We had a technical meeting at work yesterday. I was told it would sart 8.30am sharp- so I arrived in plenty of time, and, with no faith whatsoever in the system, set up my laptop and got on with my work. As I expected (it happened last time) the boss arrived at 10am. Still no movement. Other staff arrived at 11am. I groaned- I had been looking forward to lunch.
At 11.30am one of my colleagues came to tell me that we had a technical meeting today- so i dutifully packed up and went to the meeting room. When we were all assembled by 11.40am, the boss pointed out how late it was and asked everyone what they wanted to do. I watched with interest. It had taken 3 hrs to assemble everyone would he really let them all leave again? yes. everyone voted for an early lunch with the meeting to re-convene at 1pm. I cancelled my afternoon plans (silly me- thinking a morning meeting wouldn't affect my afternoon...)
I returned at 1pm to an empty, locked office building. 20 min later, people started wandering back and the 8.30am meeting was started at 1.30 pm (finishing at 5 pm). I have to say though- it was a really worthwhile meeting. they say good things are worth waiting for- adn Ive well adn truly proved that I fit the mold of whitey's who 'like to keep the time' :)
Today I spent the morning trying to figure out how we were going to achieve the commitment of training 300 farmers at the demonstration farm in soil and water conservation methods and soil improvement and crop management strategies between July and September with no facilities yet on the farm. I had a mild wave of panic when I was informed about it at yesterdays meeting, with the main field guys away for the next 2 weeks, no budget (that I know of) and July starting next week and all :)
but we’ve got a plan now. The whitey is happy! we’ll start the trainings in August (giving me 5 weeks to organise for a cement pad to be laid and grass roof constructed so we can have some shelter for the trainees, 2 pit latrines dug and 30 plates and a few pots brought for catering) and train 10 groups of 30, twice a week till we’ve achieved the target. The field guys will select who will come from their areas, they’ll contact the govt guys and tandem teach, I’ll chase up some booklets/paper resources so the trainees can have a take-home reminder of what they’ve learnt (don't think its been done before) and...we’ll borrow bigger cars so we don’t have to fix the road yet cos whatever budget there is- it certainly won’t cover converting a bicycle track to a road. Easy!
Then I got really excited cos i remembered this is part of what ive always wanted to be doing! Training key farmers who go home and train others...multiplier effect.
Despite the culture clash on time, its value and who actually owns it- Im really enjoying being part of a Malawian team of professional community development practitioners- They are so patient with my dumb questions and Im learning so much!
oh dear its almost 10 and there is a drunken party ramping up next door... happy sleeping to me!
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
photo overview of my week away
Mum and I worked on making curtians for their new house. I was actually trying to photograph the candle smoke...but got my beautiful mother as well :)
Building OH&S aint quite what it is back home!
Dads job is to keep a 1000 men fed. Thats a BIG job!
Sangulo.
This Boabab is at the gate of my folks new house. cool...
Livingstonia - the home of Dr Livingstone himself is at the top of that plateau
I never get tired of watching the lakes many moods...
Enjoying a spot of luxury!My folks 'new' bathroom- ive never seen anything so ...hideous! :)
This is 'snoop dog' she's old and friendly and came with the house
Friday, June 20, 2008
Where am I? Karonga. google it- its even more remote that Mangochi! Ive been cooking and sewing with mum and doing housy stuff helping my folks settle into their new house AND tomorrow we're having a PARTY!- Dad's turned the big 60! He's so healthy you'd never guess :)
I'll post some 'holiday' pics next week when I get back.
x
I'll post some 'holiday' pics next week when I get back.
x
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Bike Riding
Yesterday, i decided to visit my friends in the village on a bicycle instead of driving. Why? for fitness, to enjoy the slightly cooler weather, to see what its like for the hundreds of guys who work as 'bicycle taxi's' every day and ...to at least once -not be a typical asungu and show up in a car- looking as if we're incapable or far too busy or important to walk or ride.
So, I borrowed my friends bike and trialled it around the yard- a local squeaky, wobbly, upright girl bike with no gears and a HARD plastic seat. Next I practiced with a chitenje on and discovered that the best combo was a skirt with a slit up the back, and to put the chitenje on backwards so it stayed firm and didn't flap- revealing my skirt (or worse) my knees. Then I packed a light backpack with a couple of bottles of water, slathered myself in sunscreen & hat and set off on my most ecxellent adventure. The deep sand on the road out the front of our house nearly had me off, but I struggled through and was SO happy to get to the bitumen!
The village is about 12km outta town. 10km on the highway, then 2 on a dirt track. Once clear of Mangochi and her sister town -affectionately refered to as Suweto, i was flying along on the wide, open road, wondering why I didn't do this more often?! I got a lot of stunned stares and children screaming 'asungu!' - but no one bothered me.
