A walk in my neighborhood

January 17, 2011
A walk in my neighborhood
Today is a national holiday in Malawi to honor John Chilembwe. He was a Malawian hero of independence, educated at a theological school in Virginia and exposed to the work of John Brown and other antislavery and anticolonial writers. In 1915 he staged an uprising against plantation owners in Malawi (then called Nyassaland) who were exploiting their African workers. The group beheaded one plantation owner but did not harm women or children. John was soon caught and killed. His followers as well as other African Baptists were also eliminated. He picture appears on Malawian kwacha (money).
I was at home reading students’ papers today and I needed to get up and move around. I decided to walk outside our gate and explore the neighborhood. There are not many (or perhaps any) mzungu (white people) this far out of town so I think I might have been a startling presence. When I walked down the road behind our house to see where it went the workers at the house across from us were watching intently to see where I went but I didn’t go far as the road ends in a large gate that belongs to house behind us. All middle and upper class houses in Malawi are surrounded by high walls often topped with razor wire or broken glass and accessed through big metal gates consequently you can’t really see the houses unless you get invited in . The house across from us is an exception – they don’t have a wall. The house is I think owned by Koreans or Chinese who have a very large well tended truck garden in front that is surrounded by a high reed fence. I am sure the food is grown for sale and every inch of the land they have is used. I can see corn, cabbage, groundnuts, zucchini (I think), tomatoes, eggplant and lots of other greens I can’t identify. As I walk out to the road I come to the Dongosolo furniture company building – there are people inside making a large overstuffed chair and next door is a coffin factory I never noticed before. I quickly run across the street and begin walking down toward the market. As I went I could hear people saying “mzungu” (this isn’t a pejorative but alerts everyone that money might be coming – I took none with me so I could truthfully say “sindhlama”, I have no money when people begged.) There are several small “supermarkets” more like convenience stores in concrete buildings but across from the buildings there are stalls – mostly a roof supported by four poles to keep the sun off. People were selling produce – tomatoes, mangos, bananas, eggplant, greens as well as some sardine sized dried fish, dried chambo, haunches of goat and pig which hang outside until sold, used clothing, audio tapes, and cigarettes that are knock offs of US brands. There is also a bicycle repair man who was replacing the bearings in the crankshaft of a very old and well used bike, two men making pails and pots from tin (see photo), several tailors sewing skirts and dresses and an enterprising recycler. (see photo) I stopped and talked to this young man because he was very friendly and I was interested in what he was doing with the pile of metal scrap that I had seen on the road. Kids were bringing him metal – old car parts, broken bike parts, aluminum and “tin” cans anything made out of metal. He weighs it on a hanging scale and pays the kids who go off to scavenge more. He hires a guard a night to watch the pile – the guard probably also takes care of other stalls in the area – and then the recycling company comes and picks it all up and pays him. I will take all my aluminum to him unless I find out that Annabanda is doing it and if so I will let her have the income since I just want to recycle. There also is a young artist working in the market – his work is quite good especially the portraits he does from photographs. He is a nice young man and I will watch his work until I see something I like. I enjoy buying from artists I know and his work while not remarkable is certainly colorful and depicts Malawi. I will take a picture of his stall one of these days.
Behind the market are several housing areas for poorer people, several bars that look dark and nasty, a well kept guest house that advertises ensuite bathrooms and DSLV TV, a barber shop, and several repair shops. There are also some “investment companies”. These establishments all seem to sell cement and other building products as well as a potpourri of other items. Nearly all the enclosed shops are owned by Muslims who appear to be Pakistani or Indian and non-Muslim Indians. There seem to be a lot of Indians and Chinese here and there is an Indian crematorium down the street so if I die I can be easily and conveniently reduced to ashes for efficient shipment home.
I did draw a lot of interest as I walked and I was frequently asked three questions “Where are you going? Where are you from? Can I have 50 Kw?
I think they will get used to seeing me and I won’t be such a sight – one little child was screaming and the mother indicated to me he was afraid of me so I hurried away where he couldn’t see me. Maybe he too will become used to my whiteness. I feel badly when I scare the children. Pictures will follow.