A Culture of Reading

When I was a child, my parents would let me choose a book to read each evening before I went to sleep. I would settle into my bed, comfortable in my pajamas, Big Pop Bear safe in my arms, as they would read the story I selected. It was often the same book every night, But No Elephants. It was the story of Grandma Tilly and a travelling animal salesman. Each day, Grandma Tilly would give in to the salesman and buy yet another animal, a turtle, a canary, a woodpecker and so on until she had bought all the animals he had to sell. And, each day she would say ‘okay, I’ll buy this animal but NO ELEPHANTS!’ Then winter came and she had bought all the animals except for the elephant and the salesman just left the sad elephant in the yard. Eventually, Grandma Tilly felt sorry for the elephant and let him come inside the house where he ate and ate until there was no more food left. He fell through the floorboards because he was so fat.  Then he started walking and he walked until he and the house were in a sunny, warm place. I can clearly remember the drawing of Grandma Tilly in her bikini, sipping a fruity drink and wearing sunglasses.

Then, when I was five, and we were about to move, I started wanting to read the story of a little girl who moved to Sesame Street. I liked her marble collection and how she made friends in her new home.

Books were important in my life from a young age. My parents were always reading in their spare time and as I grew older and started reading on my own, I found a similar joy at being lost in a book.

Last weekend, I attended a training for future Malawian librarians. I have been working with a village near my own to attempt to start a library at the primary school (elementary school). This has been one of my more exciting projects because the community is so excited about the possibility of getting the books. Each month, I would get on my bike and ride for almost an hour, crossing the Mwanza River, to attend the library meetings. And each time I would be pleasantly surprised at the timely turnout. You might remember that “African time” can be much different than what we westerners are used to. Malawians usually measure time by the placement of the sun in the sky rather than by looking at a clock. This means that if a meeting is set for 2:00pm, one might not see people gathering until 3:00 or later. So, having a dozen people arriving to a meeting on time showed me that they took the project seriously. I never felt like it was a waste of time to cross the river. Further, at each meeting, at least three village headmen were in attendance.

We worked through a series of activities in order to complete the application. A library committee was formed and the group decided to name the library Katawala Library because it sits near the Katawala River, a place that once nurtured trees and plants, helping to produce fruits and vegetables that nourished the villagers. In a way, the library can be like the river, helping to nourish the children who use it so they may grow with knowledge and understanding.

The recent library training was encouraging. The teachers in attendance spent a lot of time discussing ways to inspire a culture of reading. In Malawi, students study for the tests. They memorize information but usually fail to link it with full understanding. Reading for pleasure can help open new doors to learning and creativity. This made me wonder how a culture of reading develops and I had to think of my formative years when my parents would pause each evening to read me a story before scratching my back and sending me to sleep.

There is plenty of time for reading during Peace Corps service. Projects and work move at a different pace here which leaves many afternoons free for getting lost in a book. I just finished The Elephant’s Journey by Jose Saramago. It’s a story of an Indian elephant that travels from Portugal to Venice as a wedding present. Maybe this is how I’ve come full circle from my days of reading But No Elephants. I still find joy in an elephant’s tale of travel. I hope that in my time here I can help inspire some children to enjoy reading too.

** If you are interested in helping with the Katawala Library Project, please contact me. I’m still looking for a U.S. Book Drive Organizer who is willing to collect gently used children’s books and a shipping fee. Others have done this through schools, community groups and churches with great success and not much difficulty.  It is a great way to help several generations of student who live in a Malawi village.

You can help!!

Would anyone be interested in helping with a Peace Corps Malawi Project? I'm looking for donations for Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World). It is an amazing camp that brings together secondary school girls from all across Malawi for a week of activities on self-esteem, goal setting and just general fun! For some, it is the first time they have left their villages or used a shower!

 

 I'm looking for items that we can give away to the girls to use during camp. We are especially in need of deoderant and journals and maxi pads. But, other things like lip gloss, nail polish or craft supplies would be great as well. We would need 80 nearly identical items but they could be bought on sale or at the dollar store.

 

Let me know if you or someone you know could help us out! Thanks!!

Home for the Holidays Part II

I promised a second entry in the Home for the Holiday Series; a post-America blog to let you know what I discovered while home. It turns out that what I learned was a little more nebulous than I expected. Sure, I’ve learned things like increased patience and flexibility and those things were even more evident in the context of America.

