I return to KASO, and once again, the familiar face, Jonathan, is already there. Better prepared, I’ve worn my still-to-be-broken-in hiking shoes to the muddy environment this time around. The same group of individuals arrives shortly after 8am. Jennifer is one who I have not yet met and her English is pretty good. Jonathan shows me his new bike, a gift from UNICEF.
Jonathan & another VolunteerAs the kids begin to materialize from the corn fields, so does the rain.
Today’s program does not seem as structured and the kids are allowed to race around at free will – or maybe the volunteers are simply tired. Richard and some of the group drive off to retrieve the next 6-month supply of the meals they provide the kids - corn meal, salt and oil. The corn meal is packed in big burlap-like bags which prove considerably challenging to haul into the shed. I carry a few on my own, although my back would prefer otherwise. The bags of salt are smaller and can be carried one in each hand, while the cooking oil is supplied in yellow plastic drums, also easier to lug.
Today’s program does not seem as structured and the kids are allowed to race around at free will – or maybe the volunteers are simply tired. Richard and some of the group drive off to retrieve the next 6-month supply of the meals they provide the kids - corn meal, salt and oil. The corn meal is packed in big burlap-like bags which prove considerably challenging to haul into the shed. I carry a few on my own, although my back would prefer otherwise. The bags of salt are smaller and can be carried one in each hand, while the cooking oil is supplied in yellow plastic drums, also easier to lug.
Today I ‘speak’ more with the group and find myself sitting on the porch chatting and listening to the animated Chichewa discussions. I also get asked for money by some passing adults who are carrying buckets of water on their head – they also inquire about my shoes, as most of them are bare foot.
Maureen invites me to accompany her on her walk back to her house to pick up some supplies she forgot. We depart, wave to the kids, assuring them we’ll be back later.
Peter & KonaniThe curious stares do not cease. People gaze, obviously so, yet not in an aggressive manner. I contend Malawians tend to have super-vision - they can pick out the muzungu 100 meters away. Maureen and I cross a paved road, then a downward slant towards the start of an extremely muddy road, with puddles the size of fishing holes. We circumnavigate, and almost slip into, a few of them, but escape with only muddier shoes. A right turn, then up hill, past a community water pump – I wonder if the water is totally potable.
I don’t see any mailboxes – do they get mail? Do they write letters?
We pass some half constructed brick houses, I assume these have been abandoned and are left to fall apart since the grass has grown to the height of the brick walls. A flatbed truck, having seen better days, sits dismayed in front of a house with nowhere to go. Passing children greet me with warm, inquisitive hellos and waves.
And finally we make it to Maureen’s place. It’s a one bedroom place – no, really, it’s the size of one small bedroom. No electricity or plumbing, the place is divided into two, with her ‘demi-bedroom’ separated from the rest of the place by a wall with an entrance shrouded by a curtain. Her ‘living room’ is lined by a reed mat and has four benches and a small table. She’s got a few buckets of water along the wall too. The barred window (although I would consider breaking out rather than in) allows for some light to shine in, which combats the darkness of the room.
We pass some half constructed brick houses, I assume these have been abandoned and are left to fall apart since the grass has grown to the height of the brick walls. A flatbed truck, having seen better days, sits dismayed in front of a house with nowhere to go. Passing children greet me with warm, inquisitive hellos and waves.
And finally we make it to Maureen’s place. It’s a one bedroom place – no, really, it’s the size of one small bedroom. No electricity or plumbing, the place is divided into two, with her ‘demi-bedroom’ separated from the rest of the place by a wall with an entrance shrouded by a curtain. Her ‘living room’ is lined by a reed mat and has four benches and a small table. She’s got a few buckets of water along the wall too. The barred window (although I would consider breaking out rather than in) allows for some light to shine in, which combats the darkness of the room.
Maureen has decorated the living room side of the inner wall with pictures from her youth, her son, other people from her life. Many of them are faded – I assume these to be from a time ago. I feel sad. Last year’s calendar hangs alongside 2007’s, probably since two colorful calendars add more tint to the wall than just one.
I share with Maureen the small banana I have packed for the day and once she has gathered her things we exit, lock the door, and start to head back to KASO.
I don’t really remember much about the walk back - I’m a bit hazy in the head with all this – I’m floored by the painfully contrasting lives that we’re leading: I snap my fingers and can have a nonfat mocha on my way home from the gym in an air-conditioned car. Here, people have other worries. Circumstance is a real bitch.
KASO is eerily silent – save the occasional yelps coming from the playhouse – it is meal time. I throw a glance into the window of the largest room and almost incite an uproar – 35 strong, the kids seem to be happy to have me back; or maybe the porridge doesn’t taste that great.
