Village Voices 2

These ladies were showing me their vegetable nursery. enjoy

Village living -body image

I expected living in the village to effect me physically- and it has. Already in two short weeks, my feet are dry and calloused with croc tan-lines and ingrained dirt (despite morning and nightly scrubbing and moisturising!), my hands have blisters, cuts and are starting to toughen up, there are scratches on my forarms and my upper arms are starting to get some muscle definition. My freckles are getting darker and I have some kind of insect bite on my cheek. My hair...I keep wrapped in a headscarf-partly to 'go local' but mostly to keep out dust and little kids fingers. Plus it hurts less carrying stuff on your head if there's some cloth to cushion it. All of which, as I'm sure you could imagine, when combined an old t-shirt, skirt and chitenje combo make me look as 'villagey' as a white chick can.

What I didn't expect though was the impact of village living on my own body image. I'm not overly body obsessed, but even after a year and a half in the back blocks of nowhere I do have the odd hang-up or ten that you'd expect with the amount of advertising we're bombarded with in our 'impressionable teenage years'... but that's a topic for a blog all in it self. Anyways, what I've really noticed and found refreshing is the level of real acceptance here of 'the way God made you'. It's hard to describe. It's not that everyone hangs around singing 'kumbaya'- no way- i've heard enough doozy arguments in the village in the last week to last me a life time- but...they just don't seem to judge people by physical appearance or be as self conscious or image centered as we are. They like to look nice and most people put a LOT of effort into it- but looks, and bodies and clothes are not as defining as they seem to be in the west.

I've found it all quite liberating. Skinny is bad, fat is great. Breasts hang out and hang low and nobody bats an eyelid. Most work is done bending from the waist, and since bra's are a luxury and loose shirts are easier to work in, cleavage/ belly buttonage is a regular occurance. Big bottoms and thighs are beautiful- but must be kept covered and waists are a non-event thanks to the layers involved in keeping the aformentioned bodyparts covered. Dirty feet happen. Clothes are lucky to be clean let alone matching or held on with more than a safety pin.

I haven't figured out what this culture judges people by yet. I'd hazard a guess that it'd have something to do with their abilty to reproduce and their ability to work and help the family survive. But in the mean time I'm quite enjoying the new-found liberation from 'looks obsession' while I consider the benefits of reproduction and learn to work!

Village living- a few lessons

• Malawi has scorpions, and yes- they do come inside.
• Plastic bags make great fire starters.
• If a local tells you 'that plant is itchy- don't touch it' believe them. It is the most intense itch, borderline panic pain you've ever felt in your life.
• If you're sharing a snack, don't wander off. They won't save any for you.
• If you suspect it's the chief- trust your instinct.
• The market only sells dried fish, tomatoes and greens. get used to it.
• Greens run out by about 9 am.
• Saving outside-of-pot-washing as an 'every few days job' is counter productive. The black stuff is baked on thicker, it takes longer, hurts your hands and you end up hating the job even more (is that possible?). Plus no-one will help you.
• Be careful saying you want to learn how to 'do everything'. You may get recruited into 5.30 am water pump sweeping/ scrubbing or all day firewood collecting excursions.
• You don't get tough sitting around all day doing nothing.
• People are really willing to help if you're humble enough to ask for it.
• Pot lids are usually really hot.

Village living- the house

Hi ya- I just realised that I uploaded the pics of my village house to facebook not blogger. So below are a few pics of my house before I moved in.

The house: quite a posh brick and cement place with a tin roof AND glass windows!

Stunning view from the from verandah (aka formal lounge)

The back yard- kitchen on the left, shower and loo in the corner. In this culture, only those that sleep in the house usually go inside. Domestic life happens inside the fence around the back of the house. This is where food is prepared and cooked, clothes are hung over the fence to dry, dishes are washed, chickens roam, kids are bathed and friends and relatives come and sit and visit. Inside the fence is personal living space, so people call out 'odi!' meaning 'let me!' to which you answer 'eh, ajinjile!' or 'odini!' supposedly before they enter.

Bathing area. You take in a bucket of water heated over the fire (or not- if you're useless at lighting fires) and have a wash. the rubble prevents you from standing in mud.

