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.

Lessons in Letting Go

Some days I’m not sure my father realizes how much he has influenced my life. Does any parent ever know the impact they have in their child’s life?
The morning I left for Peace Corps, I had a lovely breakfast with my parents at their home. I was full of nerves, wondering if I really had the guts to move to Malawi for two years. My mom put on a very brave face but was having difficulty with the impending goodbye. My father said the prayer over the meal. It was about how parents dread and are also proud when their child makes the decision to leave home (at any age). It was so sweet and we all barely held it together. I think we were all a little scared. I busied myself with making sure my bags were the weight limitations and that I could carry everything.

Then as we said our goodbyes at the airport, my father imparted his words of wisdom. "Stay loose."

I have always been a little nervous about everything. I am a rule-follower. Once, when I was a kid, I got mad at my father, the rule-breaker, for taking a flower off the table at a restaurant. I was worried we would get in trouble for stealing. I also took things very literally. When I helped my father with his hand of poker, he instructed me to fold. So, of course, I folded our cards in half. Further, I was way too trusting. While shopping, my father found this toy that when you push the handle in several times, a top spins until it opens like a flower. He said, put your finger in there and when it stopped spinning, it closed and pinched my finger. Hilarious. At least it was to him.

So, when I left for Africa, my dad knew that the best thing he could tell me was to stay loose. I have thought of those words often since I have been here. When some of the older volunteers took us across the most rickety, Indiana-Jones-style bridge, I thought to myself, stay loose. We made it across and back just fine, although it was quite terrifying. When I weigh the screaming babies under a tree at the Health Clinic, I often have to think to myself stay loose and none of them have fallen yet! When I came across a particularly scary and possibly poisonous centipede in my house, I think about how my dad taught me not to be scared of bugs and also to stay loose. Then I used the heaviest book I could find (the Bible – it is helpful in so many ways) to crush it.

Often, I realize that when I heed this piece of advice, I end up with some of the best experiences and stories. My father has taught me many things but maybe one of the best lessons is to let go and break the rules on occasion.

I love you Dad.
Happy Father’s Day!

A Life Well Loved

Those who serve a cause are not those who love that cause. They are those who love the life which has to be led in order to serve it…
- Simone Weil


Lately, I have been watching a lot of romantic comedies with my Malawian neighbor. The guy and girl meet just by chance on a street corner in New York and usually after some light verbal sparring, they fall madly in love. But after the movie ended last night I had to say my typical, jaded girl line: “That was a good movie but it would never happen like that in real life.” And to that, my sweet neighbor replied, “I think it really can happen.” Now, I can’t stop thinking about what the word love means. How do you know when you are in love? How can a word that is so powerful also be so insignificant?


I went searching in the dictionary. It says love is deep affection and warm feeling; a zero score in tennis; to like or desire enthusiastically; enamored.


That wasn’t terribly enlightening so I thought about the things I love. I love my animals – both here and stateside. I want them to stop being stupid and not give me fleas (my newest anxiety) and they provide me with companionship and are an endless source of laughter and stories. In exchange, I give them food and a place to sleep and protect them as much as possible.


I love sushi. Those beautiful little pieces of raw fish and vegetables that look like a present waiting to be devoured. Despite what my Grandma thinks, they are so delicious. This will definitely be one of my first meals when I get back to the States.


I love dance. It makes me think, is always a challenge, and has been a way for me to express myself throughout my life.


Still, I’m not sure this helps me understand what love means. If anything, I might be more confused. Here in Malawi, the word for “to love” is kukonda. The catch is that kukonda means both love and like. Many boys who I’ve never met before have yelled at me from the side of the road as I ride by on my bike, “I love you.” It makes me laugh every time.


But I’m dodging the main point. So, here is the real question. Do I love Malawi? Is it too soon to have such a strong relationship with this country that I have only known for three months? I have never been one to hold back when it comes to falling in love and I wonder if that could be true again.


First, Malawi is a constant challenge for me and makes me think about culture in a new and different way. Sure, we might have our share of disagreements, like when I walked outside to find that cows had pushed over my fence and were standing in my backyard. But despite the minor difficulties we are growing stronger together.


Secondly, this country is a constant source of surprise. When I walked into the Limbe Market the other day, I gasped at all the fresh produce available so close to my site and my ability to negotiate the prices with various vendors. I could not get enough. There were avocados, garlic, ginger, tomatoes, onions, and pineapple overflowing from my basket. I’m told I looked like the Chiquita Banana woman as I walked back to the bus with my basket of fruit on my head.


