Basket Cookers Save Fuel

It is hard to believe that Pahuwa, a very poor village, is so deforested that the women  have to BUY their firewood. On Saturday, we were there to teach the women how to make and use a basket cooker. They were amazed that they can save an incredible 80% on their firewood consumption when a basket cooker is used in conjunction with their new fuel efficient cookstoves. The cookstove alone saves 2/3 of the fuel typically used, and using the basket cooker saves another 40%. This results in the consumption of only 20% of the firewood a typical household would use. 

These cookers are made from a sturdy basket and dry banana leaves for insulation, and for a lid, a "pillow" made from a burlap bag, also stuffed with banana leaves. All of these are readily available local materials. 

First, for demonstration, we fired up the changu changu moto cookstove and put on a pot of rice to boil for only 10 minutes. Then we pulled the pot off the stove and put it in the insulated basket cooker.

While I taught the lesson, the pot of rice continued to cook, and after 20 minutes in the cooker, the rice was hot and ready to serve. That is exactly what we did. Everyone got a serving of rice.

Next, I shared  some very practical uses for this cooker. I said, "Suppose you get up early to go the fields. Before you go, you can prepare your meal on your cookstove for just a short time, then put it in the basket cooker to finish cooking. Your meal will stay hot for hours, and when you return from the field, your meal will be cooked and ready to serve.  You can also prepare a meal in the morning, put it in a basket cooker. You can go about doing your other chores, then when your children come home from school hungry, their food will be hot and ready to eat. "  The women all thought this was a great idea and wanted to try it.

At the conclusion of the lesson, I told the women that I was very happy to share these ideas with them because it is always our desire to bless them in practical ways that will save them time, labor, and money. 

Dignity Life Skills Graduation in Kainga and Pahuwa

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Saturday was graduation day for the adolescent girls in the villages of Kainga and Pahuwa to celebrate their completion of the  Dignity Life Skills Course. In this 10 week course, they learned skills that will help prepare them for a good future. 

Over the course they learned that a healthy future -mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically -will not happen accidentally.  To have the positive future she wants,  each girl must develop her character to give herself resilience in times of adversity. "Everyone, even the most  successful person you know, goes through difficult times and faces adversity,  just like a tree in a strong wind," I said, "but a well developed character helps one to stay strong and  to bounce back  when the winds of trouble come. When adversity comes, those with strong character  and hope in God may be tossed by the wind,  but they won't break. They will remain standing strong. " I told them to seek out the council of good role models in their community, people whose lives are worthy of respect and who care about their future.  

Developing a strong character starts with knowing they were made in the image of God and that their lives are not accidental, random or meaningless, but they were made by God with a purpose. It also starts with embracing as their own what God said about them in Jeremiah 29:11 , "I know the plans I have for you, says The Lord, plans to bless you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future full of hope."

The girls learned that strength of character is not something they were born with, but a good strong character can be developed. They performed many skits and role plays designed to give them opportunities to experience what it feels like to  resist peer pressure, to  display self respect, assertiveness,  confidence, and a commitment to abstinence. 

Part of the course was designed to help the girls understand the risks of the AIDS virus and to avoid high risk behaviors that can lead to contracting the disease.  There are Life Skills courses taught in public schools here, but they gives the girls very little information other than,  "Be sure to use a condom." 

Our Dignity Life Skills course gave the girls much information, facts and myths, about AIDS, how it is spread and how it destroys one's immune system, but beyond that, it pointed them to to the fact that the best strategies for the prevention for AIDS is abstinence until marriage, being sure one's potential marriage partner has been tested for the virus, and then both partners being committed to a  faithful,  monogamous marriage relationship.  They learned that when a girl is abstinent until marriage, she is showing self-respect, resistance to peer pressure,  good decision making skills, and that she has plans for a healthy future. 

I cannot tell you how proud I was of all of these girls on graduation day.

Cookstove Surveys in Pahuwa

We visited the village of Pahuwa on Tuesday morning. Over a period of several months now, we have been encouraging the women to make their 30 bricks and collect mud for the time we will teach them how to build their own fuel efficient, two burner cookstoves. Well, the time has finally come to survey homes and to start building!  As we walked the trails throughout the community surveying each household, we learned that some women are completely ready, some are nearly ready, and a few haven't started.  It's ok. Some ideas take time to take root. 

As we walked about the village, we asked them to show us their materials and  to show us their kitchens. Many women did not have a kitchen, with kitchen being defined as a place outside the house with shelter from the rains.

