Alright! So I've decided to try to do my own "blog challenge." Because so many people ask what my daily schedule is like, I am going to try to write every day for the next month (except for the week when I'm in Mozambique and have no service😉).
Today was a pretty typical day of running around doing a million things (or that's what it felt like anyway). I overslept a little, allowing myself to drift back into sleep after every time my alarm tried to wake me to go for a run. When I finally woke up, it was almost time to go meet my counterpart. I gulped down some cold tea from last night and gnawed on some biltong from town then rushed off to his house. We walked a mile along the dirt road to the primary school while discussing upcoming projects and as I gawked at the mountain. It was damn beautiful this morning-crystal clear with a dazzlingly blue backdrop of sky and a few wispy clouds resting on peaks. We met with the head teacher at the primary school to ask permission to use a classroom next week when we do a Grassroots Soccer SKILLZ Girl camp. In this program, we will empower girls and teach them about how to protect themselves from HIV and early pregnancy. The lessons are combined with soccer drills and games since futbol is considered a "boys sport" here (we've gotta challenge that social quo). The teacher gladly granted us permission, so then we were on our way back to our side of the village.
We went to the health center after collecting metal scrapers from the carpenter and proceeded to finish the job I started last weekend of scraping all the old paint off of our blackboard where we teach our SOLID training. The paint was chipping so badly before that you could barely see what was written on it. So, thanks to my friends at Lujeri tea estate next door, I got my hands on some blackboard paint and decided that we needed to bring this board back to life with a new coat of paint. My counterpart and I scraped and scraped until our faces and clothes were covered with chipped paint, our arms were exhausted, and our hands were cramping. But we FINISHED. Break time.
I went home to finally make some breakfast even though by this time it was like 9:45 (a little late for a village breakfast!) I boiled some water (with some eggs thrown in to boil too), ate some more jerky and made a bunch of fresh tea from Lujeri. Then I sliced up a pineapple and a banana and put them in my homemade solar drier since the sun was finally coming out. Finally, I set out all my solar equipment (a radio, two panels, and a lamp) and put some beans that I'd soaked the night before on my paraffin stove to cook. I collected my tea and a whole bunch of papers/training guides to look over and went out to my porch to study. I read through guidelines and info for two different projects (pad making and a business training), highlighting important things.
When I went back inside to check on the beans and clean up a little, I heard "Emma, emmaaaa" at my door. I went to look, and it was my 8 year old neighbor Judy with a plate of nsima and ndiwo to share with me. I motioned to my wicker couch on the porch, and she hurried over to it. The two others who had come with her were my other neighbor kids-Jackie who is 4 and Ester who is 9. They had already eaten, so I laid out of rug for them and grabbed my bag of kids books. They hungrily dug through the pile. Judy and I ate our lunch then she proceeded to read with the others. I left them on the porch to play and read while I prepared for my afternoon.
As I was changing in my room, the kids yelled for me again that there was someone at the door. I came out and found one of my SOLID volunteers who is facilitating the camp next week standing there. I finished gathering my things and then we walked together down to the other facilitator's house. We all settled in on her large front porch right smack in the main junction of the village with a great view of the mountain and people constantly walking by, pausing to greet us and then continuing on their way. We studied up on some of the lessons then I let them work on their own and began cutting a blanket and plastic bags to prepare materials to make pads (like for girls' periods).
At 2:00, I was supposed to meet with the clan mothers whom we did a nutrition program with previously, but of course everyone was late. From where I was sitting though, I could see the guardian shelter where they would go for the meeting, so I wasn't too worried. The Head Amayi saw me here and came over to join us. It ended up that the three of us woman sat on the porch sewing pads for the next 2 hours while our male friend studied and chatted awkwardly. Menstruation and periods are a "not-talked-about" topic, so it was ironic that here we were, sitting out in the open, encouraging women to come over to see what we were doing. Everyone was so confused as to what we were making before we explained and then after they understood, they were so excited and wanting to buy one! Success!
