Reflection

So it's been a week and a half since I have been back. It kind of terrifies me that I made the transition back so easily. Maybe because I landed right in the middle of a hospitalization and graduation so I did not have time to wonder about my ability to swallow shower water, my lack of a bed net, and the plentiful abundance of money dripping from everywhere in the U.S. (in comparison at least, I do realize that poverty is a problem here as well).

Jennifer, Tim (the next researcher looking for gender information), Phil and I went to a country club in Lilongwe the last week and to me that was the biggest culture shock. I mean, what is the point of an overseas assignment if you just hang out a place like that all the time? It was very very odd. Just like being at a country club anywhere. Somehow, that was stranger than coming home. Maybe I wasn't gone long enough :)

So just a few final words about my time in Malawi and my return.

I have a feeling the hard part of this assessment is just beginning, but I will keep that stuff out of the blog. Let's just say that there is still plenty of work ahead.

I had a great time in Malawi. It confirmed for me that I do want to try and pursue this type of work (so if anyone has any great connections in terms of a job- I am all ears). It also confirmed that I would like to do a longer stint overseas- I can only hope that will work out in some way. Ninety-seven percent of the people I worked with in Malawi - local and expat alike were so helpful. While I am still waiting for some information to make its way into my hands, I remain hopeful that I can be pesky enough to get it soon. I am impressed and inspired by the people I interacted with, many of whom make very very little and work incredibly hard and under very limiting conditions. I am also touched by the Malawian students that I met who are so dedicated to their education and to the teachers who are even less appreciated that teachers here in the States.

I wish I had time to tell you about Freshwater Project and all the good work that Charles is doing providing boreholes to communities all over the country. Or Jennifer who has built a reading room in a local village that is giving many children the ability to visit a "library" for a few hours a day for the very first time. Or DTED, an organization in rural areas that has started a program for dropouts that will catch them up so they can re enroll in school. I could go on and on.

Things that I will miss: chicken peri-peri, nsima, beautiful sunsets and bright stars, the kindness of strangers, the call to prayer. Those are just little silly things to miss. Mostly I will miss being surrounded by people that are so gracious, giving, and happy despite being very poor. They do not consider themselves poor and will share their very last food and drink with a guest.

What I will not miss: seeing men hanging around the bottle store in the middle of the day. I will not go into this very much. I will say this: many Malawian men work quite hard. I am sure the majority do. The women work extraordinarily hard all day and all night. You never ever see women sitting around. Enough said.

I will not miss existing in a cash only economy - my debit and credit cards are my new favorite thing. I DO NOT miss tucking myself under the bed net at night and still waking up with 10 new bites from who knows what insect. I will not miss being stared at, but I got used to it by the end actually.

I highly, highly recommend going to Malawi on vacation. It is an undiscovered gem in Africa. Go. Soon.

So, now just some words of thanks. Thank you to my parents who always support me even if they are not wild about my far flung travels. Thank you to my mom for calling to chat for 5 minutes almost everyday, that was very sweet. Thank you to my dad for insisting he know the location and phone number of each place I stayed even if he only called once and a while. Thank you to my mother's parents - to my grandmother for missing me so much and to my grandfather who read my blog although he never reads anything online. A particular thank you to my father's parents without whom my graduate education and this experience would not have been possible (and to my uncle who helped them help me). Really, thank you to all my family (to the Jones family for that headlamp- lifesaver! and my uncle for always being sweet to me). Thank you to Phil who came to visit and tried something new with me, that was amazing. He even stayed positive when he came down with a bug post trip and had to be hospitalized (boo I have no illness to show for my two months), insisting to leave the hospital to go to graudation with me and Lace!!!! Thank you to Jennifer for being such a kind friend to me (and Deliwe too!). Thank you to my TC girls who inspired me and supported me and did not laugh at me and my novice concerns. Thank you to my cousin for always commenting on my blog and to Kelly for sending me silly emails that made me laugh at my various situations. Thank you to everyone in Malawi who helped me.

Thank YOU for reading.