About half way out I passed a woman and looking back, recognised her as one of my friends from the village. She was crestfallen- no car?! evidently she had planned the trip intt town to coincide with my visit knowing that I'd stop and shorten her trip... I offered her the bike, took her bucket and placing it on my head followed her beside the road for the rest of the trip. She had gone to Mangochi to get parafin (for light at night) and to take her 1yr old daughter to the hospital because she had a bad cough and diarrhoea. The hospital gave her panandol.
I wasn't surprised the child was sick. This was the same child who last week, after we had all washed our hands in the same bowl before and after eating together - was given the hand washing water to drink.
Im also no longer
surprised to hear that the district hospital sent a sick and dehydrated shild away with panadol. I contemplated returning to the village later with re-hydration powder and a big bottle of clean water... but decided to be slightly less interventionist and asked the mother if she had salt and sugar. She had salt so we stopped and brought a cup of sugar from a road-side stall for about 20c and I did my best to explain that she had to boil the water and give the child lots to drink etc I donated one of my bottles of water to get her started.
I had a lovley visit at the village. Little 'Ha-' born last week was still alive and the mother was happy and well. I felt like I understood a lot more and was able to communicate better than usual- which was really encouraging. I left early though as I wanted to make sure I got through 'Suweto' in day light. On the way back I realised just how ridiculously unfit I am- and was glad for some beautiful sunset photo opportunities as an excuse to stop. Now that the land is dry and the grass is being burnt, the Boababs stand out majestically.
It took longer than I thought to get home and it was well and truly dark and i was well and truly exhausted- but it was worth it :)
So, I borrowed my friends bike and trialled it around the yard- a local squeaky, wobbly, upright girl bike with no gears and a HARD plastic seat. Next I practiced with a chitenje on and discovered that the best combo was a skirt with a slit up the back, and to put the chitenje on backwards so it stayed firm and didn't flap- revealing my skirt (or worse) my knees. Then I packed a light backpack with a couple of bottles of water, slathered myself in sunscreen & hat and set off on my most ecxellent adventure. The deep sand on the road out the front of our house nearly had me off, but I struggled through and was SO happy to get to the bitumen!
The village is about 12km outta town. 10km on the highway, then 2 on a dirt track. Once clear of Mangochi and her sister town -affectionately refered to as Suweto, i was flying along on the wide, open road, wondering why I didn't do this more often?! I got a lot of stunned stares and children screaming 'asungu!' - but no one bothered me.
About half way out I passed a woman and looking back, recognised her as one of my friends from the village. She was crestfallen- no car?! evidently she had planned the trip intt town to coincide with my visit knowing that I'd stop and shorten her trip... I offered her the bike, took her bucket and placing it on my head followed her beside the road for the rest of the trip. She had gone to Mangochi to get parafin (for light at night) and to take her 1yr old daughter to the hospital because she had a bad cough and diarrhoea. The hospital gave her panandol.
I wasn't surprised the child was sick. This was the same child who last week, after we had all washed our hands in the same bowl before and after eating together - was given the hand washing water to drink.
Im also no longer
surprised to hear that the district hospital sent a sick and dehydrated shild away with panadol. I contemplated returning to the village later with re-hydration powder and a big bottle of clean water... but decided to be slightly less interventionist and asked the mother if she had salt and sugar. She had salt so we stopped and brought a cup of sugar from a road-side stall for about 20c and I did my best to explain that she had to boil the water and give the child lots to drink etc I donated one of my bottles of water to get her started.I had a lovley visit at the village. Little 'Ha-' born last week was still alive and the mother was happy and well. I felt like I understood a lot more and was able to communicate better than usual- which was really encouraging. I left early though as I wanted to make sure I got through 'Suweto' in day light. On the way back I realised just how ridiculously unfit I am- and was glad for some beautiful sunset photo opportunities as an excuse to stop. Now that the land is dry and the grass is being burnt, the Boababs stand out majestically.
It took longer than I thought to get home and it was well and truly dark and i was well and truly exhausted- but it was worth it :)
Cake
I realised yesterday that i really enjoy making kids birthday cakes (or birthday kids for adults that take them beck to their childhood!). Maybe its cos its as close to 'artistic' as I get out here! Anyways- thought the piccy might cheer up my blog a bit. The kids had a BIG sleep over together last night and I can still here them all playing happily next door. Meanwhile I clocked up 11hrs of shut eye. This 'working' business is tiring stuff!
Next week I'm meeting local chiefs and gov't departments, digging soil pits on the farm (yay!), delivering the soil samples to a lab in Lilongwe (4 hrs drive away) then continuing on (7hrs drive) for a weeks holiday in Karonga -coinciding with Dads big '0' birthday. Mum is thinking about getting a lift to Lilongwe to do some shopping and help me with the drive up (keep in mind its not like driving to Esperance - its all high-alert people, goat, chicken, cow, bicycle, broken-down truck, smoke blowing minivan, pothole dodging road with stunning views and multiple police check points. yeah!
