Visiting an African Hut - 5

As we exit the house of the old woman, we see a boy standing guard near his grandmother’s house. He is not playing a child’s game. What he is doing is serious business. He is watching over the maize the girls spread on the bamboo mat to dry. It is a standoff. The goats stand in the distance waiting to move in for a meal. The lone boy with a rock stands in the way. If the goats succeed the family will not have the food they so desperately need.

It is hard to explain the seriousness of the standoff between the boy and the goats. In developed nations if a goat gets in the food supply most people will simply purchase more food. It is no big deal, just an aggravation, and the loss of some extra spending money. But in sub-Saharan Africa it is survival to keep the goats at bay. As hard as it is to explain the seriousness of the goat vs. boy standoff, it is just as impossible to process and explain what we have observed in this African hut. In ways impossible to explain we felt shame over our houses in the states. Malawians are very gracious. When they see pictures of American homes they are extremely complimentary. “You deserve it, you have worked hard to own it,” they will say. But the reality is few people in the west work nearly as hard as the people of Africa. And the difference between their houses and ours is not simply a modest, few thousand dollar difference. It is huge, impossible to describe in words. And, it’s not that we have such a big house. It is middle class in our state and city, and over 40 years old. It sits in a modest neighborhood, in an average mid-west city. The houses are not near the top of the housing market value for the nation, actually somewhat below the average, so we are not saying we are ashamed because we are in the top tier when it comes to value. It is just if I compare my possessions with that of a person in Malawi there is such an extreme difference it cannot be measured. Imagine earning $2.00 or $3.00 a day and expecting to survive in America, without any additional income from anyone, anywhere. You can’t. “But prices are so much different,” you say. Not really. Quite the opposite is true. In Malawi fuel for the car costs around $10.00 a gallon. A used car costs $8,000.00, $12,000.00 or $15,000.00. If you want to build something the cost of concrete is four or five times as much as it is in the U.S. A $1.98 tube of caulking in the U.S. will cost you $4.00 to $5.00 in Malawi. “How then can they survive on $2.00 a day,” you ask? They do it by having nothing; no car, no phone, no electricity, no bicycle, no big house, no television, no Posturpedic mattress (in fact, in so many cases they have no mattress at all) no public services like fire, police, or emergency response. That’s is correct, in an emergency there is no one to come to your aid except your neighbors. People survive because they live in a hut like the one we have just visited, eat only the ground maize (corn) twice a day, and never take a vacation or travel beyond 20 kilometers from where they were born. They survive by having nothing, not because the prices for things are cheaper than in the U.S.

I watch the boy as some of the goats inch forward toward the maize. A well-aimed rock heads them in the other direction. The meal for tonight, tomorrow and the next day is secure. I glance over at the garden, and wish the small boy could toss a rock in the air and insure the rains will be just right for the crops, the fruit will be abundant on the tree and ripen perfectly, and the neighbors will harvest a good crop so everyone will have enough. If these all fail there is no reserve. Malawi has no welfare program, no crop insurance, and no guaranteed government program that can bail out those who fail to plant a successful garden. They will simply starve.

As we bid farewell to the old woman, and begin our departure, we see the boy out of the corner of our eye expertly expediting another rock in the direction of the goats. It seems the future is in the hands of a small boy with a rock, the weather patterns that offer no promise of guarantees, and a God who has not revealed His plans for this widow and her grandchildren. Without any reserve, without any resources, and without a community, a church or a government “safety net” it is sure that tomorrow will be another day of insecurity in the sub-Sahara.

Library in a Malawi Hospital

Can you imagine going to the library in an orthopedic hospital and coming face to face with empty shelves? This scene is not unusual. It was shot in the offices of a major orthopedic hospital in Malawi.

This scene can be repeated over and over. Empty shelves. No books. How can one learn?

Interested in Culture?