Tiwonana

I had big plans to post a final two blogs but have run out of time. I hope that my dedicated readers will tune in for my post script that I promise to write ASAP.

You never know what adventure awaits...will Ethiopian Airlines loose my luggage (in which case I will throw beyond a major hissy fit)? Will I make my connection? Will everything run smoothly?

Take a peek and see what happens! I will also include some FRUSTRATIONS, DELIGHTS, and SURPRISES.

Thank for being so dedicated and "tiwonana" for now.

Lions, and hippos, and giraffes ...oh my

I promise to have a few more content-heavy posts soon about my impressions, frustrations, and successes here in Malawi. But for now there are more important things to discuss. Like lions and lion cubs.

So Phil and I were in Zambia for a very brief safari and it was heaven.

It was heaven after the Zambian border officials blatantly pocketed out $270 dollar entry fee (we know this because we did not sign the entry book or get a receipt) followed by 4 hours on the most bumpy, unpaved road imaginable. I swear my kidneys, spleen, and front teeth (hahahaha for those of you who know about them) fell out along the way. But the icing on the cake was when our driver almost killed four small children. I can blog about this lightly because he did not - but that moment was the most terrifying I have had here. Our driver was speeding (normal) on a narrow road that was going through a village. There were plenty of people on either side of the road and in the road of course. Bikes galore. Anyway, there was a bike in front of it and the driver tapped the horn. Unfortunately (mostly for us) this guy had headphones on and did not move. In turn, the driver swerved off the road to miss the guy. Now, the American equivalent of what happened was this. Imagine a speeding SUV driving through a suburban neighborhood on a summer evening. People are out- chatting on their front lawns. Coming home from work. Enjoying the balmy weather. Kids are playing in yards...a few have started a lemonade stand. So the SUV drives up on the sidewalk suddenly headed right for the lemonade stand.

Sadly, kids here in Malawi and Zambia (in this case) have to be much quicker and tougher - but on this occasion it served them well and they dove out of the way in time.

After that we (there was another couple in the car with us) insisted that he slow down. He assured us that he would have hit the cyclist before hitting the kids. Considering he was going over 100km per hour I actually stopped breathing thinking about what that would have meant. Having been hit by a car on my bike as a kid this scenario terrifies me. Luckily, the worst did not happen.

We were happy to arrive at the camp and get out of the car and take in the scenic beauty of our spot on the Luangwa River. Just a few hours later a hippo was grazing inches from our tent. Not feet from a chalet with a foundation this time. Inches from a pitched tent. Again, I was in heaven. Phil was a little nervous (for good reason). This was only the first of many close, close, CLOSE encounters of the animal kind. On our final night the watchmen had to scare away an unhappy elephant who woke us all up with his displeased trumpeting.

Between that first night and last night there were so many incredible moments its hard to know what was the highlight so please pardon my superlative overload. Was it the nursing lion cubs feet away, the family of giraffes that surrounded our truck, the glorious sunsets and sunrises, the scuffling baboons, the fighting impalas, the elusive spraying leopard, the herds of zebra, or maybe the bull elephant? Hard to say. Really really hard.

I think it might have been the lion cubs for me.

Those of you may know my love of felines...one in particular:

We spent about 25 minutes from this pride (zoom is not in use in this photo) and it felt like 25 seconds. The cubs were crying to be fed- I could hear them breathing. I have video!!!!

I thought of my other cat loving friends out there and my mother who would have been on cloud 9. Owners of Stella, Lucy and Domingo, Cloe (aka "cat"), Karma, and Nico and Maizy, this was a moment I wish I could have shared with you. "Toilet" if only you had been there with me.

I never was tired at getting up at 5 when this was waiting for me.
Baboon aggression

The most dangerous animal in Africa (deceiving because they look like giant pigs, but when one is literally staring you in the eye - thank god they have poor eyesight- you shudder at their massive size and huge jaws)

Count how many zebra in the shot

Giraffes were what I wanted to see most and I had a knack for spotting them. I think its because secretly I have always felt like a giraffe...awkward with knobby knees.

