A Weekend Away

Saturday morning we set off early to Clement’s mother’s village north of Salima to attend the initiation ceremony of his stepfather as chief. We arrived in Salima by 10am and while rushing around buying sugar, salt, cooking oil, and changing money to take to the village, someone called asking for a ride to the ceremony on Sunday. In our excitement we had set off a day early. Although a bit annoyed with ourselves we decided to enjoy the extra time. We spent several hours lounging on the beach and then left for the village by mid-afternoon.

Clement’s mom, sister, grandmother welcomed us with hugs and laughter and while they prepared the grilled fish, nsima, and okra leaves for our dinner we sat with Clement’s stepdad James, drank tobwa (a fermented, but in this case non-alcoholic, drink made from sprouted maize or millet and sugar), and discussed the ceremony. Apparently when the population of a village grows past a certain point, it is common that a certain group requests to break away and become their own village. Representatives of the group approach the chief with their request and offer the name of the individual they want as their chief (either a man or a woman). If the chief approves, the request is passed on to the Traditional Authority. Once they have the approval of the TA, preparations are begun, the initiate must pass through a training and counseling process, and must arrange for the food and entertainment during the ceremony. In James’ case the process took more than a year. Every now and then my attention would drift from the conversation to the dogs chasing and wrestling each other, a little girl skipping across to her home, a man arriving with a live goat and chicken tied to his bicycle, a cat hunting flies, a girl in a green dress hopping on one foot shadowed by a little sister trying to do the same. These were sweet scenes.

It is winter now in Malawi and the sun sets early; by 6pm the only visible light came from the flickering cooking fire around which the women chatted and the children coughed. We were served dinner inside by a paraffin lantern and then Clement’s grandmother joined us to talk. The majority of what they said slipped by me but I loved watching her wrinkles gather into a conspiratory grin as she spoke and then watching them both convulse with laughter. When he translated her stories they came across more tragic than funny but I realize that transforming sad stories into entertainment is a common skill among survivors, irrespective of their cultural context. She said her house collapsed on her during the winter and now there is only one corner remaining that shelters her from the weather. She sleeps in that corner but sometimes, during a hard rain, even that corner floods and she wakes up and fetches a bucket to chase out the water. Smiling she said she is ready to die; she is ready to rest.

That night Clement and I slept in his mother’s two room hut on a grass mat on the floor. As I drifted off a group of men and a group of women took turns singing outside and I wished I had brought a tape recorder.

In the morning we took his grandmother to town to buy her shoes, a head scarf, and some other small items, we also gave her the 5,000MK (US$35) she said it would cost to build her a new sturdy house. When we returned I left Clement in the hut and wandered towards the women. I photographed them cooking, chicken, goat, nsmia, and rice in a long row of pots over open fires. They teased me and asked me to cook nsima but Clement’s relatives efficiently and repeatedly guided me away from the work towards a chair or mat.

The ceremony itself was not very exciting my standards, mostly because I could not understand what was being said. I enjoyed watching the crowd of a few hundred people and befriended several children seated near me who evidently found my presence more captivating than that of the TA. Clement told me later that the TA spoke about the roles of the chief, the importance of humility, the need to work with the people and to serve the people, the role of the chief’s spouse, and a bit on HIV/AIDS. Money was gathered for the new chief and for the Traditional Authority, Clement’s mom and stepdad were ceremoniously guided back to their hut, and the day concluded.

I know life in the village is difficult; it is also beautiful. I am grateful for the food and love and hospitality I was offered. I appreciate the value of each gift and will continue savoring them for time to come.