Upon entering the Beehive site one day, Vince found two
female labourers asleep. It was well after lunch-time, and in classic Vince
style he confronted the issue very calmly by saying to them you obviously seem
quite tired, why don’t you go home to rest for the day. The construction
manager seeing that something was going on, came over, heard the conversation
and said to the labourers, in fact why don’t you go home for the week, and the
senior manager said why don’t you go home for the month! The labourers went
home but returned the following day and pleaded to Vince whether he would consider
having them back. They were prepared to work for free just so that they were
able to have the one free meal that Beehive provides to all its employees
during lunch-time. They were both HIV+, they both had dependents and their
medication (there is a national initiative supported by the government in
reversing HIV mortality, funding for medication has therefore been pooled from
several donor organisations and overseen by the National Aids Commission) would
not be effective unless it was taken with some food. It probably was an issue
of life and death for them. For many, that meal is their only meal. Despite
food prices rocketing, Tony has maintained this provision for this very reason.
You always hear about it, but nothing prepares you when you
witness first hand people actually living on less than a dollar a day. I
recently had to do assessments/ home-visits around Chilomoni with the local
Child Protection Officer. The assessments were of families that were referred/
put forward to MTCC by local community authority figures such as the village
chief and church-members as well as professionals from the Health Centre of
those they considered as the neediest. The purpose of the assessments was to
determine the families/ children that would benefit the most from having a free
(sponsored) place at MTCC. During the start of the new term in April, 30
sponsored places will be allocated. These 30 children will be chosen following
a committee decision of the above community members and MTCC professionals based
on the outcomes of the assessments. A wide range of factors are taken into
consideration including: number of people in the household; number of financial
dependents vs providers; household income; family assets; social support
network; health of child and significant family members. And it’s such a hard-hitting reality.
I met a father who financially supports 12 people on a
monthly salary of 6/7000 Kwacha, that’s between 18-21 pounds. He works 12 hours
daily as a security guard, six days a week, he has a daily walking commute
round trip of four hours. And on top of this, he works on his small plot of
land, every spare minute he has. His eldest is at secondary school. Secondary
education is certainly not free, so he somehow has to find the money for her
fees and transport for school, that’s 7,500K in itself. He knows that when his second-born reaches
secondary education next year, he simply won’t be able to afford it. Yet he was
too gracious to tell us about his problems, we had to coax it out of him.
I met a mother who has had to leave her three year old at
home alone while she does piece-work and washes clothes to bring in the only
income for the household. Her husband recently became house-bound. When I saw
him one of his legs was at least twice the size of the other. He’s been to the
hospital twice with no joy, and as time has passed, he’s found it increasingly
difficult to get out and about, so he hasn’t returned to the hospital. A man
quite faithful to his prayer, he’s just hoping for divine intervention. We
tried to persuade him that he needs to go back, no matter how.
Another woman, unemployed and dependent on her sister and
brother-in-law, wanted to return to school. She had her son at 16, and was
unable to return to her parents house, for having him out of wedlock. She is
unaware of the whereabouts of his dad. She was starry-eyed telling us about her
hopes for him. Her sister is expecting, and she’s worried about how much longer
they’ll be able to support them both, with the increasing size of their own family.
With her son at the Children’s Centre, it would free her up to go back to
school. Probably quite important when it comes to supporting him in the future,
especially beyond six, when he leaves the centre and starts at school.
And so the rounds continued. In comparison to these shacks that I visited,
the volunteers’ accommodation that I’m staying at is five star. Most had no
elec and running water.
It does bring to a head somewhat our mindless consumerist
culture back home. In one sense, adapting to life here has been quite liberating.
The 23kg baggage restriction when coming here meant that I bought very little
across, and yet I’ve had no trouble living comfortably. I love my daily walk to
work through the village, as it keeps my entire experience here in context.
