Our Friend Frank

When we got home from Nkhata Bay on Sunday, we found our back yard was transformed.
(The picture to the left shows Ryan Dugan, Matt Meyers, and Frank Kassandah digging out stumps from the 15-some Blue Gum trees we chopped down to make way for our garden. Blue Gum trees drink an excessive amount of water out of the soil and increases the acidity of the soil. We were extremely happy to knock them down.)



Last week, Matt, Molly, and Frank (one of our student workers) picked up a whole truck-load of rice-stalks to provide ground cover for our garden. Before we left for our weekend in Nkhata Bay, the rice-stalks were still in several massive piles outside our bedroom doors. However, when we returned home, the rice-stalks were neatly spread throughout our yard, with small sticks indicating the locations of the holes we had dug for tree-planting, and with the paths, which had been only previously drawn in the sand, now fully realized. When we asked Alick what had happened, he said in a very straightforward way, “Frank did it.”

Apparently Frank spent several hours on Saturday filling in the holes with manure, leveling the ground, spreading the rice-stalks, and making the paths—an incredible gift to us. This was something we had not asked him to do, and this was something he had no need to do; Frank amazes me.

Today, my appreciation of Frank continues to grow.

Matt and I accompanied Frank back to his house for the afternoon. He walked us through Chaminade’s campus, out into the village, and then down roads I had never gone. After about twenty minutes of walking, we veered of the road to find his modest yet beautiful clay house. After Frank changed, leaving us some time to play with his dog Spider, we walked down a winding path through his family’s property. Their land is a beautiful land owned by Frank’s uncle. Frank’s uncle allows Frank and his mom to farm the land, and you can tell they do a good job. We soon met the Lukula River, which cuts right along the edge of their property. Frank watered some of the plants in the garden that rests feet from the river. His mom soon arrived and greeted us in the local language. We could only share a few words, and we all laughed gently at the fact that our genuine efforts to communicate were far too limited. Frank then hacked down several stalks of sugar-cane, and the three of us enjoyed fresh sugar-cane while chatting with one another. The afternoon was a delight, but only mildly so compared to the delight it is to know Frank. Though the afternoon was simple, it was more than I could ask for: a simple sharing of time and friendship.

Matt and Frank have already begun to develop a beautiful friendship, and I hope that I can get to know Frank more. I cannot currently describe Frank in an adequate way, but I can say that he is one of the most modest, humble, hard-working, generous, kind-hearted, and friendly young men I have ever met. Frank is the same age as Matt and I, born just a few months after us. He is still in his third year of secondary school, but I feel that he carries more wisdom and understanding than Matt and I carry together.
This is just a taste of our friend Frank. I think he’s great, and I hope to share more about him in the months and years to come.

A Weekend In Western World

This weekend my community made a trip to Myoka Village, a small resort on Lake Malawi located in Nkhata Bay, about 5 hours south of Karonga. This trip was in honor of Ryan Dugan, the volunteer who has been here for about 14 months who will be leaving next week. Ryan and the other volunteers had been to Myoka a number of times in the past year, and they found it to be a very refreshing taste of home. I, however, found it to be a bit overwhelming.

To begin with, the five hour ride on mini-buses is pretty draining. Imagine riding in a mini-van without air-conditioning with up to 21 other people. 22 was the top number I counted on the trip down. Riding in mini-buses is actually pretty fun, and I’m looking forward to more experiences in the mini-buses here in Africa. In all the experiences I’ve already had, there has always been something fun, interesting, exciting, or entertaining; however, they are far from luxury.

Then, once we arrived to Myoka, we walked into the main dining hall where we were met by somewhere between 20-30 white faces staring at us; I was literally hit with shock. This was the most white people I had seen in two months. I was expecting there to be other white people at this small resort, but I was not expecting the reality of it to shock me the way it did; and I didn’t like it.

Myoka is definitely a little tourist spot, catered to the white, western traveler looking for a cheap place to stay where they can eat, drink, and act like they were back home, away from Africa. I didn’t know what I was doing there. I had spent months preparing to leave home, working hard to raise money so that I could travel here, thousands of miles away from home, and yet there I was, plopped in a little resort that was designed to feel like the developed and western world from which I came.

Sure, I enjoyed and indulged in the food, I had a blast swimming in the water, and I was really happy to see another part of Africa. But in this context, in this place where so many people struggle to get the nutrition they need, where the health care is lacking at best, and where the education system is grasping to get by, I felt totally out of place; it seemed so unjust.

One benefit to the weekend was that it gave me a taste of what I will probably experience when I go back home, and it gave me foresight into the challenge it will be to adjust back to the US—and I’ve only been here for two months. However, that challenge is part of why I wanted to come here. One of my hopes for coming here was to place myself in the middle of the enormous gap between the rich and the poor so that, maybe, I could discern some way to bring the two a little bit closer together.

I’m not there yet, but my experience this weekend tells me that I’m heading in the right direction.

Time Stamps

I just found out how to adjust the time zone for my time stamps! I don't have to adjust them from US time to Malawi time anymore! Woo Hoo!