Then we came to the home of one of my hygiene and sanitation students, an elderly, frail woman we affectionately call Grandma.  She told us that she is unable to made bricks for her stove. She can barely manage to collect enough wood each day to prepare meals. George has already talked to the men in the village about giving special assistance to widows and the elderly. George will enlist them to build her a lean-to porch to shelter her new stove.

These stoves save fuel and burn cleaner,  but it isn't just about the environment. We care about deforestation and lung disease, but our primary focus is much more than that.  It is about the  people Jesus came to die for.   We want  to be expressions of the love of Jesus with each one.

Grandma will soon get her cookstove, but while she is enjoying it, we want her to know that the gift was motivated by God's big love for her. 

AIDS Invaders VS the Immune System

AIDS is  a present reality in Malawi, and 42% of new AIDs infections are young people, 15-24. I learned that primary students, beginning in standard 4, are taught about AIDS. The primary lesson is about the proper use of condoms to protect from AIDS and unwanted pregnancy. This leaves children unaware of the threat and poorly prepared to protect themselves against AIDS and other STDs. 

On Saturday, in Kainga and Pahuwa,  one of the activities we did with the adolescent girls was a discussion about the virus, sorting statements as True or False. This was my opportunity to clear up a lot of misinformation. 

Then I used pictures to show the adolescent girls a simplified version of how the immune system works and how AIDS causes the immune system to break down. 

I told them that antigens -germs, viruses, bacteria - are like an invading army that is constantly trying to get into your body to make you sick. Your immune system is your defense, like an army that sends out soldiers to protect your body from disease. Some of these are T8 Killer Cells whose job it is to destroy them, and the B-Cell Antibody Factory's job is to make "keys" to lock the antigens up, rendering them harmless. 

But when the invader, AIDS,  enters the body, it goes straight to the Captain of your immune system, attacks, and destroys it. As a consequence, the immune system's soldiers are not called to respond to the presence of the invaders. The Killer Cells do not respond, and the Antibody Factory stops making keys. The AIDS virus then becomes the Captain of what used to be the body's immune system.  

As a result, when other antigens, bacteria, viruses, fungi, etc. enter the body, these invaders are welcomed. The body, with no defense from the invading army pouring into the body, becomes weak.

The sad part is that once the AIDS  virus has invaded a person's body, they have no way of kicking it out, and over time, their body becomes weaker and sicker, eventually causing death. 

They learned that they can make choices now that will defend them from ever getting AIDS. The clearest way to prevent AIDS through sexual contact?  Abstain until marriage, choose a mate that has made the same choice and has been tested HIV/AIDS negative, then both partners staying faithful in marriage. 

Although AIDS is primarily spread through sexual contact, it can also be passed from mother to child and through sharing of needles and piercing instruments and in a few medical settings, including blood transfusions.. 

Then I told them the good news: that this is not their destiny. God has designed for them a better life.  Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans that I have for you, says The Lord, plans to do you good and not harm you,plans to give you a future full of hope."  I encouraged them to  keep themselves focused on the goals they have for their lives and to trust God with their future.

Finding that Pearl of Great Price

This has been an exciting week. Let me share with you a few highlights:

George taught the children The Pearl of Great Price. His teachings have been explaining the life and ministry of Jesus. As he was praying together at the end of class, He said, "We place our trust in God." A child in the class responded in Chichewa, "...and His Son The Lord Jesus Christ." They have been listening and learning! Very exciting to see how God is working in the children's lives.

 In my Dignity classes at Pahuwa we have been using skits to teach the importance of staying focused on a good future. The theme scripture for the series is Jeremiah 29:11, "I know the plans I have for you, says The Lord, plans to give you a future and a hope." I told them that is what God wants for them as they put their trust in Him.

Near the end of class two young girls shared their experiences they had during the week. One girl said she was riding her bicycle home from the maize mill when an older man approached her and said, "Get off your bike." She stopped, and he made some comments about her developing body, indicating he wanted to have a relationship with her. She told him she was not interested in him and would not have a relationship with him.

 The man said, "You are not being respectful. You should honor me because I am your elder." She responded, "No. You are dishonoring me. I will not have a relationship with you." Then she rode off on her bicycle.

 Another young girl, about 12 years old, told of her experience. She said she was walking down a trail in her village when two young men approached her, again commenting on her developing body. They were pressuring her for sex, but she told them that she would not do that. Then they began to mock her saying, "When you are grown, you will not be a good wife. You will have 3 husbands and you will not please any of them." She responded, "No, I will have 10! I don't care. I will not have relationship with you." Then she ran away.

