Red Out Loud

Picture this: open market, straw roof stalls, tables of the freshest vegetables I have ever seen, 20 teenage boys cornering you from every angle, screaming in your face, a torrential downpour. Just finished purchasing vegetables for the week in the village coming up. I am sitting in the office and typing away, dripping wet with muddy feet. It is now perfectly sunny outside. You would be right if you think that it is just my luck that the 10 minutes it downpoured today, Joanna and I were standing at a fruit/vegetable stall arguing over the price of bananas. Bless the Rain Down in Africa.

What a week. I sadly can not write as much as usual. Joanna and I spent our mid weekend in Salima, the most beautiful place on earth, lounging lazily on the beach of lake Malawi. We did not bring her computer with us to spend hours crafting our blog entry, so please forgive any typos or seeming discombobulation. I will try to get it all out.

The third week in the village felt much more like home. After a weekend away at Area 49 last weekend (our base at the orphanage), Joanna and I were ready to get back to our family and to the life in the village. Aside from having each other over the weekend, we have little social outlet. The village has become out life, our social outlet and our family. Though conversation is limited, the connection is deep and it feels almost better, despite the latrine, bugs and heat, to be amongst family and friends (figurative, of course), than to be alone at the house on the premises of the orpahnage.

We went to the village with three goals this past week. We wanted to observe the classroom, see how the teachers would execute what we have taught them to this point (that is one!), meet with the teachers to go over issues, concerns and questions (that is 2!) and, three, to start a choir! It was a packed week.

Sitting down in the back of the classroom on Monday was frightening at first, what would we learn? We had decorated the classroom with pictures and directions in Chichewa, posters of the months of the year and the days of the week and most important, a large poster in English and Chichewa of the schedule of the day. We hoped with this the teachers would succeed, at least through free play. It was moderately successful! The chance to sit back and watch was very insightful for both of us, we had the chance to see the teachers actually do some excercises in Chichewa with them, we had the opportunity to see, that even though we had explained many rules and games in Chichewa that the children had naturally taken to them and were following each other through play stations and in song and dance. It was very exciting. With work to be done though, we spent time that day making additional posters and decorations for the classroom and taking notes on the teachers execution and how they might teach a bit more enthustastically.

I can imagine that life on the village is very tiring, people wake with the sun and go to sleep as the moon just begins to peep its little head. All day is spent in some kind of house caring, field caring, child caring process and the processes are more intricate than anywhere else on earth because without the help of running water and electricity, there are many more steps to a daily activity that might take you or I ten minutes. I realize this. I also realize that these teachers have not had official training and that in general, in the village, life and farming far supercedes school and education. The teachers refer to themselves as caregivers and when we first arrived that is how they seemed, like glorified babysitters. This is the greatest challenge. How do we inspire the teachers to have enthusiasm and zest about what they are doing, as though they are cultivating the life of a small child, not just getting through 3 hours of caring for them, until they can get back to their chores. This is our struggle and I am hoping we can achieve our goal. While it was amazing to see the children maintain order, execute clean up, play with lowered voices, move from station to station in their groups and watch the teachers interact with the children while they played, it is still very apparent to me that the teachers are not excited to be working and so it seems they are less engaged than one would hope. This is something Joanna and I plan to focus on as we work again this week.

We met on Thursday afternoon to discuss class, to dicuss progress and to discuss concerns that the teachers might be having. We met at the Benes home, in their living room. We needed Diana to act as translator. The language barrier is one of the most challenging parts of this journey, at least intellectually speaking and even with the help of Diana, there are still things that get lost in translation. But we do our best. The teachers were tired and one showed up an hour late for the meeting (oh, Africa time), but they were open and honest. They explained that they would like to add some things to the welcome routine, that they were confused by our direction versus the direction they get from their sponsoring organization, one entirely separate from Goods4Good, one that does very little to follow up. We now understood why certain things were not moving as fast as we wanted. We went over some new ideas that they had and planned on three meetings over the next 2 and half weeks of our stay. The next day we implemented some of their ideas and though they appreciated it, there was still energy lacking. It is hard for me not to feel overcome by frustration at times, which is only natural in my case, if you know me at all ;), but Joanna is quick to remind me to focus on the process. We are both worried that 2.5 weeks will not be enough time to really get things in order, but we are working hard, and widdling down our list of goals. Hoping this week will continue to be productive.