Some Thoughts on Poverty

Recently, I was reading a blog of a friend who is volunteering in Ecuador. She shared some of the thoughts she is having in response to living in an impoverished country, and so she inspired me to shoot out some of my own.

It's not much, but these are some brief words I shared with her:

I’m finding the struggle is not in living in one of the world’s poorest countries, but rather, the struggle for me is in knowing that despite the fact that I’m here, I am still so far from actually being in it. The color of my skin, my educational background, the 20-some years of living with excellent health care, even my meager stipend, all of it separates me from actually knowing what it is to live like the poor. It is an immense struggle to deal with the fact that there is, for the time being, little that I can do to narrow the gap between the privilege I possess and the poverty that the people around me are faced to handle.

Just some thoughts to chew on. I'm quite excited to feel content posting a blog that isn't 700 words. :)

"How does one control these types of feelings?"

I think I'm going to like teaching. But it's also going to be quite a challenge.

As I mentioned in a previous post, last week was my first time teaching a class. In my Social Studies class, we are currently covering the topic of Adolescence. I'm teaching them about the physical and psychological changes that occur and the opportunities and challenges that arise during that time.

(By the way, I must send a giant thank you to Dr. Picca and the Sociology of Sexuality class I took during my last term at UD. If it weren't for that course, talking about puberty and the physical changes of adolescence would have been a million times more difficult. But thanks to that class, I was not only able to talk about the topic with confidence and ease, but it was actually quite fun and fulfilling to be informing these students about things that some Malawian teachers would steer miles away from.)

One of the subtopics under psychological changes is Interest In The Opposite Sex. (Soc. of Sex. Sidenote: Malawi is most definitely a heavily heterocentric society, so I might have been deported if I introduced the possibility of someone actually being interested in the same sex. Maybe when I'm teaching the course next year I'll look into bringing up that issue. For this year, I'm just going to try to stick to the curriculum the government has asked me to teach: baby steps.) The textbook explained that "it is natural for boys and girls to begin having romantic feelings for the opposite sex." I could get into the sex and gender issues of Malawi, but I think I will hold off on that discourse until I get more familiar with things here. The point of this blog is focused on the types of questions I have already begun receiving as a teacher.

When I passed over the point about romantic feelings, one student raised his hand and asked, "What does 'romantic feelings' mean?" After I explained that romantic feelings are feelings of attraction and love, which cause you to desire to spend time with them, another boy, quite genuinely, raised his hand and asked, "How does one control these types of feelings?"

A bit taken back, I paused. A few students snickered and smiled, and I wasn't exactly sure how to answer the question. As an escape, I offered, "That is a very good question. However, it doesn't exactly fit with the material you need to know, so if you'd like, you can come ask me about that sometime out of class time. Okay?" He nodded, and we continued on with the topic.

I wasn't expecting the student to actually come ask me how one controls romantic feelings they may have for another, so I was once again stunned when a group of students followed me out of the class room stopping to say, "Sir. So how is it that you control those feelings?"

Wow, I thought. They genuinely want to know.

By no means was my response an excellent one. I knew they had recently covered a topic on virtues and vices. I drew a little from that, feeling that would be something concrete that they could take away from their inquiry. And then I suggested some ideas for converting the energy they have for the other person into energy used for constructive activities. Again, by no means was it an excellent answer. My focus here is not on my response, but rather on the question, the way it was asked, and the sincerity with which they desired guidance.

It is quite flattering to be trusted as a reliable source of information and guidance. But at the same time, it demands a solid understanding of self and of life. It requires an understanding of what can be answered and what can't be answered. It requires knowledge, and it requires humility. I think I'm going to like teaching. But it sure is going to be a challenge.

MIRACLE: A whole different spirit

Molly came home from MIRACLE for lunch yesterday and informed us that we were invited to a welcoming and farewell party for the incoming and outgoing staff members who work with MIRACLE. We had heard about this party earlier in the week, but we weren’t sure if we were invited. We heard about the party as a farewell party for Br. Bill, who has been the director of MIRACLE for some time. It turns out that Br. Bill didn’t want the party to be in honor of him, and not only were we invited, but as the new volunteers, we would be guests of honor.

I didn’t know what time the party started, so I ended up showing up late, but when I arrived, I had a seat waiting for me next to Madame Principle, the principle of MIRACLE. (I think it’s hilarious that they call here Madame Principle.)

When I arrived, I was given a snack of plantain and chicken, which was pretty delicious. Then after getting a mineral (pop), we were informed that there would be a fashion show. As the music started, several of the young, male MIRACLE teachers proceed to come out dancing in chitenje’s, skirts of fabric. They danced around, shaking their hips, and flaunting their feminine qualities. This would have been hilarious in the US, but being in the ultra conservative culture of Malawi, the humor jumped off the charts. It had everyone laughing out loud.