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Quote of the Day
'you are looking so fat this month rina- your parents won't recognise you when you visit them!'
so be warned mum and dad - your mammoth daughter - about a whole kilogram heavier will soon be rolling your way!
so be warned mum and dad - your mammoth daughter - about a whole kilogram heavier will soon be rolling your way!
Monday, June 02, 2008
Shot gun
kabOOM
kaBOOM
kabOOM
kaBOOM
The shots woke me with a start- was that really-? kaBOOM gunshots? It sounded like a small cannon. Distant- but not distant enough for my liking! What time is it?! I groped around beside my bed to find my phone kaBOOM! 3.23am. the waiting silence was deafening. kabOOM
then the neighbourhood dog choir started their howls
and the guards woke and started chatting excitedly
and I figured there were enough people awake at 3.23 in the morning for me to go back to sleep. so I did.
Exciting place i live in huh?! not really. It turns out 2 hippos had gone for a wander through a village near the river - and were not welcomed.
My colleague and I (both juniors in the language department) decide that it would be pretty cool to go and have a look at dead hippos- so we set off to the village where the incident had supposedly occurred. When we got there- no one knew what we were talking about. That probably had somehing to do with the fact that instead of saying 'we want to see dead hippos' (insert mime of gun and bang bang noises) - I think we were actually saying we wanted to see a 'wedding' that 'is' - followed by the mime. Eventually we got the word for hippo right- but then they thought we might want to get the shooters into trouble...but the 'offenders' were on the other side of the river- so they could take us in a boat if we paid...
we thanked them, cut our losses and went home- content to have seen a new village, and me- determined to get back to language learning!
kaBOOM
kabOOM
kaBOOM
The shots woke me with a start- was that really-? kaBOOM gunshots? It sounded like a small cannon. Distant- but not distant enough for my liking! What time is it?! I groped around beside my bed to find my phone kaBOOM! 3.23am. the waiting silence was deafening. kabOOM
then the neighbourhood dog choir started their howls
and the guards woke and started chatting excitedly
and I figured there were enough people awake at 3.23 in the morning for me to go back to sleep. so I did.
Exciting place i live in huh?! not really. It turns out 2 hippos had gone for a wander through a village near the river - and were not welcomed.
My colleague and I (both juniors in the language department) decide that it would be pretty cool to go and have a look at dead hippos- so we set off to the village where the incident had supposedly occurred. When we got there- no one knew what we were talking about. That probably had somehing to do with the fact that instead of saying 'we want to see dead hippos' (insert mime of gun and bang bang noises) - I think we were actually saying we wanted to see a 'wedding' that 'is' - followed by the mime. Eventually we got the word for hippo right- but then they thought we might want to get the shooters into trouble...but the 'offenders' were on the other side of the river- so they could take us in a boat if we paid...
we thanked them, cut our losses and went home- content to have seen a new village, and me- determined to get back to language learning!
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Friends
When I first told my mum about my 'rent a friend' she said that she would be praying that this woman would become much more than that- a true friend. After the firewood chopping fun on Thursday and yesterdays visit to Saw-'s village I came home feeling invigorated- not exhausted and I thought 'wow- even though I can barely put a sentence together in their language- those ladies really are my friends'. There is something about a sense of belonging/being 'ok' with a group of people that just makes ya feel good :)
Friday night one of the ladies had a baby, so we spent the whole time visiting her and eating ugali and beans together and they gossiped and tried to teach me a song. Little baby 'Hawa' is SO tiny and almost as white as me! I pray she survives.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Collecting Firewood
writing twice in one day? thats gotta be a record :)
I had an amazing afternoon. the background: I dropped in at the village of my 'rent a friend' late in the avo cos i missed last week due to lack of voice and the recent struggle of fitting everything in with work orientation and nasty cold etc. ANYWAYS... I wanted to give her some photos I took a few weeks ago and find a mutually convenient time for a proper visit- but when I got there the village was deserted. Eventually a lady came out and explained that they were gathering firewood and headed off to show me where. I hadn't really planned a firewood gathering excursion at 4.30pm after a particularly long day, but I thought 'why not?' and followed.
The story: The young women were in a nearby woodlot, felling a tree. They all stopped to admire the photos, then went back to chopping, then decided that I should have a go. I quickly proved to be quite useless, so we stood around watching while one of the young girls finished the job. Timber! then we set to, breaking off all the branches and stripping the twigs off the smaller branches and putting them into piles- well, that was my job because I quickly proved as useless wielding a machette as I was with the axe :) Next thing I knew I was deemed the babysitter, had a 1yr old strapped to my back and was busily de-twigging. I loved the atmosphere of working as a group, the banter, the babies, the giant knives... As it started to get dark they said it was time to go and I asked if I could help carry some of the wood back tot the village. They wrapped a tiny bundle in my chitenje which I carried as far as the next pile and added a few more substantial sized sticks so I wouldn't be completely useless. The chitenje acted as both a rope and padding for my head.