Toilet- the cover keeps flies and bugs out. Otherwise-it's squat, aim, fire! Needless to say, I'm really missing western loo's!

AND...the local pump - a very integral part of my life at the village. It's where I meet and greet ladies, do my washing and of course get my daily water needs.

I've discovered that you use much less water when you have to carry it all yourself- which is fantastic for the environment :) I use 2-3 buckets per day ie 30-45L which I reckon is about the same amount a western house'd use in a day just for toilet flushing!

Ok - enough blogging / procrastinaing. I'm in otwn, using the computer for work reasons- so I'd better get on with it :) basi!

Village living - the first week

First week in the village- where do I even start?! Firstly -I'm loving it :) But it was quite obvious on the first day that to survive- I definitely have to toughen up!

I swept the house with a hand broom and felt it in my lower back.


I took my washing down to the water pump and I could feel the harsh soap drying out my hands as I scrubbed my skirts against the cement (knuckles!!).


I pumped several bucket fulls of water and was glad when someone else took over!


I managed to lift a 3/4 full bucket of water onto my head and carry it up the hill to my house and yup- I slopped it abit and got wet shoulders- not to mention the discomfort of a heavy, hard bucket on your head and people laughing cos it's not full...

Then trying to light a fire. ugh- SO not good at it. Blowing on the coals. smoke. coughing. asthma. stinging eyes...followed closely by burnt fingers as I absent-mindedly grabbed pot handles and lids during cooking forgetting that metal conducts heat. Squatting by the fire- not so comfy after half an hour.

Even bathing- the wash area is a pile of rubbled rocks and bricks that get slippery and muddy with sharp edges that gouge soft feet.

And that was just the morning's chores :-x needless to say I collapsed into bed and slept well that night!

I've been giving everything a go- and telling people that even though I'm obviously useless at doing (fill the blank) I really want to practise and learn... except for when I don't. I've been surprised at my own reaction at times. I'm in the village to learn the local language and the local way of living... then I find myself arguing with someone who is trying to explain what im meant to do. stupid huh? why do I do it?

The 'pot situation' is a good example. Day 2, G- the young lady from next door came over mid afternoon and commented on my pots drying on the 'kitchen' roof.
'you didn't wash your pots' she said.
'yes I did' I retorted.
'they're still dirty on the outside' she said
I stood adn looked at my blackened pots; 'but they're clean on the inside- and I only eat from the inside' said I
'you need to clean the outside' she said
'no- I'm not cleaning the outside because im just going to put it on the fire again in a few hours and it will get dirty again- so I'm just let it get black' said I
'you need to clean the outside' she patiently repeated
'why?!' said I
'so it's shiny. Don't you know how to clean pots?' she asked- surprised
'yes- i know how to clean a pot- but i choose to clean the inside only. I'm not cleaning the outside of all 3 pots everyday- Itss just not gonna happen' said I
'I'll clean the outside for you tomorrow' she offered
'no- it's ok- you don't have to clean my pots....'
She shrugged and wandered off.

Later in the afternoon M- a young boy who loves to sit and chat was sitting on my back step, observing my pottering when he said- pointing to my pots drying on the 'kitchen' roof
'your pots aren't clean- let me clean them for you'
'NO!' (oops- was that a bit harsh?) 'no really- its ok. I'm happy with them black on the outside. Do you wash pots for your mother?' said I? (hoping to distract him)
he nodded solemnly. 'It's important to have clean pots. Don't you know how to clean them properly?'
I ignored him.

The next morning, I had just finished cooking my porridge and washing up in a tub whilst chatting to another neighbour who had just embarked on chiding me for not washing my pots properly when I got ambushed.
They came with sand.
They didn't ask my permission.
They cleaned my pots.
Soap, sand, much rubbing with their bare hands, a rinse with water...and wala! i had clean pots.
i have to admit i was close to the giggles by this stage. It all just seemed so ludicrous- but who am i to judge what is and isn't important in their culture? I've asked them to teach me- and now I need to be willing to learn, even if it does mean getting rough, calloused hands from scrubbing the outside of my pots everyday with sand.... maybe I'll learn something. Wax on, wax off?
im sure there are much bigger sacrifices i could be making!