Additionally, Malawi is a constant source of stories and laughter for me. And everyone knows that a good sense of humor is an essential component to the perfect relationship. I took a matola home from the Boma the other day and got to ride in the front with two men – the driver and the owner of the truck. The driver kept saying things in Chichewa that I didn’t understand and look at me to agree with him. I would say eyah (yes) and all three of us would laugh. It was a hilarious ride home! I have never been so funny in all my life.


I love the sunsets, Obama chitenjes (realistic and cartoon versions), the double waves, and the monkey who rides the cat! But, maybe the thing that I love most is the people I get to interact with on a daily basis. My ever-optimistic neighbor, my colleagues at the Health Clinic, the children who make me laugh, the girls who come to play/torture my puppy, my friend at the market, the old ladies at the borehole. They are the reason this place is so wonderful.

Maybe I will never be able to fully understand what the word love means because it is a feeling that is beyond definition. Its true that I will always be loyal and in love with Kentucky but I think I have room in my heart for loving more than one place at a time.

True Colors

A few days ago my friend and I walked into a tuck shop in his village to get a Fanta. Pineapple is my favorite flavor and we are lucky that the shops in our area have electricity so we can get a cold soda which provides a little respite from the heat. The shop is filled with knickknacks, ujeni, and food staples like sugar, eggs, and rice.