 The 12 year old girl told me, "You know, when this was happening to me, I was thinking about our classes and the skits we had done, and I knew what to do." The message is sinking in, and God will use it to change these girls' lives. I can't tell you how very proud I am of these girls. I am thankful that God is raising up good role models among them.

We are excited that in 12 days, our first intern comes, a bright and knowledgable young lady named Carley.  We pray that in her two months with us, God will use her to strengthen our ministry and bless the people we serve. We want our vision, purpose, and work to help her grow spiritually as well.

We are getting ready for our next Farming God's Way workshops this week. We will be teaching field preparation and building compost piles. These classes are helping to strengthen George's work with the men. May God use it all.

 My assistant, Hellen, a former primary teacher, is now working full time with us. What a blessing she is! She took a cut in pay to come work with us full time. She prayed and fasted for several days while making this decision. May God bless and increase her for her commitment to God's call to this ministry.

The women's Bible study here on the the mountain is going very well. The women are now asking for Bibles of their own so they can read at home. God put it in the heart of a friend in Florida to send funds for us to buy 110 new Chichewa Bibles! Next Sunday, we will begin distribution.

This past Sunday, I used the EvangeCube to teach the women God's plan of salvation. When I told them that Jesus is reaching out to us and we have to make a choice, heaven and hell. I said "Jesus is giving you a choice. To choose Him means heaven and eternal life. To reject all He has done for you means eternal punishment in hell. He is reaching to you. What would you say to Him?" They responded, "I choose heaven!" I gave them a moment to bow their heads and think about their decision.

Then, I led them in a prayer to trust Jesus with all their lives and their future. Their simple faith and trust in Jesus for salvation is so beautiful.

 Little by little we are getting this big old house ready for teams. We spend a lot of time out in the field, but the house is coming together nicely. This week we set up five bedrooms! Pray that we will find a reliable person to help us with cooking and cleaning from time to time now, but especially when we are accommodating large missions teams.
We are so thankful for our friends' prayers and encouragement. It means a lot to us. God is anwering our prayers in powerful ways.

A Bridge to the Future

Yesterday over 60 adolescent girls in Kainga and Pahuwa learned about life skills that will help them build a bridge to a good future.  The girls learned that a future they will be proud of will not accidentally happen.  It takes planning and developing themselves.


These skills include finding good role models, abstinence until marriage, setting goals, critical thinking skills, and resistance to peer pressure.


They performed skits that underscore their need to develop these skills.


As a warmup for the lesson I asked the girls to tell about something in their homes that they count as "prized possession."  It is interesting that most of the girls did not name things. They said things like, "I value my father paying my school fees so I can get an education," or "I am happy my mother encourages me."


One girl said, "I have a certificate that shows I have passed to standard 8 in school." Another said, "I am thankful that I have plans for my future."

Foundations for Farming in Pahuwa

Our friends Johannes and his assistant, Isaac, from Foundations for Farming taught composting in the village of Pahuwa yesterday.  

19 men and 49 women attended. They learned that what is most important is to first of all offer ourselves to God and then honor him in all we do, including how we farm.

They also learned that in nature God has already given them what they need to be successful farmers. 

Johannes encouraged them to think about their field as a bank account. If you only take out and never give back, your account will become empty. 

As they were watching the video, the room was buzzing with Oohs and Aaahs when they were shown lush green fields of tall maize and video testimonials from Malawian farmers.

The people were asked to start gathering their materials, and in a week or so, we will return and give hands on instruction in compost making. 

Who is Jesus?

Recently, we bought 25 beautiful, new Chichewa Bibles from the Malawi Bible Society  to use in our home Bible study. Two weeks ago, we announced to our neighbors that we would be begin a women's Bible study today. 

This afternoon when we opened our doors, there were 30 women, our neighbors here on the mountain,  gathering for a study of the book of John (which in Chichewa is Johane). When I distributed the Bibles, I realized that most of the women had little prior knowledge of the Bible.  

They didn't know New Testament from Old, and they certainly had no idea how to locate a text. Since all of the Bibles were the same, we announced what page the text was on so the women could follow along as we read.  

In today's study we discussed only verses 1-4 of chapter 1, but that was enough. In those few verses, they learned that Jesus is the pure expression of who the Father is, that he existed with the Father before time began,  from all eternity, that he is the Creator of all things, and he the one who holds all things together by his powerful word. They also learned that mankind is uniquely made above all other created things to know God and to have fellowship with him.

I told the women that Jesus is unique among all the world's religions. All the gods of all the world's religions are dead and buried, but Jesus is alive and his grave is empty. At the end of the class, I asked the women, "And who is Jesus?" They answered, He is God, the one who created everything."