M- and G- cleaning my pots (that's my 'kitchen' inthe back ground)

Village living

Remember my 'experiment' last year?

$1 a day (or was it $2?) no power, carry my own water for a week (or was it 2?) oh yeah - i remember- and no matress. lol

Well, I'm upping the ante. I've been given the opportunity to live in a village for a few months... and I moved out there last Friday! It's not about living on the edge or feeling good that I'm doing it tough- it's about getting as much language and cultural interaction as i can.

Im looking forward to blogging all about it ...soon. But for now- First impressions?
- stinging eyes from lighting and cooking over a smoke fire
- the sheer time investment into every chore- from boiling water for a cuppa to pumping water and carrying it up the hill to my house
- amazing generosity and friendliness of my new neighbourhood. they've visited, shared their food, invited me to family events (sadaka) and cleaned my pots....but they're all stories for another day!
I'll write when I can- in the mean time, please pray that I'll get to the next level with language, make some good friends and stay well.

moon rising

ok - so I'm a soppy soppy la la romantic at heart and in my books- not alot beats a moon rise over water. check this one out :)

The air is almost cool, the grass is golden and the land is drying out....Fire Time! yup, people are starting to burn off all over the place the air is thick with it. The sad thing for my asthma is that this 'season' will continue right up to the first rains- probably early November. The good news is, particles in the air make for wicked sunsets. The Big Guy was showing off this evening. Here's a few pics from my day.


A beautiful, peaceful, idylic scene that could almost be fog in a secluded part of the country side?!


Until a massively overloaded truck goes by with the guys clinging to the edges yelling good morning at you and a friends husband riding by on his bicycle (returning from his second wife's home) stops to greet you, and you take a deep breath and almost choke on the air! :)

We had Farmer Trainings today at the Demonstration Farm- the first of 5 over the next 2 weeks. Thankfully I wasn't doing the trainings- just picking people up, sorting out logistics, making sure it all runs smoothly, then dropping people home and preparing to do it all again tomorrow. One of the more challenging jobs was getting enough clean water to the farm for the ladies to prepare food for 40 people (under a mango tree of course). We decided to use the car to save them walking a kilometer each way to the pump.

I drove under 5km/hr. but thanks to bicycletrack/road only about 50% of the water made it.
We've got a well under construction at the farm- but the guy is digging it by hand and he's hit solid rock, so we'll see what happens.


On the way home, the sun was a Bali style hot pink globe in the sky, so I hit the curb to try and capture the shot and was asked by 2 young ladies to take their photograph as well. My pleasure.

Village Voices

I'm so glad I finally figured out how to upload videos so you can hear the awesome signing i hear on a weekly basis. enjoy!

troopies, teleporting, death and sunsets

Do you ever wish that other people could see what you're seeing- feel what it's like to do what you're doing even for a few seconds? Sometimes, like this evening, I would love to teleport in my friends so they could share the moment. I reckon one day, instead of logging into someone's profile on Facebook, you'll click on their picture (mentally?!), wait a few moments for their permission to enter (longer if they're on the loo at that precise moment) then the next thing you'd see/hear/feel is whatever moment of their day they happened to be in. Obviously they would have to still be 100% in control- otherwise- Being John Malkovich. i knew I couldn't possibly be having an original idea. not at this stage of the universe. what was I saying? oh yeah- it wouldn't be allowed to compromise who a person is- their individual thougths, actions or decisions. no the idea isn't to tap that- just tap and share the senses. hmmm, imagine the possibilities...

So anyway, this evening I was standing on an open savannah grassland plain, watching a stunning pink and orange sunset smudged with smoke and the fingernail moon gleaming through the silouette of a thorn tree and I thought ' It really doesn't get more stereotypical African than this. Wouldn't it be cool to live in Africa?!' It had been a long day, so my thoughts had fully turned to who I would teleport if I could before I remembered that I DO live in Africa and it would probably be a lot easier to just invite one of my friends to come visit so we could share the regularly spectacular beauty in person.

It was a rough trip home. no street lights. plenty of black cows, black people and black bicycles on a bumpy road with frequent single lane bridges and the odd car not understanding the concept of turning hi-beams down.

