Hello all and thank you to those of you who are still checking in on me. As you may have been able to guess, this week has been sans internet (and often sans electricity as well) leaving me fairly cut off from the world outside my lodge, driver, and work. Do not mistake my lack of commentary on here for inactivity here in Malawi however; it has been a week filled with highs and lows, surprises, and good-old-fashioned 19th century African fun.
*(Note: At the bottom of this post, I will post a blog I wrote after my arrival in Zomba, presuming there would internet. What I will attempt to cover here are the events that have occurred after that first night. It's about time I introduce a little Tarantino-esque storytelling to this blog, dontcha think?)*
I plan on weaving through the week by starting on the surprising, detouring onto friendship, and ending somewhere around academically satisfying. I am currently sitting at an internet cafe in downtown Zomba, a situation I will most likely find myself in often over the next couple weeks, so expect my posts to be both infrequent and lengthy. It's the way it has to be.
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A TALE AS OLD AS TIME
I would be remiss if I did not mention a bit about my cousin Lisa. Thank you to every one of you who sent me warm, heartfelt, and sincere messages concerning the loss of our family. We are all still grieving and the hurt is immense, but we are comforted by the fact that she no longer has to struggle through unimaginable pain anymore. I also want to share that one of my dearest friends, Mandy, has truly been an angel to my family and most importantly, little Maddie and Ella. As fate would have it, Mandy is in the national Broadway touring production of Beauty and the Beast and is stationed these two weeks in, you guessed it, Cincinnati. The world works in mysterious ways. Upon reading my blog, and hearing of our loss, Mandy immediately set a plan in motion to do everything she could for Lisa's beautiful family. From her email to me:
"I got them tickets to see Beauty and the Beast next Saturday [today] at the matinee. I also have set up a backstage tour for them so Maddie and Ella can meet Belle and see backstage. The whole cast and crew signed a sympathy card and I'll give that to Eric. For the girls I got them little Belle tiaras and tote bags that they can take trick or treating."
Words cannot express the gratitude I have for Mandy and the entire cast of Beauty and the Beast. While I cannot be there in person to comfort my family, I sleep soundly knowing there are people like Mandy in the world who will pick up the pieces for me in my absence. To say that it will be an emotional day today is an understatement. Girls, enjoy the show, and know that your Mom is watching with you.
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GET YER CANDLES READY
It's hard to describe the feeling of sitting in an unfamiliar place, without anyone around you that you know, little to do other than watch old movies, eat, or read, and then suddenly find yourself sitting in complete darkness. It's equally uneasy, shocking, and, call me crazy, fun. When is the last time you lost electricity, and I mean really lost electricity? For me, prior to this trip, a loss of electricity usually means nothing more than waking up and realizing I have to reset the time on the coffee maker. I know with some storms that have passed through Indiana over the past six months, that friends and colleagues have lost power for hours at a time, causing them to make preparations, attempt to save the food, dig out their flashlights, etc. But what about a power loss triggered by absolutely nothing? With a storm, one can anticipate a certain degree of damages, electricity loss, etc. but I'd argue it is a different feeling altogether when your power goes out suddenly on a perfectly clear evening.
That is what has happened here in Zomba the past few nights. At this point, it has become rather routine (To myself: "There it goes. Where did I put the matches?") but the first couple times it happened...woof. It was quite an experience. As you will read below, the lodge I am residing at is situated at the bottom of an enormous plateau, and I am surrounded by nothing but wildlife. Gone is the busy city centers of Lilongwe and Blantyre, instead replaced by invigorating mountain breezes and the most diverse and green set of trees you've ever seen. I have long said that one of the best parts of Malawi is the changing landscapes, and here in Zomba, I think you have the most majestic. The disadvantage to such a beautiful area? When the power goes out, it goes dark. And I mean dark. There are no lights from a nearby town illuminating the sky, no backup light posts along the streets or dotting the mountainside. When the power goes off, its hard to see your hand in front of your face.
