July 6, 2009

 

Today was a completely free day since it was a national holiday and so there was no where we needed to be as far as volunteer work.  Also, it was one of the first really sunny days that we have had.  We were sitting around outside enjoying the sunshine when we noticed some village boys hanging out on the other side of the fence.  We blew up one of our beach balls and invited them over to play.  A group of four boys soon grew into 8 and then 12 and then….you get the idea.  So they were all playing in our yard which has a nice grassy area (unheard of anywhere in the village) and nice plantings of flowers and things around the trees.  They soon asked if we had a real ball, meaning a soccer ball, which we did have.  So we got that out and it soon became apparent that they were going to trample down all of the flowers if I didn’t change their venue darn quick.  So, we found a nice open area in the road across from our house where they happily got a real game of soccer going. 

 

During this time another contingent of boys shows up here asking for a ball.  I told them that I had given the ball to the other group of boys and they needed to go play with them.  Don’t forget that they are speaking Chechewa with a  little bit of English thrown in and the Chechewa word for ball is bole (not sure how it is spelled but it sounds almost like ours).  They then start saying in a scolding manor, “No, no.  No baby, no.”  Meaning that the older boys (these guys were probably 6 or 7) had told them that they couldn’t play because they were too little.  It was so cute and I felt sad for them.  We’ve all been there, right?  So I got them out another beach ball.  But then they just thought that they should play in the yard again.  It’s very hard to get it all sorted out.  One of the little guys is named Noel.  He is the cutest and sharpest little guy around.  His English is really good for his age.  He was patting his chest, “Rita’s school.  Rita’s school.”  This is the primary school (only one class of first graders right now) which  we are volunteering with so I had already met him at the school but didn’t know his name yet.  If I was Madonna, this is the kid that I would be taking home with me. 

 

Also, somewhere during the morning a bunch of girls showed up wanting their fingernails painted.  Annie had painted a few shy girls earlier in the day.  I wish that I had pictures of myself surrounded by about 20 kids, all of them with their hands stuck out, girls AND boys, waiting for their nails to be painted.  I said, “No boys!” and all of the girls shouted “No boys.  No boys.” 

 

You don’t see the little girls playing sports or even with the hoops or tires that they are chasing down the roads.  In general, the girls are much quieter than the boys.  The boys are like little clowns, doing flips and cartwheels and standing on their heads trying to get people’s attention.  But, there’s almost always one outgoing, bossy girl that keeps all of the other girls in line. 

 

Later in the morning, here come all of the boys to report something to me.  There is obviously some issue and I cannot figure out at all what it might me.  Luckily, a young man was going by on his bicycle.  His English was very, very good.  He had obviously been through secondary school.  He interpreted to me that someone from the resort had come by and told them that they couldn’t play there.  The resort area is sort of like a neighborhood with houses and cabanas spread around and then the bar and restaurant down by the beach.  I didn’t realize that it is all supposed to be private property.  There is all kinds of open field or pasture land.   I later asked the people down at the resort and they said that yes, they don’t want the villagers over here.  They do have a point as there are just SO MANY kids around here.  Rita, the owner or Palm Beach says that there may be up to 3000 kids in the village.  When you drive down the road to the highway, you easily see 5 kids for every adult. 

 

But anyway, I now became aware that I was living in an exclusive community where everyone on this side of the fence was either white or was working for the white people.  The rich people were on this side, the poor people with the little rugrats are on that side.  (They really are little rugrats and I say that with all affection for them.)  And I didn’t come to Africa to be with the white people.  As Mark and I talked about it he said, “So, do you want to go live in the village?”  And I had to say, “No, I really don’t.”  It would be too hard over there. For a trip like this, it is important that we can live in both worlds.  We can interact with another culture in another language and a whole other worldview and then retreat into a world where people speak our language and share our experiences to one degree or another. 

 

I am really, really loving getting to know the Malawian people that we are coming into contact with.  All of the children in Rita’s school, the many, many students at MCV,  the babies and caregivers in the nursery, the different boys who come every day and play with our balls, Michael Patrick who is our house helper, the people at St. Michael’s church, Dixon who is the “make it happen” guy in the neighborhood, if you want something he can get it for you.  And I am also loving the help of the other Azungu, many of them who have spent extended time here in Malawi and can really make things easier with their advice and instruction.  Each day I am more and more grateful for the amazing opportunity to be here, the beauty of Malawi (even in the dry winter season) and especially the beauty of her people.