Thursday, October 8, 2009

Wednesday October 7, 2009

I’ve been dismissed from my duties with the TOEFL students. This is because they have now received the TOEFL curriculum from WUSC and will be very busy quickly preparing to complete their studies before they take their examination. This is both a breath of fresh air as well as a road block to my being here, particularly as the placement is only three months. I still have my ESL classes four times a week which is great and there has been talk about me taking on 5 adult refugees who have credentials as teachers but who need to expand their knowledge of English so that's something on the horizon already. There is a curriculum that I will follow and this would be a crash course for two months starting this month. I'll know in a couple days what will take place from here.

I want to mention that I received a nice complement today from a Congolese man who has attended my morning ESL classes. After my morning class ended today he came to me and said, “Madame, I wanted to tell you that I really enjoy the way you teach the class, it’s very engaging. I used to be a teacher in Congo and I taught the way you do.” He shook my hand the way Africans do and I thanked him, "Thank you, thank you so much." This is the kind of confirmation I have been hoping for.

I invited a couple girls from my class to our house here at camp as it was one of the girls 26^th birthday. I bought biscuits for the girls and made tea. It was very nice. We listened to music and they told me their story about fleeing Congo. I can't post about it as it would be a breach of confidentiality as well as a potential security factor but I have definitely logged this story.The most important thing to mention is that she's safe here, for now, and despite the hardship she's smiling. She's beautiful.

Margaret and I went to Godfrey’s for dinner-- a neighbors house about 30 feet away. He cooked Nshima and beans for us and had Margaret stir the nshima, I took photos. It was a quick dinner, we just ate and ran. We both weren't sure if he wanted our company for longer than the meal. It was nice to be invited for dinner though, I think it helps to build our credibility and trust in the camp.

To be honest though, I’ve hit a low, not a big low, but a low. This week, I have had nothing on my agenda for my work at JRS due to the change in schedule. However, the key is not to be discouraged, I need to think positive and know this isn’t permanent. I just wish I could have greater control over what I want but perhaps this is the lesson to be learned. If the refugees here can’t plan their next day forward can I really expect to do the same?

Tuesday, October-06-09

Heat= underdevelopment

Now, this is by no means a profound thought but I wanted to mention this anyway seen as how it’s on my mind. Honestly, if anyone is going to say anything about this country being unproductive or underdeveloped I want to at least argue that one reason is most definitely due to heat!

Yes, I know, I’m breaking ground with this but seriously, it’s hot out today. We haven’t done much because we had to drive into Lilongwe to get our visas worked out, but we’re tired! It’s because we’re hot! I can understand people’s sluggish nature and the slowness that can prohibit completing tasks--it’s HOT here and there is little escape from it. I know I can form many arguments for underdevelopment in this country, but for the sake of arguing, I want to put this out there.

Diet in Malawi

I might be the only one who cares about this so I’ll say I’m writing this one for me. For whatever reason I feel the need to outline my average food intake during most weeks.

• Breakfast: bread/toast with peanut butter or jam OR a boiled egg and tea
• Lunch: soup OR protein bar OR fried egg sandwich (maybe a samosa or two from the market)
  
• Dinner: Rice/Pasta/ with peas, tomatoes, garlic, peppers (and tuna sandwiches on Thursdays)
  
• Snack: mandas (deep fried dough balls), bread, fruit, ground nuts, biscuits, and chocolate.

Alright, now that I’ve done that I can really see where my diet is lacking and thus, the reason for why I might be tired all the time. Meat is difficult to come by here unless I want to slaughter my own chicken or goat or have someone do it for me.Somehow, that seems to be too much work at this point. However, I've just discovered they sell soy protein the in camp which is delightful! I have sufficiently found a meat replacement and am hoping to see changes in energy level soon!

Tea for Two

“Muli Bawanji.” Margaret and I entered the “tea room” just a couple hundred feet from our place. There were two benches placed in front of a long counter that resembled that of a store front. A boy, Moses, the age of 13, stood behind the counter. We asked him if they served coffee and tea. In a shy way he replied “yes.” Yes to what? To both, or one or the other? To tea.

He showed us the cup size and we ordered the “small” which is more like a normal sized mug at home (picture starbucks medium“inside” mug). He set up two bowls on the counter and placed the mauve plastic mugs inside the bowls. He dumped a pound of sugar in one cup and motioned to do the same to the next. I objected and he stared at me questioningly. “No, no sugar,” I said. He shook his head a little in a way what could have been interpreted as “whatever,” and picked up the package of powdered milk. He dumped a whole 4 tablespoons worth into the first cup and again, motioned to do the same to the next. Again I objected. “No cream.” What? Really? The look on his face told me he couldn’t understand why I was saying no. Doesn’t everyone want a pound of sugar and cream in their tea? No.