The volunteers are also eating here – fish (probably usipa, the most widely available fish eaten here, which is sun-dried after being caught), nsima (pounded maize meal boiled in water) and salad. My stomach is empty, but I don’t eat. I don’t have an appetite. The kids soon depart after the meal, their time of fun has come to another end.
Richard and an assistant arrive in a larger car. We load three boxes of supplies into the vehicle and Maureen and I jump in. We’re headed to the Mvunguti School in Area 25. It’s the first day of a 4-day course for the “Picturing Hope” program (http://www.picturinghope.org/).
This time around, 30 kids, AIDS-afflicted, have signed up.
We arrive at the school through some gates at some recess time. The place is heaving with kids. Our arrival does nothing to calm the kids down, don't think my presence helps either. We set up the 40 cameras, batteries, rolls of film, pens, notepads, etc. onto the front three tables in the rented classroom. Jonathan arrives with two cases of soda. And at 2pm the kids roll in. All windows and the doorway are populated with curious faces gazing in, all wanting to see what is going on in the room. They stare and wave, some give me the thumbs up sign. But only 30, those that signed up, are allowed in.
I sit myself in the front row on the left side of the room, the kids, aged between 7 and 12, strike the balance between listening to Richard and Maureen speak and watching me. I introduce myself too, with translation, and relay where I am from, etc.
Class in Malawi is conducted with solemn respect for the teacher. The kids seem intimidated by Richard, and only speak when called on. It’s interactive though too, as he often asks them a yes or no question, which the class answers with a joint ‘eh’. Other times they applaud in unison, a collective sign of praise, when a fellow student gives a good answer.
Richard and an assistant arrive in a larger car. We load three boxes of supplies into the vehicle and Maureen and I jump in. We’re headed to the Mvunguti School in Area 25. It’s the first day of a 4-day course for the “Picturing Hope” program (http://www.picturinghope.org/).
This time around, 30 kids, AIDS-afflicted, have signed up.
We arrive at the school through some gates at some recess time. The place is heaving with kids. Our arrival does nothing to calm the kids down, don't think my presence helps either. We set up the 40 cameras, batteries, rolls of film, pens, notepads, etc. onto the front three tables in the rented classroom. Jonathan arrives with two cases of soda. And at 2pm the kids roll in. All windows and the doorway are populated with curious faces gazing in, all wanting to see what is going on in the room. They stare and wave, some give me the thumbs up sign. But only 30, those that signed up, are allowed in.
I sit myself in the front row on the left side of the room, the kids, aged between 7 and 12, strike the balance between listening to Richard and Maureen speak and watching me. I introduce myself too, with translation, and relay where I am from, etc.
Class in Malawi is conducted with solemn respect for the teacher. The kids seem intimidated by Richard, and only speak when called on. It’s interactive though too, as he often asks them a yes or no question, which the class answers with a joint ‘eh’. Other times they applaud in unison, a collective sign of praise, when a fellow student gives a good answer.
Maureen & Richard leading the classThey are eager and really want to get their hands on the cameras – which they will only get after the second training session. I speak about who I am and where I am from. This elicits applause too.
Pictures are handed out, groups are asked to describe what they see, why they think they see what they see. Many of the concepts they share are related to ‘being alone’, sadness and family. Similarities and differences among different cultures are discussed too.
We take a break. Each kid gets a bottle of soda, Orange Fanta, Coca-Cola, Pineapple Fanta, luxuries for sure, and loaves of white bread are shared among three kids each.
Discussions continue after the break. At the close of the meeting, notebooks and pens are handed out and the students are tasked with answering questions for the next day. These include, What is love? What do you want to take a picture of and why?
Once the travel monies are distributed to each kid, Richard and his team help locate the right minibus for my trip back to the clinic to meet D & E, so I manage to provide entertainment for the passengers in Minibus 25 that late afternoon too.
Pictures are handed out, groups are asked to describe what they see, why they think they see what they see. Many of the concepts they share are related to ‘being alone’, sadness and family. Similarities and differences among different cultures are discussed too.
We take a break. Each kid gets a bottle of soda, Orange Fanta, Coca-Cola, Pineapple Fanta, luxuries for sure, and loaves of white bread are shared among three kids each.
Discussions continue after the break. At the close of the meeting, notebooks and pens are handed out and the students are tasked with answering questions for the next day. These include, What is love? What do you want to take a picture of and why?
Once the travel monies are distributed to each kid, Richard and his team help locate the right minibus for my trip back to the clinic to meet D & E, so I manage to provide entertainment for the passengers in Minibus 25 that late afternoon too.
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