As I made way back along the path with 3 women in front piled up with wood (twice the size of my bundle and they weren't even trying!) babies tied to their backs, and several behind- i realised I knew every one of these women and was actually a part of this very familiar spectacle. Although my attempts were met with raucus laugther in the village- I couldn't help beaming.
I had an amazing afternoon. the background: I dropped in at the village of my 'rent a friend' late in the avo cos i missed last week due to lack of voice and the recent struggle of fitting everything in with work orientation and nasty cold etc. ANYWAYS... I wanted to give her some photos I took a few weeks ago and find a mutually convenient time for a proper visit- but when I got there the village was deserted. Eventually a lady came out and explained that they were gathering firewood and headed off to show me where. I hadn't really planned a firewood gathering excursion at 4.30pm after a particularly long day, but I thought 'why not?' and followed.
The story: The young women were in a nearby woodlot, felling a tree. They all stopped to admire the photos, then went back to chopping, then decided that I should have a go. I quickly proved to be quite useless, so we stood around watching while one of the young girls finished the job. Timber! then we set to, breaking off all the branches and stripping the twigs off the smaller branches and putting them into piles- well, that was my job because I quickly proved as useless wielding a machette as I was with the axe :) Next thing I knew I was deemed the babysitter, had a 1yr old strapped to my back and was busily de-twigging. I loved the atmosphere of working as a group, the banter, the babies, the giant knives... As it started to get dark they said it was time to go and I asked if I could help carry some of the wood back tot the village. They wrapped a tiny bundle in my chitenje which I carried as far as the next pile and added a few more substantial sized sticks so I wouldn't be completely useless. The chitenje acted as both a rope and padding for my head.
As I made way back along the path with 3 women in front piled up with wood (twice the size of my bundle and they weren't even trying!) babies tied to their backs, and several behind- i realised I knew every one of these women and was actually a part of this very familiar spectacle. Although my attempts were met with raucus laugther in the village- I couldn't help beaming.
Trouble in Paradise
Im sure you've all heard about the troubles and xenophobia in South Africa- but what you may not have heard about is the repercussion shock waves through the suppounding countries as those fleeing arrive home.
Apparently the Mangochi area in Malawi has the highest proportion of their population seeking their fortunes in South Africa. This isn't a new phenomenon- men (mostly) from this region have been migrating South to find work for decades. Some villages are mostly women as all their men 'wapite ku sout afika'-often promising to send back fortunes and rarely delivering.
Reports filtering back are horror story material- people being beaten, hacked with machettes- even accounts of houses being set on fire, then the inhabitants shot one by one firing squad style as they flee the flames. Many people are unwilling to leave as they have businesses and new families there- they never intended on going 'home' - but each new wave of violence is flushing out even the most determined. The Malawi Government has sent busses to bring the men from the refugee camps springing up around police stations. They've been dropped in Blantyre and are starting to arrive in the villages. Utes (new ones with nice paint jobs) loaded to the max with people and all the earthy possessions they could salvage- those universal blue, white and red striped bags, bicycles, cane arm chairs, the occasional sound system...however , most were lucky to escape with their lives and arrive with the blanket, plate and cup issued at the refugee camp. Some funerals have already been held- without the body.
I chatted to a policeman today (the police stopped me at a road block and asked if I could take him back to Mangochi) and asked how he felt about all the arrivals. He was worried. These men have come from the city, where jobs were available and where they had food and were able to make a life for themselves. They are returning to families that haven't counted on having an extra mouth to feed, children that don't know them, angry wives (perhaps cos they haven't sent money, or simply started a new family in South Africa), no jobs and very quiet village life. The police are expecting a much higher crime rate and general unrest. So-plenty of excitement in this neck of the woods.
Speaking of excitement- the former president who was planning on running again in the next election (our area are his die hard supporters) was arrested the minute he stepped off the plane (on his way back from the UK) and put under house arrest for treason. More episodes of this story to follow no doubt.
Apparently the Mangochi area in Malawi has the highest proportion of their population seeking their fortunes in South Africa. This isn't a new phenomenon- men (mostly) from this region have been migrating South to find work for decades. Some villages are mostly women as all their men 'wapite ku sout afika'-often promising to send back fortunes and rarely delivering.
Reports filtering back are horror story material- people being beaten, hacked with machettes- even accounts of houses being set on fire, then the inhabitants shot one by one firing squad style as they flee the flames. Many people are unwilling to leave as they have businesses and new families there- they never intended on going 'home' - but each new wave of violence is flushing out even the most determined. The Malawi Government has sent busses to bring the men from the refugee camps springing up around police stations. They've been dropped in Blantyre and are starting to arrive in the villages. Utes (new ones with nice paint jobs) loaded to the max with people and all the earthy possessions they could salvage- those universal blue, white and red striped bags, bicycles, cane arm chairs, the occasional sound system...however , most were lucky to escape with their lives and arrive with the blanket, plate and cup issued at the refugee camp. Some funerals have already been held- without the body.