More Prayer for Mbwana

Yesterday, I taught a hand washing lesson in two villages, Ntenga and Mbwana. After the lesson in Mbwana, I divided the women into groups of 5. Then they were given two options: to create and perform a handwashing song they could teach their children,  or to perform a skit that would encourage good handwashing in their community. Most of the groups chose to perform a skit. Most of the skits were funny, so there was a lot of laughing and clapping. 

As usual, we closed the meeting with prayer. At the conclusion of that prayer, one of the women in the back of the room said, "You always pray blessing for all of us. I have been sick for two weeks. Would you pray for me?" I asked her if she wanted me to pray for her then or later. She said, "I want prayer now."

Then spontaneously she and four others stepped to the front of the room and knelt in front of me.  I knelt with them and began to pray for God to touch them and heal them. 

I prayed for Jesus to reveal himself to them and to show them His love. I was so moved with compassion for these precious women, and I know what I was feeling was God's compassion for them. 

It is amazing how God is opening hearts!  I am so grateful for that opportunity to share Jesus' love, and may He give many more.  Pray for a continuing revelation of His love for each one of the women of Mbwana.

Ntenga Funeral

I was scheduled to teach in Ntenga on Tuesday, but when we came to the yard where I usually teach, no one was there. We saw some women who would have been in my class standing in the road near the well.

So, George, Phalles, and I walked over to where they were standing. I learned that they were on their way to a friend's funeral. They told me that one of the women in the village gave birth at home that morning, but when she began to hemorrhage, she was taken to the clinic. The baby lived, but the mother bled to death. I asked if there were other children in the family, and one woman pointed to four young children who were standing around her skirt. She said that there are ten children in all, the youngest of which is two years old. The other children were still in school and didn't even know that their mother had died. In Malawi, traditionally, when a person dies, their funeral is held on the same day.

As we were standing there talking with the women, we saw a man in the distance meandering down the road toward us talking, apparently to himself. When he reached the place in the road where we were standing, he approached one of the women who was standing a little distance from the others. We were shocked to see him began push her around and to hit her in her her arms. The woman lowered her eyes and took his verbal and physical assaults. Then, when he asked her something, she answered softly, turning her eyes away. None of the other women said a word. 

George walked near the man and said, "These women are going to the funeral." Then he told the women that we were going the same way and that we would be walking with them. When George spoke, the man turned his attention away from the woman he was abusing, allowing her to join the other women on their way to the funeral.

At that time, the man walked over to the road's edge where Phalles, our interpreter, was standing, and began to push her around. George told the man that he should never hit a woman. The man, suddenly in a cheery disposition and smiling, approached George, shook his hand, and introduced himself. Afterward, we rejoined the women. 

Then glancing back, we saw the man approaching several children who were collecting water the village well. Long before the man reached the well, all of the children dispersed and stood some distance away, safely out of the man's reach. 

Along the way, Phalles said, "You know that woman was not that man's wife." I thought, "If that man is publicly abusive to a woman who is not his wife, then what must he be at home to his own wife and children?" Then Phalles told us that it was drugs that made the man crazy.

Stuck Between Two Cultures

We had already picked up our interpreter, Samuel, and were on our way to Songani, a busy market on two sides of the main road, maybe 10 km north of Zomba.  We eased our truck over the steep curb by the minibus stop, avoiding a swarm of  pedestrians as well as the ladies with baskets piled high with green oranges who were  sitting on the ground just at the road's edge.

Of all the places we visit, including deep in rural villages, Songani is the one that seems to have an edge.  In fact, when we pull into Songani, I always feel like we have arrived in "the hood."  

As we came to a stop,  beggars and nearby vendors, including the ladies selling oranges, jumped to their feet and eased near our windows. By the time we came to a complete stop, we had already shaken our heads no a few times. 

We looked for Timothy, our well repairman, to come walking between the shops, but he was no where in sight. So,  we sat there for several minutes, just people watching. However, we weren't the only ones people watching. As usual, hundreds of sets of eyes were on us, nearby, across the street, and down the road.  A few were giving us menacing,  cross-armed, from the top of their eyes, hard stares.  

Directly in our line of vision, maybe 20 meters away, was the goat meat market. The frame was four posts holding up a bamboo and grass roof. Skinned goat quarters hung by wires from a bamboo pole just under the roof. Below this, a  bamboo surface covered with stained cardboard held a rough-cut timber for chopping goat meat. Behind this platform stood a young man with a sharp panga knife.  

