Nkhota kota: Game Reserve

The third day in Nkhota kota Fr. Paul arrainged for us to visit a game reserve nearby. Normally there is a charge to enter the game reserve especially for white people with money, but Fr. Paul convinced them to wave the fee because we were teachers visiting the reserve for the purpose of educational training. We went to the Parks Department Office and waited for our guide who eventually showed up in a green uniform, barret, and machine gun. If I knew anything about machine guns, I could tell you what kind it was, impressing others who don't know about machine guns and not impressing those who do, but as it is I don't so I'll leave it at just a machine gun. We drove out into the bush for about a half an hour and eventually into a wooded area arriving at a ranger site (I guess) near a river. Along the way we saw several small blue canvas enclosures that our guide explained were traps for the Tse Tse fly. Later I saw one up close and inside it was just a net with a small opening on top. I was skeptical as to why the flies would enter it or how affective it would be in trapping them inside. Before I realized what I was doing, I was curled up in the trap and unable to figure out how to get out, so I guess they might work well enough on a fly. The guide led us single file through a "path" of grass that was well over our heads. Occasionally we would cross another path of beaten down grass that was made by elephants. While that was interesting it got even better when we came across a pile of elephant poo. Although we thought we might be close we didn't actually see an elephant...yet. We did see some elephant tracks where they came down to the river along with waterbuck, hyena, and lion tracks. The first sighting of an actually animal was of some monkies hanging out in the trees on the other side of the river. There were also some close encounters with fire ants that found there way into my shirt. We were eating our lunch back at the Ranger camp when our guide spotted four elephants down by the river getting water. Sure they were really far away, but they were Elephants and they were in Africa so that is a victory in book.

Nkhota Kota: Swimming with Crocodiles

Alright, so that title might be a little misleading.  Yes, we did swim in Lake Malawi, and yes, there are crocodiles in the lake.  But Lake Malawi is a really big lake, and when I asked the local kids swimming with us about crocodiles they just said "very far away".  Fr. Andrew took us for the first trip, and on the way we stopped at a sight where an old railroad track went right into the lake.  It was the docking point for ships in the slave trade so that was interesting.  Another time, we were dropped of at a resort nearby and spent the entire day.  It must have been the off season because there were very few people there.  We did meet a man from Germany who moved to Zimbabwe to start a Safari company.  He advised us to walk the beach to check out some rocks further down and meet the locals...so we did.  We knew the road followed the lake and we were planning on catching the minibus anyways so we packed up our things and started walking.    There were people washing there clothes, fixing their fishing nets, and setting out into the lake in dugout canoes.  Some of the kids would follow us, clothed and otherwise, some asking for money and others asking us to take there picture which they loved.  They would huddle together in front of the camera and pose in something like a karate stance.  When we needed to get back to the main road we had a few of the kids lead the way which turned into a few more kids leading the way until there we were surrounded by an entire herd.  It took awhile but we finally figured out where we were going and managed to convince the kids not to follow us anymore.  It was still a long hike to the road so on the way we bought some sugar cane from stand on the side of the road and caught a ride back to Nkhota Kota.  On another trip, we saw what looked to me like a full sized tornado on the other side.  It was calm where we were and it was far away so we just shrugged it off and kept on swimming.  Most of the beaches were really nice and I the weather was perfect so I didn't understand why there weren't more tourists.  I asked one of the workers and he said they get a lot of people coming from England, but most of them come in June.

