have named Spider. He enjoys climbing up my eucalyptus tree and fence, much like a spider, and I am very pleased since he is eating all the huge insects in my house. Besides bugs, I feed him small fish, rice, and whatever is left over from dinner. He likes to hang out around my yard, meowing and playing and when he is not at my house, he is found next door at the Kambale’s. Amayi Kambale is always saying, Pussy pussy pussy pussy when she calls for him. It’s hard not to laugh. He is nice company and finally! I have a cat who enjoys sitting in my lap. And won’t run away when there is a loud noise. <p>Other than that, I must say I have not much else to report. As I settle into a routine, the villagers are becoming more accustomed to me and I, them. Children no longer yell “Give me money,” as I ride by every day, though they still run after my bike. Sometimes, when an older boy yells to me for money, I pretend like I have lost control of my bike and will run into him. It works every time. Mean, I know, but I get so annoyed hearing them begging in broken English. The parents think it is funny and it seems there is no sense of humility. <p>Thinking of all of you as I eat mangoes instead of apples and as it heats up instead of cools down. Next weekend I will be spending Halloween by the lake. Haven’t decided my costume yet so I think I will just stick with a swim suit; tugs as my Australian friend would call my suit. Happy Halloween! <p>Xoxo C </p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-21094501164841344682010-10-16T23:51:00.001-07:002010-10-16T23:51:51.205-07:00Heatin’ Up<p>October in the west is the month where everything descends into hibernation for the next seven months, but in Malawi it marks the beginning of the hot season. All day long I am sweating, guzzling water that is never cool enough, and proclaiming, along with everyone else, how hot it is. Days are spent sitting in the shade of porches or the countless mango trees that populate the village. Mid October also marks mango season. Children run around eating mangoes, skin and all, and offering me mangoes wherever I go. This week they are just turning ripe, but for the past three weeks I have been offered unripe mangoes that I lay on the window sill to bask in the sun until sweet. <p>These past two weeks have been spent socializing in the village and truly understanding what life is like for the millions of people in this world who live closer to the natural elements than Americans ever have to; without running water, electricity, and regular access to the outside world. Every night I kill at least one oversized bug; scorpions, Siamese twin (or mating) cockroaches, or these enormous crickets that are so juicy when squished. However, the mosquitoes continue to stay away, which I am thankful for. <p>Gradually, I am coming to understand the social structure of the village. I have been befriended by a couple of woman who invite me for lunch and stop by to chat (in broken chewa). These women, along with Amayi Kambale, are perhaps what one would call the middle class wives of the village. A few of them have little businesses selling baked goods so they have a little “disposable income,” and they are known and respected by the village. I am grateful to them because unlike many of the other villagers who come to me asking for soap or food or medicine, these women haven’t asked me for anything other than friendship. It is my hope that it will be through these woman that I will be able to send out my message. <p>On that note, last week I met with the chiefs of the three villages I will be working in. With the help of my “colleague,” Gayson (pronounced GYson), I asked them questions while he interpreted. It seems that the big concerns in the area are not enough food, elephants destroying crops, and lack of transportation for the sick to the health center. This week I will conduct interviews around the village, with the help of Nelly Kambale whose English is very good, talking with adults and young adults. I am excited to explore the village with Nelly’s help and to hear what these people have to say. <p>This past week, Patuma, a young woman in her first year of secondary school, began coming over to help me. I am paying her school fees and in return she is carrying water and sweeping me for me. She is very slim, shaves her head and quiet and I am so happy not to have to carry water anymore. I wonder what she thinks of me and my azungu house; sitting at a table to eat with a fork, standing while I am cooking, rather than sitting down, and sleeping in a bed opposed to on a mat on the floor. This is the first time I have ever been a boss to anyone and so I am very cognizant of using my powers for good. I want to be a benevolent boss, which could be harder, or easier, due to the language barrier, than normal. <p>Overall, I am well. Sometimes it is hard for me to get out of bed in the morning or to the leave my house. Every interaction I have takes twice the amount of work I am used to and because I can’t use words; instead I must be smiling and upbeat all the time. This is especially hard when someone is telling me, for the 20<sup>th</sup> time that day, that I must learn to speak Chiyao. Sitting on the matt with ants crawling on me, repeating sentences in Yao I do not understand with villagers hooting in laughter at my botched attempts, I do not feel gracious and peace oriented; only like screaming and stomping off. However, once I am through these incidences, I tell myself that anything worth doing during this time in my life, whether it be in Africa or the States, would be challenging. And, as crazy as it may sound, I may as well be in a remote, hot, and dusty place speaking an arguably obsolete language