As we watched, a young Muslim lady approached the butcher and bargained for a portion of meat. The vendor pulled a goat quarter from the wire, laid it on the timber, and used his machete to quickly lop off several short portions of the leg. While the young lady counted her money, the vendor  scooped the meat into a small black plastic bag. 

Before the transaction was complete, my attention turned to a young man who was moving quickly toward the butcher. I have no idea what business he was on, but he stepped up to the side of the meat market, leaned in, and started a conversation with the butcher.

It was obvious that the butcher knew the young man because he carried on a conversation and continued chopping meat without turning to look at him.  But I was looking, and what I saw made me a little sad.

The clothing the young man was wearing must have been discarded into a donation bin destined for a shipping container on its way to Malawi. His dirty jeans were faded and nearly threadbare, and in some places, his skin was visible through the holes. He wore a western style shirt with the collar stylishly turned up. It, too, was dirty and  worn.  

It was impossible not to notice that his jeans were hanging so low  that above his belt, several inches  of his dirty underwear was showing,  and above that, several inches of his bottom.  Not a pretty sight.

When he turned from the meat market and began to walk away, I noticed  his ear buds and a little hip hop swagger, complete with one hand grasping his jeans and giving them an occasional yank.  

It occurred to me that this young man is one of many living here in rural poverty  who are stuck  between two cultures. Singers, musicians, TV personalities, and others in Western pop culture have made their mark on him. So, without the essence of their material life, as best he can, he mimics their style. 

Although 90% of Malawians are farmer, many dream of a better future elsewhere, but without a good quality education and good English skills (the official language of government and commerce), it is nearly impossible to escape poverty.  1.7 million of  Malawi's unemployed youth,  just like this young man in Songani market,  are trying to survive on the line where Western culture blends with the realities of rural, third world poverty.


And tell me, please, what is their future?  

Philombe

There was a  wonderful worship service at the church in Philombe this morning. I  loved the way   the scores of children fully participated in the service.  There were at least a dozen pastors visiting, some from as far away as Blantyre. The district superintendent was also  there.

George gave a beautiful message about having faith in God to save us and keep us.  He told the true story of a family crossing the Shire River in a tiny canoe. A hippo overturned the boat, and everyone on board drowned. He said that many people choose to trust in their own way, and that is like getting in a tiny canoe. It is unsafe and dangerous to go our own way and trust in what we can do to save us and keep us.  We cannot work and try to make our own way to God. We cannot choose to go our own way. He told them that God is offering us a big ferry boat. It is big enough and strong enough to get us safely to the other side.

At the end of the service, when the Pastor asked for the sick  to  come  and  be prayed for many children responded.   When  I  laid my hands on one child,  I realized she  had a high fever. Many of the children had the sad, weak eyes of malaria.   We prayed for many, many people and asked God to reward their faith.

George  was  the  guest speaker today at the Apostolic Church of Pentecost  in Philombe. We waited for the service to  begin  in this  storage room  in the pastor's house. These  are bags  of cotton.  The opposite side of the room was stacked high with  bags of maize.  On  our  way  to  Philombe, we passed  large  fields of sunflowers, a major crop in the region.

Bags of cotton  line the wall of this storage room in the pastor's house. On the opposite side of the room were 50kg bags of maize  were stacked high.

 The church was  filled  beyond capacity, and there were people standing outside looking in the windows. Eventually,  there were people sitting along a ledge behind the pastors.

 Pastor  Tanaposi  encouraged the people  of Philombe church to love one another. He said, "See  Pastor George and Sister Phyllis, how they love one another? Husbands, you must love your wife. You should have only one wife and not divorce her.   Wives you must love your husbands."

 

The women of the church prepared a meal for us. Bowls of rice, nsima, cabbage cooked with tomatoes and onions, and boiled eggs.

Street Vendors

On many occasions we have been told that an item is not available here in Zomba, so we are learning our way around the "big city" of Blantyre, the commercial capital of Malawi.  Wherever we shop, in Zomba, Blantyre, and especially in roadside markets, George and I stand out like neon signs -don't ask me why - attracting many persistent street merchants and beggers.  

We had just pulled into a parallel parking spot along a busy street in Blantyre  recently when our car was almost completely surrounded, and several voices were competing to be heard through our windows. Without getting out of our truck, we could have purchased bananas, potatoes,  oranges, grapefruit, lemons, passion fruit, carrots, and apples. We could have also done a month's worth of charitable giving into the outstretched hands of several beggars.   

We both put on our I-don't-need-any faces, waved our hands in front of our faces and shook our heads no as we opened our doors. A few vendors and persistent beggars followed us. 

