A week ago Sunday (July 6), I went on a trip to Nyika Park with a bunch of our Malawian staff. Nyika is about 60 km from here, which is 2.5 hours since the road is unpaved, and it’s a huge forest reserve with lots of zebras, some elephants and antelopes, as well as a unique landscape unlike other parts of Malawi. Phil, our project manager, who did Peace Corps here in Malawi, had organized the Nyika trip in previous years, but this year wanted the Malawians to take charge for organizing it. I think the idea was at least in part to empower them and discourage the parental relationship that can happen so easily in development work. (Amanda and I talk about this all the time and had a huge prolonged drama about whether or not to organize our data team to chip in for tea, which Kayesa provided for free in Mchinji, but is not provided here by the neon purple Hotel Pokani.) So the main survey team organized the Nyika trip, and a few of us from the data team went as well. We departed at 6 a.m. “Malawian time”, which is anywhere between 6 and 9 a.m. and turned out to be 7:15 a.m. Eighteen of us squeezed into a white minibus, which comfortably seats fourteen. Orange dust billowed behind us as we bounced along the unpaved road. Since it is now the dry season, the orange dust coats the grass and foliage, as well as your skin, hair, and nostrils. After an hour or so of bouncing, the minibus overheated, and we pulled over and ate some sugarcane, and some of the guys added water to the radiator, which was clearly leaking. We took off again, and made it to the entrance gate to Nyika in decent time, with another overheating or two along the way. We found a mechanic at Nyika and we all sat on a stoop while he replaced the radiator cap. I spotted a 2-inch long blue wasp on the floor. The Malawians told us its Chichewa name translates literally as “cow-killer”. If it stings a cow, it releases some poison and the cow dies. Ernest told me that they rarely sting people, but the sting can kill. The Malawians seemed unperturbed by it, on the floor right next to where they were sitting, but Amanda stomped on it with her Keen sandal and killed it. Those Uzbekistan Peace Corps Volunteers are really tough!
I went to Nyika because I wanted to spend time with my Malawian colleagues. Seeing some wildlife would be an added bonus, but hanging out with them was my first aim. And it felt great, completely right, to do that. A few other azungus (foreigners) joined the trip, but mostly I really wanted to hang out with the Malawians, and so I did. I felt content and comfortable sitting with them, listening to their Chichewa banter, enjoying their company even though I understood little. I picked out the English word “toothpaste” and asked what they were talking about. Apparently some religion in Malawi forbids its members to use toothpaste. Then we went around and shared our religions, and when Evans, who was wearing a pendant of Africa around his neck, said he practices the “bona” religion, Ernest burst out laughing. “Why is that funny?” I asked. Bona is a pagan religion that predates Christianity (at least here) and he told me a little bit about it, and I think he really appreciated that I was respectful of it. Somehow then about 10 of us, some Malawian, some azungu, got into this very interesting and fruitful discussion that touched on globalization, genetically modified crops, abusive corporations, and development in Malawi. “I don’t want to complain to the WTO or the UN,” said Andrews, preferring for Malawians to focus on self-development. The Malawians in our group expressed frustration at the American government’s response to 9/11 and lack of leadership on environmental issues. We were really cooking, but then the car got repaired and we all squeezed in again and started bouncing, and the discussion was over.
The scenic area of interest was another 60 km inside the park, and the dirt road was now a lot steeper and rockier – and many of the rocks in the road looked like white quartz (coated, of course, with orange dust). We bounced uncomfortably, rocks and dust flying around us, and overheated several more times. At one point a pipe burst and steam spewed into the vehicle. Each time three of the Malawians patiently looked at the engine, diagnosed the problem, and repaired it. At one point the entire group pushed the vehicle to the side of the road so the three amateur mechanics could lie underneath the bus and do some more proper fixing.
(Not sure what Azize is doing in the above photo!)
After about 10 breakdowns, it was time to head back, even though we had not made it to the scenic part of the park. The Malawians – for whom such opportunities are rare – were very disappointed and frustrated. The azungus set out walking back because at least we wanted a (however un-scenic) hike out of it, and after this last breakdown was fixed, the others picked us up on the way back. The way back was mostly downhill, but we got out and walked for a few of the up-hills to reduce the load (at the insistence of the azungus), and we ironically made it back to the gate, and in fact all the way back to Rumphi, without another breakdown. The trouble had been the combination of steep up-hills, the over-packed bus, and the rocky terrain, combined with that particular minibus’s tendency to overheat. The Malawians were furious at the head driver who is in charge of all the project vehicles and gave them this one for the day, insisting it would be fine, instead of the larger and more reliable one they’d requested.