I chatted to a policeman today (the police stopped me at a road block and asked if I could take him back to Mangochi) and asked how he felt about all the arrivals. He was worried. These men have come from the city, where jobs were available and where they had food and were able to make a life for themselves. They are returning to families that haven't counted on having an extra mouth to feed, children that don't know them, angry wives (perhaps cos they haven't sent money, or simply started a new family in South Africa), no jobs and very quiet village life. The police are expecting a much higher crime rate and general unrest. So-plenty of excitement in this neck of the woods.
Speaking of excitement- the former president who was planning on running again in the next election (our area are his die hard supporters) was arrested the minute he stepped off the plane (on his way back from the UK) and put under house arrest for treason. More episodes of this story to follow no doubt.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
The Farm...
Sorry I havent had time to type the last week or so- busy, sick etc I hope these pics will suffice for now
The Farm
My Office
Sunday, May 18, 2008
I start work for a Malawian NGO 8am tomorrow morning. Its hard to believe. Im nervous :) I realised this morning that I haven't started a new job for ... 4 years! and this is one Ive been working towards for almost 2 years and its in a different country with a different culture and a very loosley phrased job description. what do i wear?! hehe
I cleaned my desk this evening, and ironed my clothes and packed a shoulder bag- notebook, pen, wallet etc let the next phase begin!
So, what else is happening in my world? well, country wise- there was an assasination attempt on the President last week which is a bit of a worry.
Also at least 12 'foreign workers' (probably malawians and Zimbabwians) have been killed in anti-immigrant protests in South Africa. Apparently South Africans have to be members of unions to work, and foreigners don't- so foreigners are scooping the work which has lead to protests, bad sentiment and murder. not cool.
On the completely insignificant front- I had a lovely time gardening today. Spread lots of manure and mulch, started a compost heap and planted a heap of kidney beans as part of a long term 'fix nitrogen in the soil' plan. Weekends get pretty lonely when you don't have anywhere to go or anyone to visit. poor me :) nah- im thinking i really need to be more proactive about making some friends 'outside team/work' but 'in country'. Email is great to keep in contact re big stuff going on in Aus- but i am really missing sharing 'life' with physical people :) people my own age. Somehow compters and the wonderful technologies of blogs/facebook/skype just dont fill that longing to have a good goss curled up on the couch with a coffee and a pack of timtams...or a walk in the park with someone. hmm I either have to really improve my language -fast, and/or look further a field :) i think i'll go with the 'and' option.
g'nite
I cleaned my desk this evening, and ironed my clothes and packed a shoulder bag- notebook, pen, wallet etc let the next phase begin!
So, what else is happening in my world? well, country wise- there was an assasination attempt on the President last week which is a bit of a worry.
Also at least 12 'foreign workers' (probably malawians and Zimbabwians) have been killed in anti-immigrant protests in South Africa. Apparently South Africans have to be members of unions to work, and foreigners don't- so foreigners are scooping the work which has lead to protests, bad sentiment and murder. not cool.
On the completely insignificant front- I had a lovely time gardening today. Spread lots of manure and mulch, started a compost heap and planted a heap of kidney beans as part of a long term 'fix nitrogen in the soil' plan. Weekends get pretty lonely when you don't have anywhere to go or anyone to visit. poor me :) nah- im thinking i really need to be more proactive about making some friends 'outside team/work' but 'in country'. Email is great to keep in contact re big stuff going on in Aus- but i am really missing sharing 'life' with physical people :) people my own age. Somehow compters and the wonderful technologies of blogs/facebook/skype just dont fill that longing to have a good goss curled up on the couch with a coffee and a pack of timtams...or a walk in the park with someone. hmm I either have to really improve my language -fast, and/or look further a field :) i think i'll go with the 'and' option.
g'nite
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Update to 'Rambling'
the meeting happened!
the meeting went well :)
I start orientation Monday!
Woohoo!! (joy dance)
the meeting went well :)
I start orientation Monday!
Woohoo!! (joy dance)
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Rambling
Can you believe...("YES" I hear you say!) ...that my parents had all their luggage stolen on their bus trip from the mine to the airport?
They pretty much boarded the plane to Europe with the clothes on the back and their hand luggage- which thankfully contained passposrts, wallets and cameras.
What a way to start the holiday! Well, they did some major clothes shopping once they got to London, and today...they'd be having lunch in Italy I think? hopefully having an absolute blast :)
Today I had a language lesson this morning and am hanging out with my colleagues kids this avo and watchin 'spongebob squarepants' - I can't wait! seriously. I love spongebob.