rather than working 9-5 with a bunch of white liberals somewhere in Montana. No offense. <p>XOXO to all you white liberals. I really do love you. <p>C</p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-17440608109365442752010-10-02T23:02:00.001-07:002010-10-02T23:02:10.556-07:00Nyumba Yanga<p>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. <p>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. <p>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. <p>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.” <p>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. <p>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… <p>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. <p>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 Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-69278936925313142632010-09-09T22:41:00.001-07:002010-09-09T23:39:33.071-07:00First Week at Site<p>Hey all! <p>I hope you are so proud of me that I am updating my blog a second time in two weeks after failing to do so for two months. Perhaps this will show you how serious I am about my previous claim of becoming more regular in my posts. <p>As I write this, the sun is setting and despite all precautions to keep them out of the house, I am plagued by the constant buzz of mosquitoes all around me. At night I sit on the couch and if I have any bit of bare skin, I can almost guarantee it will be devoured by three or ten of the hundreds udzudzu in the house. Even when I sit in bed reading under my net I am harassed by at least one that managed to sneak in with me. Few things are more irritating than reading with a mosquito buzzing in your ear, let alone sleeping; thus I have been reduced to spending at least seven minutes a night in bed on my knees hunting for a needle in a haystack, only to miss squishing it when I finally get the chance. Standing outside of my room, you would think I was clapping for an encore. En contraire… <p>Currently, I am living at the house of an Austrian woman, Katharina, who is volunteering for the year as a teacher trainer for Help Malawi, the NGO who requested the presence of a PCV and who has built the health center I am assigned to, as well as the school I am staying at now. Every day this week I have been riding my bike 14 kilometers roundtrip to check on the progress of my house and to help clean the health center which will open on Monday. I think I will be able to move into my house Monday, as well! <p>In the meantime, I am keeping myself occupied with day to day activities and trying not to get to ahead of myself by looking at the days and weeks and months ahead of me. The other PCVs I have talked to this week have confessed feelings of boredom and listlessness but I am happy to report I have felt neither. Even when I want time to myself there are children coming to the door, Katharina showing up, chores to do, and Chewa to be spoken. My language abilities are admittedly improving, however slowly, and I continue to learn from my language faux pas. Example: the other day I was telling some Malawians about the work my dad does fixing bikes and cars. I was using the verb to fix but accidentally omitting the N that changes the meaning from to urinate, to fix. Only days later did I realize I had been telling people my dad pees on bikes and cars. Weird Azungu…. <p>Despite those silly lost in translation occurrences, people continue to welcome me wherever I go. However, as an azungu (white/rich) woman, I am in the challenging position of having lived and worked in a man’s world while still being expected to cook nsima and wear long skirts. Straddling these two worlds will make integration a challenge, as men don’t accept me as an equal and the only lives the women know are that of marriage, babies, and the house. However, it is my wish that as I continue to speak and interact, the villagers will come to realize my sincerity and commitment to the task at hand. <p>And with that, I am calling it a night. Tomorrow I will post this inside Liwonde National Park and perhaps Katharina and I will have a chance to lay out by the pool. If I can’t live by the lake or swim in the crocodile infested waters of the Shire, I can at least have a swimming pool to enjoy once in a while. But shhhh don’t tell Peace Corps about this unexpected luxury. <p>As always, sending my love to you all. It’s hard to believe it’s already September; summer is over and a new season has begun! Keep sending me your thoughts and letters and know that I am out here showing pictures and speaking broken Chewa of you. <p>Xoxo C <p>P.S I am attempting to post some select choice pictures for you. If you are looking at them you know I have succeeded but if not, the internet is too slow. Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-50022108931086572472010-09-01T11:37:00.000-07:002010-09-01T12:11:52.584-07:00finally, a new post after two months!so sorry to all for not being a very diligent blogger. my i<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">nternet</span> access has been less than easily accessible and when it is, there are thirty five <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">other</span> eager individuals vying for some time. once i get to site though, my access will hopefully be more regular, less rushed, and i will be able to use my own computer.<br />oh, but so much has happened, the biggest news being that today i was sworn in as an official peace corps volunteer! we all wore red white and blue corsages and received special pins to commemorate the occasion. pictures to come, i promise.