We realized quickly that at least at that time this shop had no cold sodas. So we silently made a signal to go to another shop across the road but the owner had already begun chatting with us. He wanted to know what we liked about Malawi. The food? The people? What is different here? We began explaining a few of the obvious differences before the shop owner cut in and said, “In America, there are people from all different races.” Jake said, “Yes, we call that the melting pot.” The owner went on, “At first, there were only whites in America and then there was the slave trade from Africa and now everyone lives happily together in America.”
 ~~~
Lately, I have been struggling to put together my thoughts about race. Since I came to site one month ago, I have been drawn in by authors like Alice Walker, Octavia Butler and now I am reading Barack Obama’s book, Dreams from My Father. Meridian is one of my favorite books about the civil rights movement. I am continually enamored with Walker’s writing. Kindred, by Octavia Butler is a book about a black woman’s accidental time travel to the antebellum south. It is a clever comparison of life as we know it today and the life of slavery. And, as only it could be, Obama’s autobiography is also a story of race. (It is even more interesting because Obama is everywhere here including on t-shirts, chitenje’s, razor blades, etc. Our President is loved in Malawi!)

As I read these stories, I can’t help thinking about my placement in Malawi and I honestly can’t figure out how to feel about race in the American/Malawian context. I constantly ask myself if I am like the Baroness in Out of Africa who after years of living in Africa, realizes that putting white gloves on the African boy who serves her food is just plain stupid. I don’t doubt that I am making some similar mistakes.

Daily, I struggle with the privilege afforded to me simply because of the color of my skin. I hear young boys say that they prefer to marry a white woman when there are so many beautiful black women surrounding them and all would make better wives than me or my friends ever would. When I go to draw water, my bucket is taken first even though there is a long line of buckets waiting to be filled. Even my puppy gets treated like an azungu pup. The little girls carry him around and come to play with him rather than scare him away like they do with the other village dogs. Here, I will always stick out because of my whiteness and sometimes I may even take advantage of the fact that I don’t have to wait an hour to collect my water.

The shopkeeper I described is a smart man. I’m sure he knows there was more to slavery than what he told us. Sometime I just have to wonder what is lost in translation and what people really think. But mostly, I keep wondering what it will take for me to learn to remove the white gloves?

Please keep sending me mail...New Address

I just opened a PO Box in Blantyre. Please send mail here now:

Jessica Underwood
c/o Jacob Strawn
PO Box 1871
Blantyre, Malawi

I will continue to check the other address as well but this one is much closer to site.

With courage, optimism & love, anything is possible.

Tonight I am sitting in my house, the door is open and the Malawian music from the market nearby is mingling with the sounds of crickets, chickens, and people chatting all around me. The sun has just set. I saw all my favorite shades of pink lighting the sky before its descent. I may have said before that each day here is new and different and it truly is.

I have now lived in my home for four days and have met numerous minor challenges as well as experienced beauties unlike those I would ever see in the States. I went to the butcher where a goat hung from a stand and watched as he cut a chunk off for my dinner. I rode my bike for an hour to see my friend in the neighboring village and on my way received showerings of “azungu” (white person) from the children along the road. While cleaning my house I found several lizards and named the largest one Pizza. I found that I could carry water to my house each day…on my head while the other women laughed with surprise.

Humans are amazing creatures. We are so versatile and resilient. Every day I learn more about how cultures differ but also how our humanity links us. When I talked of living in Africa, some people thought I would struggle with the lack of running water, the bugs, and missing my things. So far, I have found those to be minor inconveniences. Don’t misunderstand, I love being able to turn a faucet and have clean water come out but we adapt rather easily when it is not available and we appreciate it more when it is accessible. In some ways, it even starts to feel normal to wash clothes in a bucket and bathe under the full moon. I develop a rhythm for my days and normalcy sets in.

But, I have also been thinking of how people are so resilient when they experience loss or are hurt. My fellow PCV was telling me stories of when she worked as a nurse in Haiti. There was so much loss at that time but many of her stories were of people who overcame devastation. There was a woman who was trapped for three days but was rescued and survived with the help of a man whom she fell in love with. Many lost children and loved ones and you would think that the pain would be so great that they could not function. I know from experience that even when you lose someone you love so much, you still must find a reason to continue your own journey.

And so, my adventures continue. I am grateful for each day I spend in Malawi. Each day feels like a small accomplishment and I realize that while I may be crazy for doing this, I am also so lucky because most people will never get the chance to experience it.

A Fruitful Journey

Today Matt killed a chicken! As health volunteers, we have been learning about nutrition in Malawi and today was cooking day. We had 3 mbaula stoves, 1 paraffin stove and 3 fires going. I made banana bread in a pot with charcoal below and above it. We also had banana and papaya jam, a stew with potatoes and avocados and, of course, chicken! I thought I was okay with seeing a chicken being killed - and I was in theory - but in in reality, not so much. I will be paying someone to do that for me in the future!

One of our favorite topics here is food and nutrition. The main food that is grown in Malawi is corn. People make the most money (which doesn't seem like much) from corn and they eat a ton of it. The corn is not very nutrient-rich and the food they make - called nsima - is made of corn that has been pounded and sifted until it is flour. There are basically no nutrients left. But, the people love it. Nsima is a part of almost every meal.

The thing that I find really interesting though is that we have been told that corn is not a traditional Malawian crop. However, it has become such a staple that it is now part of the culture here. So, what is our role as volunteers when we know that nsima may not be the healthiest option?

I am super excited to start a garden where I can grow diverse veggies year-round. Hopefully, by showing that other foods can grow throughout the year, others will see the benefits. Some of the foods we cooked today included all the food groups in one meal and were familiar to Malawian tastes! Change is slow, so I feel that if I can educate even a few people, maybe that is enough. It is a start.

