Goodbye Nkhata Bay *sigh*

These past few days have been blissful, even though I know I really should finish my report. The first day I got there I hung out at Mayoka beach (I was staying at Mayoka Lodge), went into “town” when there was a big football (soccer) match outside the Nkhata Bay Prison and walked around. The next day I went to Chikale Beach (tinier than I thought) where I saw people washing their clothes in the bay. It was kind of funny. Then some guys kept trying to holler at me; I think they wanted to sell me some mj. On a separate occasion, I met some Rastafarians who were trying to get Malawi to recognize their religion and legalize ganja. Then yesterday I relaxed at the lodge, then finally had my butterfish! I’ve met some really interesting people on this trip:

There were two French girls who were cycling through Africa.
Then I met another British guy who cycled from the UK down to Africa.
There were two Belgian guys who had spent 4 months in Central America, now 5 months in Africa, and will spend some more months in Asia.

It’s kinda cool meeting all these people. Only in Africa!

Today I woke up at 5 to take a 8.5 hour bus ride to Lilongwe, the capitol. I lugged about 20 kg of stuff (carrying them front and back) for about 20 minutes trying to get to the bus depot. Why did I let my parents and brothers convince me to bring the “gifts” and candy?! I only brought 2 pairs of pants, 5 shirts, and a skirt. (I bought more skirts here.) But my bags are so heavy! I hope that by the time I return to the U.S., I’ll only have one bag!

Anyway, this bus ride was supposed to be made in half the time. We stopped so many times that I had about four different passengers sitting next to me throughout. One of them kept leering over my shoulder to look out the window so that she could make sure no one was stealing her katundu. The bus was filled with wafts of body odor, usipa (dried fish), and a little bit of feces. The bus hardly stopped for anyone; everyone had about 20 seconds to run after the bus and hop on. A kid had to stop pooping so that he and his mom could get on the bus, otherwise the bus would take off without them. And of course, a true African experience is not complete without the overcrowding buses with reggae music blaring through the speakers.

And now I’m camping somewhere in Lilongwe. :)

Hello Nkhata Bay!

Today I woke up at 5 am, packed up my katundu and left Livingstonia for good. I was sad but I was glad that I was able to see one last beautiful sunrise during my journey to the lakeshore.

Five hours later, after cramming with 16 others in a minibus, I arrived at Nkhata Bay. For the first time since I’ve been here, I was able to touch the lake! And they really don’t call it “Lake of the Stars” for no reason. It’s so beautiful and peaceful. Then, as I was chatting with the owner of a hostel here, out of the kindness of his heart, he offered me a chalet room for the same price that I was going to pay for a dorm! I don’t know why people in Malawi treat me so well. First I got a free ride from the airport to Lilongwe. Then I got this nice 3-bedroom house in Livingstonia all to myself. Then I got a free month of visa extension at the Immigration Office. And now I have a freakin’ awesome chalet. I hope that my charm will keep working ‘till the very end!

Goodbye Livingstonia

I hate saying goodbyes. I’m going to miss Livingstonia. It was a beautiful place to live and I had amazing mornings waking up to a beautiful view. The people here are wonderful too. I had a great cook who made me cakes and stew and empanadas. I had a really sweet toothless night watchman who always liked to chat. Then there were the Fabulous Four I worked with, just awesome people who work hard and are committed to the people. As they bade me farewell, they thanked me for being so free with them so that they could be free with me. They thought that they wouldn’t be able to work with me because I looked like a “little girl” but they realized how mature I was and learned from me.

Sometimes I got so tired of hearing about how our world was being run by politicians who’d divert all aid money to their accounts or how chiefs got corrupted by NGO “hand-outs”. And I got tired of people asking me for money and the clothes on my back all the time. There were a lot of “Give me’s”. It was really encouraging to see that there were actually people who cared about their work and weren’t just doing it for the money. Of course there were a lot of politics (and I had never dealt with so much of it before), but they didn’t let the politics get to them. They just saw it as a mountain to overcome with happy people waving at the other side. :) This was refreshing for me.

And now I’m off to Nkhata Bay for a few days. I was growing weary of staring at the lake everyday and not being able to touch it! After playing at the beach, I’ll head down to Lilongwe and meet up with some old friends. I’m hoping to see my training homestay family in Dedza, another teacher friend in Ntcheu, then some other friends in Blantyre, including one who’s running a street children nonprofit. Finally I’ll go back to my home in Chiradzulu and see all my wonderful friends again, especially the old agogo I so loved. I hope that she’s still alive and strong at 84. I am so excited!