It had been a great afternoon though. One of the communal farms that we're assisting is run by a HIV-AIDS Support Group- and what a fantastic bunch of people! Nowhere in my time here have I seen male and female, young and old, educated and un-educated with different tribal languages- all enjoying themselves and treating each other with respect as equals. There's nothing like impending death to level the playing field, get the trivialities of life into perspective. i think these guys have got it right. and when you think about it- we're all facing impending death- we just choose not to think about it. Having spent the afternoon with this bunch- Im thinking maybe we should all think about death more often!

Speaking of death, we all piled into/ on the troopy for the few km drive to the farm. 3 in the front, 3 on top, 14 in the back plus 2 babies and 2 watering cans. We had fun walking around the communal farm, me asking lots of questions, them showing me the different soils, the areas that flood, where it's hard to dig, where the maize was extra big and of course the dreaded termite mounds. The pinned me down for a date for my next visit. It's going to be a whole day and we'll all work together- making an A frame to mark out the contours, incorporating the crop residue and making compost with all the organic matter lying around (and growing 10 foot high!). I look forward to it. On the way home one of the guys insisted that I come and ask questions at his farm too :) hence the opportunity to enjoy the susnset in one of the little visited parts of the country.

Grrrr

I'm sitting at my computer, checking emails, listening to cicadas in the cool dark night, listening to one of the night watchmen muttering his prayers outside my office window and thinking back over the day.

Life just doesn't go according to plan here...ever. I left the house this morning with the whole week locked in and mapped out and a few hours later had a completely different programme. I don't think it's unrealistic expectations by me- It just that in this culture daily activities are at the mercy of those with more power than you. In this culture powerful people don't consult- they dictate. And nobody questions- not openly at least.

So I was half way through a meeting with the farm manger about the final details of the trainings tomorrow when he casually mentioned tha there was training in XYZ for all staff members (except me) all week, but it was ok, because I would have the driver and a Government trainer with me for the trainings. It took a while to sink in. The field guys won't be coming? the organisation that is running the training won't be making an appearance?! That's ridiculous. Then I felt the anger starting to burn. Why wasn't I told before today? Who made the decision anyway? Is this sudden training 'need' more important than the farmer training that is a key component of what the organisation exists to do?!

Culturally learned responses run deep. i felt incensed and wanted to tell management exactly what I thought. My colleagues, equally incensed, smiled and worked out an alternative. We postpone the trainings til next week. 'But we shouldn't HAVE TO!!' I almost exploded. The trainings are already late due to elections and they've been planned for over a month. My colleagues tried to calm me down before I went to find out if there was any OTHER uncommunicated, last minute, haphazard things that management would like to delay real work for?

I don't have any answers. The fact is; africans and australians deal with blatant injustice/incompetence/abuse of power etc in really different ways. One passively, one explosively. Is one way right? or wrong? Should I too paint on a smile and pretend everything is fine and normal when it's not? Not rock the boat? Don't shame anyone because it's not my culture? I try. I really try to let little things wash over me. But little things are indicative of much bigger things. things that grow in the dark til they can't be hidden any more. things that destroy. Call me an idealist, but ...oh I'm mad.

The question is: how to be mad in a culturally appropriate way?!
even more important- how to respond to the whole thing in a Godly way?

You lot aren't very talkative are you? well- I guess i haven't exactly been too chatty myself.
Life, even in Africa, is busy!
So, what's been happening in this dusty corner of the world?

Funerals, language learning, births (thankfully not in my car- we made it just in time), meetings, comings and goings, harvest, decisions...oh yeah- and Election fever, that's what. Thankfully everyone seems to have recovered now, but the rallies were big, the loud speakers blared, free party shirts, wraps, brochures and posters were distributed and excitement was high... (see one of the previous posts for pictures). This had all reached a fevered pitch by the weekend before elections and since we live in the heart of opposition territory, we felt it wise to lie low for the week. Campaigning had to stop by 6am Monday morning in preparations for the elections Tuesday, which dawned bright but unusually quite. Apparently people started queuing about 3am at the polling stations to make sure they got to vote. The day passed without any incidents- except for the presidential helicopter arriving with more ballot papers. That got everyones attention! Then we waited for the results... suspense... and it was all a bit of an anti-climax really. The existing President got voted in for a second term and the mood around town was... despondent. no riots. a few little, quite celebrations, but overall glumness.

