Monday, May 11, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
I love quotes, especially good ones; ones that make you get goosebumps. In Tolkien's epic film there's a point in the second installment that is particularly good. The two main characters are sitting in a city that's been destroyed and they want to give up their quest. One complains that the task is too big, the journey too far, and they are too small to continue on. And Samwise turns to his friend saying "it's like in the great strories, the ones that really matter. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened to it? But in the end it is only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come... those are the stories that stayed with you, that meant something, even if you were too small to understand why....Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't; they kept going cause they were holding onto sometihng. (What were they holding onto?) That there is some good in this world and it is worth fighting for. "
Today was our final day in Malawi. And I could tell you about the meeting with its minutiae and who said what but that will come in time. I would rather tell you, with the little time I have left me, what has especially struck me about this place in this time: there are two types of people in the world. Those with hope and those without.
Men sitting on porches because there is nothing to do, no job prospects, no reasonable expectations that anything will change because nothing has changed in the past. These people hedge their bets by not reaching out for new ideas, for new relationships, for new hopes that have yet to be realised. They're content with the status quo. (I could be saying this about our city, people we know and see. ) There are elections coming soon to Malawi. The ruling party, DPP, is an urban party. The opposition parties (MCP, UDF) are rural. When we drive to Kamenzi you see the flags for the rural parties everywhere. There are election headquarters and the supporters know which way they will vote, MCP/UDF; they also, however, wear DPP shirts. I assume it's because it's a free shirt. Hedging their bets.
Then there are those who are willing to try something new for the chance of a good reward. They try new techniques; they learn new things; they share. There are bicyclists who go along the roads and sides of highways with huge stacks of charcoal bound for the capital, Lilongwe. There is a problem, however. The police put up checkpoints to check for incoming goods which aren't allowed to be shipped. Charcoal, for some reason, is one of them. They fetch a much higher price in the city. So these bicyclists will bike for kilometres until the appointed time, when they turn off the road and circumvent the police, trying to arrive at the destination. They are doing something to improve their lot. I even saw one wearing a Toronto maple leafs jersey; if that's not hope, I'm not sure what is.
On the way back from the Lake, i could see small fires in the huts sporadically spread out against the mountains. It reminded me of a Bob Goudzwaart speech I heard a couple of years ago and about Tolkien again. Goudzwaard was talking about hope in troubled times had said that even the smallest of lights cuts through the deepest of darkness.
He told a story of an encounter with Archbishop Desmond Tutu during Apartheid. And Desmond Tutu was convinced that he had seen the end of apartheid because the times were so dark for his countrymen. His explanation was that in the darkest point of night, each night, every night, the first star to come out shining is the morningstar; a herald of good things to come. Signifying that the darkness cannot be there forever, that morning and light and warmth are coming very soon.
This is what we have seen, hope in troubled times, lights in the deepest darkness: the women's groups, the literacy groups, the farming groups, the sanitation groups, the orhpanage people, all small fires of hope along the mountainsides.
It may seem like a huge task ahead of us, one that is too big for us to handle, too difficult to complete, too painful to see through, but many have felt the same before us. "It is up to us to decide what to do with the time given us" in this relationship, and with others. As I leave, I would like to leave you with a quote from the Shawshank Redemption:
"Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And a good thing never dies."
Today was our final day in Malawi. And I could tell you about the meeting with its minutiae and who said what but that will come in time. I would rather tell you, with the little time I have left me, what has especially struck me about this place in this time: there are two types of people in the world. Those with hope and those without.
Men sitting on porches because there is nothing to do, no job prospects, no reasonable expectations that anything will change because nothing has changed in the past. These people hedge their bets by not reaching out for new ideas, for new relationships, for new hopes that have yet to be realised. They're content with the status quo. (I could be saying this about our city, people we know and see. ) There are elections coming soon to Malawi. The ruling party, DPP, is an urban party. The opposition parties (MCP, UDF) are rural. When we drive to Kamenzi you see the flags for the rural parties everywhere. There are election headquarters and the supporters know which way they will vote, MCP/UDF; they also, however, wear DPP shirts. I assume it's because it's a free shirt. Hedging their bets.
Then there are those who are willing to try something new for the chance of a good reward. They try new techniques; they learn new things; they share. There are bicyclists who go along the roads and sides of highways with huge stacks of charcoal bound for the capital, Lilongwe. There is a problem, however. The police put up checkpoints to check for incoming goods which aren't allowed to be shipped. Charcoal, for some reason, is one of them. They fetch a much higher price in the city. So these bicyclists will bike for kilometres until the appointed time, when they turn off the road and circumvent the police, trying to arrive at the destination. They are doing something to improve their lot. I even saw one wearing a Toronto maple leafs jersey; if that's not hope, I'm not sure what is.