One of our three determined minibus fixers was Felix, whose room is next to mine in Country Accommodations. They call him “the philosopher”, a name he completely deserves. He attended a seminary school for 3 years, where he studied sociology, psychology, and cultural anthropology, since pastors need to be able to understand the people they are serving in order to best help them. He also studied theology, but disliked it because critical thinking and skepticism were discouraged in those classes. So he transferred to Chancellor’s College of Malawi where he earned his degree in political philosophy. He wants to earn a PhD in Peace Studies and has looked into programs – he plans to apply to the University of Notre Dame and the European Peace University in Austria. “We need peace in Africa,” he told me. He feels that corruption and other problems can be solved with conflict resolution and meditation. I was so impressed with his forward-looking thought. When he first told me all this I felt very inspired and ran to my room gave him my Life magazine photo-biography of Martin Luther King, Jr., which I bought in Atlanta and devoured on the 18-hour flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg. I hope he can achieve his aim.
While Felix and I were talking one evening about these things, Hastings popped in and joined the discussion. He looked like he was tired or cynical of the topic, but when he saw how engaged and curious I was, he joined in. “I hate politics,” he said. He used to work for the Center for Social Research, affiliated with Chancellor College. He helped with monitoring the elections in 2004, and observed widespread fraud. First, the register came out very late, so that people in opposition strongholds were required to vote far from their homes and were not notified till the day of the election. When they showed up at the nearest polling station, they were told they were not registered there, but needed to go to another one, 15 or 18 km away, which is impossible since few people have cars here. Illiterate people were told to vote for the current regime. Election results were tallied in each district, but when he and foreign observers watched opposition candidates clearly winning in the data, the government-sponsored radio claimed the opposite. When district results were supposed to be faxed to the capital, representatives claimed the fax machine was broken. The numbers (both the phone number, and the election data) received in the central office did not match what was supposedly faxed from the different regions. The press is controlled by the government here. The two main radio stations are government-sponsored, and the one alternative station was given a (government-issued, obviously) permit to operate only in a small region of the country. All this is very frustrating to these intelligent, forward-thinking young people.
Here’s a photo of Felix and Hastings:
When we departed for Nyika early Sunday morning, Felix asked me what my expectations were for the trip. I told him I had none, having no idea what to expect, but just hoped to spend time with friends. This attitude served me well, and at the end of the day, I felt content with the day’s experiences. If only I could approach life that way!
Last Sunday (July 13) the Malawian supervisors made another Nyika attempt – but instead of joining them I went to visit one member of the data team, Austin, in his village, Mperembe. I haven’t yet heard how the Nyika return went. I’m hoping they made it, and I’ll tell you about both these adventures in my next post!
I went to Nyika because I wanted to spend time with my Malawian colleagues. Seeing some wildlife would be an added bonus, but hanging out with them was my first aim. And it felt great, completely right, to do that. A few other azungus (foreigners) joined the trip, but mostly I really wanted to hang out with the Malawians, and so I did. I felt content and comfortable sitting with them, listening to their Chichewa banter, enjoying their company even though I understood little. I picked out the English word “toothpaste” and asked what they were talking about. Apparently some religion in Malawi forbids its members to use toothpaste. Then we went around and shared our religions, and when Evans, who was wearing a pendant of Africa around his neck, said he practices the “bona” religion, Ernest burst out laughing. “Why is that funny?” I asked. Bona is a pagan religion that predates Christianity (at least here) and he told me a little bit about it, and I think he really appreciated that I was respectful of it. Somehow then about 10 of us, some Malawian, some azungu, got into this very interesting and fruitful discussion that touched on globalization, genetically modified crops, abusive corporations, and development in Malawi. “I don’t want to complain to the WTO or the UN,” said Andrews, preferring for Malawians to focus on self-development. The Malawians in our group expressed frustration at the American government’s response to 9/11 and lack of leadership on environmental issues. We were really cooking, but then the car got repaired and we all squeezed in again and started bouncing, and the discussion was over.