The meeting Ive been waiting months for is happening tomorrow afternoon. Too good to be true? I hope not. The plan starting next week is that once Ive done a few days orientation in the TLC office and spent a few weeks heading out on the back of motorbikes with some of the guys, I will be facilitating the development of a TLC farm property as a demo farm and training centre. Some of the existing ideas for the site are constructing a training area and accommodation, demos for water management, crop diversification, agroforestry, house gardens, animal husbandry, low input maize growing methods, as well as seed trials and the tourism potential of setting up a ‘real’ village on the site- lived in by the workers but suitable for tourist groups... So heaps of potential!! I’m heading up there this Friday (its about an hours drive away) to have a look at the property and start feasibility planning and, at some stage soon I’ld like to go and have a look at other similar projects around the country to see what works...what doesn’t.
Im really struggling with the role of ‘westerners’ in an environment like this- our attempts to ‘help’ come complete with huge cultural packages- usually, it seems, for worse. I spent all Friday at ‘development training’ where a bunch of people- easily classified as amongst the worlds poorest spent time brainstorming ways they could reduce their poverty. They came up with a great list-
send your kids to school,
get an education yourself,
work hard, farm and plant extra to sell,
work together to solve one problem in the village at a time,
use initiative-don’t wait for handouts,
start a small business,
learn a trade...
They have great ideas of what they can do. Are they doing it and its not working? Or are they not doing it- and if not- why not?
I suspect our/my expectations and agendas are vastly different than theirs. We're aiming for ownership, self empowerment and sustainability - which Im fast realising doesnt gel with the bigger permeating culture here (of Africa?) - and its patron –client- culture. The wealthy are obliged to help the poor (whom they have relationship with) that is their duty. Im not convinced that ‘economic stability’ or standing independently on their own feet is the goal at a national level let alone a village level. The culture is very much about dependence and /or interdependence. Has it always been that way? Or is it a cultural coping mechanism in abject poverty? Someone asked me last week- can you improve the lot of one group of people in Africa in the setting of another group of people? I dunno. I almost feel guilty for being here- being arrogant enough to think that I have something to offer- and yet people here DO starve, are dying from preventable diseases... and the system isn’t working- so maybe there is a place for outsiders to ‘help’...I guess the question for me is –what should that help look like? Maybe Ive had too many months to think about all this :)
They pretty much boarded the plane to Europe with the clothes on the back and their hand luggage- which thankfully contained passposrts, wallets and cameras.
What a way to start the holiday! Well, they did some major clothes shopping once they got to London, and today...they'd be having lunch in Italy I think? hopefully having an absolute blast :)
Today I had a language lesson this morning and am hanging out with my colleagues kids this avo and watchin 'spongebob squarepants' - I can't wait! seriously. I love spongebob.
The meeting Ive been waiting months for is happening tomorrow afternoon. Too good to be true? I hope not. The plan starting next week is that once Ive done a few days orientation in the TLC office and spent a few weeks heading out on the back of motorbikes with some of the guys, I will be facilitating the development of a TLC farm property as a demo farm and training centre. Some of the existing ideas for the site are constructing a training area and accommodation, demos for water management, crop diversification, agroforestry, house gardens, animal husbandry, low input maize growing methods, as well as seed trials and the tourism potential of setting up a ‘real’ village on the site- lived in by the workers but suitable for tourist groups... So heaps of potential!! I’m heading up there this Friday (its about an hours drive away) to have a look at the property and start feasibility planning and, at some stage soon I’ld like to go and have a look at other similar projects around the country to see what works...what doesn’t.
Im really struggling with the role of ‘westerners’ in an environment like this- our attempts to ‘help’ come complete with huge cultural packages- usually, it seems, for worse. I spent all Friday at ‘development training’ where a bunch of people- easily classified as amongst the worlds poorest spent time brainstorming ways they could reduce their poverty. They came up with a great list-
send your kids to school,
get an education yourself,
work hard, farm and plant extra to sell,
work together to solve one problem in the village at a time,
use initiative-don’t wait for handouts,
start a small business,
learn a trade...
They have great ideas of what they can do. Are they doing it and its not working? Or are they not doing it- and if not- why not?
I suspect our/my expectations and agendas are vastly different than theirs. We're aiming for ownership, self empowerment and sustainability - which Im fast realising doesnt gel with the bigger permeating culture here (of Africa?) - and its patron –client- culture. The wealthy are obliged to help the poor (whom they have relationship with) that is their duty. Im not convinced that ‘economic stability’ or standing independently on their own feet is the goal at a national level let alone a village level. The culture is very much about dependence and /or interdependence. Has it always been that way? Or is it a cultural coping mechanism in abject poverty? Someone asked me last week- can you improve the lot of one group of people in Africa in the setting of another group of people? I dunno. I almost feel guilty for being here- being arrogant enough to think that I have something to offer- and yet people here DO starve, are dying from preventable diseases... and the system isn’t working- so maybe there is a place for outsiders to ‘help’...I guess the question for me is –what should that help look like? Maybe Ive had too many months to think about all this :)
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
naughty...