But, then again, it is much easier to be patient and flexible in a world where everything is available 24 hours-a-day. For instance, my computer completely shut down within a day of being in America. I’m sure this had been coming for some time. It was an old computer, a macbook that I loved dearly and held onto for as long as possible. Africa is not kind to electronics though and the heat of Chikhwawa took its toll on this now-obsolete computer. What was a little surprising to me was my reaction to this discovery. I was hardly upset that my computer died. Of course, it was inconvenient but in America there would be a solution. If it had stopped working while I was in Malawi, the situation would have been much more difficult and I inevitably would have been quite upset.

The convenience of America was a welcome luxury. It was such a treat to eat enchiladas, drink margaritas, and make my own desert in a New York ice cream shop. It felt great to get my hair cut by a professional and to get a massage (Wow!). I enjoyed going on a real date and being picked up, taken to dinner and enjoying conversation with only a few infrequent interruptions by the waiter.

These are things that I don’t get to experience in Malawi and most of the time I barely notice that I miss them. It has been almost 11 months since I arrived. Malawi is no longer new to me. I am comfortable living in my house in the village where I cook over a fire, use a pit latrine and shoo goats from my garden. But sometimes, I’m not comfortable being myself in Malawi or maybe I struggle to figure out who I am in the context of Malawi. In America, it is easier because even when I display strange behavior, it is easy to blend in. This means I can just be myself most of the time, especially since I have wonderfully strange friends. I don’t have to worry that when I meditate someone will think it’s weird. When I go to my door in America, I don’t have to search my house for a piece of cloth to cover my exercise pants in case they offend whoever is at the door.

Maybe what I’m trying to say is that we all want to be liked in the community in which we live. We inherently want to fit in so that we have friends and people in our lives that we can rely on. For me, in America, I am lucky to experience this in abundance. My family and friends are amazing people and it was extremely difficult to leave them. However, even though I don’t necessarily fit in all the time in my village, I still know I have people whom I can rely on here. Settling back in for another 16 months in Malawi wasn’t easy but I’m excited for what’s ahead. Daily, I miss those I’ve left at home but I know I have more to learn and do here. I’m excited to forge ahead and discover new things about myself in Malawi. Takalandirani 2012! Tiyeni. Welcome 2012! Let’s Go.

Home for the Holidays: Part 1

Tomorrow I'll be on a plane to America. I've now been in Malawi for ten months and it has been almost a year since I learned I was coming to Africa, so I thought it might be a good time to reflect on the year. People often ask of my motivation for joining Peace Corps and coming to Africa. I came because I wanted to experience living outside of Louisville and learn about a different culture; I wanted to have the possibility of better job offers post-PC; and I was excited to learn about the world of development. I came to help but I must admit that many of my PC goals were selfish. When I speak with other volunteers they expected their two years to be spent "finding themselves" by living in the village without running water or elecrticity. They pictured doing things like reading lots of books and meditating. For some reason, this didn't really play into my ideal PC dream. I was okay with the thought of not having the amenities of a four-star hotel but it certainly didn't excite me.

Now, after ten months of living in Malawi, I must say that my experience includes some of these original ideas but often lies somewhere along the borders. I came here thinking I knew myself well, but since I have been here, I have gotten to know new things about myself that I'd never expect. For instance, I now know I can live among gigantic, mean looking spiders that crawl ridiculously fast. I know I can cook a nice mexican meal, from scratch, over a fire. I know I can carry my weight in gifts and clothes across a city while sick and not pass out.

I have also learned the difficulties of living with the people you are trying to help. I've gotten to know people who can directly benefit from my presence which makes the possibility of failure much more devestating and the possibility of sucess even sweeter. It can be difficult to be the only white person in a village. Most people in my village now understand that I am only a volunteer and don't have an endless supply of money to hand out but I did have no less than three requests for video cameras when my friends learned I was going to America. Still, I greatly appreciate that we are able to live in the village where we get to learn firsthand about the issues villagers face and try to work together to solve these problems.

I'm not sure Peace Corps or Malawi was what I expected but I am still incredibly grateful that I am here. Each day is filled with challenges. For example, every morning I have to try to discern whether I am listening to a screaming child or a goat outside my window. And, each day is full of rewards like being hugged by my water woman when I return from a trip. At one point, I thought I might not go when Peace Corps sent the invitiation. I would have regretted that decision for the rest of my life. As I prepare to see America again, I realize that I have changed and in ways that I probably don't even realize. Stay posted for updates about what America is like after ten months in Malawi.