But this was just the beginning. Shortly thereafter, a short arm-wrestling skit between two of the male teachers began. The skit was simple, but the enthusiasm and expression of the two actors made the skit entirely entertaining. They then had a dance off, with one of them balancing a glass coke bottle on his head, which eventually fell from his head, hitting the ground and shattering all over the floor. Not too long after, they called all of the incoming staff to the center of the room for a game.

One thing you should know about Malawian parties is that they are held in a large enough room in which table and chair could be arranged in a square with the guests of honor at one end, a chairman of the program in the center of the right hand side of the guests of honor, and a wide open floor in the middle. This open floor is where all of the games, entertainment, and dancing took place.

The game they called us up for ended up being Musical Chairs, and Matt and I were the ones who made it to the finals. When the music stopped, we both grabbed the chair and began trying to position ourselves in it. I believe I rightfully won, but because of a misunderstanding about having to sit in the chair without picking it up, Matt was declared the victor, earning himself an extra mineral.

Then, shortly before dinner began, someone brought out a rope and decided that we should have a tug-of-war tournament. Four teams were put together, and we proceeded to begin the tournament. Unfortunately, the rope that was chosen was thin and ripped within the first seconds of the first tug. A delay was posted for the tournament, and dancing commenced for about fifteen minutes, after which someone immerged with a different, heavy duty rope. The first two teams pulled a rematch. My team lost and was out of the tournament. The tournament continued with some debate because the teams that lost were always on one side. Eventually, a winning team was declared, only to be followed by a few personal challenges which continued on until the chairman began to introduce the speeches.

The speeches commenced, lasting between 20-30 minutes and involving an open floor for anyone who would like to comment on the incoming or outgoing staff members. We then shared a prayer over the meal and we ate. Following the meal, the floor opened for dancing, which continued on for a few hours.

Throughout this entire evening, it was easy to see the lively spirit held by the MIRACLE staff, and the general willingness to be silly, have fun, and enjoy each others’ company. The staff at Chaminade also likes to have fun, and many of them are very enthusiastic dancers. However, there seemed to be a distinct difference between the two staffs in the way that the MIRACLE staff felt free to be goofy, silly, and just have fun. Matt and I discussed this difference, and we came up with two possible causes. For one, the staff at MIRACLE applies to work at MIRACLE, is interviewed, and is accepted on an individual basis determined by their ability to mesh with the MIRACLE mission. For Chaminade, the staff is placed at the school by the Ministry of Education, and some of them, it seems, would prefer to be elsewhere. Additionally, the position of a teacher at a secondary school is rather elite. Secondary school teachers carry a lot of status with them. In contrast, teachers at a trade school do not carry as much status, and so as a result, may not have as many reservations as someone who is placed on a pedestal as an elite member of society. In any case, there is definitely a warm, welcoming, and energetic spirit at MIRACLE that is not as apparent at Chaminade. While this makes working at MIRACLE much more attractive, I think it also calls us to try to offer whatever we can to the Chaminade community. I’d love to see the type of spirit MIRACLE already has come alive at Chaminade. We will see what we can do in the months ahead.

My First Class!

I just finished teaching my first class ever! That's pretty exciting to say! And it went quite well!

The class, however, wasn't for Chaminade, where I'm officially placed as a teacher. It was actually at MIRACLE, the trade school on the other side of campus.

Ryan Dugan, one of the former volunteers, took on a Self Awareness class at MIRACLE to help out there. Since Ryan is leaving in a little less than a month, he needed someone to take over for him. I will have two sections for the class. One section is the first year electrical students and the other is the first year carpentry students. There will be a noticeable difference between the two sections, as the electrical students are all requireed to have finished secondary school. The carpentry students, on the other hand, may not have had any secondary school.

The class is focused on things like self development, good health habits, HIV/AIDS, planning, and entrepenuership. Today, I began teaching about good health habits, a topic that I'm interested in on a personal level, and one that my psychology background has informed quite well. Since today was the electrical class, I could tell that much of the topic was a review for them. However, I could see their interest spark when I threw in some additional points about how exercise releases different endorphins, touching on how dopamine, seratonin, and norepinephrine work. It was really fun to use some of my psych knowledge, even if only on a basic level.
The carpentry class may be a bit more challenging in that, from what Ryan has informed me, they aren't as quick to respond to questions or engage in discussion. In any case, I think this will be a fun class for me, and I'm looking forward to being a little involved with MIRACLE.

Tomorrow is my first class at Chaminade. I have a section at 7AM and a section at 7:40AM. In the states, I was typically sound asleep at those times. Luckily, I'm beginning to wake up with the sunrise, which here, is sometime around 5:45AM, everyday. I never thought I'd be waking up anywhere near that time without an alarm, but it's actually pretty cool. I'll probably set an alarm for tomorrow, though, just to make sure I'm up and ready. Wish me luck, and I'll let you know how it goes.