<br />in the meantime, i will be traveling to my village, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Nandumbo</span>, in the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">district</span> of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Balaka</span> on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">friday</span>. for those of you with a map, it is located between the town of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ulongwe</span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Liwonde</span> national park, meaning i am close to the Shire River which is home to hippos, crocodiles, elephants, and a million kinds of birds. on my week long site visit i was even able to take a boat safari! however, the landscape around the park is as flat as a table, very hot and dry, and even the boreholes pump salty water. needless the say, the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">mosquitoes</span> love it.<br />as for my site details; i am the first <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">pcv</span> to serve at this site and the health center i will be working at is just opening this week (or so they say). my presence in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Nandumbo</span> was requested by a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">NGO</span>; Help Malawi, whose headquarters is located inside the park at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">Mvuu</span> (hippo) camp. i have been told that malnutrition and malaria are problems within the community as well as maternal health and, of course, HIV/AIDS. my position as a brand new volunteer whose presence is coinciding with the open<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ing</span> of a new health center is unique, and i am excited at this opportunity, despite the daunting nature of the challenge that lay ahead.<br />my house, at the moment, is being worked on and will hopefully be finished in a couple weeks. it was pretty much in shambles when i saw it for the first time, but i <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">believe</span> that once it has been fixed up it will be a pretty sweet spot. the house is big with three bedrooms and a living room, plus a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">separate</span> kitchen, covered <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error">batha</span> and storage room in the backyard, not to mention my very own <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error">chimbutzi</span>. i hope to start a garden as soon as possible and i will be lugging a couple of how to garden books, among many others, with me to site. in the meantime, though, while my house is being finished, i will be staying with Katharina, a young <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error">austrian</span> teacher working for Help Malawi at a local primary school.<br />i am sending you all my love and hope all is well stateside. i swear to you my blogging will become more regular as my life becomes more of a routine and i look forward to your comments. i have love love loved getting emails, letters, and messages from you all, even if i have yet to respond. you make me feel so awesome and loved and i <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">wouldn't</span> mind if you kept it up.<br />talk soon and cheers! 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mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">8:25 AM</p><p class="MsoNormal">Sitting at the McDonalds in the Denver airport after a six A.M. flight out of Boise. Needless to say I didn’t sleep much last night and although I am tired, my stomach is queasy from nerves. My mind is filled with thoughts of all the goodbyes and well wishes I received yesterday and throughout the week. Saying goodbye is hard; so many words unspoken and feelings unshared. When you are always around a friend or family member, you don’t have to worry to about saying all the things you feel and think because you are content to be in their presence and enjoy their company. But then, when you separate, it suddenly becomes important for you portray just how meaningful this person is to you even though you may not have the words to do so. That’s how I have been feeling this past week; it has been hard for me to verbalize the deep feelings I have for all my friends and family who have been so good to me throughout my life.<span style=""> </span></p> Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989288060923772781.post-48581791695351576532010-06-25T11:30:00.001-07:002010-06-25T11:43:16.285-07:00Still in BoiseFinally! Setting up this blog has been on my list of things to do for the past month and now it can be crossed off the quickly shrinking list of things to do before I depart.<br />I have never had a blog before (I can't even keep a private journal) so this is definitely going to be a constant work in progress. But, I also think its going to be very good way for me to record my thoughts and experiences since I know others are counting on me to keep them updated.<br />As of now, my bags are not packed, though I think I have most everything I will be taking in my possession. I leave July 1st for Philadelphia to meet up with the rest of the Health Volunteers going to Malawi and then we fly to the capital, Lilongwe, on July 2nd.<br />After so much time thinking about and planning for something I still don't know much about, I am ready to get there and begin my work and life in Africa.<br />My address for the next two months will be: Chloe Ross, PCV<br /> Peace Corps/Malawi<br /> Box 208<br /> Lilongwe<br /> Malawi<br />Send me stuff if you can and know that it is predicted to take around four weeks to send and receive mail.<br />More later....Chloehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09054260937516749355noreply@blogger.com1