a question of medicine june 4

I have been asked for medicine three times since arriving. The first time, I was at the borehole drawing water when a woman approached me, said "mankhwala" and pointed at her elderly friend sitting on a porch nearby. I didn't understand so I went to chat with the old woman and she motioned that her head was in pain. I imagined two things happening if I gave her medicine 1) I become the village pharmacist and 2) I assist her in feeling better and that's the end of it. Because I didn't know the family at all and because I had about 20 people hovering around me, I chose not to give her medicine. I told her to drink lots of water and later in the afternoon I saw her resting.

The second time was merely for medical advice, to which I said that I was not educated in medicine and could not help.

The third time was last night at my house. I came home late from work to find Edina, my 2.5 year old host sister, lying on the floor wrapped in a blanket. This is not out of the ordinary because she's usually zonked by the end of the day, but this time she wasn't sleeping. She looked at me and I saw that her left eye had swollen up as if she'd been a wild streetfight. I asked Monica, my host mom, what was the matter. "Adwala" was her response- She is sick. "Adwala ndi Chyani?"- Sick with what? She said malaria, but it turns out whenever anybody is sick around here they say it's malaria but I didn't figure that out until later. She told me they will go to the hospital tomorrow and because meds are free (until they run out) and she was way calm, I wasn't worried and figured Edina would make it out like a real trooper.

Shortly after that, Edina started wailing and Monica finally looked at me and said "Mankhwala"- Medicine, got it. I stopped dead in my tracks and thought "of course, absolutely, completely, I'll give you any medicine I've got". I went to my bag, got the malaria meds and handed them over. She said "Ayi"-No and handed them back to me. Then she picked up some sand from the floor and motioned it in Edina's eye, "Asewera"-She was playing. Okay! Great! Not malaria. Check.

We looked in my meds bag and I had nothing to reduce swelling so I gave Edina 1/3 of an advil as a placebo and she stopped crying.

This whole shenanigan made me think: how far will I go to change the perception of westerners?

I may not be rich in Canada, but comparatively, I'm a millionaire here. How can I honestly tell people I have nothing to give?

In this case, these people are taking care of me, wiping the dirt from my collar, preparing feasts every night to fatten me up, putting up with me as I learn Chichewa, feeding me groundnuts and potatoes from their garden and years worth of work. I don't care about the perception of westerners in my own home. If someone is sick, I will help them out. If they need candles and would never ask, I'm going to pick some up on the way home from work. I will give anything to them in return for their love and hospitality.

for tesla june 2

To my sweet sweet electrical outlet,

How I miss when you were full and bright. Your supply, endless and reliable. I would come to you to take part in some of my favourite Canadian pastimes- listen to music, watch films and seek information. Words cannot express how much I long for you at times.

I am left with lifeless devices. After a long day of listening to Chichewa, I press the power button of my computer with the intention of writing an email (to be sent with future internet access), and the blue light remains black. When I need to go home for just 2.5 minutes to hear my favourite Canadian band, the screen of my ipod does not respond to my request. When in need of a familiar voice, my cell phone flashes battery low and its functioning stops.

I know your absence will help me integrate and understand Mkanda better, but my infrequent desire and your absent fulfillment continues to leave me disappointed.

How I wish Tesla completed his mission.

Yours truly,

Powerless

oh danny boy.

I was on the back of a transport truck, on my way back to Mkanda, and I was feeling pretty angry/upset. The owner of the truck was giving me grief for not speaking Chichewa and making fun of me in front of the other passengers and I was fed up. I can understand why they treat Mzungu's like that, but it is very discouraging.  A nice boy my age came and sat next to me and thankfully he spoke perfect English. He was moving back to Mkanda from Blantyre where he worked at an orphanage and with a lot of Mzungu volunteers. At that moment, I really needed someone I could level with.