I started a choir! Ok, ok, it is mostly a group of children who sing with me for an hour or two in the afternoon. Before coming to Malawi, I had great plans for a choir, in NYC I host a program for young kids that involves acting, dance and songwriting. Giving children the chance to express themselves this way is an awesome experience, very nice outlet for them. I had songs and songs ready to teach the kids but did not actually account for the language barrier and the different modes of discipline, or lack there of, that exist here in the village. I simplified. The first day we started was tuesday. Monday afternoon Diana gave me translations to a few sentences in Chichewa that I took with me to the yard in front of the primary school, a different building than the center, the children came running up, joyful, screaming, swarming. I had Berthe with me, who despite being the best little sister ever, does shy away when we get to the larger groups of kids, so often times I am on my own! I spoke to them in broken Chichewa. The language relies on a rhythm and the letters do not even make the same exact sounds as they do in English, so even if my phrases are correct, it is without fail that most do not understand what I am saying. Good thing the word Choir is the same in both languages.

I did my best inviting the children to choir later that day, 3 pm to be exact, Bertha repeated me, and they seemed to understand. Without fail, whether they did or not, by 3 pm, walking through the village Joanna and I picked up about 50 kids. I don’t know if they just followed us out of curiousity, which is most often the case, or if they remembered we were having choir practice. Either way….they joined. We sat on the front steps of the center, Joanna and I had left of the two keys to the center (that they have all together!) with the teachers, so we worked outside. I taught them the words to lean on me and Kumbaya. They listened and repeated, the language is unfamiliar so we went through one line at a time of the first verse and chorus, it was such a joy to hear their high, emotive voices wrap around me with the words of one of my favorite song, one that has become a staple here. Eventually, their energy waned, which is understandable, I invited them to sing to me in Chichewa. As usual, the outpour was overwhelming. Their voices reach pitches and levels of volume that astound me each time. No matter how many times I hear a massive group of these children sing, I am never unimpressed or uneffected. I am moved. Raw and full of emotion, not a back instrument in sight, no care in the world of how they sound or how they look. I dance along with them and sing the words I have begun to pick up of their traditional songs. I pull out my camera, always a dangerous choice, and videotape. They are always desperate to see the pictures taken. In a way it is validating to them, someone cares and when they peer into the small screen of my little cannon camera they can see themselves and see, they do in fact exist.

The next day was our second day of choir. I hoped they would understand me on tuesday when I invited them to return. There were a few girls and a few boys who I actually did connect to on that first day, children who actually seemed eager, not just so sing with the Azungos, but to learn music and to sing songs. I wondered if they would return. Joanna and I were about 15 minutes late on Wednesday, waiting for Bertha, nothing happens on time in the village or in all of Malawi for that matter. I could hear them from all the way up the path. About 100 kids gathered on the steps of the center, squished side by side. They stood and sang that the top of their voices. “Zikomo! Zikomo!” This word means lots of things in CHhichewa, but most often Thank you and Welcome. The song they were singing was something about Jesus, not that I understood more that the word ”Zikomo!” I stopped in my tracks yards from the center. I was shocked. They remembered, they came and they sang with so much heart! It was amazing! As seems to be a common way, they danced Joanna and me into the center and sang their butts off. Eventually the sat down and dilligently waited. At this point it must have been 150 kids. I could not believe how quiet they came. It is very heavy to look out and see 150 kids stare back at you and know should you utter a word, they would not understand you for one moment. So you act, you use your hands, your eyes and you make your way. We started again with Lean on Me, even if it takes two weeks, I want them to know at least ONE english song start to finish! Ok, maybe just verse and chorus! Ok, Maybe just chorus. They repeated, we sang, together, one language, one voice. For an hour we practiced, now though I have tried, there is not a set performance in the near future, but we sing, for the sake of singing, for spending time with one another, for organizingn some kind of activity that will stimulate these otherwise hardly stimulated children. Within an hour we are back onto Chichewa, they rise, a sea of laughing, dancing, singing children, their voices fill the room, bounce from the tin roof down to the clay floor and back up again, one might feel suffocated, but I felt warmth. Joanna and I danced and sang and high fived, we ushered the kids out of the center. Second day of choir (aka random singing) complete and successful, as successful as possible, anyway!