A Change in Personnel

It is with some sadness that the MVP volunteers learned that three of the Marianist brothers here in Karonga will be leaving us soon. Due to needs in other parts of the District of East Africa, Fr. Richard, Bro. Bill, and Bro. Mazunda will be leaving at different times over the next few months. However, we won’t be left alone. With these brothers leaving, there are new brothers being moved here. Two of the three brothers coming have actually already lived and worked here, so their adjustment should be relatively easy. And from what we understand, all of the brothers who are coming are quite young and quite energetic. Apparently, all this has been in the works for some time, but I find it interesting that this is starting to happen after the struggles that have met Chaminade. I think it is a very encouraging thing that the Marianists are filling the large gaps left by the three outgoing brothers with some younger brothers who may be more able to relate and connect with the boys at Chaminade. Though I am definitely sad to see Fr. Richard, Bro. Bill, and Bro. Mazunda go, I’m very excited to meet the new brothers.

In response to the departure of these brothers, who, combined, have given over forty years of service to Chaminade and MIRACLE, Chaminade put on a grand going away party last night. It was an extremely formal event; however, I suppose every Malawian event is extremely formal by American standards. The evening was set to begin at 5PM. It seems that I am really starting to get used to things here because I was not at all surprised by the fact that we didn’t even leave our house until a quarter after six, and only did so upon hearing that Fr. Richard and Br. Bill were heading over. After some time for socializing, the program started at 6:45 and proceeded with a serious of welcomes, speeches, beverage distributions, dinner, more speeches, gift giving, and finally, dancing! This was the first event I attended where there was dancing, and boy did I love it! Though the style of dancing here is very different than in the US, it is still incredibly enjoyable. In fact, it may be even more enjoyable here, because EVERYONE dances. The dancing here is much slower and smoother, which also makes sense considering the fact that it is pretty hot here most of the year; any extravagant dancing would earn you a sweaty body in no time. But even though the dancing is slower and smoother, by no means do the Malawians mess around. Many of them are pretty hard core dancers, and there is no lack of passion, excitement, or enjoyment. It was really cool to see all the other teachers there and to see them in this light. Perhaps the best part of the night was the fact that our two cooks Alick and Vicki were able to attend. Since they both attended MIRACLE, they both have know Fr. Richard and Bro. Bill for some time. It was absolutely wonderful to sit with Alick and Vicki at the same table, right next to each other, sharing a meal, engaging in conversation, and even doing a good bit of dancing with them. It was a blast, and the evening is definitely one of my highlights here so far.

PERMACULTURE! (Part Two)

After meeting Kenneth and Dennis last week, we set up our first meeting with them for this week. This morning, the two of them met with us, surveyed our land, and sat down with us to discuss some of the fundamentals of permaculture and to develop our action plan for the next three months. Since Matt and I are already sensitized to permaculture and are gung-ho for it, we were able to get started on the planning and design. Our preliminary action plan is as follows:

September
-Planning and Design
-Uproot Blue Gum trees in our backyard. (Blue gums drain all the water in the soil and raise the soil acidity to deadly levels.)
-Mulch entire backyard and create walking paths. (Walking paths are needed so the ground is not compacted where you want to plant.)
-Create compost piles.
-Obtain manure to enrich soil.
-Develop nursery.

October
-Continue mulch, compost, and manure
-Construct fencing to keep livestock out; also, find funding for fencing.
-Construct Chicken Tractors. (Chicken Tractors are moveable chicken cages that restrict the damage chickens can do by scratching the soil while also enabling the gardener to focus their droppings in certain areas for fertilizing.)
-Plant fruit plants and water them. (Water costs big money here, so this is quite an investment.) We plan on planting a mango tree (a local breed and a hybrid), a guava tree, a paw paw tree, banana trees, an orange tree, masuko, and harare. (I don’t know what those last two are, but apparently they are great!)
-Plant the guilds. (Guilds are a major aspect of permaculture philosophy. There are seven categories of plants in a permaculture guild: food for people, food for the soil, ground coverings, protectors, supporters, diggers, and climbers. Each of those categories contains a variety of plants that support the garden in some way. It is the interaction and interdependence of these categories of plants that enable the permaculture garden to become a permanent garden. With proper planning and design, once these guilds are developed, they should take care of themselves, resulting in more abundant and more resilient produce.)

November
-Continue mulch, compost, and manure.
-Manage guilds.
-Complete guilds.
-Create any needed additional pathways.

With all of this, it’s safe to say Matt and I are quite excited. Our main concern right now is finding the funding we need for our own garden. According to Fr. Richard, one of the Marianists, Chaminade has a sizeable sum of money for food security. That money should be able to fund at least the start of our work at Chaminade. But before we get there, we need to get our model garden up and running. Ryan Dugan, one of the outgoing volunteers, has allocated some money he had received as a donation that did not already have a destination. However, Matt and I may need to do some more work to get this garden off the ground.

PERMACULTURE! (Part One)

Last week, Matt and I finally got to meet Lieza Swennen, a permaculture specialist from Namibia who lives about 20 or 30km from Karonga. She has been working for the government, training different people in permaculture and developing permaculture gardens at primary schools throughout the northern region of Malawi. She has been living in Malawi for about 12 years and lives with her family on a permaculture oasis that she has developed to use as a model to show others the power potential of permaculture.