The most difficult lesson everyone here has had to learn is
that you can’t help everyone. Each volunteer has their own reasons when choosing
who to help. It might be buying clothes for a child at the centre, because they’ve
had to deal with his crying mum who doesn’t have spare clothes for him. So,
when he doesn’t return with all his clothes, because they are being washed at the
Children’s Centre if they have been soiled during the day, she has nothing to
bring him in the next day. It might be buying a wheelchair for a disabled child
you keep seeing on your way to work, that you know should be at school, but he
has no way of getting there. He now attends school as a result. Or, it might be
driving the cleaner to the hospital, because her daughter has malaria.
There is something bittersweet about these experiences
however. On the one hand you witness the suffering people have to endure from
such shocking poverty. Yet, on the other, you witness such a community spirit,
and such simplicity in living. I was very kindly invited to stay at a rural
village of sister Patricia, a friend of one of the employees at Beehive, during
my third weekend here. The village is in Mulanje, in the mountains, and it was
stunning. There was a smell of an organic world. It helped me appreciate that
there is a difference between urban and rural poverty. Open space and scenic
surroundings definitely allow for a better standard of living. Their
hospitality blew me away- they waited on me hand and foot, and most likely gave
me the best food in the village. And that
was community living. I guess in a country devoid of an official organised
social support system, it’s the only way, but the entire village came together.
I was the first ever azungu (foreigner) in the village, so I
created quite a sensation, and I took the first ever photos. That was amazing,
because as I got to know the families, it was nice to be able to take their first
family photos, and see the stir caused by their sudden interest in their
appearance as a result. Girls were fascinated by the little makeup and mirror I
had bought with me, and lined up for a makeover. They definitely didn’t need
it. Initially the gifts that I was considering to bring were things that I
thought they would never have had, such as chocolate, crisps, and confectionary.
But then I realised, that in addition to this, things like oil, sugar, salt, and
soap would be more helpful in a place of subsistence living. They lived off
whatever they grew. Their only income is selling food such as rice and maize.
They barely spoke English, I didn’t have anyone that I knew
with me, I didn’t have reception on my phone, there was obviously no internet,
and it was great. I taught them rounders as well as I could have with the
language barrier, they got the basic idea. They taught me how to pound maize,
make Nsima, they taught me local games, and they loved seeing me carry water. Obviously
with no elec and running water, your entertainment lies with being together,
singing, dancing and telling stories. There were also so many things I
struggled with, such as the fly and cockroach infested hole in the ground, aka
the toilet. They gave me the only bed in
the village, which at risk of sounding like a spoilt little brat, just as well,
because of what I heard scurrying around at night.
I spoke to the head-teacher of the local school, the only
one with good English. He told me that children from nine villages come to this
school. They have 2150 children, and 23 teachers. The government stopped
providing books some years ago, so the children have to bring their own. Most
can’t afford it. The nearest doctor is 4km away, the only mode of transport is
the few bicycles that there are, or by foot. You have to pay for any medical
service. The death-rate therefore, especially of children, from simple diseases
such as malaria and diarrhoea, is quite high. The average age people get
married at the village is 15, which, fair enough, if your average life
expectancy is in your 40’s. The average number of children that people have is
6/7. It was interesting to see the conservative social norms, that would
readily have been challenged back home, such as the dead-set biased gender
roles. Our opinions are definitely dependent on our experiences. It reminded me
of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. We only have the energy to address the fairness
in issues such as gender roles, when we’re not busy worrying about food and
water. I also spoke to the village chief, who is currently overseeing the repairs
on the houses damaged from the last storm a few months ago. Both the head teacher
and chief had high expectations from my visit. Overall, I wasn’t expecting to
return having learned so much about myself from the serenity in their way of
living.
To conclude this entry, for all family and friends reading
this. If any of you intend to fundraise at all this year, and you need ideas,
then Krizevac would always welcome funds towards child sponsorship. The cost of
sponsoring a child for one year is £772. Alternatively, you could fundraise for
consumable resources for the Children’s Centre. Stationary and art material are
really expensive here, we’re always short of paper, card, glue, paint etc. Please
get in touch if you’re interested.