It was a week of report writing and procrastination for me. I'm proud to report that the bathroom cupboards are clean AND my overdue reports are now in. It was a lovely change of pace though. Life's been a bit chaotic, and is set to get even more so after the short reprieve.

This week we'll be having two farmer training sessions at the demonstration farm. Two groups of 30 and for the first time we're taking on self catering. Eeep! We've hired 3 ladies who will cook under a tree while farmers are taught how to construct contour marker ridges, how and why to incorporate their crop residues to improve soil fertility rather than burning it all in a few months time and, of course, how to make compost manure.

I've also started a role of working with and advising 10 'communal garden' clubs on better farming and environmental methods which is exciting- but a huge responsibility and logistical challenge given they're spread far and wide up to 2.5hrs drive away! Four of the farms are particularly far, so I've decided I'll overnight in the nearest town to save doing more driving each day than actually chatting and working with people...but that means I need a language assistant (that's right- im still not fluent) who is willing to stay overnight with me ie woman, right tribe, speaks some english, no kids, doesn't mind working long days in the sun. Miraculously we've found 2 ladies that fit that description so I'm going to meet each one individually tomorrow for a short language lesson to see how we get on and if they suit the job.

well, its 9pm and I'm tired. I shall endevour to write more frequently. feel free to do the same :)

In the Paper...

Drug Scarcity is Health Sector's Disease

In the past few years the nation has seen a surge in new health infrastructure across the country (and)...funding to the Sector has substantially improved in the past 4 years... Even (well known NGO), a key player in the health sector around the world acknowledges on it's website that (the country) has made 'a genuine effort to improve healthcare in recent years'.

Yet records of medicine stockouts are startling.

A study on medicine prices, availabilty and affordability in (the country) conducted by the Health Equity Network (HEN) established that it is still difficult for rural communities to access free medicines and services from public clinics.

The study discovered that 46% of (the country's) rural population did not have formal health services within a 5-km radius.

Further, 20% of government clinics did not have the first line treatment of malaria, one of the killer diseases in (the country) alongside tuberculosis and HIV/Aids.

Children under five years old are the most at risk to malaria attacks. It is said that on average, they suffer up to ten episodes of malaria every year. According to HEN, in the event of the drugs not being available in public hospitals, it would take 50 days salary for most rural families to be able to buy the right drugs.

The Government's 'Essential Health Package' contains a list of about 150 types of essential medicines to treat over 11 health conditions. The study established that urban hospitals could have up to 80% of the stocks, but the numbers dwindled further when one went to the country side. Only 20% of them were available in most rural hospitals.

Medicines for diarrhoea and other killer diseases were not available in a third of Government clinics.

Even if (the country) has done well in tackling HIV/Aids generally, nearly half of the accredited health facilities did not have stocks of drugs to prevent mother-to-child HIV transmission.
Thirty seven newborn babies reportedly die every day in (the country). But basic medicines to treat anaemia in expectant mothers were found in less than 20% of public clinics.
It is a catalohue of 'withouts' compounded by limited well-qualified staff to administer essential services.

The article ends with:
There are Millenium Development Goals and (country) Growth and Development Strategy targets to meet. There are lives to save. There is a country to heal. There has to be medicine, for all.

Election Craziness

So you thought the US election campaigns were big? ! well, the politicians here have been on the campaign trail for the last 9 months- and it's been pretty interesting to watch! Unlike Australia, people here get very passionate about their party and will walk for miles to attend a rally where loud speakers, drumming, speaches, singing and dancing are the norm.

It's not my place to comment on the parties or the political intrigue ... you can google that :)
but I've decided to post a few pics of what I've passed on my usual travels over the past few month of so you can get a taste of what it's like.

Elections are Tuesday, so if you're a pray-er, please do so; for peaceful and fair elections, and peaceful acceptance of the results.