Now why do I describe this as kind of fun? I suppose because it is an experience. Instantly, all the windows showcase a single candle, whose flame then bounces and casts shadows on all the surrounding buildings. There is a calmness too that is damn near palpable to feel throughout the area. Kitchen staff, hotel staff and patrons, including myself, all drop what they are doing and step outside, preferring the cool, dark air outside to the now pitch-black inside of rooms and offices. In many ways, the electricity going out becomes like an escape; an escape from work, from duties, from the computer, and well, from electricity. I have had some of the best conversations with staff and other patrons during these times, sitting at the bar, drinking a beer (I call it my duty to do so before they go warm), and enjoying the little things that perhaps we take a little too much for granted nowadays. I can honestly say that my least favorite part of these moments is when the TV in the bar suddenly flitters back to life, thus ending the conversations abruptly. Last night, the Patriot with Mel Gibson was on, and I swear, as soon as it came back, all eyes moved to it, like moths to a flame and the conversation became entirely muted as we listened to some impassioned speech given by Heath Ledger. If there was ever a 1984 moment in my life, this was it.
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THE BEST ORANGE FANTA COMMERCIAL EVER
Since I have been in Zomba, I have been assigned a driver by the name of Lawson. As you have read here on previous posts, the Save the Children drivers are largely interchangeable, yet each with their own unique qualities. From Pheobe, to Ephram, I have had great conversations, cultivated good friendships, and, of course, admired the ways in which they navigate the none-too-easy to navigate roads of Malawi.
But Lawson has been altogether different. Lawson is the oldest of the Save the Children drivers I have had thus far. He is in his mid-sixties (he says he is unsure of his exact date of birth, but knows "I know I am sixty-somthing. My bones tell me so"), and walks with a bit of a bow-legged limp. His has a scar over his left eye, closely cropped hair, and speaks softly, often saying nothing until prompted. At our first meeting, earlier this week, I assumed he did not like me. I took his silence as I entered the car as a sign of displeasure, and as soon as I sat down in the truck, he nodded and did not move an inch. We sat in silence for a few beats until I finally asked, are we ready? He nodded and said yes, let us go, and turned the car on, and put it into gear.
Over the next couple trips, this was the way we proceeded; I would get in the truck, he would sit, hands clasped in his lap, waiting for me to give confirmation that we were ready to go before slowly moving to turn the key and get the car into gear. He was impossible to get a read on, and as a result, we never spoke much while driving to and from our destinations. Instead I stared out the window at the countryside as we drove, and he paid close attention to the road.
It was Wednesday evening, and Lawson and I were traveling back from Domasi College of Education and headed to the lodge, just as we had done the night before. The skies all around us were looking ominous, and as we headed up towards the plateau (rising in altitude) it became clear that we were going to get rained on. Sure enough, a soft drizzle soon turned into a downpour, and instantly Lawson lowered the speed of our vehicle to almost a crawl. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and leaned forward, trying to get a better view of the road which was becoming less and less visible with every second that passed. He downshifted the truck, dropping our speed once again, and then wiped his brow with the back of his left hand before clearing his throat and uttering, almost at an incomprehensible volume: "I apologize for the slow speed." I, shocked to hear him speak, immediately reassured him that he was doing the absolute right thing in being careful and cautious, as the slick roads can be very dangerous if traveling any faster. "Yes, and many drivers do not care, which can cause accidents. I care." I again agreed and thanked him for his caution.
We drove at this speed, through the rain for another ten minutes in silence. By my count, we were passed by four cars, ten minibuses, three bicycles, and almost one goat (he veered off in the other direction before he caught up, but could have easily had us I think). As we neared the road that would take me back up the mountain towards the lodge, I suddenly got the urge to get a bite to eat somewhere other than the hotel restaurant (having already had almost the entire menu in just a few meals) and asked Lawson if he knew anywhere to go, my treat. He took his eyes off the road for a brief moment, looking at me with both confused and startled eyes. "Uh, yes, there is a place up here. Close to your hotel, if you like." I assured him whatever he chose was fine and he nodded.
After a few more minutes in the deluge driving extravaganza, we pulled in to a small restaurant with a sign that read "Tasty Bites." He parked the truck and we jumped out, hopping across puddles and small rivers that had gathered in the parking lot in a futile attempt to not get completely soaked. Futile it was. By the time we collected ourselves underneath the canopy we were drenched. I started to laugh as I looked down at myself, but Lawson was finding the whole situation remarkably unfunny. He frowned as he looked down at his shoes, now covered in a good deal of mud, and shook his head disapprovingly. Suddenly, I wondered if perhaps grabbing a bit to eat was a bad idea and was not looking forward to a long meal with a grumpy, frustrated driver.
