Also, I will be putting up a new quiz very soon. I had toyed with the idea of polling people's estimates on how long it would take me to get malaria but I ended up getting it before I could post. Don't worry, I'm fine. I wouldn't do it again though.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Photos
Posting pictures is generally problematic, but I've been able to downsize some of them to make posting easier. Here are a few of my favourites from the past little while.
Also, I will be putting up a new quiz very soon. I had toyed with the idea of polling people's estimates on how long it would take me to get malaria but I ended up getting it before I could post. Don't worry, I'm fine. I wouldn't do it again though.
Also, I will be putting up a new quiz very soon. I had toyed with the idea of polling people's estimates on how long it would take me to get malaria but I ended up getting it before I could post. Don't worry, I'm fine. I wouldn't do it again though.
Transport to Lilongwe
Planning always has limitations. No matter how hard you try, there are always factors that cannot be accounted for. At some point you just have to run with what you have and hope for the best. Murphy had a pretty pessimistic take on this kind of approach, but I on the other hand opt to “not even worry about it” most of the time.
So there we were: Graham, Mafayo, and I. Two white guys, an entrepreneur, and 140 kgs of cassava flour at the side of the road trying to hitch a ride the 300 or so kilometers to Mafayo’s customers in Lilongwe. Hiring private transport was far too expensive for such a small load so we decided to test the waters with alternative transportation methods. The only thing we could really plan on was a learning experience.
A couple of hours passed before a suitable truck came along. We agreed on a price and piled into the cab while the cassava flour rode in the back with an ever increasing number of other hitchhikers. It’s pretty common for drivers to pick people up for a fare in Malawi and we were doing so every few kilometers. It was only when we encountered a police roadblock outside of the next major town that I learned this is illegal.
We were able to continue to Kasungu, the next major town, where the truck was supposed to report to the police station. The truck had not been planning on going past Kasungu so our plan hadn’t been too dismantled by this development. The only issue was that we somehow had to get 140 kgs of flour from the police department to the bus station.
No worries. “Musadandaule” in Chichewa. Mafayo and I headed off to the bus station to hire a minibus that could pick up the flour while Graham waited at the police station with the truck. We found transport and shortly after we were headed back to the police station. We arrived to find that Graham, the truck, and the flour had disappeared. I called Graham and found out they had waited for a police officer to turn up but eventually left when no one did. He was back at the bus station with the cassava flour.
But instead of the bus turning around and heading back, we were soon traveling well out of town and back out on the main road. In a long, circuitous arc we were traveling around to the far side of the town and I, only catching snippets of the rapid dialogue in Chichewa, had no idea what was going on. I asked my traveling companion.
Mafayo: “Oh, this vehicle is also in trouble with the police.”
Me: “So, we’re running from the police?”
Mafayo: “Yes. We are running from the police.”
Okay, so maybe not quite the brazen, siren blaring, high speed, stunt ridden pursuit you might be thinking of (don’t worry mom), but the situation was nevertheless a little exciting. I, for one, had definitely not planned on fleeing the law when we began our day. In the end, we found Graham and the flour, reached Lilongwe and the customers safely, and returned home without having to post bail.
Most importantly, we learned a lot about what works and what doesn’t with transporting cassava flour and have since found a private vehicle for deliveries.
So there we were: Graham, Mafayo, and I. Two white guys, an entrepreneur, and 140 kgs of cassava flour at the side of the road trying to hitch a ride the 300 or so kilometers to Mafayo’s customers in Lilongwe. Hiring private transport was far too expensive for such a small load so we decided to test the waters with alternative transportation methods. The only thing we could really plan on was a learning experience.
A couple of hours passed before a suitable truck came along. We agreed on a price and piled into the cab while the cassava flour rode in the back with an ever increasing number of other hitchhikers. It’s pretty common for drivers to pick people up for a fare in Malawi and we were doing so every few kilometers. It was only when we encountered a police roadblock outside of the next major town that I learned this is illegal.
We were able to continue to Kasungu, the next major town, where the truck was supposed to report to the police station. The truck had not been planning on going past Kasungu so our plan hadn’t been too dismantled by this development. The only issue was that we somehow had to get 140 kgs of flour from the police department to the bus station.
No worries. “Musadandaule” in Chichewa. Mafayo and I headed off to the bus station to hire a minibus that could pick up the flour while Graham waited at the police station with the truck. We found transport and shortly after we were headed back to the police station. We arrived to find that Graham, the truck, and the flour had disappeared. I called Graham and found out they had waited for a police officer to turn up but eventually left when no one did. He was back at the bus station with the cassava flour.
But instead of the bus turning around and heading back, we were soon traveling well out of town and back out on the main road. In a long, circuitous arc we were traveling around to the far side of the town and I, only catching snippets of the rapid dialogue in Chichewa, had no idea what was going on. I asked my traveling companion.
Mafayo: “Oh, this vehicle is also in trouble with the police.”
Me: “So, we’re running from the police?”
Mafayo: “Yes. We are running from the police.”