This was the only moment my heart raced a bit with anxiety. We were a little too close for the comfort of this male and he had no problem telling us to back off.Happy happy campers.

Our Zambia safari was a lovely end of my much needed week off. Back to reality....after we retrace our bumpy steps.

Gone on Holiday

So I don't have much to report from the Lake vacation (thank god). I guess our adventure was over after the first 12 hours which I already have reported. My mass of bites (over 20) began to heal. My sanity and patience began to be restored (I am having some "issues" with my organization that I won't delve into). I enjoyed the complete trash that I requested: US Weekly and Glamor. Phil and I never tired of the twinkling fishing lights, the total isolation, and the sound of the waves. Below are just a few shots of the spectacular scenery.

Phil on the porch in front of our chalet
Sunset view from "Eve's Drop"

Baboon drinking from the pool (just one today - usually there was a whole family when I didn't have the camera)

At Eve's Drop

Senga Bay Part Two: Paradise Found

I am currently staring out from our beautiful chalet perched in a forest reserve overlooking the lake. By night the lights twinkle across the lake from the fishing boats from the local village. By day the baboons play in the trees below our porch and drink from the pool in front of the lodge. I could not be happier. I have found my paradise on the lake.

In fact, why am I writing this? It’s time to stroll down to the private beach and start the day.

Senga Bay Part One: Don't let the bedbugs bite

I am covered. Cover in the bites of who knows what. Sand fleas, bed bugs, mosquitos? In the space of 24 hours I have amassed more bites than I have in the past five weeks combined. That is what happens when you try to have a beach vacation on the cheap.

Phil arrived in Lilongwe from DC on Friday and we headed out to the lake first thing on Saturday for a relaxing few days in the sun in an attempt to dim the blinding white of our skin (of course with the protection of 45 suncream).

It was supposed to be a short trip out to the lake; the whole reason for selecting Senga Bay is it’s proximity to Lilongwe. But nothing is ever a “short trip.” I think the experience may have been a bit of culture shock for Phil, but he handled it well.

After I got into an argument with the taxi cab driver about the price to drop us at the bus depot, which resulted in him returning us to the hotel promptly and cursing at me in Chichewa, we were able to find a more reasonable ride.

We were one of the first people on the minibus however which means you get to sit there until the thing fills up all the while being pressed to buy soda, toothpaste, wrestling DVDs, socks, eggs, sweets, muffins, and rosary beads. We finally were on our way after I again, got into a little tiff with someone who wanted to just talk English with me. I said very politely that I just didn’t feel like talking and I hoped that was alright. It was not alright. After he accused me of “not praying” which I assume was his way of saying I wasn’t being very Christian, he left me alone. I hope that I am not becoming hardened too quickly. I still have conversations with about at least 3-4 total strangers a day but sometimes enough is enough, especially when I can tell that the conversation is going to end with being asked for money. I have a pretty good radar for that now.

Anyway, after a pleasant, yes PLESANT – can you believe it, minibus ride to Salima we hopped in a matola to head out to the beach. Now I haven’t been in a matola yet. A matola is essentially a very low-riding pick-up truck. I think they ride so low because the amount of stuff they have piled into the flatbed over the years has totally eroded the suspicion.

So in we got for the cramped ride out to the bay. We stopped along the way because there was a funeral procession blocking the rode which was quite touching to watch.

The entire village was walking behind another matola which was carrying the body. Solemn singing filled the air and the entire roadside market grew quiet until the procession had passed.

Then, as quickly as the funeral party had appeared, they were gone and as if someone flipped a switch, the mood in the market changed and we were on our way again.

We opted to walk down the road 30 minutes to Carolina’s instead of paying because by that time we were desperate to stretch our legs. Tosh, a dreadlocked local, Carlsberg beer in hand decided to join us for the walk and regaled us with stories of the trips he runs out to the local lizard island (home to monitor lizards) and intently discussed the English Premier League with Phil.

Finally. We were there. Our paradise on the beach. Or not.