She met Matt and I here at our house where we showed her the land we have to work with, the layout and terrain of Chaminade, and discussed her work, our hopes, and how the two will hopefully come together.

After getting us all excited about permaculture by describing her experiences here in Malawi, she took us to two different primary schools a short distance north of Karonga. At those two schools she introduced us to Kenneth and Dennis, two local Malawians who she has trained as permaculture specialists and who she considers to be two “role model” permaculturalists.

Kenneth and Dennis will be our two main advisors for our project here at Chaminade. But before we take on the major task of bringing permaculture to Chaminade, we must first get a strong feel for it in our own backyard.

Since permaculture is a different philosophy of farming than traditional agriculture, it requires a good deal of sensitization. Many people have never heard of permaculture, and in many ways, it contradicts and conflicts with traditional agriculture. Since in most parts of the world, including Malawi, traditional agriculture has taken deep roots, permaculture can often be met with resistance. Educating people on the philosophy of permaculture and gaining their support in its somewhat radical approach is absolutely critical for any permaculture program to succeed. This sensitization is our first task in order to reach our goal of developing permaculture gardens at Chaminade. And in order to achieve that task, Matt and I are going to first focus on developing a functioning permaculture garden at our own house. Lieza argued that the best way to win people over is to show them exactly how effective permaculture can be by doing it yourself. Showing them a living and thriving permaculture garden will do the work of winning their interest. And once you have the interest, everything else will come much more easily.

A Stop in Tanzania

It was just about a month ago that we arrived to Kamuzu International Airport in Lilongwe, Malawi. Since we are still waiting on our Temporary Employment Permits to pass, we had to ask for a visitor’s visa, which is only good for 30 days. This means our 30 day visa would expired tomorrow, and we’d soon be illegal immigrants worthy of some incredibly massive fines as well as possible deportation. If the Karonga Immigration Office had been open, we would have easily extended our visas last week. But since it wasn’t, we needed to find a way to get our passports stamped.

Singini, one of our friends from our great Coke challenge, told us that he was going up to the Tanzanian border the next morning to buy some sofas. We could ride with him and stop at the immigration office on the border, which is only about 40km from Karonga. This sounded like a good option, considering our only other option would be to pay for a minibus to take us down to Mzuzu, which is about four hours away. The office in Mzuzu closes at Noon on Saturdays, so if we chose that route, we’d have to get up long before the sun rose to ensure that we caught a minibus that would get us down there in time.

We called around and did some research, and everything suggested that we would probably be able to get our visa extension at the border. There were a few things suggesting that we wouldn’t be able to, that the only thing you can do at the border is get an exit stamp to leave Malawi, then enter Tanzania, (which carries a $100US visa cost), then leave Tanzania, simply to get a new entry stamp into Malawi. We were willing to take our chances, since the majority of our sources suggested that this wouldn’t be the case.

We scheduled to meet Singini at the hospital at 7:00AM. The Karonga District Hospital is just on the other side of the Airport from Chaminad, and is about a 30 minute walk from our house. We left around 6:20AM, while the sun was still rising, and arrived at KDH a good ten minutes before seven. However, because of the crowd of people near the entrance, including cargo (bike taxi) drivers who saw money written all over our white skin, we chose to sit about 100 meters down the road. We expected Singini to show up in a car, and since we were the only white people in sight, we figured he’d be able to spot us pretty easily.

Around 7:20, Singini came walking up saying, “Here you are!” He had been looking for us near the entrance, and only found us when he asked someone if they had seen any Muzungus come by. The man quickly pointed, “Oh yeah! They’re sitting right down there.” Singini told us he had to stop in town first, so we followed him toward the main road into town. When we arrived there, he called over four cargo drivers, offering to pay. Okay, we weren’t expecting to ride cargo, but since he was paying, we could go with it.

This was my first cargo experience, and I must say, it’s a lot of fun! The way cargo works is you just sit on the back of the bike. All the bikes here have the little frame that sits over the rear wheel where you can strap packages to the back. Here, though, you can put anything there, including people! They are the Malawian equivalent of taxis in the US. Though I was worried I would loose my balance and cause us to tip over, I found it extremely easy to sit on the back of the bike with someone else peddling. And even though I was just sitting on a frame of metal bars, it was actually quite comfortable. To make things even better, the breeze you get from riding at about 20km/h is absolutely refreshing, especially when you don’t have to do any of the work! Though I’d normally feel extremely strange having someone ride me into town, this is absolutely a typical form of transportation for many Malawians. Our ride cost about 150 Kwacha, which is about $1US: cheaper than a bus ride in Chicago.

