I'm an introvert and I'm ok...

Personality types have been a bit of a theme at the moment. I've been reading a bit of stuff about Myers Briggs personality types, but then at the course this week, one of the facilitators came up to me and said- "I've got a book called 'The Introvert Advantage' that you might find interesting". I smiled and took the book and thought...where the heck did that come from? Am I THAT much of an introvert that someone I've met twice is lending me a self help book? Thankfully he was such a genuine person that you couldn't be more than puzzled.


I skim read the book. It said that introversion isn't about whether or not you're shy or like people- it's about where you draw your energy from. If you are energised by being in the thick of the action and interacting with lots of people- then you're an extrovert. Introverts (innies) have a lot less energy in general than extroverts- and really need to pace themselves and have quality time alone to recharge their batteries. It said innies are easily overwhelmed by too much sensory information and when it gets to overload- the brain just blanks out. It said that innies often forget stuff- basic stuff, like what they like to do. Brain blanking can happen when they're put on the spot- just a word lost- or a whole body of knowledge (that they're often experts in) just slips beyond grasp in the hot spotlight of other peoples gaze. Innies tend not to open their mouths unless they think they know what they're talking about- and they probably don't consider themselves to know much at all until they've studied something at far more depth than any normal person would bother. They hate being the centre of attention. They often feel guilty that they don't have the energy or the desire- or even abilty to do the 'group thing' - whether at work or socialising. And they rarely come back with a fast answer- they need time to think about stuff and are likely to re-open yesterdays conversation to say what they couldn't think of saying at the time.


man it made me feel better!!! :)


I remember when I first did the personality test- I got all the letters, looked up the description... and found myself reading all about my Dad. No- that's my dad- not me. Then I did the test again trying to draw my answers from how I would respond in a work situation. Different letter combo- different description. This time I was reading all about my boss. No- that's not me either. Did it again and got straight down the middle. A perfectly balanced human being?! :) really confused?! no just a 'pleaser'.


I've gotten to know myself a lot better in Africa and be ok with it. Take myself less seriously. Accept the facts. The fact is- I did find it a big effort to socialise at the course. 15 new faces were overwhelming and I was quite happy to spend a large number of the breaks in the corner with a cuppa and book. I watched on mildly envious as people formed little cliques - but really enjoyed one on one conversations with people- even if I did forget my words sometimes....


The book also provided much entertainment both to me and my extrovert room mate (for the duration of the course) where it got into relationship advice - starting with tips for how to meet a potential partner. It included gems like 'smile at people in the elevator, do your washing at the laundromat, or take your dog to the dog park' which had my friend in stitches imaginging all these really shy people buying dogs so they can meet someone in a dog park... :)


Thankfully introversion-extroversion is a continuum and I'm hovering just off centre :-p

So- a question for you- the book said 25% of the population are innie and 75% are outie- do you recon that's true? what are you?

goodbyes

I have issues with 'goodbyes'. I always have. Ask anyone that knows me - I really don't cope with 'em very well at all. You'd think it'd get easier with practice- or less get wrenchingly painful with age...but for me-nope. The tears still well up and very goodbye is a trauma.

Unfortunately I'm not exactly living in suburbia where people are born, live and die in the same suburb. Nope, the expat community in third word countries are incredibly fluid. Two years is classified as a 'long haul'. Just as you get to know someone they leave.

My house mate left today. A year and a half ago I moved in with a complete stranger. Today I said goodbye to a dear friend. We've laughed together, cried and prayed together, gotten annoyed and tiptoed around each other, shared life, cooking and dishes... and now she's going for a 6 month break back in Australia and by the time she gets back I'll be gone and...and life has moved on.

I want to hold on to it. Let the moments linger. But now they're just echoes in this big empty house.

I think separations and goodbyes are so difficult because other people become a part of our lives- who we are - and when they go- they leave a gaping hole. The only way to make goodbyes easier is to not let people in. But where is the joy in that?! nope- it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

I just got a phone call from the farm manger. The man that dug the well at the farm just died a few minutes ago from 'infection'.






goodbye

Rambling

Sorry I've been useless at blogging this week. it's not that there's nothing to write about.. I just haven't had time. village living, farmer training, house mate packing for home assignment, car juggling...and im going on a 'natural medicine in the tropics' course on Wednesday. I'm really looking forward to it- a change in pace, learning new stuff and meeting new people. it's gonna be good!

I got my RAV back today. I never thought I'd be SO happy to get a vehicle back- but I guess a few months of vehicle juggling had taken it's toll. The RAV got taken to South Africa to have (among other things) the wind screen replaced for a crack where a kid lobbed a rock while I was driving one day. The windscreen got replaced... and chipped on the drive back to Malawi :( so now, instead of a top to bottom crack on the passenger side, I have a star right in my line of sight! hehe

Well- must sleep, but will leave you with a pic from my weekend.