I had reserved our own beach chalet thinking that was the top of the line. It was a very dimly lit hut, with numerous cracks in the walls, an ant infestation in the bathroom and sand everywhere. Normally I try to stay places were I can see pictures on a website – but this place had come recommended so I made an exception.

Unfortunately, it seems that there have been problems as of late. The manager was no where to be found, and as we later heard, business has been rapidly dropping off in recent weeks in response to the decline in quality.

Still, we decided to make the best of it and settled in on the sand with a couple Carlsberg’s.

After a night filled with slapping whatever was biting us and trying to sleep through the constant barking of a dog that started howling at 11pm and did not stop for breath until 7am we had had enough.

I promptly called the other place I had been longing to stay which was double the price (hence the reason we were not staying there) and asked when the soonest was they could pick us up.

Side note: I believe that Carolina’s was and will be an excellent place to say – I think it just has hit a rough spot as other owners in the area later told us.

Actual and metaphorical roadblocks

So I am sorry to have been so delinquent in writing this past week. My time in Zomba passed relatively uneventfully. Just enjoyed the good company of Jennifer (www.malawinme.blogspot.com), the beautiful hiking on the Zomba Plataue, and managed to squeeze in a few meetings and a trip to the National Statistics Office.

Actually, there was a bit more to it than that.

The main reason I went to Zomba (aside from the Statistics Office) and the research center on education at Chancellor College was I was told that I would find all the higher education information at the University of Malawi Administrative Offices. Having found very little information on tertiary education I was pretty eager to start collecting some of that data ASAP.

However, I ran into my first roadblock when I met with the University Registrar. He was very professional and explained to me the various steps I would need to take to “request” permission to collect data at the various institutions and that I would need to return to Blantyre to collect that information at each university not at headquarters in Zomba.

Ok. Minor setback. I was only an hour from Blantyre at that point so it was better to find that out now, rather than in Lilongwe which is a good four hours by bus from Blantyre.

So I went about writing a letter explaining the project and who I was and what information I was looking for. My contact at the City Assembly also provided a letter corroborating that I was working with then and UNDP. These were the steps that I was told to take.

You can imagine my dismay when I went to pick up my letter on my way to Blantyre three days later to find that it was a rejection and it detailing the additional steps I needed to take to request permission. What was I going to do now?

I was able to provide a CV, but there was no way I had the research prospectus, an additional two letters of recommendation, or an established research affiliation with a University if Malawi Center. Luckily, after explaining to the Pro-Vice Chancellor that this was not my own independent research and that I had already met with the director of the research center, he agreed to provide me with a letter. But added there was no way I could get all the information in a day, which is what I had.

I decided to make the best of it and see what I could accomplish during my afternoon in Blantyre. Luckily, I found where the money is at in education in Malawi: the universities. Everyone I spoke with was incredibly helpful and assured me that they would send me what I was looking for via EMAIL!!! We will see how that goes.

So Jennifer and I headed back to Zomba under the cover of darkness. And ran into roadblock, after roadblock. Or should I say police check point?

I am not going to go into great detail over my impression of police here in Malawi, but I will say that these checkpoints can be a bit intimidating. The best you can do is be friendly and hope that no one takes issue with anything you say or the condition of your vehicle, etc. (basically a reason to charge you a fee)

How are you this evening Madame?

Fine, and how are you?

Fine, fine and where are you coming from?

We were in Blantyre.

Oh yes, and was that business or pleasure?

A little of both.

And where are you headed now?

Back to Domasi.

You live there?

Yes, I teach at the college there. (Jennifer is the one speaking here)

Ah, good.

Well, do you usually find yourself driving at night?

Here is where I am at a loss about how to respond. I can tell that Jennifer is too. At least, how do you respond in a way that is not flippant ie “Well, the sun went down, so now it’s dark, and we still had to get home.”

Well, our business kept us in Blantyre all afternoon, and then we had something to eat, and now we are headed back…..

Ah, good, well have a nice evening.

Whew. We overcame the roadblocks for the week.