Convoys of trucks are used to transport people to rallys. When the presidential convoy is about to pass, the police stop all cars and clear the road. His convoy is not to be photographed, but it's very impressive- including 6 SUV's an ambulance, campervan, generator, 'lecturn' vehicle, multiple police cars and heavily armed military personel and of course the buses and trucks full of supporters. Sometimes he uses his helicopter. I often smile as I try and imagine my 'she'll be right' authority defying country men treating Kevin like that.

People waiting for hours for the candidate to arrive.


The meeting get's under way- with much dancing

I accidentally came across this one yesterday. The ladies are runnin gout to meet the MP candidate who arrived in the white car (below).

All campaigning is to stop at 6am monday morning, so rural life won't be half as exciting any more!

I say: may the best person for the job win! :)

Black Mamba's

Did you know a black mamba is not black at all? nope- it's a light grey-brown colour. Apparently they are called 'black mamba's' because of the inky black colour of the inside of their mouths.

Thankfully I haven't had the opportunity to inspect them that closely.

It's Africa's most poisonous snake- the 'dead in 20 min if you get bitten' variety. It's also the fastest snake that can travel up to 14.4 Km/hr and can rise up and strike at 1m.

What has sparked this sudden interest in poisonous snakes for me? Well, our gardener killed a 1.5m long black mamba in our backyard today.

I'm strangely attracted to snakes, but I must admit I'm glad we're rid of this one.

Traffic lights!!

Who woulda thought this ol' town of bicycles and blackouts would ever be counted as worthy of traffic lights?! Well a set has arrived!
The first few days people gathered 'round to watch in awe as the lights changed from green... to orange... to red... to green...
a few days after that the bicycles were starting to get the hang of stopping on red and going on green.
Unfortunately the trucks and minivans who often pass through town doing 100km+ haven't got the hint yet...and the lights go out when there's a black out too, which doesn't help matters!!
I guess all changes take people a while to get used to.

Rural Kenya

Rural Kenya, what a beautiful place! We spent 2 weeks in the western part, Nyanza province past Kisumu near Lake Victoria. The Australian Government DFAT Travel Warnings said:

• "We advise you to exercise a high degree of caution in Kenya at this time due to the high risk of terrorist attack, civil unrest and high crime levels.
• We advise you to reconsider your need to travel to Kisumu in Nyanza province and the Nairobi suburbs of Kibera, Mathare, Kasirani and Eastleigh due to high crime levels.

But I bet they never have any fun on their travels. They've never chatted to real Indonesians and asked them what they thought about the Bali bombings the week after. I'm sure they were miles away from the tsunami too and have never been through a Madagascan military check point with machine guns waving about. You know what? They've probably never even left Australia. Well- best of luck to 'em. Kenya was great. We drove straight past one the hotels where lots of people were killed in the post election violence. We drove through several youth peace marches. Kenya is fine- they don't want the violence either.

So... back to rural Kenya- it really is a beautiful place! Let me show you...

Walking through farms with the late afternoon rain setting in.

A guava flower

A tree full of Weaver bird nests.

Beautiful local kids.

Funky house art. Actually, the houses really fascinated me 'cos they weren't made from bricks or timber- they were constructed with a scaffolding of light timber, then filled in with a mud/cow manure mixture. When that dries it was rendered with a manure/coloured clay mixture- a perfect canvas for all sorts of pictures! I was also really impressed that, unlike the village houses here, almost everyone had a tin roof!

Agriculture was also much more mechanised than anything I have ever seen here, with bullock teams used to pull ploughs and even this tractor!

AND, I heard my first donkey brey- which had me giggling for the next 10 min! I used to play a piece on piano the went 'sweetly sings the donkey at the break of day, if you do not hear him this is what he says...Eeeawww! eeaaaw! Eaw, Eaw Eaaawww!' well- my piano playing didn't come near to the noise these donkeys made. Donkeys are firm proof that God has a sense of humour!
So, contrary to what you are now thinking, I didn't go to Kenya for holiday- it was actually for 'professional development'. Yes, we did do some work!
Every morning we would be woken by the 6am news on the radio. We'd get up, have a lovely brekky of pancakes of donuts, or french toast and hot Kenyan coffee with our hosts and the team for the day, then about 9am we'd set off walking and walk and walk carrying lots of equipment til we stopped for a substantial lunch, then we'd walk and walk again until it got dark or we got rained on- whichever happened first :)

I was accompaying the guy who did the water management plan for the demonstration farm here in Malawi tolearn what I could as he prepared plans for several farming valleys in Kenya. (yes- I know you'll be reading this Prof!).