What Makes a Good Volunteer?

Peace Corps has three goals:

1. To help the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.
2. To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the people served.
3. To help promote a better understanding of other peoples in the part of all Americans.

I like reflecting on these goals from time to time because it helps me realize that I’m doing my job when I spend time writing this blog post or chatting with a Malawian about life in America. It is easy to start thinking that I’m not doing enough with my time here. I now only have a year and a half left in my service and I feel like I haven’t done much to help my village. I constantly question what makes a good volunteer and then I go back to the goals and see that maybe I am doing this right?

Living in Malawi is a constant game of trial and error. In the first months living in my village, I tried to keep things the way the last volunteer had arranged them. I had a gardener and I ate every meal with the neighbors. The guy who fetched water never came around so I learned to draw water for myself. Now, I have changed all of these things. I am cooking for myself except for a couple meals a week at the neighbors’ house. I fired the gardener so I could enjoy gardening myself and I just hired a woman to help me get water and wash my clothes. I must say the rearrangement of these tasks has changed my life for the better. For instance, it feels like such a luxury to have someone bring me water every day. I’m really glad that I know and the villagers know that I can draw water plus I’m sure I appreciate her hard work so much more because I have done it for myself.

But, I feel like I’m always weighing my options and trying to find the best ways to integrate with my community. I didn’t want to stop getting water because this is something women in Malawi do and I want them to see that I can do it too. The other day I went to a meeting with a group where I’m working on a library project. I went around and greeted the village headmen by kneeling in front of them and shaking their hands, just like a Malawian women. My Malawian friend laughed at me as I did this and said, “You know how to greet like a Malawian women!” It is in times like this that I have to wonder whether I should be sticking to an American way of greeting or if I am showing the greatest amount of respect by doing it the Malawian way. And, these questions arise every day. I am always worried about standing out and being the strange white girl who exercises in her house or sleeps late (until 8am). Sometimes, I realize that I’ve stopped doing things that are important to me because I’m worried that someone will think I’m too strange. Yet, I am one of two white people that live on this road. There is no way I’ll ever blend in!

This is also what makes our work possible. Because we stand out it is easier for us to show people how to wash their hands properly or provide condoms. We are able to be an authority that can introduce healthier behaviors and create the beginnings of change… at least that is my hope. This month I began my projects and so far all are going well. Here’s what I plan to spend the remainder of my service working on:

1. Girl’s Group: I have arranged for Secondary School (High School) girls to meet at the Community Based Organization once a week to engage in various girl empowerment activities. My counterpart and best friend in the village is helping me facilitate the program. We are incorporating everything from nutrition to HIV and pregnancy prevention to Income Generating Activities and maybe even movie nights. We are trying to create a safe space where girls can learn skills and gain knowledge to make them successful throughout their lives. So far, this is my favorite project.  

2. Garden Project: With the help of my counterpart’s husband who is an agriculture extension officer, I am planning two demonstration gardens. We will grow plants that can help improve health and nutrition, especially for HIV positive living groups. We will also hold several trainings for the community about how to use the plants in the demonstration gardens.

3. Library Project: I am facilitating the creation of a library project at Kompomo Primary School (elementary school). We are applying to African Library Project and if approved, they will send us 1,000 books to help start the library. This community is so wonderful to work with. Every meeting starts on-time and has over 15 participants. It is really encouraging to work with such a motivated group.

4. Borehole Project: A village near me doesn’t have access to safe water. People get water from a shallow well or go to the Mwanza River (which is currently dry) and dig holes in the sand to get their drinking and bathing water. I’ve just started a water committee in the village and hope to raise funds to install a borehole sometime next year.

5. Hand Washing Stations: It may be surprising to find out that most people in the villages here do not wash their hands with soap. Well, most people cannot afford soap. If everyone washed their hands after using the latrines, we could cut diarrhea cases in half! So, using buckets provided by Peace Corps, I have done two hand washing talks and demonstrations, one at the Health Clinic and one at the Primary School.

6. Health Clinic Housing: The goal of Peace Corps is to build capacity, not to build buildings. However, I am training the Medical Assistant (MA) at my Health Clinic to write a grant so we can try to build two new houses to increase the staff at the Health Clinic. Right now, we only have one MA and one nurse. This means they are on-call every hour of every day. And because of the heat in Chikhwawa, no one wants to move here for work unless they have housing. We will also be asking for a guardian house where families of sick patients can sleep if they live a long distance from the Clinic.