When we got to town, Singini informed us he had to drop something off to a friend. His friend is one of the shop owners in the new part of town, and Singini very kindly introduced us to him. He was a very friendly guy, who was genuinely excited to welcome us to Karonga. Then Singini had to go to the bank. He originally planned on just running up to the ATM, but apparently the ATM only lets you take out a couple thousand Kwacha, and so he needed to go inside and wait in line to get all of the money he needed to buy his sofas. He finally came out, and it is then that we found out that we’d be taking a taxi (a car one, like in the US) up to the border. This was our first knowledge of this, and we began wondering if we would have been better off, at least financially, going down to Mzuzu.

We got up to the border pretty quickly, and very comfortably compared to a minibus, even with the mother and her child who were sharing the back seat of a four-door sedan with Singini, Molly, and myself. Singini escorted us directly to the immigration office where he spoke in vernacular a little bit to get things going. Though the morning didn’t go exactly as we expected, we were deeply appreciative of Singini’s help. We eventually got everything taken care of, and with a short stay in Tanzania, we were able to come back into Malawi for another month. Hopefully, at the end of this month, the office in Karonga will be open, and we’ll be able to get our visa extension without all the travel.

Then, for our ride home, the three of us decided to take a mini-bus. This was my first mini-bus experience in Malawi, and it was a pretty great one. It all started with a woman jumping on the bus, sitting in Molly’s lap, and arguing with the driver and the conductor about something. We couldn’t tell what she was arguing about because it was in a different language, but she was definitely upset. From what I could tell, it seemed that she believed she deserved a ride from the driver while the driver and the conductor believed she didn’t. After a few minutes of yelling, all of which occurred with the young woman sitting on Molly’s lap, flailing about, she resigned and got off of the minibus. And though the seat Matt and I were on in the very back of the bus didn’t seem attached, was falling apart, and had clear signs of failed attempts at reconstruction, we made it back to Karonga, safe and sound. Then we just had the hour and a half walk back home. And did I mention that it was just after noon when we got back to Karonga, so our hour and a half walk was during the hottest part of the day. Also, the majority of that walk is down paths of soft sand. (Boy do we take sidewalks for granted in the US.) It’s a good thing I had put on sunscreen that morning; I felt so prepared.

Coming out of this experience, and the great Coca Cola wait, I have discovered that things are definitely not as easy to accomplish here as they are in the US. That is the lesson of my first month in Africa, and I’m sure it’s a lesson I will continue to learn during the rest of my stay.

All this for a Coke? (So much for keeping these things short.)

This Friday started off without much of an agenda. Actually, I had no plans at all. The students don’t return to Chaminade until September 13, so we still don’t have too much to do. I took my time eating breakfast, did a little bit of reading, and then planned on spending an hour or so writing emails before lunch. I was just getting started with an email that I should have sent two weeks ago when I hear a car horn beep from our front yard. Then, Molly comes running calling for Matt and I, asking if we are ready to go. What? Ready to go? Where?

Apparently Molly had texted and called Matt’s phone to tell him that Bro. Bill was willing and able to take us to the immigration office in town so that we could get our temporary visas extended, and apparently, Bro. Bill was in a hurry.

Matt and I quickly got dressed, grabbed our passports, and ran out the door. We figured we wouldn’t be too long, since Bro. Bill had a meeting to get to, so we didn’t even tell Alick, expecting that we’d be back for lunch.

Well, we got to immigration only to find they were closed…for the second day in a row. Apparently some of the workers were being transferred to another location, other workers were on holiday during the transfers, and all the other workers decided not to come in since everyone else was out. Sweet. Our 30-day visitor’s visas expired on Monday, and no one at immigration wanted to work. So about 20 minutes after we left our house, we found out that we wouldn’t be able to get our passports stamped in Karonga; we’d have to figure something else out. But for the time being, we had two errands to run.

Our two errands were pretty simple, so we definitely figured we’d be back for lunch since we spent very little time at immigration. Bro. Bill needed to stop at the bank, and then he needed to pick up five cases of Coke for MIRACLE. Simple enough, but both were very important. On Monday, MIRACLE will be having in-take interviews for people who are applying to attend MIRACLE. I’ve discovered that it is customary to serve minerals (what pop is called here) to people who are in meetings for more than an hour or two. I’ve also discovered that people get pretty upset if you fail to provide minerals in such scenarios, so the Coke wasn’t an option; Bro. Bill NEEDED to get Coke for Monday.

We first stopped at Metro, the Malawian equivalent of a Walgreen’s, only with far less of a selection and a few things you would probably never find at Walgreen’s, such as giant bags of maize flour. Metro was all out of Coke. Crap. What were we going to do? Well, apparently the Coke truck had just arrived at the Bus Depot. When shipments of Coke come into Karonga, they first get dropped off at the Bus Depot, so the workers at Metro suggested we swing by there, where we should be able to get some.

Bro. Bill decided to make his run to the bank, and then we would head over to the Bus Depot.