It really hit me while i watched him work in Kenya that the success the demo farm has been this year actually wasn't cos I put together a good cropping plan and threw money at it- it was because (thanks to the Prof) we had a handle on the fundamental stuff- harnessing the resource of water instead of letting it destroy everything. As we trudged up and down each valley in Kenya, he tried to talk me through what he was doing and seeing- what was driving his decisions- which is when i realised how much hard work it is. Not just the walking and lugging laser levels, but seeing what's really in the landscape and interpreting it correctly.

This planning is essential and fundamental to man living in harmony with his environment. To get the most out of it without destroying it ie-good farming. All the other 'management' stuff we promote in the 'environmental management' field (trust me- Im the author of many an EM Plan) are just bandaid solutions.

This method integrates everything...which has consequences for me....
so back to some photos!

Using the laser level in 'tiger country'. Nah not really- but the guys were in there for a few hours hacking a path- which the cows promptly decided to utilise!

2 members of the 'agricultural committee' taking a breather.

Hi guys-
sorry for the lack of posts! Life's been busy and now... Im in Kenya for the next few weeks.
SO- watch this space late April for my Kenya report!
xoxo

Hospitals and Reality Checks

I had a lovely morning at the village. Lots of kids, chatting, de-stringing pumpkin leaves, chatting, de-kernalling maize, eating together, chatting :)

I had driven to the village cos my bike had 2 flat tyres that I couldn't be bothered fixing given the heat. I left to come home a bit after 12 and one of my friends caught a lift to take some of the food we had just prepared into the District hospital where her friend had been with her sick baby all week.

A kilometer down the road we came across a strange sight. 3 men pushing a bicycle with a cane chair strapped to the small rack on the back with 2 women following behind loaded with provisions. It took me a moment to see the woman slumped in the chair and realise this was an ambulance. I pulled over. Was she alive or dead? I tend to stop functioning around dead bodies and the RAV isn't exactly a great hearce substitute. At least the canopied ute's and Troop carrier (utilised here for friends funerals) have a bit of space between the body and the driver... I was already out of the car, greeting the ladies, opening all the doors and moving stuff out the way. The woman was alive- but very out of it. Malaria? I asked. yes. They all squished in. I closed all the doors, cranked the airconditioner and drove swiftly, breathing a quite prayer of thanks. She had a chance at survival now. They were 11 km from the hospital. It was 30degrees in the shade. If the woman hadn't died of cerebral malaria on the way there she probably would have died from dehydration.

10 min later we pulled up at the hospital. The front entrance was a puddle with bricks for stepping stones thanks to the heavy rains the last few days. We walked in and helped ourselves to a wheel chair into which the woman was unceremoniously manouvered, her feet still in the car. They pulled the chair back and I lunged to catch her legs. Too late. Thud onto the ground. She grimmaced with pain. No 'deluxe model' foot rests here. My last sight of her was slumped in the wheel chair being pushed through the puddle with one of the ladies walking awkwardly in front carrying her legs. It was de-humanising. I felt insulted at the system.

I parked the car and my friend and I continued on our original mission- visiting a sick baby. We quickly found the room, waded through the ladies and found a patch of floor to sit on. We then greeted everyone in the room and the chatter resumed while I held the sick baby who seemed to be on the mend. The crowdedness shocked me. There were about 2o women in the room and 10 babies - (mostly prems) that I could spot. The facilities were 3 steel cots, 2 bedside tables and 2 plastic covered matressess on the floor. The room was the size of a bedroom. I quietly asked my friend whether all these women slept here? 'no' she responded- just the ones with babies- the rest sleep in the kitchen. Again I felt insulted at the system.

