Behind the Internship: 800 kilometers from Chipala

I looked down at my left hand. The dirt that had covered my palm and painted my fingers since earlier that morning had now turned to a streaky, brown mud. This probably had a lot to do with the fact that I had spent the last 45 minutes hand in hand with a little girl who was leading us towards her village. The sweat created between our intertwined fingers had led to a hand-holding session turned rather muddy. Yet, I looked down at this little girl, and smiled. It was about all we could do. She only spoke Chichewa; I only spoke English.  Yes, I had picked up a few token words and phrases in the past 4 weeks, but let me be clear, that after we had gotten past “what is your name?” and “how are you today?” my Chichewa skills were limited to the subject matter I’d been teaching in her school. For some reason, I had a feeling this young girl wasn’t in the mood to discuss “blood to blood transmission” (magazi ku magazi) or go over some of the fluids that carry HIV (umuna, ukazi, etc.). Thus, we were left with smiles and a mud-filled hand-in-hand walk from the school to her village.

            However, about 15 minutes into the walk, a thought occurred to me, along with some of the other interns. Song. That was something we all had in common. Repeat after me songs were something that all Malawian children I’ve come across truly seem to love. And so it began. First, some easy ones, “head, shoulder, knees, and toes,” “if you’re happy and you know it clap your hands,” and even a little “row, row, row your boat.”  After working through these absolute classics we glanced down at one of the young boys accompanying us on our walk whose name was Happy and inquired as to about how much further it would be to his village. His response? “Hmm, probably about 800 kilometers” – Interesting. Although it was likely that something had gotten lost in translation, we decided it was time that we step up our song-singing game. After all, we were surrounded by about 40 7^th grade students who were leading us down this dirt road towards the village, and now, we had gotten their hopes up that we had fantastic repeat-after-me sing alongs to fill the next 800 kilometers. It was time to get creative.

            Since we had done a pretty thorough job of covering the basics, we started introducing a slightly more diverse repertoire. After a quick minute or two of brainstorming, I felt up to the task. We spent the next 800 kilometers (or approximately 30 minutes) singing musical masterpieces such as “We got more bounce in California,” “I believe I can fly,” and a personal favorite, repeated verses of “Tonto, Jump on it.”  We laughed, we sweated, and we laughed some more as much of the songs got lost in translation.  However, 3 verses into a classic Taylor Swift melody, we began to see the outline of the village. That’s when it struck me for the first time. I had just completed the walk that each of these children did twice a day, to and from school. I began to smile, for it dawned on me that Happy had not misunderstood my question.  It probably DID feel like 800 kilometers between the village and school when it was a walk you did with such frequency.

            Upon arriving, we were seated under a patch of trees with the village Chief and all of his headmen. Within a few minutes of our arrival, most of the community had gathered for the event. After working in the school that is associated with this community for the past four days, each class of Standard 7 students had prepared a small presentation about one of the topics we had discussed (HIV or Deforestation).  Even the teachers prepared a small, informative presentation about how to care for someone with HIV.  Usually, these presentations are held at the school, and our largest audience includes the students themselves, some small children who have lingered around the school for the afternoon, and some wandering goats, stopping by to investigate all of the commotion.

As I looked around I realized there was probably close to 300 people who had taken time out of their day to come and watch the small presentations created by their children. Though this may seem like an obvious course of action for those of us accustomed to the American lifestyle where parents are front row at every recital, play, and spelling bee throughout our adolescence, this was a big deal for the parents of this community. Their daily tasks and responsibilities do not usually leave time for such luxuries as they were indulging in this afternoon. I was truly honored. As I glanced down at the Standard 7 students who had certainly noticed the large crowd that had now formed, I could tell, they were too. 

Submitted by:  Stewart Jones, Malawi SS1 2011 intern

Behind the Internship: Homestay and a New Appreciation for Life in Malawi

WC Intern Liza Anne doing morning
chores in Mkhosi village. 

“Hi, my name is Stephen.” These words seem so simple, yet were so soothing to hear upon reaching my home stay house. My biggest worry about staying in a village was being unable to communicate with the family and members of the village. I was not worried about not being able to communicate in terms of not getting what I wanted, but because I wanted to make sure that the family knew how happy I was to be with them. Home-stay was the biggest learning curve that I have had during my time in Malawi and I am so grateful that I jumped right into the opportunity.