By the time we reached the curb another young man presented a pair of wiper blades, a cell phone, and a steering wheel cover for sale.  Another gentleman stood directly in our path and presented us with his artwork.  Many street vendors and beggars have a hard time accepting no for an answer, so we  had to repeat ourselves a few times as we made our way along the street. 

 In a couple of minutes, we were relieved to finally be standing in the fabric store, where we felt welcome and there was no pressure to buy.  We found the fabric we needed for our living room cushions and began to make our way  back to our vehicle.

Recently we went into  Zomba for lunch.  Before the car was completely at a standstill, two vendors were approaching us,  one the smiling young  banana salesman, John.  In our early days in Zomba, John would be argumentative and  dejected when we told him we didn't want any.  He would usually say something like this, "But I only have two bunches, and when I sell them I can go home." After several rounds of this, we finally reached an agreement with John:  1.  We buy bananas because we need them,  not  because you need to sell them.  2.   If we tell you we don't need any, it's because we don't need any.  3. Pressuring us only makes us want to buy from someone else. 4. If you can accept no for an answer, we will look you up every time we need bananas. This seemed reasonable and fair to John.

Since that conversation with him,  it is always a welcome sight to see his smiling face running to meet us as we pull into a parking spot near the market.  On this occasion, John lifted the tray from his shoulder and began to make his strongest case for buying his bananas. "These are very nice.  Maybe this one," he said, turning the bunches over in his hands. Before he got any further, George told him we already have two big bunches at home. John's voice softened.  "Next time,"  he said as he turned, and walked away.  

 The other man was selling a variety of Malawi newspapers.   As a rule, newspaper vendors quietly approach a potential customer with a variety of newspapers displayed on their outstretched forearm, and when you say no thank you, they never pressure. This time George  asked for The Nation and began digging in his pocket for the money. While all of this interaction with the vendors  was taking place, two uniformed school boys, about 9-10 years old,  had climbed some stairs overlooking our car and were carefully watching George as he took money from his pocket to pay for the newspaper. 

Just as he was completing the transaction and reaching for the newspaper, one of the boys leaned over the rail and said, "Give me your money."  We have been demanded in that way on different occasions, and it always gives me a chill because that would be exactly the wrong time to take money out of your pocket and give. It blurs the  line between begging and stealing, and we certainly don't want to encourage any  school child or anyone else, to think they could have a bright future by walking up to total strangers and saying, "Give me your money."  

Once we had gone to visit Yusef's little hardware shop in the market to buy replacement bulbs for our security lights. After we had  completed the transaction and were crossing the street to return to our truck,  a man at my back said, "Madam, let me show you my panties." My eyes bulged,  I caught my breath , then I looked back and said,  "No thank you."  Undeterred, the vendor moved in closer. "Come with me. Very nice," he said.  "No thank you. I don't want any," I responded. "I have beautiful panties. Come with me.  I will show you,"   he persisted.   This was getting a little uncomfortable because  he was not listening to me.  Then, as we got into the truck and closed our doors, George said, "We don't need any panties and we won't be buying any. Thank you. Goodby."  

Bicycle Shop

There are at least two new bicycle shops here in Zomba where a bicycle can be built. I say built because one can  choose not only color of frame, but also type of  tire, seat,  handlebar, grip, fender, etc.  Plus there are many extras available including reflectors, streamers, baskets and bells. Bicycle owners are usually men, but there are some women drivers. Women passengers usually ride sidesaddle. 

Because bicycles in Malawi are what motor vehicles are in the US, the major movers of people and goods, it only makes sense that there are many bicycle repair shops here in Malawi. Even little communities in rural areas  have small repair shops. As we traveled far out into rural villages today on our way to Mbwana for a workshop, we passed  several of these along the way. There is no need for a sign. Just look for an upside down bicycle along the roadside. 

Some  shops can fix a flat while others are better equipped for major repairs. The smaller ones with a few  inner  tubes and chains  displayed on a sheet of plastic may be under the overhanging branches of a shady mango tree. The larger ones will have wooden posts for support, a grass roof and a stall where repairs are done.

Every imaginable bicycle part will be hung along the lengths of twine stretched between the poles and on nails along the shop's back wall.  I had never imagined that a bicycle could be reduced to that many parts. 

Bicycles are also service vehicles. At every major intersection -  dirt road juncture- and in front of downtown grocery stores are  fleets of independently owned bicycle taxis, all parked in a row, available to those who can afford the fare.  Some bicycles are all dressed up with colorful plastic streamers, bells, and reflectors, but at a minimum, these taxis have a well cushioned vinyl seat over the back tire and a little license tag on the back fender.

