Word of the day

Trio-ing like a 1950s gangster squad, the implementation team: Daniel, Mike and Green arrive to help clear-cut an area of tall grass to further the fruit forest I’ve recently been channeling. What took me two hours of back and forth experimenting- machete, slasher, and/or khasu (hoe), took them exactly twenty minutes, grasses flying. Impressed, but not surprised, I remarked on African strength. Green, who has the comedic charm of a short Bill Cosby, blatantly attributes this to mavuto; loosely translated this means ‘trouble’ or ‘problems.’ I was confused, but then embarrassed as he went on to explain. “To go and get water, mavuto. To get firewood, mavuto. Money, mavuto. Aye!” His arms up-down gesturing exhaustion.

On Thursday, the ami (mothers) were organizing to mud the rooms, which in Chichewa is called kuzila. Giving me the ultimate stare-down I made no hesitation in joining them in what is considered one of the many womanly duties. A bucket of mud, plus a quarter sand, and a generous amount of water can make poor-man’s concrete. The mud felt soft and warm as we smoothed it thin over the floor. After half an hour it became stiff and coarse. On hands and knees, we then whittled down the grind using beer bottles as our tool. It became the day’s work. My back ached. But after, I was entitled to be called acihmwali (sister).

A football match. The Green Stars versus Kauma. Boundary lines are marked with ash and gaga (ground up maize) that is being pecked away by a couple of straggly looking chickens. The field is huge, but sloping and divoting throughout. It is a playground and meeting center before the game, with kids with shoelace jump-ropes and men gathered round radios. “No thanks we don’t want  a chair… we don’t want to stand out”…yeah right. One guy is playing in his socks, another barefoot, and … yes really… there are two players that are sharing a pair of cleats. Half time score is 0-0. Most players are widely scattered on the hard-packed dirt and skipping potholes like an obstacle course. The sun, dzuwa, is quite strong and there are no clouds, mitambo, to be seen. Enock, our garden manager, as well as the lead coach of the Green Stars, shouts, “Osadandaula,” (Don’t worry!). The Green Stars eventually won 3-0.

As I see women walking home balancing bundles of firewood on their head and babies strapped to their back, I understand. Chiponde means 'to pound,' but it also means 'peanut-butter.' Men haul huge bales of thatch on their bicycles that hang-slant and throws them off balance, people wait on the side of the road for a hopeful ride into town or else jam themselves into overcrowded minibus nightmares, and vendors sit all day in the hot sun to sell a handful of tomatoes. Our tea kettle has been fixed and broken three time already, and the rooster just keeps on crowing. Their strength of body comes from the everyday struggle for necessity (gathering water for drinking, cooking and bathing, firewood, and on top of that, money). Their strength of character is gained through acceptance and an easy smile. Osadandaula Zimachatika, ‘don’t worry, it happens.’