Training

There is something so beautiful about this part of Malawi. Maybe the grassy plains and the thorn trees. Perhaps its the blue smudge of lake in the distance- or the rising hills. It's certainly not farming country- floods, poor clayey soil, termites mounds galore- but what the heck!

Siyala

Friday 10th July

I think I earned my stripes today. I’m not sure if I told you already about pump cleaning duty? Well, a few weeks a go I was visiting random people and was telling this lady that I wanted to learn everything- how to talk, cook, carry my own water…. So she took me seriously and enlisted me to join her ‘team’ for 6am water pump cleaning duties on Fridays. So I had set my alarm for 6 and had woken to the sound of her yelling at my night guard to get me out of bed- and him yelling back that its wrong to make me do that work and he wasn’t going to wake me up and I smiled wryly to myself that I had now found my ‘special’ friend in the village. And lucky me-she’s a tough task master!

I had rolled out of bed and faced her chiding for being 5 min late and learnt all about how to sweep and clean the pump. Last Friday I was in Mangochi. This morning – I was there before her. In fact – I’d swept half the area before any of them got there and she was as proud as punch. I told her off for being late and she was beaming from ear to ear.

I visited her this afternoon and she is going to take me to some religious celebration that goes all night Saturday through to Sunday morning. She reckons showing up 7am Sunday morning is enough. Maybe she ain’t such a hard task master after all.

Thursday 9th July

My language helper visited me in the village today. It was lovely. It was freezing cold and raining most of the day which is very unusual. So it was a perfect day to sit in the house and do language and grammar. But first we sat and chatted and prepared lunch- futali and cabbage…yummm.

Futali recipe.
Approx 1kg sweet potato
About ¾ cup of finely ground raw peanuts
About 1 tblspn salt.

Peel the sweet potatoes whilst sitting on a mat, chatting to your friends. Cut into 2cm rounds. Light your fire. Wash sweet potato and put in pot with water ¾ the height of the potato. Add the salt, put on a lid and steam until just starting to get soft. Pour the ground peanuts (previously crushed and sieved (a coffee grinder will do!) …or brought from the market) evenly over the top. Add more water if needed. Replace the lid and steam until cooked. And peanuts have formed a sauce over the potatoes. Share with friends. Also tastes great cold the next morning for breakfast.
Any staple can be prepared this way: cassava, pumpkin, plantain bananas and white potatoes- but I like the sweet potato version the best.

I am so exhausted - my head is throbbing from talking ciyawo from 11am to 4pm straight. It’s only 7.30- but I gotta sleep.

Wednesday 8th July

Today was the first staff meeting for 6 months- and I found it interesting that it ran for the same amount of time- if not shorter than the monthly variety: all day :) 9am to 4pm with an hour for lunch.

What I wanted to tell you about though was the trip home. Now that I live ‘up the mountain’ I offered to provide the lift home from the meeting for the 4 staff members that live nearby. So, we left the office at 4.30 and I thought awesome, home by 5.30 before dark to get water and cook dinner’.

Wrong.

The first requested stop was a roasted maize stall for snacks, then the bank for cash, the supermarket for some groceries, the market for tomatoes and of course…2 fresh fish and a large bag of dried ones. Now I must admit at this stage that I had already stashed two sacks of reasonably ripe cow manure in the troopie and was also carrying half a sack of particularly smelly fruit as a gift to someone in the village…but the fish tipped the scales. Then, half way up the hill we stopped for three large bundles of firewood and a little further on three huge sacks of charcoal and the chiefs wife who wanted a lift further down the road. By this point I was thinking it was all a bit ridiculous. But we didn’t stop any more cos there wasn’t any room. By the time I had dropped everyone and their shopping off it was after 7pm.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but in the nearest ‘town’ there is a little restaurant that does particularly good goat stew or chicken stew with rice or ugali. Yay for Neptunes!

Tuesday 7th July

It’s a full moon- step outside and enjoy it with me.
Oh- it’s 2am in Australia. Ok- another night.

In fact it’s so bright outside right now that there’s a bunch of kids noisily playing hide-n- seek chasey around my house and car. I’m being old and boring and threatening to go to bed- but I figure two pre-dawn starts in a row is a fair excuse.

Let me tell you a story of how things work in here. Villages A, B and C are all in another District. A and B are roughly 2 hrs drive and village C is another hour on a horror dusty track. So we tackle these villages by heading off 5.30 am Monday morning, doing village A at 8am, and Village B at 1pm. Then we used to drive all the way home again- but I decided this time instead to drive 30min to a local tourist spot, find a hotel, then we hit Village C Tuesday morning and slot in village D- much closer to home, on the drive back. Clock work huh?! Never.