If you are interested in the culture and traditions of Malawi there is a single page flyer that will give you a window into the past (and present) of this ancient culture.It is available in either electronic or printed form. Order at:info@malawiproject.org

Visiting an African Hut (4)

Depending on what part of the world you are in you are going to understand the terms “garden” and “orchard” very differently. If you come from western, developed nations you probably contemplate long rows of corn, tomatoes, green beans, and other vegetables as a “garden”. An “orchard” to most from the west will bring the vision of long rows of fruit trees; apple, peach, and perhaps pear trees in full bloom or heavy with fruit. But this is not the way it is in Malawi, or in most other developing nations. An orchard may be a single tree, and a garden may contain only one of two rows of maize corn, and a few, very few, vegetable plants. Understanding this will help you not to be too surprised as we continue our tour of the outside of the house.

Cleaning and Drying Maize

 Leaving the makeshift cooking area, and bathing tub, we go around the corner of the hut toward the north. In just a few steps we come upon one of the grandchildren using a sifter to clean the maize being dried on a bamboo mat on the ground. The grain is tossed in the air, and then caught in the sifter. As it goes up and comes down the slight breeze caused the chaff to drift away. Another of the grandchildren is down on hands and knees picking foreign elements out of the maize power drying in the sun. As we watch the kids cleaning the grain the old grandmother picks up one of the sifting devices and shows us how she has used this for so many years as she prepared thousands of meals for her children and grandchildren. The method is the same as it has been for hundreds of years and she has become very proficient in its use.

Orchard

Beside us is the orchard. It is composed of one banana tree near the north side of the house. A number of ripening bananas hang down in front of us, and the fruit tempts us to reach up just this once and bring down one of the small tasty morsels. Then, thinking better of it, and realizing this is a precious small amount of fruit for such a large family we turn our attention to a small building sitting out and away from the main house (hut). 

Outdoor "Rain" Kitchen

This one we might call the “rain kitchen”. It is a small mud hut structure where the grandmother has cooked meals for longer than she can remember. The fire is built near the center of the room when the heavy rains come so the rain does not put out the wood fire before the meal can be prepared. Again, the grandmother wants to demonstrate for us. She goes inside where a small fire is already burning and she demonstrates how she prepares a pot of beans on this makeshift stove. Before long the smoke becomes so dense it is almost impossible to film. We have to move outside and look in from the doorway. She just sits there smoke an all, stirring the beans until they are done. One has to wonder how she still has her eyesight, and her lungs must be grey from all of the cooking fires she has endured inside this small hut.

 Garden

We walk next to the east side of the house where a small patch of weeds seems to be off limits to any trimming. Suddenly we realize we are looking down into the garden, small as it is. One has to wonder how in the world this family can raise enough food in this small space to survive. But, it seems rude to ask, so the question goes unanswered as we peer down into the pitifully few vegetables, and broken corn stocks that represent a garden in the third world.

Next: Boy faces goat in a confrontation as to who will keep the maize.

Visiting An African Hut (3)

I stepped outside the back of the darkened hut, and was greeted by the blinding African sun. After the darkness inside it took several minutes for my eyes to adjust to the light. I wondered what it would be like to spend much of my life in such a darkened environment. Also, I considered if the house were to catch fire would everyone get out alive? The dry thatch roof material would burn quickly, and there is no fire truck and no fire protection available. There is no water near her house, and nothing to impede the progress of the flames.

Outside we looked at the round, bamboo grain storage bin. It was over half empty, and obvious that the family would be rationing their food; if they were not already. It is eight months to harvest, and last year’s rains were not conductive to good crops. The old lady has no savings, and no food reserve, except for what is in the maize bin, and a 25-lb., half-filled bag of potatoes suspended from the living room ceiling to keep them away from the mice. We knew none of her neighbors had much more than she, so there would be little help available from them if she ran out. Neither did the government have much in the way of food reserves, and even less in the way of money to expend to feed the poor. There are just too many; and when food shortages come, starvation will not be far behind. As our eyes grew more accustomed to the light I looked at her intently. How many famines had she experienced in her life? When will her aged eyes see the next one? This year? Next? Or ten years down the road? The next one will be far too soon for her weakened body to withstand, and with so many children to care for, she and they, are far too vulnerable to any problems that come along.

 I stood for several minutes before we continued the tour. The view of such a disparity flooded over me, like a heavy, drenching rain coming in off the Indian Ocean. Near the backdoor of the hut was a large tub; the bathtub for the entire family, and just a few feet away was a kitchen. It was composed of several long sticks of firewood, and two blackened bowls. Nearby sat two old buckets, one partially filled with water, and the other sitting on the fire. How could I explain this back home? Words won’t do it. Words are understood within the framework of one’s life experience, and culture. Poverty in America is far different from poverty in Africa where even a glass of cold water is a rich man’s commodity.