Happy Father's Day!

I thought I’d share my dad’s greatest fatherhood moment.

When I was about 5 or 6, we were staying in Hong Kong and my mom had just left for the U.S. Being the crybaby I was, I was inconsolable when she left. My dad did what any self-righteous inconsolable woman would do: eat at McDonald’s. So he bought me my two favorite foods at the time: ice cream and French fries. That night, I had stomach pains and could not stop crying (again). Concerned, he took me to the hospital and the doctor told him it was simply stomach gas. And it was probably a good idea to stop feeding me ice cream and French fries.

But I think that his greatest fatherhood moment with my brother is so much funnier, because he actually loses a kid.

Anyway, I just wanted to say Happy Father’s Day, Dad!

Polygamy in Malawi

Last week, Tablespoon and I made household visits, because, you know, we wanted to see their latrines and all that fun stuff. We had visited a house with two wives. O.K., so it was pretty common to have two wives. Even my cook has two wives (and 13 children and 18 grandchildren). Then we visited another house with four wives. Four wives!!!! This man, wow, he had four wives. Each of them had their own house, but three lived on the same compound and even had to share the same toilet and bath rooms! The fourth one lives at the lakeshore and doesn’t have to share anything except the man. I asked Tablespoon if it was common for Malawian men to have four wives and he responded, “Even 20!”

Then Tablespoon pointed at me and said, “Mama Ellen, you will be the fifth.”

I retorted, “No, I have to be the first.” No way I’m going to be a concubine!

All I could do was ponder how polygamy thrives here. I can’t remember if I’d met anyone during my Peace Corps stint with four wives… although many polygamous marriages in the south are usually inconspicuous anyway, especially for those who call themselves Christians. But in the north, they still practice bride prices and instead of the husbands moving to their wives’ homes, the wives all move to the husband’s homes. It makes inconspicuous marriages, like those I’d seen in the south, rarer.

But I don’t know what marriage means to Malawians here. It’s usually a process that involves uncles meeting uncles and giving their approvals, that is followed with approvals from the chiefs. In the north, you buy the woman and she moves into your home. Bride prices can usually cost around MK200,000 (about $1333), so that means the man spent almost $6,000 on wives. Not bad considering how much it might cost an American man to date a woman (a BMW might just win her over). If it all ends, the American man is penniless and the woman ecstatic about her car. And if the husband in Malawi dies, then his brother gets her.

But in the south, the husbands move to the wives’ homes, which really, just make it so much more difficult to track the husband’s wives. One of the youths I worked with had “married” two women without each other’s knowledge (and I guess without the uncles’ knowledge). Of course drama ensued as the wives discovered each other and fought one another; a child died from malaria; and he took off with both wives’ money. Last I had seen him was in Lilongwe after I had finished my service, and I could barely look at him. Yet for others, marriage meant “I-got-her-pregnant-and-now-I-will-move-into-her-home-and-she-will-feed-me”.

I told Tablespoon, “If a Malawian man wants to marry me, he has to know that I’m very expensive. I will cost 200 cows, hundreds of acre of land, and at least five nice cars.”

More pictures!

Pictures!

1.5 million year old fossils

Last week, some people and I went on a trip close to the Zambian border. Somewhere between Karonga and Livingstonia at Uliwa, we stopped for an archaeological visit. There was an unexcavated site where old snail shells and alligator fossils still remain. 1.5 million years old all untouched. Some new shells from the lakeshore washed up to the old. The ancient meets the new:

Motorbike Lessons

I’ve been learning how to ride a motorbike the past few weeks and I have to say it’s harder than it looks!

Lesson #1: Turn wider than usual. It seems the slightest turn is not enough on a dirt road, so I have to make wider turns and I stalled when I made a turn once.

Lesson #2: Slow down at every turn. Those darn tall grass can hide vehicles and people well!

Lesson #3: Don't freak out. My counterpart (also my bike trainer who’s a jolly old man and likes to call himself “Tablespoon”) didn’t let me go past 20 kmph until today. He even let me navigate the tricky rocky turns. But at one point, I skidded on some pebbles (those are the worst!) when going downhill and we almost fell but Tablespoon just laughed and patted me, saying that I “was ready” and managed to stay steady without falling. Whew!