With the weekend came time for a bit of rest and relaxation, which my body had desperately needed. In the midst of the field work every day, changing cities and hotels, re-packing and un-packing, I had failed to notice the toll that the constant movement was exerting on my body and mind. By the time Friday and Saturday rolled around, and I was given time to slow down, I noticed how every muscle ached with exhaustion and how I had forgotten the last time my list of leisure activities dwarfed my list of responsibilities.
It was early Saturday morning, and I was sitting on the large porch of Chez Makay awaiting my breakfast when Julius arrived. His presence was a bit of a surprise, and though I had not expected him, it was nice to see a familiar, smiling face. He pulled the seat out across the table from me, plopped down and gave a big sigh, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the palm of his hand.
"Morning James, how are you?" "I am well," I responded and extended my hand which he took and shook lightly, transferring his forehead sweat to my palm "what brings you here today?" "Just wanted to check on you," he responded, gesturing to the server and pointing to my coffee mug, sending the waiter scurrying off, "and maybe get you the chance to exercise a bit."
His idea of exercise turned out to be a trek into town, which wasn't an exceptionally long walk, but in my tired state, seemed almost endless. As we walked, he pointed out features of the area we were in; the planted, unnatural bamboo stalks which lined the road, the enclosed private houses with spiraling barbed wire atop ten-foot concrete walls, and even the local church, which at the time, was blaring "End of the Road" by Boyz II Men. "Whatever happened to them?" Julius asked, more to himself than me.
We ended up walking all around the city, Julius alternating between taking me into to local shops (he found a store which sold musical instruments because "I thought you'd like to be near some drums again"), a market which would rival a Moroccan souk/medina for second-hand imported junk ("What is a Def Leppard" he asked, pointing to an extremely faded black t-shirt in one booth), and even multiple grocery stores to "show me how Malawians buy their food...or what is left of food here."
At a moment's notice, Julius would switch from optimistic to realistic, alternating between discussing Malawi's past, present, and future. He is a relatively young man, mid-thirties I suspect, but often speaks with the slow, deliberate pattern of a man much older. "Malawi," he begins at one point as we cross a busy road, darting to avoid the minibuses which seem unable to see pedestrians at any time "is at a crossroads, no doubt. We are a country that is trying, trying so hard to be modern, but we are stuck at still only fighting ourselves. Take Chancellor College for example."
Chancellor College, located in Zomba, is one of the largest colleges in the country. Misheck, my friend and colleague from last year's civic education workshop, had attended there in the early nineties, along with many of the country's other respected professionals. It is, without exaggeration, the single most important academic institution the country has in its possession.
It has also been closed for 18 months.
What had happened, as far as I could understand, was a combination of faculty solidarity and outside pressure. Four lecturers, who reportedly used their classrooms as sounding boards for their radical opinions, were fired 18 months ago. While the reasons were not publicly given, it seems there was little doubt as to the cause of their dismissals. In response, the remaining faculty, showing their support for their colleagues and wishing to showcase their unwillingness to have their in-classroom speech restricted, decided to protest the firings by refusing to come to work. The college closed and remained closed for 18 months.
Late last week, as Julius and I readied to come back to Blantyre, it was announced that the four lecturers had been reinstated, and the school would reopen upon creation of a new academic calendar. It was a momentous turn of events, and the reinstatement had come from none other than the President himself, citing the importance of Higher Education in Malawi and the continued academic progress of its citizens.
"What happened at Chancellor" Julius continued, as we ducked into another shop "is a perfect example of the strengths and weaknesses in our country. The lecturers held together, and did what they knew was right, and they won. But they, and the country also lost - we have lost scholars, time, and money. And over what?" Julius let that question hang as he shook his head and ran his fingers over a forlorn soccer jersey hanging on a rack.
We exited the shop and continued walking, in silence.