We sat down and before the menu arrived I smelled the sweet smell of barbecue chicken, a particular weakness of mine for those who are not aware. One of the most popular dishes here in Malawi is chicken and chips (french fries) with a soft drink to wash it down. Every part of this meal sounded pretty amazing to me, and no sooner did the waiter hand us menus did I know precisely want I wanted. Chicken and chips, please, with a Fanta, orange, I ordered. Lawson nodded, and quietly told the waiter he would have the same, before catching eyes with me and slightly nodding, saying either 'good choice' or 'I'll have what you have so that I don't ask for too much' - I couldn't tell.
We again sat in silence until our food arrived. Instantly, I knew I had made the right choice. The smell of the chicken wafted up to my nostrils, a delicious mix of sweetness and spices that could be bottled up and sprayed into a room. I looked across the table at Lawson, and he too was sitting, allowing the scent to enter his nose and work its way down to his stomach. He closed his eyes and spoke softly to himself for a moment, before saying 'amen', and reaching for his fork. I smiled slightly, and reached for mine, and for the next ten minutes, there was not a sound other than cutting, chewing and the lowering of the glass Fanta bottle onto the table. It was scrumptious.
We finished eating right around the same time, each of our plates as empty as they had begun in the kitchen, save the bare chicken bones resting in the center. Lawson and I mimicked one another, grabbing our orange Fantas and leaning back in our seats, looking around the restaurant. The rain, which had subsided a bit from when had entered, was still coming down at a good rate, and I began to think of how I had been told it wasn't supposed to rain in Malawi until November, but yet here we were, in October, with three straight days of rain. I was about to ask Lawson about this, yearning for some 'in' to begin conversation when suddenly, just outside the window, the storm unleashed a ferocious streak of lightning that seemingly landed directly in the middle of the road not twenty yards from when we sat. Seconds after (the shortest amount of time I had ever experienced passing when this occurred) thunder followed, its deafening clap rocking the entire foundation of 'Tasty Bites', knocking out the power in the whole building, and causing Lawson to jump so far out of his seat that the Fanta bottle flew out of his hand, spun in midair, and came crashing to the floor.
We sat, in the dark, breathless for a few seconds, trying to collect ourselves. Finally, I uttered "are you ok?" to which Lawson meekly responded, "Yes, yes I think so" and then, to my utter surprise, began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. He continued to laugh for almost a minute before wiping his eyes and saying, in a much more confident voice than I had ever heard, "I think God just tried to kill me" and laughed some more. I joined in, laughing and shaking my head as I wiped the floor with my foot, moving the shattered remains of the Fanta bottle to an area away from any customers' foot traffic. "Has that ever happened before?" I asked, attempting to start some kind of conversation while still recovering from the shock myself. "Not often," he responded, "but when it does...oooo boy. It is not good. Not good at all."
The waiter came over and asked if we were ok, which I reassured him we were and praised him for the delicious meal. He smiled and said thank you, you are welcome, before noticing the shattered bottle and small puddle of orange Fanta which had trickled to the center of the room. "Let me get you two more" he said and quickly spun away before I could say it was not necessary and to ask for the bill. I looked across the table at Lawson, who was still breathing heavily, hand over his heart, slowly shaking his head. He took a deep breath and then exhaled, part sigh, part exhaustion, and looked up at me. Then, buoyed by either newfound confidence, the darkened room, or perhaps just thankfulness of his survival from the storm, said "so tell me about yourself, James."
There we sat, for the next two hours, talking. Over the course of four additional Fantas, and in near-complete darkness, we talked at length about everything that had brought each of us to this moment in life. I told him all about my involvement with Save, the project I was undertaking, my previous work in Morocco, South Africa, and Ukraine. I told him about Bloomington, about Lake Erie, and about my parents. He then shared with me the experiences of his lifetime, including his previous employment working deep in the diamond mines of South Africa, harvesting diamonds "as big as your thigh" in order to provide for his family of fifteen. "I was the oldest" he would state matter-of-factly "and it did not matter that I was terrified to go into the mines, terrified that I would be killed, or crushed by rock, or attacked by others in the dark shafts. It was my duty. I called my Mother every night, crying, begging to come back. She said that if I did, the family starves, so what was I to do?"
