Joy

Wednesday Mr Nanthowa (aka Ireen’s dad) showed up at Bottom on a borrowed bicycle with a bag of peas and sweet potatoes from his garden. I realized that seeing him there meant he had rented a bicycle from a neighbor and then cycled 40 kilometers to deliver that bag of home grown goods to me at Bottom and put them in the trunk of my shiny car. Straight away I decided that Friday I would visit and bring a new bike. I thanked him and told him I would visit. Friday morning after a couple baby visits I went to a shop and bought a shiny new black bike for $60 (thanks to Jeff). A worker there helped me fix it with lots of green rope, so that the trunk almost closed and the handle bars just peeked out. I did fine for the first 20km but at the first bump - as I moved from paved to unpaved road - everything came loose. I retied it myself but even with my knotting skills from rock-climbing days, the trunk bounced each time I hit a good bump. Multiple times along the way I considered just leaving the bike somewhere (the clinic, the police station, etc.) and bringing him to collect it, but each time I scolded myself for the thought and continued bumping slowly along.

As I pulled up between the huts, Mrs Nanthowa emerged with a chitinge wrapped around her, fresh from bathing. She said a million things to me in Chichewa, which I didn’t understand, through smiles and laughter and led me to a mat indoors to wait while she dressed. Mr Nanthowa soon appeared, sat on the mat, and shook my hand. He told me I should park my car in the shade. I asked him if he noticed what I brought for him. Instantly his eyes widened, an enormous smile spread across his face, and he took my hand. I was laughing and he was saying, “Congratulations! Congratulations!”

We unloaded the bike and moved it inside where he began the assembly. As family members came by he proudly showed them the bike and in response they clicked their tongues and shook my hand. I told him about my friend giving the money and he gave me his address, enchanted by the thought of sharing his happiness and gratitude with this kind stranger.

Of course before I left, we ate nsima. I told them that my parents would be coming (they’re coming to Malawi in October!) and Mr. Nanthowa said I had to bring them there. He said, “You’re roots are here. Your parents can stay 2 or 3 days. You can come and go but your parents should stay and we’ll kill a goat. And that’s a promise.” I love the idea of my parents in the village sharing nsima with Mr and Mrs Nanthowa, and the entire village present for a goat roast, but I can’t quite imagine them sleeping on the grass mats. Maybe a morning will suffice.