When Stewart and I first arrived, all of the women in the village quickly greeted us. They had us dance for them; it felt like an initiation into the village. After dropping our stuff off at the house, we walked down the hill to draw water from the pump. Stewart and I struggled carrying two small bowls on our heads while the five year old girls passed us with huge buckets. I quickly learned that my domestic village skills needed some improvement. Our next task was making nsima for the family.

It was a challenge to make nsima that could actually be eaten. We were thrown into the process and there was no dress rehearsal. We sat outside in the dark stirring nsima in a tiny bowl over three small pieces of firewood. I was much more successful at making the dinner than carrying water, and we quickly moved inside to eat.

After dinner, Stewart and I were whisked away outside because there were “a few people” that wanted to see us. When we got out the door there were about fifty women and children thrilled to greet us. We spent the next hour and a half showing off our amazing American dance moves. The girls would throw us into the circle and watch our ridiculous renditions of their traditional dances. I smiled and laughed more in that time than I have in a very long time. Although I could not communicate with our new friends, I felt like I had known them my whole life. I felt like I was a part of the family already.

The next morning we did more chores than I could have ever imagined. We pounded maize, shelled ground nuts, drew water, swept the front of the house, watered crops, and built ridges and mounds for the farm, all before 7am. We stopped only to try sugar cane straight from the family farm.

Leaving the family and the village in the morning was hard to do; I soaked up every minute that I was there. The hardest connection to make is that although home-stay is a one-night experience for us as interns, for many it is just every day life. Learning about how Malawians live each day and the work they put into having a happy life is something that will resonate with me for years to come. I have learned so much about the culture and the students that I teach through staying in the village. My only hope is that one day I will be able to return the favor that Stephen’s family gave to me.

Submitted by: Liza Anne Ballentine, Malawi SS1 Intern 2011

Behind the Internship: Hummus and Humanity

Last night was my night to cook dinner for the whole crew. I embarked on this task with great trepidation.  My meal was to follow some culinary masterpieces, including pad thai, delicious chili, and a killer rice dish. With a MK 2500 (the equivalent of 16 US dollars) limit and the prerequisite that group dinners must be vegetarian, cooking for 10 involves some serious creativity and a bargain shopper mentality. After almost an entire week of thought, I decided on my meal: a big bowl of hummus, a big bowl of guacamole, fresh veggies, and a rice dish to accompany it. When in doubt, rely on appetizers.

I should preface by saying that last week, I decided to bake mac and cheese. However, 30 minutes into preparation, the power went out (a weekly occurrence in Lilongwe). I left the noodles on the stove I had started to cook them on. During the power outage, we had retreated to the living room, attempting to get through the evening’s evaluation/curriculum agenda before dinner. when the power came back on 2 hours later, the result was: soggy noodles. Upon returning to the kitchen I found that my block of cheese, left on the counter during the 2-hour lack of lighting, had been graced with a visit from a small animal, type- undetermined. Possibilities: mouse, rat, raccoon, ghost of interns past? Therefore, my baked mac and cheese dish was lacking the cheesy deliciousness that lets be honest, is sort of a staple aspect of the meal. Thus, I was determined to redeem myself this week.

The kitchen is usually a high-traffic area come dinner time, filled with people willing to help cook, give advice, or simply play DJ on iTunes and keep you company. However, we had just finished a long week at Mnkhupa Primary School, which was both rewarding and draining, and most people were posted up on the couch, leaving the kitchen unusually empty. Though the “baked mac and cheese fiasco” left me slightly concerned about the lack of helpers, the “rejuvenated hummus/guac/rice” me was actually excited by the idea of some peaceful reflection time. Besides, my creation was sure to be the next culinary masterpiece created by a World Camp intern.

Step one: guacamole. As I began to cut onions to be added to the dip, I began to cry. I’d like to go on record and say that the small onions, bought in the market in town are hands down the strongest onions on the planet. Crying is inevitable. Nonetheless, I stood there, alone in the kitchen, practically weeping over my cutting board of half-mangled onions. I realized it was the first time since arriving in Malawi that I had found myself in tears... and it felt good. Although I first attempted to quell the tears streaming down my face, I soon stopped, allowing myself to cry. What a refreshing feeling. It had been a whirlwind two-week period since my arrival. I had spent orientation learning many unnerving and incredibly discouraging statistics about HIV/AIDS rates, deforestation problems, and overall poverty in Malawi. I had spent the following days experiencing these statistics first hand. However, as the multitude of onions turned into guacamole, and my tears naturally dried up, I found my thoughts steering away from the immense poverty and HIV rate statistics, instead focusing on the connections I made in my classrooms the past two weeks. When I focus on the individual connections, as opposed to the potentially overwhelming numbers, the problems facing Malawi seem slightly more manageable. With these final thoughts, the guacamole was complete.