We got everything taken care of at the bank, and pulled into the Bus Depot. The truck was still there, and a sizeable line of people with empty Coke cases was standing along the fence, waiting. This didn’t look to promising. We grabbed our empty Coke cases (Coke is sold in glass bottles here and you pay a MAJOR deposit on the bottle, so it’s quite impractical to buy Coke without first returning empty bottles.) Bro. Bill seemed to know where he was going, so we followed him, only to meet a man who looked like he was directing all the workers who told us they were not taking any customers until they finished loading the truck with empty bottles. There were twenty-some workers feverishly loading crate after crate of empty Coke and Carlsburg (the Malawian beer) bottles onto the truck. We looked, and it appeared that they were about half-way finished filling up the truck, so Bro. Bill got in line, and we decided to wait. Bad choice.

A good forty minutes went by, and they were still filling up the truck. Apparently it takes a really long time to fill up a truck with empty crates of glass bottles. Just then, Jennifer Feldmeier, the mother of the Feldmeier family pulled up in her Land Cruiser. She informed us that she had been by a few hours earlier to see if she could get Coke at which point they were unloading the new Coke cases from the truck. She was told that they were going to take any customers until the finished unloading the truck. Since they were more than three-quarters finished filling the truck with empties, she decided to get in line with Bro. Bill, figuring they’d soon start taking customers. Not so.

The truck finished loading, and the waiting continued. The truck engine started up, a sign of hope for us that they’d soon start taking customers. Well, the truck waited there for a good fifteen minutes before it even pulled away. Now the truck is gone, they should start taking customers, right. Not so much. The waiting continued.

It was now approaching 2PM, and we had been there for almost two hours. Matt, Molly, and I entertained ourselves by talking, interacting with a few local boys, and people watching. We were later given the advice that we should always bring a book whenever we go into town because chances are you’ll be there all day. Since we hadn’t yet received that advice, we had nothing to do but to enjoy each others’ company.

Then, the line finally started moving! Jubilation! They were taking customers!!!

The line moved slowly, but it was moving. We had hopes of getting out of there pretty soon. But wait. What just happened?

The gate just closed. The line stopped moving. And they were not taking any more empty cases. It appeared that after taking in twenty or so people’s worth of empty cases, the crew behind the fence decided to focus their energy on selling the full Coke cases. Perhaps after paying out the return deposits, they had to sell the new bottles so they would have enough money to pay out more return deposits. I could understand that necessity, but boy did it stink.

Jennifer was clearly upset. She began to carry one of her cases back to her car. Apparently she had a meeting she needed to get to at 2PM. It was ten minutes to two. Matt kindly offered our assistance. She could leave her cases with us, and we could return them for her and get some new ones for her: our second mistake. Now we were responsible for someone else’s minerals, so even if we wanted to leave, it wasn’t just MIRACLE’s Coke that we were failing to get; we’d also be failing to get someone else’s Coke. She was extremely grateful and took us up on the offer. However, we had forgotten that Bro. Bill also had a meeting to get to. And so did Molly. As did Singini and Kasunga, the two Malawians who work at MIRACLE who had come with us. Apparently, MIRACLE’s meeting was at 2PM as well, so, understandably, Bro. Bill wasn’t at all happy about our offer to Jennifer, but he obliged nonetheless. A short time later, Madame Malwanda, the chairperson of Chaminade’s Board of Directors came by. She asked why they weren’t taking any customers, and we filled her in on what had been going on. Seeing Bro. Bill in line, only three people from the gate, she decided she would add her two cases to the pile. So now, we had ten cases of empty Coke bottles that we were waiting to return. Now we were in it for the long haul.

Eventually, the group of workers came back to the gate. A definite surge toward the gate ensued, and luckily, Singini and Kasunga were able to maneuver their way through the gate, speak some of the local language, and get our cases through the door just before they closed the gate back up. We returned our empty bottles! Half the battle was won!

Matt, Molly, and I decided then to just find a spot in the shade, and wait this last part out. We had been watching the outflow of Coke cases, and we felt confident that it wouldn’t be too much longer before we had our hard-earned treasure of Coke. By this point, in the US, if all you had to do was pick up a few cases of Coke, you could run into any grocery store and be out in about 5 minutes. Here in Karonga, it took probably another 30 minutes for Bro. Bill to emerge victorious. We all ran over to help him load the cases into the truck. We gave Madame Malwanda her two cases, and then finally, after three hours of waiting in the hot, African sun, we were departing with our cases of Coke. We weren’t going home yet, though. Remember? We still had to drop off Jennifer’s cases, which surely would involve at least a 15 minute visit with their family. Oh, and then on the way home we had to stop for petro (gas) to fill up the truck.

It was about 4:35PM when we got home for lunch. We had left our house sometime around 10:30AM. All of this for a little bit of Coke.

And what about our passport stamps? This deserves a new post.

Big Game Cancelled While Teachers Bond

Our highly anticipated match up against the Marianist Brothers of East Africa was cancelled due to an all staff meeting with the administration, representatives from the Archdiocese, and representatives from the Ministry of Education, including the District Educational Manager, who, from everything I could tell, is a really big deal.

The worst part of it all, though, is that the meeting that caused the cancellation of the game lasted about 25 minutes and was scheduled for 9AM. You might be wondering, “How in the world could a 25 minute meeting at 9 in the morning cancel a volleyball match set for 4:30 in the afternoon?” Well, I think this was my biggest lesson to date of how things work on Africa time.