After this pad making with my two favorite female counterparts, I popped over to the health center to slap a coat of paint on the concrete slab that we'd scraped earlier. The painting was super simple, and I thought of my dad while I worked and all the times I'd watched him paint. Thankfully, I didn't inherit the perfectionist gene to quite the same extent as him, so I finished in about 15 minutes before cleaning up and heading home.
When I got back home, I arrived to a mess. I hurriedly tried to put things back in their places knowing that darkness was coming in about 45 minutes. I eyed the stack of dirty dishes in a bucket in my courtyard and remembered that I hadn't gotten water that morning. I threw the beans I'd started cooking that afternoon back on the stove and grabbed my big 20 liter green bucket to go get water at the spring. (I'll write all about that chore another time....) I came home, washed dishes, slid the beans into some serving bowls then went up to my neighbors house to join them for dinner.
As always, when they saw me coming up, the kids rushed down to take the bowls for me and then set out a wooden stool for me when I approached the house. (Giving your visitor a chair when they come to chat is a must in Malawian culture). I sat with Judy as her mom cooked some small fish over her glowing fire in their small brick kitchen next to their house. There are no windows in the space, and the smoke gets out of control in there. I can't handle going in, but somehow the amayis do it.
When everything was ready, she and Judy brought out bowls of food and a large bowl of water. Everyone "washes" their right hand in the bowl of water (aka just slosh it around in there a little) and then all the bowls are uncovered. Since I eat with them so often now, I don't get my own separate plate like I used to, so we all just eat out of the plates. There's always one with patties of steaming hot nsima from which you pinch a chunk off to scoop up the ndiwo, or relish (basically any kind of vegetable or protein). Depending on the day, there are different ndiwos-but typically there's cooked down rape or sweet potato leaves and some kind of dried fish, boiled and cooked with tomatoes and onions. I usually bring beans, soya pieces, or some kind of vegetable that's different from these. We all share bowls and sit in a circle around the smorgasbord of food. When you finish, you dip your hand in that bowl of water from before the meal and get as much of the nsima that is left stuck to your fingers and hand off as you can.
After eating, the kids all but lick the bowls clean and then they're all stacked and set aside to wash when the first rays of sun peak over the hill to the east. Then the chatting and gossiping ensues in the darkness of night. People with small lights walk by on the well-tread path between our houses and distant drums remind us that it's "initiation month."
Tonight I sat there fairly quietly, zoning out and getting lost in my own thoughts of how easy it is to disconnect myself from what's going on around me because of the language barrier. I remembered the same thing happening in Nepal-I would wake up early in the morning to loud voices yelling in the alley below, but I could easily fall back asleep because I didn't know what they were saying. I thought about how even though the language barrier here can be frustrating at times, this is when it's nice. When instead of being caught up in conversations happening around me all the time, I can easily tune everything out and instead get lost in my thoughts. No wonder I crave so much alone time when I'm around people who speak English....I can't rest my mind like I can in the village! Amongst all this internal dialogue, two people came over and asked if I had gone. I might be able to escape to my own train of thoughts, but my body is still here, oops! I always thought my white skin was so vibrant even in the darkness that everyone could see me, so I was glad to learn that the cloak of night can hide me too. I blamed my full belly for my reserved behavior and excused myself to go to sleep. However, before I left, the amayis made the point to me that if I'm going to bed at this time (it was maybe 7PM), then I should be getting up at 5 AM with them! "Ha!" I told them, "I looooove to sleep!"
When I got back into my house, I went about my nightly routine of closing all the windows, brushing my teeth and washing my face under the blanket of the Milky Way, and then closing and locking all my doors before crawling into bed with some books to study/read and my journal. And now that's where I am. Writing this blog post on my phone with a single candle filling my room with soft golden light.
Another day in the life of a PCV.