We arrived at Village A-after dark wake-up, no breakfast, no coffee and 2 hours drive through thick fog?!... to find no-one. Those that knew we were coming had gone to a memorial feast. The rest didn’t know we were coming and had nothing prepared. SO we cancelled village D and said we’d be back the next afternoon. Then we drove to the memorial feast and waited while someone went in and informed the group leader of the new plans. Then we arrived at village B by 9.30 am. They were keen to start- but hardly any group members were around so they spent a few hours rounding them up. We started training at 11.30, finished by 1pm, were generously served lunch and with hotel kerfuffel (don’t get me started!) we were resting by about 4pm. Next morning- another early start. More hotel kerfuffel. Get to village C about half an hour late. They’re all there- but they weren’t expecting us and nothing is prepared. They insist that we wait while they dig the pit for compost, gather the leaves, manure, bring the water etc. We start training by about 9am, done by 11.30am. By the time we drive back to village A it’s 1pm. We arrive and two men are preparing for the lesson but…there’s been a death and most of the participants will be attending the funeral. Sorry. So we go home. 2 days, lots of effort, 2 groups. Ad the annoying thing is- this is all perfectly normal in my job. Sometimes it gets to me. Sometimes it doesn’t. The fact is- we’re working with a communication system based on very few people having phones- even less having those phones charged at any one time, and even less having any credit to talk with- not to mention a phone network in haphazard disrepair. Then there’s the unexpected events of illness and death, funeral and memorials – all of which can happen at any time and are vitally important to attend.

It’s nice to be back in the village. Back home :)

It’s 8.30pm and I’ve just demolished a pack of biscuits after having popcorn for dinner cos lunch was ugali, greens and chicken at 4pm. I’m starting to wonder if my tiredness is just plain bad diet? Lets see…today I had 2 deep fried eggs, 2 pieces of bread, a cup of tea and half a bowl of greasy rice (don’t ask- that’s what bodgy hotel served) for brekky. Then we had tea with sweetened condensed milk and a bread roll at about lunch time and a coke and banana on the drive home. Then…see above. Mostly rubbish. Must work on eating better and taking my vitamins.

I chatted with one of my ‘friends’ tonight. The 12 yr old boy who washed my pots and today demanded a cloth and a bucket so he could wash my car. We sat eating popcorn together. ‘There’s no salt’ he stated bluntly. ‘I know- it’s coming’ I replied as I wandered into the house. ‘So- how many brothers and sisters do you have?’I asked- trying to make chit chat conversation. ‘Four now, but five died.’ He answered between handfuls of popcorn. I sat back down on the mat with the bag of salt ‘Woaw- five?’ I asked checking I heard right. ‘Yeah, there was two and then two and then one by itself’….ok- I won’t continue repeating the conversation word for word- but in the course of the bowll of popcorn I learned that his older sister (18?) has been married for 2 years and has no kids cos they both died when they were born. He doesn’t have a jumper and he sleeps with his siblings on a mat on the floor of their house with a chitenje- light cloth for a blanket. ‘Is it cold?’ I asked. ‘Yes’ he replied solemnly. He goes to school (grade 5) Monday to Thursday and stays home on Fridays to wash the clothes, pots, carry water and pray at the mosque. He wants to be rich when he grows up – to buy things. ‘A car…and clothes’ he said with a grin. He would really like to be a policeman or a doctor…‘This tea has no sugar’ he piped up. I smiled. I’d put 3 Tablespoons in the pot. I topped his mug up with a dessertspoon full of sugar and started to stir small and fast. ‘No’ he said, taking the spoon off me- ‘you stir like this’ as he stirred sedately – 3 times to the right, 3 times to the left. He’s taking this ‘teaching me stuff’ really seriously!

Sunday 5th July

I think you get a much realer view of stuff if I write day by day- so I’ll use the laptop I brought as long as the batteries last.
I was expecting to be going firewood collecting today with the ladies from the village (3am departure), but it was cancelled (yay?!!), so yesterday evening I went to visit the lady who had invited me to find out why. ‘How are you this evening?’ I asked ‘oh- not good’ she answered. ‘Are you sick?’ then she proceeded to tell the story. Last Friday I left for town at 1pm and she had asked if I could take her pregnant daughter to the hospital in town. As I was ready to leave I was told I could go- they had decided to go to the closer hospital about 15km away. That hospital was in a different direction so I left- not giving it a second thought. Her daughter gave birth that afternoon to twin boys. They both died. They got the mother to the hospital where she stayed for a few days and now she is at home recovering.
Sigh. I can’t help but think ‘what if?’ What if I had driven 15km in the opposite direction and gotten her to proper medical care? But I didn’t know she was in labour- I just thought they wanted to get there early and be ready. 2 little lives finished before they even started. I bet they would have survived if the mother happened to be Australian not African. I still struggle with why some of us are born into wealth and opportunity- and others to poverty and oppression. It’s certainly not cos we’ve earned it.