Nkhota Kota: Our Hosts

    Our hosts for the time away from Bakhita were two Polish Salegian fathers running the parish in Nkhota Kota.  The invitation was extended by Father Paul, the head priest, who also knew the previous volunteers and whom I had met on one of his recent visits to Balaka (Is that the proper use of "whom" because I really have no idea?).  The distiguishing qualities of Fr. Paul are his energy and sense of humor.  The entire time he was entertaining us, he was also running the parish and didn't seem to take a break between 5 in the morning and 10 at night.  If you ever ask him a question be prepared to invest at least 10 minutes in getting a straight or non-sarcastic answer.  It was also mentioned that previous to becoming a priest, he spent time as sniper in the Polish army.  The other priest was a recent transfer from Zambia and you didn't forget because he always had another story about living in "the bush" or swimming with crocodiles.  He was a little eccentric and very commited to special teas, ointments, and other "cure-all" remedies.  He had boxes and boxes of medicine he had brought from Poland over the years.  The best part was his passion for unhealthy food and his generosity in sharing that unhealthy food with others (me in particular).  Of course, he always offered vegetables, but anytime he said vegetables he was talking about meat.  A Slovenian volunteer working with Mother Theresa's order at an orphanage in Lilongwe was also visiting the Fathers.  It was through her association with the Salegians that she began volunteering and was in Nkota Kota to help them for a few weeks.  However, she admitted that the main reason was because she just needed to get away.  We understood completely.  Sisters help a lot of people and do great work, but there are certain frustrations that you have to have a little time off from.

Parent-Teacher Conferences

So with the first term complete and report cards ready to go, it was time for parent-teacher conferences here at Bakhita.  Once again I went into to an unknown situation completely unprepared and unaware of what was going to happen or what was expected of me. As luck would have everything went really well.  I still fully anticipate that my lack of training and insufficient preparation will eventually blow up in my face, but until then I'll just keep going with what works.  I've never actually been to a parent-teacher meeting, but my guess is these were typically.  "She's doing a good job.  She could try harder on homework.  She should pay attention in class.  She needs to tell me if she can't understand a single word that I say."  I was put in the same room with Mr. Osman, the other Science teacher, just in case the parent couldn't speak English and I needed a translator...I did.  Those turned out to be the easiest meetings.  I just said something like "Check that she is doing her homework" and then Mr. Osman would translate sometimes taking a few more minutes than a single sentence translation should.  I think he was eleborating just a little.  Anyways, not very many parents actually showed up.  Mostly they were parents of the students doing really well.  One woman showed up for three students with different last names so I thought she might be a relative, which is common, but it turns out she was helping at the orphanage where they live.  I was a little nervous about meeting an upset parent going into a tyrade in Chichewa about how I was failing his daughter but it never happened.  My goal for the next parent meeting is to actually be able to put the student's names with the faces.  They all still sort of blur together.

Trip to Nkhota Kota

Thankfully, the term break was long enough to take a trip and still fit in all the grading and preparing for the next term.  We were orginally scheduled for 10 day break which would have prevented us from taking any trip worth taking. But thanks to the day-to-day chaos and unexpected last-minute changes that seem to plague missionary work or perhaps African life in general, the term break was extended by a week.  This gave us enough time to take a trip of a few days at distance far, far away from the confines of the Bakhita Education Complex.  Not that it is a bad complex.  I think it is a very nice complex, but after 4 months we were beginning to feel somewhat closed in.  I overheard some of the college students refer to it as "The Cage" which might be a little harsh, but it's a pretty close fit.

    Even though our travel plans were less restricted by time, they were still limited by our ability to find a place to stay.  As it turns out, there are Catholic Missions all over the country more than happy to let volunteers stay with them, and Gaby spent the first year of service making contacts and getting invitations to many them.  One in particular was from a Salegian Father from Poland who was at a mission in a town on Lake Malawi called Nkhota Kota.  The Polish girls were happy to stay with other Polish people, the beach bums of the group were sold on the towns proximity to the lake, and I'll admit that I just really liked the towns name.  So Nkhota Kota was the unanimous choice.