In some ways, living here has really desensetised me to some aspects of poverty. It's a coping mechanism. But some days I just get incensed. A little kid that lives near the farm died this week from malnutrition - lack of protein. Her little body swelled up horribly.
I T 'S N O T R I G H T !!!!!
There is something terribly wrong when one third of the world live in almost obscene wealth, thinking it's our right?! Demanding not just the necessities of life, but comfort and entertainment and a new car or another tv
Meanwhile ....meanwhile the rest fight for survival. And fight they do.

African Money Issues

Recently some of us whities have been having chats about money. You see- being the hungry season and all, the number of people we don't know knocking on the gate hoping for some assistance and the frequency of people we do know asking for 'loans' has significantly increased...and it's frustrating feeling like an ATM.

So the questions of how do I respond? and who am I obligated to? and for how much? are all pretty pertinent at the moment.

I decided one day to bring up the topic with my friend Mama J and the farm manager on the way to work. They both have incomes and are also on the giving end of the social security system here. How do they respond? Well, they give to their families, relatives and if someone is really in need. I asked how they ascertained 'real need' and they answered that you look to see whether they are able to work, or find out if they have parents who can help them and if not- then you help.

Mama J said that even though she doesn't give materially to everyone- she always recieves people and at least listens to their story even if she can't help. She reminded us of the part in the Bible where at the final judgement Jesus welcomes the righteous and says:

'Come, you who have the blessing of my Father, into the kingdom made ready for you before the world was:
For I was in need of food, and you gave it to me:
I was in need of drink, and you gave it to me:
was wandering, and you took me in;
I had no clothing, and you gave it to me:
when I was ill, or in prison, you came to me.
and the righteous respond and say 'Lord, when did we see you in need of food, and give it to you? or in need of drink, and give it to you? And when did we see you wandering, and take you in? or without clothing, and give it to you? And when did we see you ill, or in prison, and come to you?'
And Jesus answers them ' Truly I say to you, Because you did it to the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.'

Well, feeling very encouraged, with all the answers worked out, we pulled up at the farm, got out of the car and were greeted by a lady mumbling insitantly about my chitenje (cloth wrap). I only had the one I was wearing with me and I wasn't about to give it to her. She had burn scars all down one side of her face and was wearing a 'national disibilities day' chitenje herself. Then she started saying something about money. We all recoiled. The others told her in no uncertain terms to go away and I left them to it...well, actually I only got about 3 steps before my hipocrisy slapped me in the face and made me turn around. I said to the others- 'stop! this is our test- are we really going to send her away with nothing AND treat her with disrespect?!'

Someone said something about her always asking for things and never being satisfied. Meanwhile she was getting quite agitated and talking loudly and incomprehensibly. The workers were jeering at her. The other two stood silently. I prayed.

'What about we offer her some work? she can come and harvest beans with us, then I'll pay her.' The farm manager offered an emphatic 'No', and that was the end of my ideas, so I suggested we start work (sending off the workers), said a respectful goodbye and followed them. Fail

A few minutes later she showed up again and quietly started harvesting beans with us. We all worked together. She seemed to enjoy the company. After an hour or so the farm manager finally greeted her and asked her name. Then she started talking with Mama J and said she wasn't working for money. She wanted to say thank you to her friend (pointing at me) who had given her the chitenje at the Natioanl Disibilities Day held a few months earlier in the area. A colleague of mine had organised it all and this lady had got us mixed up (apparently all whities look the same). I suddenly felt really bad aboout the whole misunderstanding at the car. I said that I would pass on her thanks to my colleague but that I was a different white person who worked on this farm. She looked really bewildered so I introduced my self.

When the harvesting was finished she said good bye and I paid her a small amount and she left. 'Now your friend will come back looking for you every day' the farm manger said reproachfully. 'That's ok' I thought. I pray that she left not only with a little cash, but also the gift of acceptance.

You know what I realise more and more every day here? My 'true colours' are ugly. Giving freely, sticking up for and identifying with the poor, the disabled, the needy, the dirty, the hungry and desperate- are not my instinctive reactions. Theoreticising it and walking away is my first instinct. Love feels un-natural. Just as the pharisees asked Jesus 'who is my neighbour?' I see that often the reason I ask questions about who to give to isn't so I can be more generous- but rather less generous. These 'African money issues' are actually MY money issues.