7. Cultural Village/Center: This project is still very much in the brainstorming phase. My village is located near Majete Wildlife Reserve and our Community Based Organization is in a partnership with 18 other CBO’s who surround the reserve. We are talking about building a cultural village and center just outside the reserve where tourists can stay the night in a Malawian mud house, eat nsima (the traditional fare) and visit a cultural center where they can learn about the traditional practices of Southern Malawi. The main goal of the project would be to create jobs and increase tourism but the project would also help to teach people about Malawian culture and create a sense of pride in Malawians about their own culture. 

Home is When I'm with You

How does a place become home? Is it where you sleep at night or where you store your belongings? Is it where there’s friends and family? Is it where you were born or where you have the most memories? In a recent training, we had to agree or disagree that Malawi felt like home. I immediately chose agree but the discussion that followed made me consider the question more deeply.  

I have always had a strong connection with my original home in Louisville. It is so beautiful with its rolling hills, fluffy green grass in the summer, firey red and orange trees in the fall, and great parks for sledding in the winter. There are places that always stand out in my mind when I think of Louisville. My parents’ house with the ivy creeping up the white pillars that invite guests into a home filled with my father’s intricate artwork and smells of my mother baking cinnamon-swirl cake. I think of the dance studio where I performed my first pirouette. I think of the El Mundo, where the enchiladas are too good to describe and there is always great company.  

In Malawi, some things have become surprisingly comfortable enough to consider it home. As I walk down the dirt road in my village, I feel like I fit in almost as much as I stand out. The shopkeepers know my name and chat with me as I drink a cold Fanta on a hot day. The children wave at me and greet me and sometimes even know my name but I can’t help laughing when I see them riding a fallen palm branch like they are driving a car. And, my house is my own private haven with teal window frames and purple curtains that are constantly blowing in the Chikhwawa breeze. My Malawian house is filled with the beauties and necessities of Malawi and some of my favorite memories of America.  

I wouldn’t have thought that I would adapt so quickly to village life but at times I have to remind myself that some of the things I’m doing just aren’t normal at my home in America. I can’t imagine life without buckets now. I use them for bathing, drinking water, washing clothes, washing dishes, storage, transporting things, and gardening. When I helped at Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World), I realized that some girls had never taken a shower; they only knew how to use a bucket to bathe. 

Matolas are now commonplace for me. On a recent matola ride to Blantyre, I covered my head with a chitenje (a traditional fabric used for various purposes but mainly seen covering women’s skirts to keep them from getting dirty) to keep the dust from getting in my hair and eyes. A man leaned over and asked we had these in America. “Chitenjes? No, we don’t have these in America.” But that wasn’t what he was asking about. “Matolas? No, we don’t usually ride in the back of trucks in America.” “No,” he said. “Roads like these.” “Yeah, we don’t have many dirt roads like these either.” Does the normalcy of my life here mean that this has become my home?  

Home for me is baking with my mother. Home is watching a movie with my Malawian neighbors. It’s going to the Farmer’s Market with Kirby. Laying in hammocks with Jake. Starting a fire with Katie. Eating a hot dog with Sarah. Emailing Eric. Dancing with Natasha. Dancing with Angie. Dancing with Nicole. Dancing with Amber. Dancing with Duncan, Shelly, Mocha, Lady J, and Kara. Home is a day reading by myself and it is philosophizing with my brother. If home is where the heart is, my heart is in two places at once and I think I’m learning that it’s possible to have more than one home.

My Life in Malawi

Malawi is a wonderful place to have a garden. It is so exciting to plant food year-round and to have access to freshly grown food since that is the only kind of food you can buy in the village. In the four months that I’ve been living in my house, I have been working on a garden. I’ve planted tomatoes, onions, okra, beans, squash, and peppers. Unfortunately, I haven’t had the pleasure of tasting any of these yet. Four times in the past four months, I have had seedlings destroyed. First, chickens scratched up my plants with their stupid chicken claws when they were quite small. Later, goats ate the plants that survived the chicken attack. It happened again a couple days ago. I closed my door for an afternoon nap and when I came out two hours later, everything was gone. There were just stubs left where my tomatoes and beans had been. How disappointing!