Last week when I was in town I bombarded my language helper with questions about giving and sharing and taking and borrowing in this culture. I tell ya what- I learnt those words fast the first week here! She laughed as I told her stories of people coming to ask me to share salt, tea and matches with them, my sharp knife going walk about at meal times and people inviting themselves over after dinner knowing that I always make a cuppa tea (then complaining loudly that theirs didn’t have enough sugar). It wasn’t all one way though- my night guard happily borrowed a broom, machette and a big bucket for heating water for my morning bathe from next door as if he owned them. People sit and watch me cook and happily accept whatever I (feel pressured to) offer- but many of these same people feed me ugali when I just drop by their house to say hello- or send me little bowls of accompaniments for my ugali. Chicken one day, peanuts and sweetpotato another, linyololo (snot central). How does all this giving work? There doesn’t seem to be rhyme nor reason. Then one day, I watched as the grandmother next day called in one of the local kids and let him sit and eat all the leftovers by himself. You’re allowed to feed other peoples kids??!! Yes- apparently.

My language helper smiled broadly through all these stories. ‘now you’re going to learn real culture’ she said. And proceeded to outline the unspoken rules (thank God for my language helper!) yes, people can come and ask for salt, tea, sugar, oil, maize flour- you name it- but not every day. They can’t have the same problem every day- only once every 4 to 7 days can they come back and ask again (?!!). If you have a lot of what they are asking for- you give a generous amount. A heaped plate of maize flour, a heaped tablespoon of salt/tea/sugar etc. If you only have a little- give a quarter of what you have. Can you imagine if this concept hit OUR culture? J With the kids she said that a lot of kids only get fed once or twice a day- so if you have leftovers, or want to cook for them – that’s fine. Their mothers won’t feel shame that you’ve fed them- quite the opposite. She warned me not to let giving kids food become a habit otherwise they’ll stop getting fed at home. Wow.

So, last night the neighbors kid seemed pretty excited about my dinner so we shared. I tell ya what- he’s only 4 but I had to eat fast to get my half! Today one of the kids who I know rarely gets fed was eyeing off my beans as I was preparing them, so after I’d eaten lunch I invited him to join me. Have you eaten porridge today? Head shake. Drunk tea? Head shake. His mother left him and his sister with the grandmother and left the country about a year ago apparently. I served him up greens, beans and ugali. He ate the beans, squeezed all the juice out of the greens and drank it- then sat there with a big grin. I don’t blame him for not eating the ugali- his body is probably screaming for protein. Later some more kids came in and eyed off the left over ugali (that I didn’t know where to throw out discreetly!). Can we eat it? They asked. Sure. Have you got anything to go with it? I served up a small amount of beans. They ate the lot, washed up the bowls and quietly filed out. ‘thank you ‘doesn’t seem to be a big part of receiving things here, but their smiles said it all.

Im writing a lot aren’t I?! hehe its ok- the batteries are almost gone already. Besides cooking and feeding kids today, I also had a long chat with a friend from Australia- so refreshing! Then I went to the markets to buy greens- but there weren’t any so the neighbor donated some (J), then…I swept my house, washed the dishes- including pots, visited the ladies a few houses away, pounded maize till my arms burned (all of 10 min! shame). Then after lunch did some prep for tomorrow, watched the girls playing netball, went for an explore and met lots of ladies- but a few that might be good to help me with language, then carried water, cooked dinner…and here I am about to start work on reports. Don’t you love my prioritizing?!

Saturday 4th July

Happy Independence Day Americans! Me? I’m in town waiting for the power to come on so I can do some printing…and ironing before I head back to the village. I feel bad I haven’t posted this week. You’re probably thinking I’m toughing it out in the village- when really I’ve been flat out with visitors and work in town. In fact- I’m not sure I’m going to able to do the whole 2 months in the village. Yes, a lot of my work is w a y out of town (usually between 1 and 3 hrs drive)- so I’m actually closer living in the village. But training days still entail 6am starts and late afternoon/evening returns. Plus there’s the report writing and proposal writing that I can’t do in the village (no power). Just living is exhausting- not to mention trying to operate in another language. Then throw meetings and visitors into the mix (in town) and I’m thinking- I’m not super woman- something’s gotta give.
So I’m heading back out to the village today to give it one more shot. As much as I love it there’s no point if I’m never there… so I’ll see (now that the ‘newness’ has worn off) if I can shortcut some chores, get a rhythm and spend enough non-brain-dead time in the village to make it worth while.
I just called the power provider and the powers not due back on til lunch time. Grrr’. Sorry no posting. Gotta go.

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!