Okay, so maybe not quite the brazen, siren blaring, high speed, stunt ridden pursuit you might be thinking of (don’t worry mom), but the situation was nevertheless a little exciting. I, for one, had definitely not planned on fleeing the law when we began our day. In the end, we found Graham and the flour, reached Lilongwe and the customers safely, and returned home without having to post bail.
Most importantly, we learned a lot about what works and what doesn’t with transporting cassava flour and have since found a private vehicle for deliveries.
Friday, June 13, 2008
The Insect Witch
Malawi is predominantly Chirstian but witchcraft and animist beliefs still play a role in some places.
A few nights ago, Mafayo was explaining how his business got started. The plot of land he cleared was originally a forest that was feared by many in the community. Witches lived there.
Mafayo was undaunted by this. He cleared about a hectare of forest and enough space for a new, more direct, road to the trading centre. From what he said, people are very appreciative of his efforts to rid the community of the evil that lurked nearby.
I asked Mafayo if he feared the witches. Surely, they would exact some kind of vengeance on him for the destruction of their home. “God is greater,” he replied. “Witches can only harm the body, not the soul.”
We continued talking about traditional beliefs and how… Suddenly, Mafayo jerked from his seat and stripped off his shirt. “Something bit me,” he said. There, just at the edge of the glow of the fire, a centipede no shorter than 6 inches scurried away.
“And we were just talking about the witches,” Mafayo laughed while lifting a heavy stone. “But God is greater.”
Splat.
A few nights ago, Mafayo was explaining how his business got started. The plot of land he cleared was originally a forest that was feared by many in the community. Witches lived there.
Mafayo was undaunted by this. He cleared about a hectare of forest and enough space for a new, more direct, road to the trading centre. From what he said, people are very appreciative of his efforts to rid the community of the evil that lurked nearby.
I asked Mafayo if he feared the witches. Surely, they would exact some kind of vengeance on him for the destruction of their home. “God is greater,” he replied. “Witches can only harm the body, not the soul.”
We continued talking about traditional beliefs and how… Suddenly, Mafayo jerked from his seat and stripped off his shirt. “Something bit me,” he said. There, just at the edge of the glow of the fire, a centipede no shorter than 6 inches scurried away.
“And we were just talking about the witches,” Mafayo laughed while lifting a heavy stone. “But God is greater.”
Splat.
Funeral
This was difficult for me to write about but I felt it was important. I apologize for writing two consecutive posts on heavier topics.
Earlier this year at UBC, a group of activists placed hundreds of tiny white crosses in the grass on a main campus boulevard to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS. A sign described the horrific effects of the virus and presented some of the staggering statistics, primarily in Sub-Saharan Africa. The image reminded me of photos I had seen of the white crosses in graveyards from the World Wars and it stuck with me.
An estimated 1 in 5 people in Malawi have HIV/AIDS. Life expectancy is currently 39 and is projected to drop to 33 by 2010. These numbers, combined with the image from UBC, made me feel like I was heading into a war zone. But statistics do not always accurately communicate realities and Malawi feels like anything but a war zone. With the exception of billboards and flyers distributed by various organizations, HIV/AIDS is largely invisible here. It is rarely discussed and, after a while, I began to wonder if I had been misled by the numbers and little white crosses.
I attended a funeral last week in Chisemphere. A young woman, age 30, died of AIDS. I didn’t know her, but it was still hard. There is something about the crying family, the gathered community, and the echo of the choir in the morning that statistics will never quite convey: the real crosses have names on them.
A vast amount of foreign aid in Malawi is directed towards combating the virus. People are becoming increasingly aware and testing and treatments are free throughout the country. The virus has taken its toll and, though not quite a war, people are fighting back. I just wish that they wouldn't have to add another cross on the lawn at UBC.
Earlier this year at UBC, a group of activists placed hundreds of tiny white crosses in the grass on a main campus boulevard to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS. A sign described the horrific effects of the virus and presented some of the staggering statistics, primarily in Sub-Saharan Africa. The image reminded me of photos I had seen of the white crosses in graveyards from the World Wars and it stuck with me.
An estimated 1 in 5 people in Malawi have HIV/AIDS. Life expectancy is currently 39 and is projected to drop to 33 by 2010. These numbers, combined with the image from UBC, made me feel like I was heading into a war zone. But statistics do not always accurately communicate realities and Malawi feels like anything but a war zone. With the exception of billboards and flyers distributed by various organizations, HIV/AIDS is largely invisible here. It is rarely discussed and, after a while, I began to wonder if I had been misled by the numbers and little white crosses.
I attended a funeral last week in Chisemphere. A young woman, age 30, died of AIDS. I didn’t know her, but it was still hard. There is something about the crying family, the gathered community, and the echo of the choir in the morning that statistics will never quite convey: the real crosses have names on them.
A vast amount of foreign aid in Malawi is directed towards combating the virus. People are becoming increasingly aware and testing and treatments are free throughout the country. The virus has taken its toll and, though not quite a war, people are fighting back. I just wish that they wouldn't have to add another cross on the lawn at UBC.