The scenic area of interest was another 60 km inside the park, and the dirt road was now a lot steeper and rockier – and many of the rocks in the road looked like white quartz (coated, of course, with orange dust). We bounced uncomfortably, rocks and dust flying around us, and overheated several more times. At one point a pipe burst and steam spewed into the vehicle. Each time three of the Malawians patiently looked at the engine, diagnosed the problem, and repaired it. At one point the entire group pushed the vehicle to the side of the road so the three amateur mechanics could lie underneath the bus and do some more proper fixing.
(Not sure what Azize is doing in the above photo!)
After about 10 breakdowns, it was time to head back, even though we had not made it to the scenic part of the park. The Malawians – for whom such opportunities are rare – were very disappointed and frustrated. The azungus set out walking back because at least we wanted a (however un-scenic) hike out of it, and after this last breakdown was fixed, the others picked us up on the way back. The way back was mostly downhill, but we got out and walked for a few of the up-hills to reduce the load (at the insistence of the azungus), and we ironically made it back to the gate, and in fact all the way back to Rumphi, without another breakdown. The trouble had been the combination of steep up-hills, the over-packed bus, and the rocky terrain, combined with that particular minibus’s tendency to overheat. The Malawians were furious at the head driver who is in charge of all the project vehicles and gave them this one for the day, insisting it would be fine, instead of the larger and more reliable one they’d requested.
One of our three determined minibus fixers was Felix, whose room is next to mine in Country Accommodations. They call him “the philosopher”, a name he completely deserves. He attended a seminary school for 3 years, where he studied sociology, psychology, and cultural anthropology, since pastors need to be able to understand the people they are serving in order to best help them. He also studied theology, but disliked it because critical thinking and skepticism were discouraged in those classes. So he transferred to Chancellor’s College of Malawi where he earned his degree in political philosophy. He wants to earn a PhD in Peace Studies and has looked into programs – he plans to apply to the University of Notre Dame and the European Peace University in Austria. “We need peace in Africa,” he told me. He feels that corruption and other problems can be solved with conflict resolution and meditation. I was so impressed with his forward-looking thought. When he first told me all this I felt very inspired and ran to my room gave him my Life magazine photo-biography of Martin Luther King, Jr., which I bought in Atlanta and devoured on the 18-hour flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg. I hope he can achieve his aim.
While Felix and I were talking one evening about these things, Hastings popped in and joined the discussion. He looked like he was tired or cynical of the topic, but when he saw how engaged and curious I was, he joined in. “I hate politics,” he said. He used to work for the Center for Social Research, affiliated with Chancellor College. He helped with monitoring the elections in 2004, and observed widespread fraud. First, the register came out very late, so that people in opposition strongholds were required to vote far from their homes and were not notified till the day of the election. When they showed up at the nearest polling station, they were told they were not registered there, but needed to go to another one, 15 or 18 km away, which is impossible since few people have cars here. Illiterate people were told to vote for the current regime. Election results were tallied in each district, but when he and foreign observers watched opposition candidates clearly winning in the data, the government-sponsored radio claimed the opposite. When district results were supposed to be faxed to the capital, representatives claimed the fax machine was broken. The numbers (both the phone number, and the election data) received in the central office did not match what was supposedly faxed from the different regions. The press is controlled by the government here. The two main radio stations are government-sponsored, and the one alternative station was given a (government-issued, obviously) permit to operate only in a small region of the country. All this is very frustrating to these intelligent, forward-thinking young people.
Here’s a photo of Felix and Hastings:
When we departed for Nyika early Sunday morning, Felix asked me what my expectations were for the trip. I told him I had none, having no idea what to expect, but just hoped to spend time with friends. This attitude served me well, and at the end of the day, I felt content with the day’s experiences. If only I could approach life that way!
Last Sunday (July 13) the Malawian supervisors made another Nyika attempt – but instead of joining them I went to visit one member of the data team, Austin, in his village, Mperembe. I haven’t yet heard how the Nyika return went. I’m hoping they made it, and I’ll tell you about both these adventures in my next post!
1 comments:
Gail,
Sounds like you are having a wonderful experience. We all miss you here.
Tracy
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