Freedom

Independence Day precedes much the same here in Malawi as it does in the States. Both were won from the British, though Malawi almost 188 years and two days later than America, and here too there is a long weekend, outdoor festivities planned, and lots of food. The work-week finishes with me sitting on a second truck load of manure we've collected down the road at Kumbali; a fancy pants lodge, very pinky up, which has even housed the likes of Madonna in all her philanthropic glory. It is run by an very large and animated South African, who also owns the surrounding 650 hectares of land (which equals about 1606 acres), a multitude of Malawian employees (many whom wear worn jumpers and/or butler uniforms), an abundance of farm animals, a dairy, and a ‘cultural village’ that is indicative of the white perspective (especially considering the volleyball court). And not to forget the biggest, blackest, most adorable pup named Beasty. As directed by the Malawian government, a certain amount of mzungu (foreigner) owned land, must be allocated to humanitarian projects, …such as Kusamala, though there is no shame in neighboring it next to a GMO mono-cropping maize giant, Pannar Seed.  With forty-nine years of Independence Day celebrations, Malawians are still struggling to their feet with goliaths still towering above them. And as we bumbled passed the Kumabli garage filled with shiny mint conditions, in a truck that sticks in second and is filled with animal feces, it never seemed more true.

We mzungu interns too played our part, reaping our own customary holiday traditions as we made plans to take our weekend at Lake Malawi. After a two hour drive, passing only about four smoking mac-trucks, we made it to our own private beach-haven (…also owned by Kumbali). The lake looks like the ocean, with Mozambique rising blue and shadowy far in the distance, much like the Channel Islands. There are monitor lizards, fish-eagles, baboons, and monkeys galore! The weather feels warmer, with a delicious balmy comfort and greens and tans mixing tropically. Canoes drift by. Fisherman gear up on shore, as the women wash clothes and children playing nearby. I camped on the beach under the stars; my head toward the sunrise. We of course indulged in the beach laze, as well as the customary barbecue, though sweet corn was substituted with green maize. It was beautifully relaxing and I felt more than relieved to escape the farm for a couple of days. Upon our return there was heated debate as to the football match that had taken place over the weekend. It was a draw between the Green Stars and the Yellows. Joseph asked why I hadn't attended and with my excuse he commented, “I've never seen Lake Malawi. It is very far.” Maybe one day, Joseph will see the blue calm of the lake. Maybe goliaths are not so great.