On the way back from the Lake, i could see small fires in the huts sporadically spread out against the mountains. It reminded me of a Bob Goudzwaart speech I heard a couple of years ago and about Tolkien again. Goudzwaard was talking about hope in troubled times had said that even the smallest of lights cuts through the deepest of darkness.
He told a story of an encounter with Archbishop Desmond Tutu during Apartheid. And Desmond Tutu was convinced that he had seen the end of apartheid because the times were so dark for his countrymen. His explanation was that in the darkest point of night, each night, every night, the first star to come out shining is the morningstar; a herald of good things to come. Signifying that the darkness cannot be there forever, that morning and light and warmth are coming very soon.
This is what we have seen, hope in troubled times, lights in the deepest darkness: the women's groups, the literacy groups, the farming groups, the sanitation groups, the orhpanage people, all small fires of hope along the mountainsides.
It may seem like a huge task ahead of us, one that is too big for us to handle, too difficult to complete, too painful to see through, but many have felt the same before us. "It is up to us to decide what to do with the time given us" in this relationship, and with others. As I leave, I would like to leave you with a quote from the Shawshank Redemption:
"Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And a good thing never dies."
Monday, May 4, 2009
My dad told me how to pay off cops. The old licenses used to have two parts; the first was the plastic photo, the second a piece of pink paper that would be folded so that it and the photo would slide into a case of some kind. He would say that one would slip a $50 bill inside in case the police pulled one over for speeding. When that person inevitably was, he or she would simply pass the the license to the cop and wait for him to return a few minutes later without a ticket and a 'watch your speed. i won't be so nice next time. have a nice day'. Now, the first thing I'm thinking of now is that $50 was a lot of money back then, and if speeding tickets are expensive today, then how fast must one have been going that a $50 would smooth everything over. It could be the equivalent of paying someone $100, maybe more, for a speeding transaction today. That is, in my experience almost 27 m.p.h. over the speed limit.
The first time I paid off a cop was after a Bob Dylan concert on spring break in 2000. We were in Montana and it was roughly 2 am. There was absolutely no one on the road. So certain am I of this, that I am still convinced that the state trooper was laying in wait in some field and came flying off an embankment of some sort to catch us. I was riding shotgun and my roommate Mike was driving. I woke up my two other roommates who were sitting in the back seat. The cop came to the window told us that we were going 25 mph over, asked for the id and went back to his car for a long time. Finally, my roommate got sick of waiting and went to the cop car. He returned promptly with a question. "Does anyone have $40 or we're going to jail?" Providentially, we did. And that was the end of that.
"Can you buy me some groundnuts?" That was how the cop asked for the 'contribution' today. Macson, the driver was caught off-guard by it so much he laughed; then he opened the change drawer and gave him the 15 kwatcha that Jeff had given him yesterday. It wasn't subtle in the least. At least the woman cop had tried to beat around the bush, and even confiscated Macson's license and made him go to the police station, find her number, call her at home, get new permits, and then asked him again how much money he had. But the wheels had already been greased.
Tradition is more important than education (thanks Hans and Hennie). This is what we've seen. The staple food here is Nsima, which is maize--basically corn-- that has pretty much all of its nutritional value sucked out of it, and made into a bland, thick, sticky blob resembling stiff cream of wheat. They do this because their mothers did this. They have been taught about rotating crops and other foods, but that's not tradition. They have rows in the fields a foot deep so that the soil is piled up into tall spines. Their fathers farmed this way. They use large pots for cooking after the harvest despite going without food for 1/3 of the year. Small or even medium sized pots don't cross their minds; it is not tradition.
There have, however, been positive steps. We saw some today. We went to Gamenzi village, the same village as the Malaria Control village. There they had an orphan's nursery school, staffed by volunteers, from 8-11 am, which had offered free meals to whomever came. The food has been provided for by USAID. They bring other children in as well, so as to not alienate the orphans for being orphans. We were treated to some of the things that they have been taught. They would bring these kids who were maybe 3 or 4 up in front of everyone to show that they were able to say their prayers, or count to 10, or the names of the months in English. All were quite cute doing it. We got some information from the volunteer teacher about what size of class they have (this one was 70 orphans/kids), and how many (4), and where they were located (there's 3 other ones in 3 other villages--no idea which ones, nor where they are). But the non-traditional thing about this was that it started 12 months ago because they saw the need.
The need was that there is (and i've counted) a bazillion kids who would be playing hookey if there was a school; who would be at home if they had (a) parent(s); who would be eating breakfast if they had any food.
This village, I think, is a bit different than the other villages. The mfumu (chief) seems to be very interested in improving the lot of the community; the most proactive. So much so that the men, when we returned to the shade tree and bore hole (water well), were working on bamboo mats and wicker baskets so that they could sell to raise money for some food and for the volunteers that do so much. Jeff and I tried to do some mats and he did fairly well, he says. I would have preferred to know that it is better to slide the bamboo slats onto the knife/needle than to try and push the needle/knife through the slats; that does not work well. Jae and Heather fared better than us, but they were making baskets; that hardly counts. We were sweating after we were finished.