Some days I am annoyed by everything here. I hate this tiny house and the pigeons that land bang! bang! bang! on my tin roof every morning; the gardener that waters too much no matter how many times I ask him not to; and, people asking me again if I have ever tried nsima (local cuisine). But then, I look up from my book to see the palm tree in my backyard highlighted against the brilliant cloudless sky, a granny waves to me excitedly with both hands and I learn to cook a flavorful dinner over a fire. I am again overtaken by the fact that I live in beautiful Malawi.

Since I have just finished reading Julia Child’s My Life in France, (and since I don’t have much else going on at the moment) I thought this month I would give you a taste of what it is like to cook in Malawi with the fresh foods available. This way, when you go for the last camping trips of the season, you can dazzle friends with this creation!

Calzones*

First, make a fire. There are two main ways people in the village cook. While at training in Dedza, my amayi would use three large stones or bricks and arrange them in a circle, close enough together that a pot can rest on them like the burner of a stove. Then you make a fire in the middle of the stove with wood. Wood is cheaper than charcoal and people can cut it themselves.

In my village, the more common way of cooking is on a small “grill” called a baola. The baola is about a foot and a half tall and cannot be bought in the village. I found mine while shopping in Limbe. It is metal on the outside and ceramic inside and has metal clasps that fold in to create a place to set the pot. We use charcoal bought from someone across the Mwanza River. Since charcoal is made from wood also, and harvesting wood is quickly depleting the landscape of Malawi, some people have been experimenting with other forms of fuel suck as cornhusk charcoal or paper charcoal. These are difficult to make and tend to not burn as hot as charcoal, which means cooking takes much longer.

How to go about lighting the fire varies from person to person. Some people use plastic bags. They light the plastic bag on fire and let it drip onto the charcoal to get the fire started. Others douse the charcoal in paraffin before lighting it. One of my good friends combines these two methods to ensure that her fire starts right away. I prefer a slightly more environmentally friendly method. I wad up a piece of paper or cardboard and put it in the middle of the baola. Next, I look for a couple handfuls of twigs, leaves and old reeds and spread them out making kind of a star shape around the paper. Then I place several small pieces of charcoal on top of this. I light the paper and usually I don’t have to do anything else. If the fire doesn’t spread to the charcoal, some fanning or blowing action is required.

Making Cheese

Once the fire is going, I like to start making the cheese for the calzones first since it takes the longest. I use one large sachet of milk (about two cups). Put it in a pan and set it over the fire until it starts to boil, stirring it to make sure that it doesn’t burn. Once it starts to boil, remove it from the heat and let it cool for five minutes. (I always make sure I cover the pot since we are cooking on the ground and I don’t want my curious pup to lick it all up.) Next, add vinegar until the milk curdles (about two to four tablespoons). It should be a solid mass with a yellow liquid. Let this sit for 30 minutes. Finally, strain the cheese through a clean cloth. It is now similar to ricotta cheese. To this mixture, I add salt, dried basil, and sautéed onions and garlic.

Preparing the Dough

I like to have the dough ready next. Combine 2 cups flour (I prefer to use one cup white and one cup wheat flour), 1 teaspoon salt, and 2 teaspoons baking powder in a bowl. Make a well in the center of these dry ingredients. Pour ¼ cup oil and 2/3 cup milk into the well and mix all ingredients together. Once mixed together, knead the dough for about ten minutes.

Tomato Sauce

If you like tomatoes in your calzone, this is the time to prepare a tomato sauce. Check to make sure the fire is still hot. Heat a skillet (if you have one… or if like me, you don’t, a pot will work) with a little oil. Add garlic and onions and sauté until just browned. Add four diced tomatoes. You can also add tomato paste, if available. Season with salt, pepper and any other available Italian spices.

Putting it all together

Using the prepared dough, portion into three balls. Roll the first dough ball into a circle about six inches wide and a half-inch thick. Spread a third of the cheese on one half of the circle. Next, pour a third of the tomato sauce on top of the cheese. Close the calzone by folding the dough over to make a semi-circle and pinch the dough closed to seal. Place the calzone into a hot, slightly oiled pan. Cook until browned on both sides. Repeat with remaining calzones.

Mix it up!

One of my friends isn’t a fan of tomatoes. Luckily, he brought some delicious pre-cooked bacon (sent in a care package from his mother, hint hint!) when he came to visit. I omitted the tomato sauce and added the bacon and had one of the best meals yet!

*Recipe adapted from Peace Corps Malawi Guide to Village Cuisine.