What follows here are just my thoughts and words. No fact checking, no spell checking, no promises of great insight or good grammar. Just me dumping the words in my head to words on the screen. Bear with me... sometimes it's a bumpy ride.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

More RRO&F ...

ITEM: I was surprised to see so many plants I recognized from Hawaii. The climate - tho understandably dryer than the tropical island air - is apparently similar. There are plumeria trees (but the air is not fragrant with their scent - the blooms are over for the year, and most of the trees are bare), palm trees, sugar cane, banana trees, hibiscus, bouganvilla, guava, papaya, avocado and even macademia nut trees.

ITEM: I have seen more albinos (pronounced "albeenos" by the Malawians) in these last two weeks than ever before in my life. I have so far counted 8 - 7 children and one adult. Apparently, it is simply a recessive gene and not all that terribly uncommon. I asked if these children were treated or looked upon any differently. No, they are not.


ITEM: "Mass transportation" is via mini-bus - a small van (much like the old Volkswagen buses) with four rows of seats which are usually packed full of more often men, but periodically also women. The mini-buses are notoriously dangerous. We have seen the aftermath of several collisions.

ITEM:  Doing all the driving we’ve been doing, I am acutely aware of a puzzling mental disconnect. We leave the urban area and drive on a ribbon of asphalt that slices through the landscape of footpaths, dirt roads, clusters of huts and periodic crossroads with market stalls and cement block shops. Cars are few. We share the road with countless people walking great distances between markets, often times the women carry their children tied ingeniously to their backs and have large baskets or flats of bananas or tomatoes, or buckets full of water atop their heads. We share the road with bicycles, also loaded up with stacks of wood, huge bags of charcoal, crates, more people, anything that can be carried. We share the road with chickens, and goats, and the periodic cart being pulled by 2 oxen. Cars driving 50+ miles per hour speed past all the children spilling out of the primary school and walking back home. This road is clearly progress and provides an artery of smooth travel for at least a portion of these people’s journeys. But it seems like the cars don’t belong here.

I feel that in many ways Malawi is a Tromp de l’oeil. The landscape is strikingly beautiful, from the majestic Mulanje Mountain rising up out of nowhere, to the lush expanses of tea fields, to the charming thatched roof huts on a hillside village, to the vast Lake Malawi with its beaches and bays; from the intricate brickwork and delicate minaret arising from a Muslim temple to the imposing and ancient Christian church which watches over the surrounding center from its beautiful stained glass windows; and from the beautiful and quick smiles of the Malawian people that you just pass on an urban street or wave to from the village road, to the resilient and captivating children. From a distance - it is a lovely place to behold, a picture to another time. But knowing the stories, the truth, of the people who must scratch out a living here leaves you with an altogether different impression.

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