There are some concerns for tomorrow's meeting but nothing that should deter us from the final outcome, the reason why we came. The main one being that we are very persistent in that we want it to be community based in Kamenzi district and not church based. It is a fine line to walk but, as our Ubuntu group has discussed, one which we feel is essential. Specific people on their side want it to be church based, and if not, then to stack the committee and the meeting tomorrow with people who "happen to also be part of the church" here. It's just another form of greasing the wheels.
In other news, Heather tried to carry a bucket on her head with some help from some of the ladies here. If there's a photo of her by herself in front of the church, I want you all to know that I saw someone holding it up for her. Sorry, Heather. You probably thought you did it yourself.
Jae was blessed with many abilities; biking in Malawi is not really one of them.
The first time I paid off a cop was after a Bob Dylan concert on spring break in 2000. We were in Montana and it was roughly 2 am. There was absolutely no one on the road. So certain am I of this, that I am still convinced that the state trooper was laying in wait in some field and came flying off an embankment of some sort to catch us. I was riding shotgun and my roommate Mike was driving. I woke up my two other roommates who were sitting in the back seat. The cop came to the window told us that we were going 25 mph over, asked for the id and went back to his car for a long time. Finally, my roommate got sick of waiting and went to the cop car. He returned promptly with a question. "Does anyone have $40 or we're going to jail?" Providentially, we did. And that was the end of that.
"Can you buy me some groundnuts?" That was how the cop asked for the 'contribution' today. Macson, the driver was caught off-guard by it so much he laughed; then he opened the change drawer and gave him the 15 kwatcha that Jeff had given him yesterday. It wasn't subtle in the least. At least the woman cop had tried to beat around the bush, and even confiscated Macson's license and made him go to the police station, find her number, call her at home, get new permits, and then asked him again how much money he had. But the wheels had already been greased.
Tradition is more important than education (thanks Hans and Hennie). This is what we've seen. The staple food here is Nsima, which is maize--basically corn-- that has pretty much all of its nutritional value sucked out of it, and made into a bland, thick, sticky blob resembling stiff cream of wheat. They do this because their mothers did this. They have been taught about rotating crops and other foods, but that's not tradition. They have rows in the fields a foot deep so that the soil is piled up into tall spines. Their fathers farmed this way. They use large pots for cooking after the harvest despite going without food for 1/3 of the year. Small or even medium sized pots don't cross their minds; it is not tradition.
There have, however, been positive steps. We saw some today. We went to Gamenzi village, the same village as the Malaria Control village. There they had an orphan's nursery school, staffed by volunteers, from 8-11 am, which had offered free meals to whomever came. The food has been provided for by USAID. They bring other children in as well, so as to not alienate the orphans for being orphans. We were treated to some of the things that they have been taught. They would bring these kids who were maybe 3 or 4 up in front of everyone to show that they were able to say their prayers, or count to 10, or the names of the months in English. All were quite cute doing it. We got some information from the volunteer teacher about what size of class they have (this one was 70 orphans/kids), and how many (4), and where they were located (there's 3 other ones in 3 other villages--no idea which ones, nor where they are). But the non-traditional thing about this was that it started 12 months ago because they saw the need.
The need was that there is (and i've counted) a bazillion kids who would be playing hookey if there was a school; who would be at home if they had (a) parent(s); who would be eating breakfast if they had any food.
This village, I think, is a bit different than the other villages. The mfumu (chief) seems to be very interested in improving the lot of the community; the most proactive. So much so that the men, when we returned to the shade tree and bore hole (water well), were working on bamboo mats and wicker baskets so that they could sell to raise money for some food and for the volunteers that do so much. Jeff and I tried to do some mats and he did fairly well, he says. I would have preferred to know that it is better to slide the bamboo slats onto the knife/needle than to try and push the needle/knife through the slats; that does not work well. Jae and Heather fared better than us, but they were making baskets; that hardly counts. We were sweating after we were finished.
There are some concerns for tomorrow's meeting but nothing that should deter us from the final outcome, the reason why we came. The main one being that we are very persistent in that we want it to be community based in Kamenzi district and not church based. It is a fine line to walk but, as our Ubuntu group has discussed, one which we feel is essential. Specific people on their side want it to be church based, and if not, then to stack the committee and the meeting tomorrow with people who "happen to also be part of the church" here. It's just another form of greasing the wheels.
In other news, Heather tried to carry a bucket on her head with some help from some of the ladies here. If there's a photo of her by herself in front of the church, I want you all to know that I saw someone holding it up for her. Sorry, Heather. You probably thought you did it yourself.
Jae was blessed with many abilities; biking in Malawi is not really one of them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)