At about 8:30AM on Wednesday morning, we received a memo from the school office stating we had a staff meeting at 9AM. Somewhat disappointed that we were probably going to lose at least a few hours of our morning, we all got dressed and walked over to the summer hut, the place where the teachers spend most of our break time. We arrived only to find that most of the staff was not there, the head master was walking back and forth, and no one really knew what the plan was. This wasn’t too unusual from what I’ve experienced so far.

At 10:08AM (I remember because by that point I had pulled out my journal and began writing in it), the headmaster came over to inform us that the board of directors, the representatives from the Archdiocese, and the Ministry of Education were all coming for a meeting with the administration. He also informed us that the administration would meet with them first, and then the rest of staff would meet with them. He was not sure how long it would take for the first meeting, but that they hoped to be finished by 1PM, so we should stay available so that once the first meeting ended, we could proceed to have the all staff meeting.

Already having a few Malawian meetings under my belt, I knew that this first meeting would take at least an hour, and would likely take two hours. It would then be about lunch time, so everyone would go home for lunch, so I felt pretty safe coming back home and waiting to receive word that the first meeting had ended.

We went home, ate lunch and 1PM came around with no word that the meeting had ended. Since the administration had hoped to meet with us and finish that meeting before 1PM, we figured that we should go back over to the summer hut to check things out. I took my time and got over to the summer hut around 1:30 to find most of the teachers sitting in the summer hut, a hint that perhaps something was going to happen soon. No more than two minutes went by when one of the teachers stood up and said, “The food is ready. Let’s get up and eat.” We proceeded to the geography room where a massive lunch was prepared for the teachers: apparently a “sitting allowance” for the teachers who had been waiting all day for a meeting that hadn’t happened. We all ate lunch and then went back to the summer hut. The waiting continued.

As 4:30 drew nearer and nearer, we became more worried that our volleyball game was not going to happen. Two of the brothers were in the administration meeting, and even if that finished, the rest of us would have to meet, so things weren’t looking good.

Despite all of this waiting, the day actually turned out to be pretty fun. One of the Malawian teachers, Mr. N’gambi and one of the volunteers Matt Meyers provided plenty of entertainment for the rest of the teachers. We had conversations ranging from US politics, the election, Malawian politics, economics, goats, puppies, dogs, football (soccer), and a plethora of other topics. All the while, Matt was making fun of this meeting, which, with each hour passing, became “history in the making” as one of the Malawians phrased it.

It ended up being 5:47PM when the administration meeting came to a finish. Somewhat excited, somewhat frustrated, the teachers all filed into the staff room to be updated on what the administration had discussed. When we sat down and got started, the first piece of business was an apology. Apparently, there was a misunderstanding between the administration and the headmaster, and the rest of us weren’t actually supposed to meet at all. By this point, it didn’t even matter; we didn’t even care. We just wanted to hear what the news was. They all were very cordial about the mistake, and they decided to meet with us and fill us in as a sign of appreciation for all of our patience. We were then given a 20 minute summary of what was discussed, including the accusation that some teachers were suspected to be behind the events that had unfolded the week before and an admonishment that this type of behavior should cease immediately. With that, the meeting ended, and we all went home for dinner. What a day.

Volleyball Mania

One exciting event that took place during the first weekend after Chaminade went on break was an afternoon volleyball game with all my housemates, the Feldmeiers (our Australian friends who work at Lusubilo, [“Hope” in Ngonde] the orphan care center in town), and the Marianist brothers.

We invited the Feldmeiers to come over with the plans to play a game of volleyball with them the same way we played volleyball the first night we met them at Chris and Anne’s (an Australian couple working for Paladin, a Uranium mining company) house. Well, since Br. Chola, the Marianist District Superior of East Africa, and Fr. Gabriel, another Marianist from the District Office, were in town, we invited them to play with us as well. Though they were shocked by the time we silly American Muzungus chose to play—2:00PM on a Sunday afternoon, close to the hottest part of the day—they actually showed up, geared up in athletic shorts and sneakers, ready to play.

Since Br. Hanson is probably the only brother under 30, I was at first not expecting them to show, and at second was not expecting them to be any good. I was wrong on both accounts. In total, 6 of the 7 Marianist brothers showed up to play, including Br. Bill, an American Marianist who is probably in his late 50s. And even more incredible, they were all really good! I was absolutely astonished by how our games were actually quite competitive! Not in a million years did I expect to come to Africa and find so many volleyball enthusiasts!

We ended up playing for about three and a half hours, and everyone had a blast. Since Br. Chola and Fr. Gabriel were going to be in town for the rest of the week, the volunteers decided that we wanted to challenge the Marianists to a game against just us later in the week. The losing team would be responsible for making a dessert for the winning team. We scheduled the game for 4:30PM on the following Wednesday. Unfortunately, however, we never got to play that game, but the reason why deserves a whole different post.