cold cokes and kwacha

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!).

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.

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!

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.

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).

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

Sending my love, all the time.

Cheers! Chloe

Mr. Juma

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Sending my love, as usual, and hoping all is well in America.

Love, C

Year of the Self

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.

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.

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 inside out (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.

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.

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 definitely taking myself more seriously now (also note the facetiousness). Ha

Love! Chloe

Holiday Greetings

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;

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.

Also, Peace on Earth is a probably a good holiday greeting, since I am promoting peace and friendship in Africa.

All in all, wishing you a lovely, warm, and fun holiday season and a Happy New Year filled with new beginnings and adventure.

Love, Chloe

P.S. Don’t forget to drink some egg nog for me

A bit on the weather (and the landscape)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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^th 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.

work work work?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.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. http://www.faunaimportuk.com/caresheets/cswindspider.htm

Spyders, Sweaters, and Simple Theories

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.

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 gasp 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!

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.

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….

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.

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.

Sending my love to all of my sweater wearing friends in the west. I think of you often.

XOXO Chloe