Miriwe!

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Turn off from main road to camp road

Turn off from main road to camp road Or good afternoon in kinyarwanda. I have attached a video of the reaction I get when I try to speak that language with people in the camp. My friend swears they laugh because they are shocked to hear a mzungu speak it, but I am quite sure it's because I am saying it wrong!

It’s been a while since I had internet because I pretty much spent all of the last week in the camp. I started my interviews so I went every day through Saturday to get them done. Thursday and Saturday involved using public transportation to get their since our vehicle doesn’t go out on those days, which is quite an adventure. First you take a minibus to the bus depot downtown, which is an extremely chaotic place. You wait for the minibus to fill up, which can take up to an hour. (Thursday my interpreter and I were lucky and only had to wait 10 mins. or so, but Saturday when I went on my own I waited about 45 mins.) You ride the minibus about 30 mins. to the turn-off for a dirt road that leads to the camp. There you wait for a ride. Thursday we got a ride with a Médecins Sans Frontières truck for about 80 cents, pretty much right after we got off the minibus, but Saturday I had to wait for a pick-up to fill up which took about an hour! All in all the trip on Saturday took nearly three hours from home to the camp. Riding the pick-up is an experience in itself. Like the minibuses they cram a ridiculous number of people in the back, but the trucks are unregulated so (it seems) there is no limit on how many people they cram in. My interpreter and I were the last two to get in, and there was not much room except right on the back corner—which means I had a sore butt for the next few days. You also get COVERED in red dust if you ride in the way back, since you get all the dust kicked up from the front wheels. Everyone in the truck was laughing because as a mzungu the dust wasn’t visible on me—I just looked like I got a tan. But you could see just how much dust settled on us from my interpreter’s hair - it really looked red, like Denzel Washington’s in Malcolm X.

Other than conducting interviews I got to eat several fantastic meals at my friend Jean’s house. His family is Rwandan so they don’t eat too much nsima, they tend to have rice with some meat or vegetable dish. His mom is a terrific cook, and she’s also a very generous lady—when she heard I wasn’t married yet she offered me my choice of her sons! (One was named Maradona by his grandmother who adored the Argentine soccer star.) I told her I would be too old for them, since I am 27 and the first-born is 23, and tradition in Africa is for the wife to be at least two years younger. Their sister explained that traditions are changing and women can do what they want now—which prompted big laughs all around. But they definitely appear somewhat less bound by tradition than other families; Jean's sister regularly wears pants, which is almost unheard of in the camp.

What struck me the most in conducting the interviews was the ability of Hutus and Tutsis in the camp to put the past behind them—in stark contrast to what is going on back in Rwanda. I interviewed people of both tribes, as well as some of mixed parentage, and they were able to converse openly about why they fled Rwanda with my interpreters, one of which is Hutu and the other half-Tutsi. I would ask my interpreters how they felt talking to people from the same tribe that caused them to flee, and both of them basically said that they are all Rwandan and that they don’t look at people through the lens of tribe. I know there have been some isolated incidents of inter-tribal disputes in the camp, but on the whole the people here do not espouse the tribalism reigning back home. The other thing that struck me is how adamantly Rwandans here do not want to go back, while the Malawian government (citing sources like the Danish Immigration Service) is rejecting them en masse on the ground Rwanda is now safe. Most Rwandans say they would rather die than go back to live, either because what they experienced there was so traumatic, or because they have a reason to fear being killed. Apparently the country appears safe during the day, but kidnappings, disappearances, and murders are rampant at night, especially during the annual Remembrance during which the country is supposed to be reflecting on the genocide. Most Rwandans are rejected because by Malawi on the ground they can safely return, so the most important thing I can do for their appeals is locate some sources that support their claims that they have legitimate reason to fear going back. (The most obvious of which is that people are still fleeing Rwanda as we speak.)

On Saturday at the camp my friends Elodie and Marie Claudine had promised to teach me how to make these little meatballs they serve at festivities here. To my surprise they are made with soy protein, not meat. Sounds very modern, but tradition still reigns supreme here (see photo of us pounding it into flour). Although many people have told me that women can and do wear trousers in the camp, my friends gave me a more realistic female perspective. I noted that I had never seen either of them wearing pants, and they said they had reason to fear for their reputations if they were to do that. They also said that although some young people do have boy/girlfriends, it is still something that has to be done in secret. Girls can’t walk around after dark; it is completely safe, but they would be gossiped about as promiscuous, which means girls can’t partake in any evening activities in the camp. (By the way, Elodie is a master braider—she pleated her own hair and that of Marie Claudine.)

On Saturday night Matt, our new housemate Andy, and I had a party at our house. It was quite fun; we put our never-used garage to use as a dance floor. It’s not half bad with a few Christmas lights and colored light bulbs! Matt brought the speakers from the living room in there and we had a real dj booth. Unfortunately, the number of dancers did not in any way live up to the promise of our preparations. There were only a handful of core dancers and even they dwindled pretty fast. But it was still a lot of fun. There was even a brief mosh pit when Matt put on "Smells Like Teen Spirit" though it consisted only of him and one of his friends!

Sunday I had one of the best experiences I have had in Malawi so far. My friend Ezekiel, the musician, had asked me to shoot some footage with my digital camera so he could make a video for one of his songs. So I went out to Chilinde in Area 21 to be his camerawoman for the day. I didn’t really know what to expect, but I certainly hadn’t expected to be greeted by fifty singing kids when I approached his house. It was awesome. His entire neighborhood was involved in the making of the video, which involves both your usual dancing/lipsyncing as well as some drama plots! It will probably be the most low-budget video ever made—for music they were going by a tape player wired to a car battery; when that died they used regular batteries but to save the juice they had to manually rewind the tape using a pen! We started at his house, his wife Lola made some lunch for us and then she and a couple of kids put on make-up for one of the dramatic scenes. This one was about a woman teaching witchcraft to her children. (Many people in Malawi believe in witchcraft, and attribute many ills in society to witches.) There was another one about domestic abuse (I told you his songs are conscientious) in which Ezekiel and Lola have a fight that breaks out in front of their house. The kids found the whole scene very amusing, so as a result Lola is kind of laughing even though in the scene she is being threatened by a man wielding a knife! The same thing happened when we shot another scene involving a group of women being attacked by robbers—all the kids were laughing so the women are laughing too. During the many breaks during which rewinding was being done the kids would sing and dance for me. It was the most fun I have had since I’ve been here.

Love,

martina

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Photos

Malawian delicacy
This is our driver Grey choosing the best from a selection of mice on a stick. Around this time of year kids set small fires in fields to scare out the mice and then roast them like this. It costs about 80 cents for a stick of 10. Malawians swear they're delicious, but refugees won't touch 'em! I have managed to avoid this delicacy as well :)

Dusty tree
To give you a sense of how dusty it is here in the dry season, this is what all the trees and plants along the side of the road to the camp look like. They are actually bright green underneath the layer of red.

Elodie pounding the soy protein chunks
This is in the small courtyard between the homes of my friend Marie Claudine and her neighbors.

Jean's siblings
That's Maradona in the middle. His family teases him because is is so much darker than the rest of them!

Dried fish stall in the Chilinde market
Chilinde is the part of Lilongwe Ezekiel lives in.

The director in action
Ezekiel giving directions to his dancers.

Comments

[Jim E.]

Malawian Delicacy
Finally a plate of food, Mice on a stick, just wondering if there was finally something that P3 might pass on, but knowing him, he would find this to be the best dish he ever had, even if for a moment. But for you, you should try all items on the menu!!!!