Bicycles are the major transporters of goods to tiny shops out in rural areas. We often see cases of Coke, milk, bread, and other goods piled high on the back of a bicycle. Traveling through downtown Zomba recently was a bicycle loaded with furniture. It looked like moving day on the back of a bicycle. 

Laundry Day in the Villages

Most wells we visit have a two tub concrete wash stand near the end of the concrete well runoff.  Many women take their wash with them to the well. Sometimes there is a line, so the women chat and catch up on the latest as they wait their turn to do laundry.  After the water is pumped, the clothing is dumped into the shallow well of the wash stand, then water is poured over them.  For those who can afford it, laundry detergent is a large, dark green bar of very strong soap.  The clothing is rubbed with soap then pounded on the concrete. The second basin of the wash stand is for rinsing. Water is poured over the clothes then wrung out and piled into a tub to be carried home to dry. 

Some women are fortunate enough to have a tap or a well near their homes.  Water collected is carried home, then, in their yards, they stoop waist down to the ground and wash clothes in large plastic tubs and hang them on branches to dry.  

Recently, I looked over a small bridge we were crossing and saw a woman washing her clothes in the rocky river and spreading them on large boulders along the shore to dry in the sun.   I wondered how far she had to walk to do this chore. When her last piece of clothing has been pounded on a rock, she will pile the still-wet clothes into the tub, raise it to her head, and walk home. There, she will spread them on rocks, tree branches, and shrubs near her home and wait for sunshine. 

There is a very cold mountain stream that runs through our neighborhood. This is where many neighborhood women do their laundry and bathe. The stream  runs swiftly enough over the rocks to form small rapids, but in places it is shallow enough that children can play among the rocks as their mothers do laundry. 

We often see women bathing their children here, and from time to time we see women taking the opportunity to have a bath as well.   As we wound our way up the mountain road that crosses this stream a few days ago, I saw a woman stripped from the waist up, wet, and fully lathered. I thought of the risk that woman took in order to feel clean. 

No Ordinary Life

Water flows naturally downhill, but in the end, choosing not to take the path of least resistance leads to a fulfilled and rewarding life.  A good future doesn't start with doing but with choosing.  

When you choose to live a radical life for the purpose of God, some may not understand you and some may offer resistance, but know in your heart you were never meant for downhill. 

Your whole life history may have told you that you are ordinary, but that is far from the truth. All your circumstances may have told you that  you were never meant for greatness, but you dare not believe it.  Trust God's plan, pursue it with your heart, and never look back. Never.  In the end, that will prove to be the most fulfilling and rewarding life of all.

You are neither random nor ordinary. God made you with purpose, so set your heart on knowing the purposes for which you were made.  Jeremiah 29:11,  "For I know what plans I have for you says The Lord. I have plans to prosper you, not to harm you. I have plans to give you a future full of hope." No matter what anyone has told you or the lies you have told yourself, that is who you were really meant to be. 

Peanuts

On an early morning trip from home to Blantyre, we watched large numbers of women from the villages making their way toward Zomba.  Huge plastic tubs on their heads were  piled high above the rim with freshly dug peanuts, each with a tiny blue bowl for measuring perched on the summit.

It amazes me how Malawian women walk so gracefully carrying their infants and toddlers on their backs  and balancing heavy loads on their heads, all the while chatting, traversing rocky, uneven terrain and avoiding oncoming traffic.  Probably because they have had constant practice since they were five years old.  Since they were very young, these women have collected wood and water for their families and  carried maize to and from the mill. Also since they were very young, they have had plenty of practice carrying infants on their backs.

One of the women  briefly stopped by the road to purchase one of Malawi's favorite fast foods,  a stalk of sugar cane. With a machete, the young man tending the stand lopped off a piece for her, maybe 20 cm long. She continued walking, peeling the tough stalk with her teeth and revealing the sweet, fleshy core. She took a few bites, then, without looking back,  she passed a short stalk over her shoulder to the reaching hand of the toddler on her back. 

When these women reach their destinaton, they will sit all day on the ground in front of a downtown shop or by a busy street, hoping to sell their produce to passersby. Then, as the sun begins to set and shops close for the day, the women will start their trek back home to their villages, many arriving home after dark.

Maize Harvest in Malawi

Maize harvest is now nearly complete. The once tall green plants are now dried yellow stalks with skirts of papery leaves. Out in the  villages, women have been harvesting their crops, and laying it out on large plastic sheets to dry in the sun.