Nkhota Kota: The Minibus

    While the sisters allow us to use their truck for trips to the market, it wasn't available for the length time we needed to go to Nkhota Khota (I just really like that name) so the next best option was the minibus.  The minibus system isn't exactly a well organized or smooth operation, but we have a minibus depot here in Balaka so it is pretty easy to get around with.  On our way to the bus station, we passed a bus just leaving and the driver shouted to us the direction he was headed.  We gave him a nod that we were interested and I guess he was anxious to pick up five extra passengers because he veered off the road into the curb.  It was all for nothing since we decided to find another bus after the display of his driving skills.  The buses line up at the station next to the signs of their destination while the drivers and a co-pilot shout out where they are headed.  You find the bus you want, negotiate a price, and wait for it to leave.  There is no set schedule.  They just leave whenever they get enough passengers.  It could be 15 minutes or if you are with us you'll probably wait an hour.  While waiting to leave vendors descend on the station selling drinks, newspapers, eggs, potatoes, peanuts, and just about anything else.  The same goes for any town or village it stops at along the way.  Kids and some adults crowd around the bus trying to sell things.  One of the passengers on our bus was kind enough to buy a few fish for the long, hot, crowded journey.  Passengers are picked up and dropped off all along the route.  I don't know if the bus was ever actually "full" because as long as someone were willing to squeeze in, we found a place for him.  We counted up to 28 people on a bus that was supposed to be limited to 23 and probably less than 20 if it were in the U.S.  Of course we were counting kids, and they tuck under the seat pretty easily.  At one point, there was a live chicken but we didn't count it as a passenger.  With all of the stops (about every 5 minutes) it took us over five hours to reach Nkhota Kota.  We arrived in the early afternoon, recovered from the cramps from being squeezed up next to wheel wells and support bars, and were welcomed by the Salegians with a trip to the lake.

Holy Saturday

On Holy Saturday, we went with Fr. Joseph from the Parish to an outstation for the Easter Vigil services.  We arrived a little early giving Father and myself (I'll explain later) a little time to prepare for mass.  We spent most of the time waiting and talking to the parishoners.  One of the young children saw us and started screaming and crying.  Every once in a while we'll meet some kids who are scared of us being as white as we are and a few of them cry, but this one was terrified.  His mother thought is was funny though.  She calmed him down enough that he was even willing to take Eva's hand,  but then Eva touched his hand to her hair and he started screaming all over again.  The Easter Vigil started outside with the Easter fire where the drums used for the mass were layed in front.  We were told they were using the heat from the fire to adjust the tone.  At the last outstation mass that Eva and Gaby attended, Father asked them if any of the volunteers wanted to participate at Easter and as I had previously expressed an interested the two Polish girls happily volunteered me for one of the readings...in Chichewa.  I had the reading ahead of time so I was able to translate it to find out what I was actually saying and I read it to myself a few hundred times to get used to the pronounciations.  I stumbled over a few words but I think it went pretty well.  No one threw anything at me or ran out of the church in disgust so I guess I didn't inadvertantly call Jesus a goat or insult anyone's tribe.  They also observed the tradition of baptizing people during the Mass and thirty children from the community were baptized.  The singing for Malawian masses is usually excellent and Easter was no exception.  It was distinct however in enthusiasm, participation, and VOLUME.  At one point after communion it was so loud that my ears actually hurt, but I didn't mind.  After the Mass we had to wait for Fr. Joseph a little bit so we tried to play tag with the kids outside of church, but we couldn't explain it very well so it didn't really work out.

Good Friday

Malawi has a strong Christian population and from this Good Friday is observed as a National Holiday.  The government offices and many business close for the day.  The Catholic Church and the Lutheran Church across cooperated in performing the Stations of the Cross.  It began at the Lutheran Church and hundreds of people processed through town stopping to observe each station.  A truck with loudspeakers led the way with people singing.  Actors performed the stations and various people read passages.  It went right through town and took almost 2 hours to complete.  The most dramatic part was the frequent handing of the microphone to a group of young girls that would cry and sob before the Station passage was read.  Immediately afterwards the Good Friday services were held at the Catholic parish making the entire event about 5 hours long.

African Skyline

Africa
Originally uploaded by aniemerg.