I haven't posted in over a week amah!
Well, there has been lots of talk about my official 'role' soon to come to fruition, I celebrated 1000 ciYawo words in my word log/dictionary and on Friday I attended my first African funeral. An Aids toddler no less. Im not traumatised- but i am taking a while to process it all I think. its different than TV when you know the mother.
What else...my folks are off to Europe! for their holiday! today! how exciting. (It all got confirmed yesterday- thats how it works in out family!) yes, they invited me but I felt this year wasn't great timing. Ive only just started getting into the African headspace so popping over to Europe (where Ive never been before) would be a bit much spin.
Today we're off up the mountain to visit some training being held all week up there - basically an intro to all aspects of development. Swa- will be translating, I'll be observing and my house mate is presenting about health promotion. Then we're continuing on 2 hrs to Blantyre- me - so I can get a perscription for asthma preventative puffer cos the smokes getting worse and apparently won't clear now till the rains start ...October.
SO better shove some last minute stuff in my backpack and hit the road. I'll write properly soon- promise!
Well, there has been lots of talk about my official 'role' soon to come to fruition, I celebrated 1000 ciYawo words in my word log/dictionary and on Friday I attended my first African funeral. An Aids toddler no less. Im not traumatised- but i am taking a while to process it all I think. its different than TV when you know the mother.
What else...my folks are off to Europe! for their holiday! today! how exciting. (It all got confirmed yesterday- thats how it works in out family!) yes, they invited me but I felt this year wasn't great timing. Ive only just started getting into the African headspace so popping over to Europe (where Ive never been before) would be a bit much spin.
Today we're off up the mountain to visit some training being held all week up there - basically an intro to all aspects of development. Swa- will be translating, I'll be observing and my house mate is presenting about health promotion. Then we're continuing on 2 hrs to Blantyre- me - so I can get a perscription for asthma preventative puffer cos the smokes getting worse and apparently won't clear now till the rains start ...October.
SO better shove some last minute stuff in my backpack and hit the road. I'll write properly soon- promise!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Village time
Another afternoon visit to the village. Another priviledge (sp?) to sit and soak up village life. Popping the kernals off the maize (my thumbs feel sandpapered now!) holding/passing the babies, listening to people talking about me- then trying to talk to me hehe Im doing a lot better than when I first started! They tried to teach me to 'kutwicila' today- the amazing african art of carrying stuff on your head. I had previously failed with a small container of water (it had a huge hole in the bottom!)- so they set me up to succeed with a small pot of maize kernals. I did it- but i still have to stabilize it with a hand ..or two :)Anyways- today I pulled out my camera for the first time in this village, and after the kids had gone nuts and got bored and wandered off- I got some nice shots that Im looking forward to printing and taking back next week.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Poetry
Im in the mood for poetry so today, I have for you my favourite poem. yup. all of it.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
By T. S. Eliot (1917)
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.
LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
By T. S. Eliot (1917)
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.
LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
'Be' ing
Some days my senses are so alive it almost hurts. I feel I’m floating, slow motion in a parallel universe-savouring every detail... the women gliding past elegantly balancing buckets on the heads, their babies peeping out from behind where they’ve been safely strapped with a colourful chitenje, wide smiles, the smell of burning plastic mingled with fried potatoes, a waft of cow manure, the distant sound of bicycle bells mingled with voices and children laughing, each grain of sand in my shoes, deeply inhaling the cool dusty air.
I feel invisible ...until a kid I know runs up to me with a raucous laugh for a ‘high five!’ and the next thing I know I’m ‘high fiving’ most of the 40 odd children on their way home from school. I smile at the familiarity of their faces- their exuberance as they run past single file – jumping to slap my outstretched hand.
I know...my blogs have slowed- probably as the culture shock wears off and I struggle to describe the nuances of day to day life. I struggle with the fact that I do not yet have a formal ‘job’ and yet in another sense Im relishing the opportunity—perhaps the first I have ever really taken to just ‘be’. Not ‘cope’, ‘perform’, ‘strive’ or ‘produce’ ...just be. Africa is teaching me lessons Ive never taken the time to learn before.
How’s language going? Well- Swa- said in Chiyawo this morning
‘right now, rina can speak Ciyawo very well’.
I took that as both a compliment and a gentle reminder that I really do have obviously ‘good’ and appallingly ‘bad’ days when it comes to ‘language performance ability’. But although it may be 2 steps back- its usually followed by 3 steps forward. Like realising, for example, that the words ‘this’ and ‘that’ are not only specific to the class of the noun it is describing – but there are also different variations of the word indicating the speakers distance from the noun in time in space. In short the English words ‘this’ and ‘that’ are probably represented in Ciyawo by about 50 similar sounding words. I dunno- i haven’t counted- but it was a huge break through for me.
