collecting firewood.

On Sunday, I went with my host mother to collect firewood. I was pretty excited because I’ve seen women everywhere walking on the road carrying wood on their head, but I didn’t know the process of collecting it. Monica strapped Thomas on her back, grabbed the rusty machete and said “tipita”. We are going. We picked up her friend on the way and started walking.

So I trucked behind them (chitenge is so annoying to walk in because it limits your step size) carrying the machete and keeping to myself while they spoke Chichewa. We walked for about 20 minutes, beyond the village and towards farmland. Every once in a while, Monica would point to a piece of land and say the name of one of the children in the village. Now I know where all the children will live and farm long after I’m gone.

We arrived on a piece of land belonging to the friend and walked deeper and deeper into the field. Most of the fields have small parts cleared for a garden and the rest is wild weeds, trees, bushes and random vegetation. We walked to that part. “Ndichita mantha njoka” – I am afraid of snakes, I told them. They laughed and said there were none but I knew they were probably lying just to make me feel better. Moms do that.

We got to a nice spot full of trees and Monica gave me Thomas. Turns out, I came along just to babysit. I sat with Thomas (singing him wolf parade) and watched as they huffed and puffed and cut down trees with their rusty machetes. At one point Thomas was hungry so I gave him to Monica and took the machete. I didn’t think it would be that hard.

I grabbed the branch with my left hand, the machete with my right and drove it down into the crevice where the trunk becomes a limb.

I didn’t know the tree had thorns.

I drove a thorn right into my left thumb and tried to hide my pain. It started bleeding pretty bad and I covered it with my sweater so the ladies wouldn’t notice. I guess I was trying to hide that I am after all, a wimpy Canadian. I was pretty happy to be the babysitter after that.

I strapped Thomas on my back when they were finished, they piled the wood into bundles, tied it with a strip of fresh bark off of a tree, loaded it on their heads and we walked back to the house. Let me tell you! Malawians are masters of finding the center of gravity. I have a much greater appreciation for firewood now.

Muzagona kutali ndi moto- you must sleep far from the fire,
Love kate!