He told me that his friend from the UK sent him an mp3 player and asked me if I knew any songs on it. The truck was driving the same red dirt path that I described in an earlier post, except this time I was sitting on a much higher truck and could see the full profile of Northern Mchinji- three massive hills and the plains in the far distance. He gave me one of his headphones and pressed play. The song he put on was Danny Boy and I told him I knew it. I could hardly keep from crying as I listened to the song that my family sings every time we gather around a piano at thanksgiving and Christmas.  I was watching Malawi pass by me but in my heart, I was in my Grandma's dining room singing with my family. He leaned toward me and said "I have taken you home".  As I try to describe to you how full my heart was at this moment, I realize that I really can't put it into words.

When I arrived in Mkanda, Mr. Katukulu , Mr. Katundu and Mr. Chinga were waiting for me in the market place. The walk to my new home was full of laughter as I attempted to learn Chichewa words on the way. Mr. Katundu (my co-worker) is a very funny man and lightens up any situation. They taught me two words on that walk home:

Jinga-bike

Jinga ya moto- fire bike (motorcycle)

I arrive the house, and Mr. Katukulu tells me to sit on the mat on the floor and he sits down with me. His grandmother comes into the room and she is hilarious. I greet her in Chichewa and she sets aflame! She howls with laughter at the new Mzungo in their home.  The conversation continues for another 30 minutes in Chichewa and I try to hang on to any word that I can. I didn't understand 99% of it. Visitors came in and out of the living room, I greeted them in Chichewa and they all laughed. We visited for another two hours in Chichewa, and then most people went to bed. I was left with a man named Blackson and Mr. Katukulu and we talked about Canada in English for the rest of the night. I told them about first nation reserves and the traditional dancing and outfits (much like what I saw at TA Zulu's funeral).  I also explained the politics around first nations and they said it is much like Malawi. I was extremely tired by the end of the night (8:30) so I went to bed and settled into my new bedroom.

I woke this morning at 5:30am to Mr. Katukulu called "nabanda". This is my new name; it means daughter of Banda and Banda is Mr. Katukulu's Clan name. He introduces me as his second daughter to most people we meet. He handed me a broom made out of sticks and told me to sweep (usessa) with his wife. We used the broom and swept their property of leaves and maize husks from the previous night. Afterwards, I helped peel potatoes (batata) with Mr. Katukulu. Mr. Katukulu then gave me a bucket and told me that I will help his wife fetch water from the "African borehole".

Mrs. Katukulu doesn't speak English but she has a wicked laugh that she uses all the time. Mr. Katukulu has the same kind of laugh. I walked with Mrs. Katukulu silently to the borehole and stopped to chat with every house along the way. Introductions are very important here. At the borehole, I dropped the can into well and Mrs. Katukulu helped me pour it into the bucket. There was a huge crowd around me laughing at me and I greeted new people as they arrived. At this moment in time, I thought to myself, "Feeling stupid" should be written in my job description.

We carried the water back to the house on our heads. When carrying the water, any small movement is transferred into the water making it spill. Perhaps my nervous energy was flowing through it as well. I arrived at the house with the front of my sweater very wet and Mr. Katukulu laughed at me. He said "Mukutungu madzi" You got water. This family is awesome.

Edina, their 2.5 year old, was very afraid of me last night. This morning, she started smiling at me and laughing. Sometimes she gets this worried look when I try to communicate with her, but I'm sure we'll be friends in no time. It is not every day that a big white monster moves into your home.

Mr. Katukulu escorted me to work this morning. It took 30 minutes to get here and we stopped at many places along the way. He constantly tells me Chichewa nouns and sometimes I think my brain can't hold anymore in. This morning I learned toothbrush- useche, garden-munda, semana-afternoon, muez-moon. Oh boy. I am going to take some time during my work day in the next two weeks to teach myself because when CLTS meetings begin, I will not be able to contribute. I also can only communicate with Mr. Katukulu right now and I'd love to get to know his wife, daughter and family.

I am at work now and will be smearing my home this afternoon when I return for lunch!

I have decided that I'm waking up earlier when I return to Canada. You can get a lot accomplished by 8am!

Tiwonana posachedwa (see you soon).

Love kate!