Next step: the hummus. A first-time hummus maker, this part of dinner prep was intimidating. However, after glancing at a couple similar recipes, I realized that hummus was hard to mess up. I began throwing in ingredients, a little bit of lemon juice here, a dash of cumin there. Hummus wasn’t quite as hard as I thought it would be. That is, until it came time to mix it all together. This part of the recipe would appear to be a relatively simple task for those who have access to a blender or food processor. However, this task is made exponentially more difficult by those of us mashing garbanzo beans by hand. I began to mash in an organized fashion. Carefully, methodically, mashing each bean to the same degree.  As if my iTunes could read my mind, the songs accompanied my mood as I cooked.  Bob Marley had come on once or twice during the whole onion ordeal. But as I mashed garbanzo beans, “Like a Rolling Stone” by Bob Dylan began to play. Next thing I knew, I was no longer worried about the evenly mashed-ness of each bean and found myself really going to town on that bowl of hummus ingredients. I was getting some serious pleasure out of the aggression necessary to thoroughly mash garbanzo beans into submission. 

WC Intern Stewart Jones with Standard 7 class at
Mnkhupa Full Primary School. 

I find myself thinking about the frustrations that had also been apart of the past two weeks. Of course, there are those “magical” moments when interacting with a child or speaking with a teacher at the local primary school. These moments are wonderful and make the experience worthwhile. But there are the obvious frustrations as well. The feeling that there isn’t even more that I/World Camp/the other interns can do, the small annoyances that we begin to discover when you live AND work with 9 other people, the itchy mosquito bites that run up and down both legs. Suddenly, all of these were being mashed into that hummus, right along with the beans. It was completely invigorating. Small flecks of hummus splatter painted my hair, the wall in front of me, and the counter. 

I stopped, put down my mashing device, and smiled. Here I was, in the middle of Lilongwe, Malawi, mashing up garbanzo beans by hand, attempting to one-up last night’s pad thai dinner, and simultaneously releasing my pent up emotions of the roller-coaster that had been the past two weeks. I took a step back, took in the large mess I had made of the kitchen, sipped my bottled coca-cola, and smiled some more. I felt good. REALLY good. I am far from home (a liLONGWAY, as my parents would say) and yet these hummus splattered walls served as a small form of encouragement. I am where I am supposed to be. It’s hard, yes, but more rewarding  than words could ever explain.

As we sat down to eat dinner that night, I glanced from person to person, wondering if anyone could taste the revelations and passionate emotion that had been created along with their meal that evening. Week 3 in Malawi? Bring it on. 

Submitted by: Stewart Jones, Malawi SS1 2011 Intern

Where Passion Becomes Action

Now is the time to give, and double your impact. Hundreds of millions of dollars are spent every year in development aid around the world. This support is absolutely critical, but we must question how much time is being spent on the root causes. Children in developing countries are as capable, ambitious and gifted as children from any other part of the world, and World Camp's goal is to help them overcome the burdens of poverty through education.

This month World Camp is teaming up with the Keffer Auto Group in Charlotte, NC to raise money for our initiatives in Malawi that address the root causes of HIV and poverty. World Camp strategically places volunteers within our local and regional development projects to provide holistic education and support to communities. Hundreds of volunteers have given their time and now we need you to give your money to facilitate the training and organization of community leadership to provide common sense development of local ideas by local people. 

Every $ you give during this month will be matched by the Keffer Auto Group up to $10,000

By making your contribution this month you can help World Camp raise a total of $20,000 to support the development of sustainable systems that focus on education, health and social services for vulnerable children and families in Malawi. Your financial contribution will support a new generation of adults who will help end the cycle of HIV and poverty within their communities.

will match donations 
$ FOR $ up to $10,000

DOUBLE YOUR IMPACT