Next time – The garden and family orchard

Visiting a Village Hut (2)

(In our last installment we started a tour of the home of a Malawi widow, living in a typical village hut. She is caring for 10 or 12 grandchildren who have lost their parents to HIV/Aids. She has no job, and her grandchildren can only find short term jobs to help supplement their livelihood.)

Roof Over-Hang Too Low

We stop on the stoop and quickly realize anyone over 5’ 10” will have to bend down to enter the house. Almost all doors in Malawi village houses are hand made, and the opening is cut out of the brick face of the house itself, in order to accommodate the size of that specific door. I am not carrying a measuring tape with me, but it seems this door is smaller than most. Add to the small door the fact that the bamboo grass, roof seems to angle down a little farther than that which is on most houses, and it all adds up poking yourself in the eye with the end of a small bamboo pole, or an especially sharp end of the thatch used for the roof. Each of us duck to enter, and upon entering through the door, we are immersed in a semi-darkened room. There are no lights on the walls, no lamps on the … well; there is no table on which to place a lamp. But, none of those matter since there is no electricity to the house, and would be no way for her to pay for it anyway. There is no way to heat this room when the nights get down to 40 to 45 degrees during the cold months. It also means we have to get used to the lack of light before we proceed further into the four rooms in the house. Looking up at the open ceiling I wonder how many critters are living up there. Mosquitoes are hovering overhead and one would wonder how many of them are able to deliver a life-threatening dose of malaria. Too, I can’t see them, but I wonder what kind of snakes may be making this woman’s home their hiding place? Mamba snakes and Mozambique Spitting cobras have been found all around her property. One can certainly conclude they are around this house, either outside or inside. A little shudder creeps up my spine. And to think, I have not even touched on the spiders and other creatures that could be lurking overhead, just waiting for nightfall to open the door to their onslaught on the unfortunate who unsuspectingly move around below them. ‘’

Room is Nearly Bare

As our eyes adjust to the lack of light we are surprised to see bare, unpainted walls, and a complete lack of furniture. The room is very bare, and that is probably the way it has always been. Just inside the door, and nearest us as we enter are what looks like two bamboo mats, which are probably the beds for 6 or 8 of the children. Near the far end of one of the mats is a single pair of tennis shoes, probably one of the gifts we have given this family because the children have sought and gained work from us since our arrival in the country. The walls are unpainted, and rough.

Beyond the mats a single bicycle seems to struggle to keep its balance by leaning against the back wall. A blue and a white bag hangs on a peg above the bicycle and six or eight other pieces of old clothes, and a single blanket, hang on pegs above the bicycle.

Where is all the Stuff?

Moving our gaze to the right and the center of the room a single set of three shelves comes into view. Several small cans and bottles seem to litter the shelves, and two pairs of shoes are hanging somehow from the shelves.  To the right are four more plastic bags. These apparently contain more of the personal possessions of the ten to twelve family members who use this room as a living room, dinning room, and bedroom. In the corner stands another single bamboo mat used for sitting and sleeping. This is apparently the other bed, and if we are correct, this means about four to six of the family members must sleep on this single mat. A few clothes are piled on the floor beside the bamboo mat.

It is enlightening just to view this single room. So much can be seen about Malawi, and the suffering of her people, in just this one single room.

We now turn to enter the next room. Surprise is awaiting us just across the threshold. Come with us.

As we step into the room it is evident this room does not have much more than the last one. Near the outside door there are two old wooden platforms laying on something near the door. Elias raises them up and smiles as we all look down on a couple of buckets of water. This will serve as their drinking water, bathing water, and water used for cooking. They have gone to a distant well, or to the river in order to obtain this water and none of it will be wasted. No one would ever think about throwing the remaining part of it out. Someone in the family has walked too far to obtain it for it to be wasted.

It is time to go back outside and see the rest of the possessions, and life style of this average African family. What we discover there will be on the next posting on this website. Join us in a few days to see what we find.