It’s hard- but Im in awe of the language. Every sentence ‘matches’. Someone described it like music- if you play a note- there is a chord that goes with it for the particular key- so, in Ciyawo, the noun in the sentence determines the prefixes to many of the words for a particular tense. Write me a comment if you actually read this far. I have started (another) new language learning method where I get my helper to record a simple story about something in her life, or I try and tell her a story in Ciyawo (Lots of help) and she records what I should have said – then we listen to it lots together and write out all the new words and discuss why they suddenly disappeared into another word when the tense changed...and then I listen to it lots when she’s not around, and the next day we practise the new words from the story by taking turns making different sentences with them which helps me grasp the range of meaning. Its relaxed and we both get to be creative and Im learning lots about the Yawo culture through the stories!
Ok- ive written an essay, sorry. Making up for less posts recently.
So, comments- what is with all the advertising comments?! I’m not clicking ‘here’. No way. It could set off a bomb or something!
What is maize? Yeah- i wasn’t sure before I came here either- but its corn that isn’t sweet. Speaking of which- Im gonna plant some sweet corn on the weekend! Yay
I feel invisible ...until a kid I know runs up to me with a raucous laugh for a ‘high five!’ and the next thing I know I’m ‘high fiving’ most of the 40 odd children on their way home from school. I smile at the familiarity of their faces- their exuberance as they run past single file – jumping to slap my outstretched hand.
I know...my blogs have slowed- probably as the culture shock wears off and I struggle to describe the nuances of day to day life. I struggle with the fact that I do not yet have a formal ‘job’ and yet in another sense Im relishing the opportunity—perhaps the first I have ever really taken to just ‘be’. Not ‘cope’, ‘perform’, ‘strive’ or ‘produce’ ...just be. Africa is teaching me lessons Ive never taken the time to learn before.
How’s language going? Well- Swa- said in Chiyawo this morning
‘right now, rina can speak Ciyawo very well’.
I took that as both a compliment and a gentle reminder that I really do have obviously ‘good’ and appallingly ‘bad’ days when it comes to ‘language performance ability’. But although it may be 2 steps back- its usually followed by 3 steps forward. Like realising, for example, that the words ‘this’ and ‘that’ are not only specific to the class of the noun it is describing – but there are also different variations of the word indicating the speakers distance from the noun in time in space. In short the English words ‘this’ and ‘that’ are probably represented in Ciyawo by about 50 similar sounding words. I dunno- i haven’t counted- but it was a huge break through for me.
It’s hard- but Im in awe of the language. Every sentence ‘matches’. Someone described it like music- if you play a note- there is a chord that goes with it for the particular key- so, in Ciyawo, the noun in the sentence determines the prefixes to many of the words for a particular tense. Write me a comment if you actually read this far. I have started (another) new language learning method where I get my helper to record a simple story about something in her life, or I try and tell her a story in Ciyawo (Lots of help) and she records what I should have said – then we listen to it lots together and write out all the new words and discuss why they suddenly disappeared into another word when the tense changed...and then I listen to it lots when she’s not around, and the next day we practise the new words from the story by taking turns making different sentences with them which helps me grasp the range of meaning. Its relaxed and we both get to be creative and Im learning lots about the Yawo culture through the stories!
Ok- ive written an essay, sorry. Making up for less posts recently.
So, comments- what is with all the advertising comments?! I’m not clicking ‘here’. No way. It could set off a bomb or something!
What is maize? Yeah- i wasn’t sure before I came here either- but its corn that isn’t sweet. Speaking of which- Im gonna plant some sweet corn on the weekend! Yay
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Maize
Hey cuz- I swam in lake Malawi today. It was beautifully cool- but alot more turbid than i was comfortable with considering the chances of crocs lurking. I could barely see my feet in knee deep water. Did i mention how lovely and cool it was?! hehe With sunsets like this one you'd be forgiven for thinking its paradise.It was great relaxing out at the lake after another week of visitors and language lessons and waiting. waiting can really take its toll can't it? But Im assured the meeting to discuss my formal job role will be held next week. here's hoping!
Well this week in Mangochi harvest is well and truly under way and the air is beginning to thicken with smoke as people burn off their maize fields after harvest. The women are busy drying the maize cobs, de-kernalling them, drying them some more and putting it all into grainaries as the families primary food source for the year. I visited the lady who we helped harvest last Saturday and was stoked to see how much maize she got! Then we sat talking for several hours preparing the maize and putting it out to dry (see pics below).
After the maize kernals are dried they get pounded in a giant mortar and pestle looking thing, then seived, pounded again, dried, and then stored or eaten. Elaborate process huh?!
Puts our fast food world into perspective.
Puts our fast food world into perspective.
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