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.)