This process of drying takes several days. Afterwards, the kernels are ready to shell.  Shelling  can be a tedious process, taking hours, so the women like to sit together in little clusters to do this work. A few days ago in Pahuwa, I picked up a few ears of corn  and plopped myself down in one of these circles of friends. I began to wring the kernels from the cobs.  Ouch! That hurt. The women laughed as they watched me struggle. I wondered how they could work twice as fast as I could.  Then they showed me the thick callouses on their hands.

After the maize has dried for several days in the sun,  it is treated with insecticide and stored in 50kg bags. Then as needed, the women take their grain to the mill to be ground into very fine flour. This maize flour is used to make Malawi's staple diet, nsima.

As we travel the  rural roads, we pass many women and girls returning home from the mill balancing bags and bowls of maize flour on their heads. I recently saw a woman carrying a large bag (probably 25-30kg) of maize flour on her head stoop to pick up something she dropped, then rise gracefully and continue walking.

Men Working

A little wooden board with hand painted lettering, "Men Working," was propped along the roadside betweem Zomba to Songani, near the Matewele market.  Just there along the roadside, many traditionally dressed Malawian women, some with infants on their backs, were digging a ditch for new water lines.  They pulled and pushed together, combining their strength to remove large rocks in their way. 

For weeks, this has been a huge ongoing project in the Zomba district. I understand that the old water pipes are being replaced because they contain asbestos. 

Then a bit further down the road, other groups of women with long bladed curved thrashers were clearing the tall grasses along the roadside. 

This is the way grass is cut. Even the grass in the huge Zomba Botanical Garden is cut the same way. We have only seen one  push lawnmower in the six months we have been living here, and that was in the city of Blantyre.

My Third, His Third, Your Third

Sometimes it’s a bit difficult to see common practices within the framework of another culture as being precisely what they are; cultural differences. Although I’ve been at various times in my life to about thirty other nations, until we moved to Malawi, I had never driven anywhere other than in the US and Canada. Our first, (by choice), vehicle here was a compact automatic, having taken into consideration the fact that I had never driven with the steering wheel on the right, as well as having to drive on the left side of the road.

All things considered, I adapted quite quickly, and Phyllis told me she thought I had mastered things fairly well. Other than a couple backward u-turns, and one relapse when I turned left into oncoming traffic, and had enough room to immediately correct the situation, I can’t recall any other serious mess-ups. Even the dreaded “backwards” roundabouts came much more naturally that I had thought they would. Once in a while I still look into the eyes of the front seat passenger to try to anticipate his next move, until I realize he’s not the one driving.

By early February, about three months in, I felt comfortable enough to purchase the four wheel drive we needed for the countless dirt roads we have to navigate each week as we go from village to village restoring wells, and working closely with the women and children. It’s a lot larger; takes up more of the road, and takes the multitude of curves, bumps, and potholes a whole lot better than the little Mazda ever could.

Describing the roads here in Malawi is almost as large a challenge as driving on them. First of all, with a couple exceptions in Blantyre and Lilongwe, all of the paved roads are two narrow lanes, narrowed further still through erosion having lopped off sizeable chunks all along the way. Pot holes, which begin as golf ball sized, rapidly grow through use and erosion through the heavy rainy season to sometimes as wide as your car’s wheel base, and a foot deep. They can be left in a state of disrepair for months on end. They are one of the main stresses to driving. The shoulders are often abrupt drop-offs, also the products of years of erosion, quite capable of causing serious damage to the sturdiest of vehicles.

With all this as a backdrop, I now need to introduce you to the fact that most of the traffic on the inadequate highways is pedestrians. Most will never even own a bike, and there are only four passenger cars for every thousand population. With most cars and trucks zipping along at 70 to 80 kilometers an hour, the constant dodging of potholes, pedestrians, bicyclists, along with the occasional goat or tractor makes one feel as though they are locked to the controls of an unending pinball game.

The constant yielding of five or so feet more than necessary to pedestrians and bicyclists by the great majority of drivers can be rather unsettling, as one then needs to squeeze all the way left in order to avoid a head on collision, with fatal consequences. For the longest time, I thought most drivers quite rude, uncivil, unlearned in regards the traffic laws of Malawi, or perhaps all three.

However, over time I have come to develop an entirely different theory. As most commerce and trade, as well as people’s daily commutes occur on foot or by bicycle, these people are being accorded the courtesy due them. I, by insisting on my right to my half of the road, am being the road hog by not wanting to yield those few extra feet in order to accommodate the brave souls who place themselves in harm’s way in order to eke out a living for their families. I may not like it, and I doubt I’ll ever feel very comfortable with it, but after all I’m the guest in their home, so I’d better get used to it, and when appropriate, maintain my third of the road.