Yesterday, at the district hospital I saw a woman and her baby who were so malnourished that they were literally skin and bones. There is a lot of work to do here that goes beyond arguments about food and culture. I hope that I am able to help.

* Thanks to my friend J. J. for posting my blogs. I am at homestay for another week and a half in a village without electricity or running water. Love to all and please send letters and lots of chocolate!!

The Courage to Change

Today is my 5th day in Dedza, Malawi, at the College of Forestry. For 4 days we have been in training from 8am to 5 or 6 or 8pm. The days are long and we are learning so much. Yesterday was the first day of technical training for the work we will be doing in health. Suddenly, all the education I had during undergrad on women's health in Africa came rushing back along with the idealism I had at the time. It is hard to believe that I am fulfilling some of these dreams now - 8 years later.

Malawi is amazing. The sights so far are breathtaking, the colors vivid, the people are endlessly generous. It is called the "warm heart of Africa" and I am understanding why. From the little bit we have learned about the cultural differences, I can tell that there are new values that I will be learning. For instance, Malawians do not rush out to work, they rush out to greet one another.

But, we have come here to help. Some of the things we will do are very simple such as teaching about mosquito nets, water purification, hand washing or vitamins. The question came up in class - why, if these things are so simple, do Malawians not do them? This question made me think about myself and those I know. We all have things in our lives that if only we changed, we could be healthier and potentially live longer. Changing behaviors is never easy. Many behaviors are also tied to cultural or social norms and in that case larger change needs to happen. But, I think there is a common human thread that change doesn't come easily and hopefully by working together we can all change in some way that helps us move forward.

Truth or Dare

I can't believe that tomorrow is the day. I have packed and re-packed and stressed and obsessed and I think I'm done. It has been a wonderful week. I have had so many amazingly fun experiences. My bff was in town for a few days and I am so glad she was able to come. Sunday night was incredible. We visited all our favorite Louisville spots and had some truly lovely company. You just can't plan a night like that. I have captured so many mental pictures that will help ease my sadness about not seeing my friends and family for the next two years. 

Yes, there was a mean game of truth or dare! 

And, my new adventure seems to relate to truth or dare in some ways. It is like one long dare and I've challenged myself to give it a shot. I'm probably going to eat some weird things and will certainly be pushed out of my comfort zone. And, I have to approach the entire experience with an open and honest heart. 

I am nervous but I'm looking forward to meeting new friends tomorrow. I can't wait to see the African landscape. And elephants. And night cats!!!

I am stepping into the next phase of my life but I am taking so many tools and gifts with me. I am so grateful for all the loving support I have received. I even had a surprise gift the other day. As I was cleaning out the car I found an ipod shuffle. It had been Erika's and in the past year and a half that I've had the car, I had never seen it. It is full of music that she played in the coffee shop! It feels like a gentle nudge from her spirit. I am headed in the right direction. 

I accept the dare. 

Packing for Malawi

As promised, I wanted to give an idea of what I'm planning to pack for Malawi. It has been very useful to see what other people list, so I thought this might be useful to someone else at some point. This is getting very close to being the final version unless I end up paring down due to lack of room.

Clothes:

• 4-6 long skirts
• leggings for biking
• 1 nice work outfit (warm for pre-service orientation in Philly)
• 1 going-out outfit
• a few collared shirts (required at training)
• sweatshirt
• tank tops 
• lots of undies
• jacket, windbreaker jacket
• ankle socks
• slips
• 2 regular bras and 3 sports bras
• hiking boots (cute new ones!!)
• tennis shoes
• dress flats
• flip flops
• swim suit
• PJ's
• 1 pair jeans

Toiletries 

• shampoo
• nice smelling bar soap
• face wash & face towelettes 
• bare minerals makeup 
• Hairspray/Gel
• Deodorant
• Sunscreen/Aloe
• razors
• hair cutting scissors 
• OBs (enough for 3 months)
• hand sanitizer 
• Advil
• Zyrtec
• Vitamins 
• small jewelry 

Entertainment/Work 

• laptop
• flash drive
• discman with headphones & speaker
• CDs
• notebook
• playing cards & uno
• stationary & stamps
• several great books (including my all time favorite - Meridian) 
• notecards & highlighter for language learning 
• travel watercolor set, paper, brush and colored pencils
• camera
• seeds
• travel purse 
• photos
• stuffed animal

Tools, Etc

• headlamp (I found a pink one!)
• sleeping bag and sleep sack
• towel & washcloth
• kitchen knife
• peeler
• can opener
• leatherman
• wrinkle release spray
• water bottle
• teago
• converters
• sewing kit
• ziplocks
• rechargeable batteries
• umbrella
• camping plate, cup & utensils 

Other

• host gift (Louisville towels and bouncy balls for the kids)

What we are meant to know will come to our knowledge without any action on our part.

Today has been such a wonderful day. The sun was brilliant and I was able to spend a lot of time enjoying the beauty of this city and lingering a few extra moments with good friends. 

I said my first farewell last night to Amber. We have spent so much time together over the past few months, creating our dance piece, Re:Union which premiered last night. The timing of our collaboration was perfect. Now we are all going in different, life-changing directions but we remain connected. The bond of dance is strong so I know we'll continue to be a part of each others journeys. It isn't easy to say goodbye. The words are difficult and the emotions are strong and mixed with feelings of sadness and excitement. Kind of like my part in Re:Union, Joy & Sorrow from The Prophet. You cannot know one without the other. 

This week will be full of visits with friends and family. I'm looking forward to these moments because they tend to be filled with robust and honest conversations. It will be my last week at work and while it will be difficult to leave CWF, I know it is time for me to move on and for others to pursue their new paths there. I will never forget my time at CWF. It has been four and a half years filled with learning, challenges, and many personal and professional successes. 

Leaving is also difficult for me because I have such limited knowledge about what I am walking into. I like to have a plan and as my brother said tonight, ten contingency plans as well. I must say that I have been quite obsessed with packing for this trip over the past week. It might be that this is one thing I can control at the moment, so I'm overdoing it with the packing planning. I know I won't do it perfectly but I am doing it the best way I can. (Sometime before I leave, I will post my packing list since I've found others' lists so helpful.) 

For me, this experience is a lesson in accepting the unknown. Today, our yoga instructor spoke of letting go, and knowing that if we are confident in our path, our destiny will occur without any effort.