He took a pre-strained strainer with tea grounds and held it steadily over the cup with sugar and cream until the water overflowed into the bowl. Half the cream and sugar spilled over the sides. Again, he did the same to the black tea until it overflowed. He and his co-worker asked us if we wanted bread and we declined but then decided, “why not? Sure. Just one.” To our surprise they brought us two freshly baked buns. They were simply divine; they were so fresh they melted in our mouth. Good call on the bread.

There were two young children, a boy and a girl, no older than 3 standing outside the entrance to the tea room. I turned to face them and smiled. I spoke softly, “muli bwanji?” Quietly, they replied, “ndili bwino.” They stood there, the girl with her fingers close to her mouth (an indicator of shyness) and the boy stood there staring curiously. I grabbed my soft bun and broke it into a couple small pieces and put my hand out to offer it to the boy. Timidly but with a smile on his face he approached and gently took it. I put my hand out to offer the same to this young girl and she too, following suit of her brother: approached timidly but took the bread. One other child appeared in the corner of my eye but she was taller and older, possibly seven years of age. I took another chunk of bread and handed her a piece. They all walked away and ate.

We sat there a little longer, drinking our tea and eating our bread. Others entered the room as well and took a seat on the bench beside us. We asked Moses a gazillion questions and he obediently answered. I wonder if he wanted to engage us at all. Again, I see the two young ones in my view. They are standing outside the doorway, closer now, hands empty. I took my bun again and broke it in pieces and handed them each a piece. They smiled, took it and left. They didn’t come back.

We finished up our teas and asked Moses if he could show us the oven the buns were baked in. Obliged, he did. It was an oven hidden behind grass thatching across the way. He opened the oven door and showed us the bottom end where the wood is placed and set to fire. Apparently it only takes ½ hour for the buns to bake in the early morning. Fascinating. They were delicious. They open at 7:00am, we’ll be there for tea and warm buns one morning—I’m sure of it.

Monday, October-05-09

A few thoughts

- There is a 50 km stretch of road to the camp that is being built at the moment. It’s been in construction since the rains ended in March 2009. The rains are expected to begin again in late November—I have a fear it won’t be completed. If that’s the case then the mounds of dirt that occupy the sides of the road and the unfinished drop off could potentially be washed away with the heavy force of the rain. I have two major concerns if this is the case: that we will be isolated here with no way out of the camp while malaria sweeps through like a unwelcome visitor and second, that the hard work put in since March could be wasted in a matter of hours

- “Dzaleka refugee camp is considered to be a 4 star refugee camp; it’s one of the best camps in Africa.”

- I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of seeing goats roaming the side of the roads. I really like this about Malawi. Yes, Malawi in general!

- Since when do white people come to work in a refugee camp but don’t want to talk to anyone living here? A few people have said this to me couple times because if they see a white person walking quickly they think it means they don’t want to talk to a black person. Is it that lack of education that continues to divide black from white and white from black? I thought we were past the stereotypes and misconceptions?

- I’ve been told if a white person is associating with a Rasta in town then other people who aren’t Rasta’s think that whites don’t like them. Really?

- I guess dashboards in minibuses aren’t required to work. None of the gauges worked on our trip this morning. I’m sure we were traveling at 20km/hour for some distance this morning which is fine I suppose but still very strange considering we're usually going over 110km/hour. I guess safety standards are quite different here.

Continued...

It felt wonderful to run tonight. While the SRP students/friends gathered in our cramped “living room”, mattresses covering the cold concrete floor for our Monday night movie gathering, John, a student from the program and I ran down the long dirt road past the JRS vocational school and past the Red Cross to pick up the single computer speaker that he has at his place. It was wonderful; we were able to run together with ease talking the whole way. I could see that people were watching us with curious eyes, watching as a young black man and white woman ran next to one another, watching as though it was the most unnatural things you could witness.

I like challenging people’s interpretations but I also understand the harm it can cause. I’m at a point where I just want hold people in my arms and tell them I’m here because I want to be here for them, I want to cry and show them that I can feel a pain different yet similar to theirs, a pain that aches of uncertainty, of loss and longing...I want people to know I’m not that Mzungu with no identity but a person who has a history, a present and a future just as each and every one of them has. Then again, would asking for an identity be asking for too much? Especially in this context where people are stripped of their identity because of where they’ve come from or who they’ve associated with....maybe I AM just that Mzungu. Maybe I can be ok with that.