Village Life
The Chisemphere trading centre consists of a cluster of shops a few kilometers from the main road. Beyond this, the area is instantly rural with small clusters of thatched roof houses and fields stretched out along dirt paths for kilometers in all directions. My previous conception of rural Malawi was mainly a montage of images sewn together from World Vision photos and shocking TV commercials painting a deprived and almost horrid existence. Everyone always looked so depressed!
My time in the village directly challenged this. I find it difficult to brand anyone as being “poor.” Sure, the number of people with flat screen TVs is exceedingly low here, but did we ever really need them in the first place? Are the children that wave to me on their way to school really the same crying children from the TV commercials? As a volunteer, can I really judge anyone’s life, declare it deficient by my western standards, and seek to “develop” them?
Though often masked by the warmth of the people, I began to discover some very real challenges faced by the community. I realized one, several days after I arrived in Chisemphere, when Mafayo and I were visiting cassava farmers in the area. We were walking along a small path when we emerged in a clearing on a small hill. It was a field of maize, withered, and knee high. I asked Mafayo about it.
“Yes,” he replied. “These are failed crops. These people will suffer from hunger.”
It hit me pretty hard. Perhaps in the nearby group of houses lived the same people the media had previously urged me to pity. But when I later met them I realized that the images had failed to communicate something important. There is a sense of humanity, resiliency, and richness of life here that I think is sometimes forgotten when we talk about “poverty.”
My time in the village directly challenged this. I find it difficult to brand anyone as being “poor.” Sure, the number of people with flat screen TVs is exceedingly low here, but did we ever really need them in the first place? Are the children that wave to me on their way to school really the same crying children from the TV commercials? As a volunteer, can I really judge anyone’s life, declare it deficient by my western standards, and seek to “develop” them?
Though often masked by the warmth of the people, I began to discover some very real challenges faced by the community. I realized one, several days after I arrived in Chisemphere, when Mafayo and I were visiting cassava farmers in the area. We were walking along a small path when we emerged in a clearing on a small hill. It was a field of maize, withered, and knee high. I asked Mafayo about it.
“Yes,” he replied. “These are failed crops. These people will suffer from hunger.”
It hit me pretty hard. Perhaps in the nearby group of houses lived the same people the media had previously urged me to pity. But when I later met them I realized that the images had failed to communicate something important. There is a sense of humanity, resiliency, and richness of life here that I think is sometimes forgotten when we talk about “poverty.”
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Cassava Flour in Chisemphere
After three weeks in the field, I am back at the IITA office frantically trying to catch up on emails, reports, and blogging. I know I’ve fallen a little behind on posting but I have plenty of stories from the field and will do my best to write about them while I am back. Thank you to everyone who participated in the Chichewa word quiz while I was away. For those of you who guessed Ntochi, you’re right! Now you can purchase bananas without difficulty throughout the country.
I have been working with cassava flour production at a small factory in the town of Chisemphere, about three hours north of Lilongwe. Currently, market demand for cassava flour is strong for a number of reasons: it can be used as a partial substitute for wheat flour in baked goods - making it more economical with the rise in wheat prices – and it can be used as a maize substitute in nsima, the staple dish in Malawi. Despite this market, the number of processors remains few. To my knowledge there are only two cassava flour producers in Malawi at this time, one being Mafayo Lungu in Chisemphere.
The potential positive effects of flour production are. Mafayo’s factory can provide employment in the community, a local market where farmers can sell cassava, a supply of food in the hunger season, and a means of eventually sending his one-year-old daughter Lusungu to school. However, despite the positive environment, Mafayo’s business still faces many challenges. My work over the next few months will be focused on supporting his business to become profitable and self-sufficient in the long term. If we can achieve this, there is potential for further market growth leading to increased incomes and food security in rural Malawi.
There are many opportunities for supporting the value chain. Fortunately, I working directly with Graham Lettner, an EWB long-term volunteer here until March, so any initiatives can continue after my placement ends. The cassava harvest will begin in earnest next month and so ideas and preparations are in full swing. Yehbo!
I have been working with cassava flour production at a small factory in the town of Chisemphere, about three hours north of Lilongwe. Currently, market demand for cassava flour is strong for a number of reasons: it can be used as a partial substitute for wheat flour in baked goods - making it more economical with the rise in wheat prices – and it can be used as a maize substitute in nsima, the staple dish in Malawi. Despite this market, the number of processors remains few. To my knowledge there are only two cassava flour producers in Malawi at this time, one being Mafayo Lungu in Chisemphere.
The potential positive effects of flour production are. Mafayo’s factory can provide employment in the community, a local market where farmers can sell cassava, a supply of food in the hunger season, and a means of eventually sending his one-year-old daughter Lusungu to school. However, despite the positive environment, Mafayo’s business still faces many challenges. My work over the next few months will be focused on supporting his business to become profitable and self-sufficient in the long term. If we can achieve this, there is potential for further market growth leading to increased incomes and food security in rural Malawi.
There are many opportunities for supporting the value chain. Fortunately, I working directly with Graham Lettner, an EWB long-term volunteer here until March, so any initiatives can continue after my placement ends. The cassava harvest will begin in earnest next month and so ideas and preparations are in full swing. Yehbo!
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