He told me about his favorite hobby, fishing on Lake Malawi for Chambo, and how his brother, who now resides in Cape Town, flies back as much as he can just so they can go on their fishing trips together. He shared his love for working with Save the Children, and even though he is "just a driver" how he knows that in some small way, he is continuing to help his country and his country's future. He told me about the passing of his wife in 2007, how she battled illness after illness until "God asked her to come home", leaving Lawson to take care of his four little girls alone for the past four years. We sat, there, in Tasty Bites, at a table in the back, with the rain continuing to fall outside, drinking orange Fantas and sharing in the stories of one another until the darkness outside the restaurant matched the darkness inside. Finally, we decided it was time to go, and paid the bill and headed back.
Over the past two nights, Lawson and I, after my work at Domasi, have gone back to Tasty Bites, sat at the same table, ordered the same meal with orange Fantas and talked until the staff was ready for us to leave. We took turns talking about ourselves and asking questions to each other, alternating sad stories and funny stories, interesting stories and quizzical stories, weaving together conversations that could make for individual chapters in a book. As we arrived back at the lodge last night, we acknowledged that
as is the way with Save the Children, I would most likely have a different driver for the next few weeks as I head out into the field (to be explained more in the next section) but that the last few days have been very enjoyable. "You have my number James, and I will tell the next driver to take care of you, because that is what you do for others. You have taken care of me and I appreciate it. You are both friendly and bossly, and God looks brightly on those who treat me the way you have the past week." I thanked him humbly and shook my head, reminding him that it was him who made the week an enjoyable experience, and that sometime, we will have to have him come to the US so that I could become his driver. He laughed and immediately shook his head incredulously, "If it ever should happen, I will lean over and kiss the ground and thank God. My soul will be unhappy if I never see America before I die. But until then, I want you to remember Lawson, and I hope you work with Save the Children again. I want you to become the head of the regional Save the Children office in Ethiopia, and remember me, and ask me to come there and be your permanent driver. I will do so happily." I laughed, thanked him, and assured him that I would, before reminding him that he would no way he would leave Lake Malawi and his fishing experiences to move to Ethiopia just to be my driver.
"There have to be good lakes there to fish I think," he said, looking out the front window of the truck and into the sky, "and if not, I am sure I could talk God into moving this one for me."
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TEAM DOMASI
While it certainly seems not to be the case, I have had the opportunity to get a lot of work done this week. As I had planned, yet wasn't entirely sure would work, I was able to assemble a team of Domasi students to become my all-important research team over the next few weeks. My good friend Misheck, who is now the Director of Distance Learning at Domasi College of Education (and still the in-country coordinator for CIVITAS Malawi, a now-unfunded international civic education program which partners with Indiana University) put up a note earlier this week inviting all who were interested to join me over the next few weeks to help me complete a research project looking in at schools in the Zomba region and collecting data on teacher quality. In meetings with Misheck early in the week, I had expressed concern that we would be unable to get student volunteers on such short notice. He assured me it would be no problem.
As is always the case, I needn't have worried. He capped (at my insistence) the sign-in sheet at 10 students. All the slots were filled, and when we had our first briefing on Wednesday, I was stunned to see the room was filled with far more than 10 students. It seems those who had signed up talked to their peers and found out when we were meeting and wanted to come to see what exactly was happening. I couldn't help but smile as I entered the room and began addressing the group, introducing myself, the project, and what would be required of them as research assistants to the data collection. I thought that the difficult schedule, demanding tasks, and paltry pay (I would buy them lunch and give transportation to and from the schools) would be enough to scare at least a few away, but it somehow only managed to grow over the next few days. Again, my underestimations were seemingly unwarranted.
After spending the last few days (crash course) discussing research methodology, explaining difficult vocabulary, reviewing the instruments, and carving out a workable schedule, I can honestly say that I am thrilled to go out in the field over the next two weeks. If everything goes to plan (which it never does), I will visit 20 schools (two schools a day), observe and interview two teachers per school (one qualified, one unqualified - equaling 40 total), with two research assistants from Domasi in tow per day. The assistants are fluent in both English and Chichewa, which will provide me with access to a translator, and are tasked with completing the observation protocol with me and conducting the one-on-one interviews with the teachers at the completion of each lesson. This will be invaluable to me in both data collection and analysis and will hopefully add to both the richness of the project as well as make it distinctly Malawian - a goal of mine from the very onset.
Now cross your fingers we can find fuel to get to the schools.
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That's all for now. As always, there is more to share, but I think I have made this long enough for now. Hope all is well back home and I miss all of you.
And go Tigers.