Visiting a Village Hut (1)

Malawi, Central Africa … We walk carefully down the long, steep, gravel path as rocks shift underfoot, and the sandy soil gives caution to our steps. As we make our way toward the old, thatched roof hut, the tarmac road disappears over our shoulder to the hidden side of the hill. I realize that no one traveling along this stretch of road would even be aware the existence of this hut, or this family. For all intents and purpose she is isolated from the rest of the world. Although the capital city of her nation is only about 20 kilometers away to the south she has no way to travel there. She is only 100 kilometers from one of the most beautiful lake areas in the world, but she has never seen it, and never will. A small trading center is only a few kilometers away in the valley, but she has no car, and is too feeble to make her way down the dusty path that marks the way to a small measure of trade and commerce. If she needs something from the trading center she will send one of her grandchildren to purchase it, if that is, they have any funds with which to make the purchase. She has no electricity in her house, no telephone, and no way to signal for help in an emergency. There is no ambulance service, and no fire services to her and her neighbors. The nearest government hospital has few supplies, and what they have often runs out well before a meager, new supply becomes available. There is no doctor, no x-ray, and no surgery available near her home. If she gets sick she will probably die. Several times a year either her or her grandchildren suffer serious bouts of malaria. They have little or no medicine to combat the pain, the high temperature, or any of the other effects of this, or a multitude of other health issues. Even a simple headache must run its course, as there is no aspirin, Tylenol, or Advil available to the family.

Apprehension Takes Control

 I must admit I am a little apprehensive about this unannounced visit, as it is not every day that I walk up to someone’s house and ask if we can come in and take a look around. Yet there is also that desire to study and see what the average person in the world has in their house, and she is as close to the average as I am going to find. There is no such thing as the “average family” in the world in the U.S. We have too many safety nets for even the poorest among us to be the average. That word “average” actually means there are as many below that line as there are above. The closer we get to the family my apprehension does little to fade. In fact, each step closer seems to signal a higher level of anxiety. But, things are different in Africa, especially in the villages, and Elias has assured us she will be delighted and honored with our visit. While we have met her before, it has always been outside her house. This time seems different, going inside, looking into the corners, and counting the utensils, pots, pans, and other possessions. That in itself makes this visit different, more intrusive, more intimate.

As we reach the house the grandmother is sitting on a ragged, bamboo mat on the bare ground about 30 feet from the edge of the house. Surrounding her are the 8 grandchildren she is raising after the death of their parents, some nieces and nephews who also seem to be staying at the house, and a couple of neighbors who have come to visit, with no one probably knowing how long the visit may last. Grandmother gives us a big toothless grin, as Elias introduces our request to learn more about her, her family, and her home. Hospitality is imbedded deep in this culture, and she is visibly delighted that we have come to visit her. Since she knows no English it is up to Elias, or one of her grandchildren, to convey our requests.

This 82-year-old gets to her feet to greet us. She is frail and fragile with age, and stands only about 5’ 3” in height. In spite of her frail appearance her greeting is warm and inviting, and her grin reflects her acceptance of the azungu from a land far away. (Azungu means white person). One has to wonder how she can eat with almost no teeth. Too, how much in serious heath problems afflicts her because of this situation? One can only imagine, and to think, she has no knowledge of a world where people can have teeth pulled, and new ones, made by men and machines, placed in their heads. It would seem there is some virtue in not knowing what you can never have. By now the rest of the kids are on their feet and greetings are going all around the group. I look over at Elias and can see the pride he is experiencing. He has the chance to show us what an average house looks like from the inside, and the lifestyle of the average Malawian.

Beginning the Tour

After the greetings spread through the group we turn our attention to going into her house and looking around. As we step up onto the concrete stoop I notice how low the bamboo grass overhang comes down. It is so low it nearly punches me in the eye, and I have to duck my head a little to enter the house. Too, there are two windows on this side of the house, but none have glass panes. All are boarded up and barred, as a defense from the cold, and whatever man or creature, would want easy entrance to the house. The weathered door hangs loose on dangling hinges. It is a time like this I wish I had a screwdriver and a pocket full of screws. But one glance at the door frame indicates there is a lot more needed than just the fasteners to fix this problem.

(In our next installment we will go inside the village house and look around. What we are about to see will astonish us.)