The third day we were very, very late! Lateness is second nature here in Malawi. I don’t know just what the reason is for it, its there and it can be humorous and can also be quite frustrating. Thursday after school we designated an hour and half for an afternoon meeting with the teachers. They were supposed to show up at 1:30 (or half-i One-i, as they say in Chihcewa) at the Benesi’s home. The quieter teacher, Elaine, showed up 10 minutes early. A shock! Metze showed up 1 hour late and Elaine even had to go fetch her. We finally sat down all together at 2:30 pm. I was so happy to sit and communicate, this meeting was crucial. But I had memories of the day before, the children waiting for us at the center, I felt that being late for choir that day (would be such a let down). We let our meeting run about a half hour late and headed off, to show up close to an hour late for choir. I won’t know if the kids were there and dispersed, but we did pick up about 75 along the way, more showed up as we got started and there were repeats. It was not the same turn out, nor was it the same level of focus as the day before. But we continues work on our song! Lean on Me. I tried groups, we tried together. They still can not manage to string the lines together, but it is amazing to hear that, though the words are tough for them, the melody sinks in. Many can remember. In three short days. The session on this hot afternoon was somewhat more challenging that the last two days. It was harder to grab their focus and Joanna did jump in to help me quite a few times. (In between holding different, adorable babies- she is obssesed with babies!). Joanna is a great coach. And very patient. Kids were coming and going and returning and standing and sitting. We made it through about an hour. There was progress but it was a challenge that day. It was a welcome relief to end with Chichewa songs and dance our ways right out of there. Friday was coming and Joanna and I were both ready for a break!

That evening we made more Chiponde! Peanut Butter from scratch is like nothing I have ever tasted. We made enough to last us quite some time, but I hope to make it again this week, it is great fun to work with Bertha and Diana on this. One thing we can really help them with. The strength that both Diana and Bertha display in pounding away at these roast nuts is astounding.

Friday afternoon we were off to Salima. Quickly dashing back to Area 49, we picked up our bathing suits and some fresh clothes and took the hour and a half journey to the most glorious place on earth. A drive that included sprawling fields, small trading centers, small pockets of villages with the destination a gorgeous, enormous lake. The topography changes a great deal, from flat to very mountainy, green and wet. We stayed at Safari Beach lodge a rugged, rustic, but enchanting bed and breakfast. Spent two straight days on the beach, running, doing yoga, eating, drinking. It is miraculous that Joanna and I have formed the bond we have, an all knowing friendship, we are each others only friends, only social outlet, each others only open ear. We complain, we rejoice and we sure do give each other the space we need. This weekend was a welcome vacation. Rejuvenated for the village this week! Plans to return to the lake for the last weekend of our stay.

It is hard to describe the nature of the people we are getting to know. Joyful and breathtaking in their movement and laughter, there are still moments I wonder if they want to learn. I am not a teacher, I have not worked as part of any educational system, but in America what I know is that there are those who are fortunate, those who are ignored and those who are forgotten. There is great poverty, crime and violence but also competitive educational resources, if you are granted access, can be rich and meaningful. I have not gotten the school system here down quite yet. There are religious schools, district school, schools that are funded by NGO’s, schools that are run by local teachers, all kinds of technical colleges, a University, some government funding for those who want to attend school, and some kids that kicked out for not having the $15 a year it costs to attend their 1 room primary school. In the village, I am not sure how many families have the ability, awareness or simply the desire to send make sure their children receive the education available to them. It can be disheartening and it can be so challenging to. A great challenge. You must be pushy here, take great initiative and relish in the people who are inspired, like the wonderful Benesi family, longing to make a difference but so committed to their village way of life. The mix is just beautful!

The slow pace has been trying for me! But I am miraculously easing into it. I did not check my e mail, nor worry about checking my e mail for the last week! A true record breaker! The slowness here can bog me down, I wonder sometimes if it will end, if the pace will quicken, if suddenly I will be busy morning to night with not a break or moment to think, like I am in NYC. Then I stop. I relish in it. I realize that I am in a moment, I am part of a process and I take it in. Process is becoming very apparent to me, understanding, pushing, creating, experiencing a process. I am grateful for this chance, for the work with the kids and for myself internally, listening to what happens on the inside of my mind for a minute. Something I often forget to do in New York.

That said.

I miss you all like crazy. I think about you every day. I have stopped seeing visions of the city in my day and night dreams, I see Malawi now, but I think of you guys always and really can not wait to see you when I come home.

And a moment for my Charley, please ;)

xxxxx

Dee