Blog 8
January 26
Seven days ago we left Makupo and arrived in Nairobi. A week of distance and yet Makupo was brought fresh to my memory by an article in the Globe and Mail today. I read all of Stephanie Nolen’s material and her report “Into the Valley of Death” covered a 2 page spread with 3 large pictures. 1 picture was of a frightened mother leading her 3 small children past the debris of collapsed buildings – the women and children who are the vast majority of the victims of violence everywhere.
I was more struck by the other 2 pictures. One was of a bloodied male victim standing behind soldiers – all were young men in their 20s. The other was described as “A mob from the Kalenjin tribe armed with sticks and machetes confronts soldiers in Nakuru yesterday…” Again the group was large numbers of young men, not one woman or child was in sight.
So what is the connection between the peaceful, hard working, church going people of Makupo and the violence in Kenya and for that matter in Ivory Coast, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Congo … or any other conflict zone in Africa?
Structural Poverty – Stephanie Nolen is a wonderful writer and I appreciate her good work on AIDS and her sensitive insights into the nature and impact of poverty. This article it was much more of the war correspondent driving into the valley of death and facing down the bloodthirsty warriors. At one point she went beyond the high drama of the moment to reflect on the root causes. In one paragraph she pointed the way to a very important element of what is really wrong. She writes that,
“This crisis is about much more than the election. Anger at vote-rigging has worked to rip a thin scab off many years of frustration at poverty, corruption and inequitable land ownership that dates from the colonial era. A handful of politicians have seized on ethnicity (Kenya has 37 different ethnic groups) as the most efficient way of mustering support, and incited people to "protect their own." There is evidence that some degree of ethnic-based violence was planned before the vote, that opposition supporters wanted revenge against government supporters if they won, and anarchy if they didn't.”
That third picture of the armed mob showed a lot of men smiling. Violent yes, but having fun, having something to do. This is the most action many of them have ever seen, fighting back against an unseen enemy that frustrates them and keeps them down. An undefined enemy, more easily identified as other people than a system.
They are the unemployed and the underemployed, the lumpenproletariat[1] in villages and small towns throughout Africa. They become the cannon fodder for rich men’s ambitions. Many of them have been to high school and some even further but they have no work in a handicapped economy that produces huge rates of unemployment. They are the reserve army of the unemployed.
You see them any place in the rural areas of Malawi, gathering anywhere when something is happening because anything is more interesting than just hanging around. In ChiChewa the word for hanging around bored is kungokhala. A person starts working on a project and 5 men stop to watch him work, because they have nothing else to do.
Surely they could take the initiative and start doing something? That is always so easily spoken from the comfort of North America. There is no economy, no work, no land, no access to resources, no capital, no future and precious little hope of ever escaping the never-ending poverty. J.K. Galbraith wrote that there is no greater limit to freedom than the lack of money. He also stated that "The first and most obvious consequence of poverty is social and civil instability…."
In Makupo, a small family based village, the list is long and ever-evolving as young men come in and out. Kenny, Bwelezani, Chitani in one family. Mwayi, Francis, Fred, Palije and Peter. Every one of them is waiting for some opportunity, waiting for something to happen, waiting to leave. And should one succeed in leaving, another one is always coming back forced by circumstances to fall back on the minimal comfort, shelter and food provided by returning to the family home.
And ours is one small family of about 60 members inside a much bigger village and there are villages all over Malawi and Africa with young frustrated men just like them. They face a serious injustice and have a legitimate complaint against a system that deprives them of the right to earn a living, put bread on the table, marry a partner and raise a family, have a career and rise up the socio-economic ladder.
Malawi has thankfully been spared the violent reactions of the conflict zones of Africa. But the cannon fodder is there and who knows what will be the catalyst? Will they identify their neighbours of a different ethnicity as the problem or will they see through to the structural causes of their impoverishment? And how can frustrated people take action on the root causes of their disadvantage when structural poverty is such an abstract concept?
More to come.
+++++++++++++++++++++
[1] Lumpenproletariat: Now do not get excited by the use of the term. Marxian and even some non-Marxist sociologists now use the term to refer to those marginalised people they see as the victims of modern society, such as welfare recipients, beggars, and homeless people, who exist outside the wage-labor system, or people who make their living through disreputable means… but depend on the formal economy for their day-to-day existence. (Wikipedia)
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
China and some Nostalgia
Blog 7
I have a note to myself to mention the China question as it is played out on a personal level here in Malawi. The papers are full of it. Bingu snubs Taiwan as the Taipei Foreign Minister is already on the plane to come to Malawi. Apparently, the president is not available to meet him and the opposition and media have a field day. On the one hand is the line, “We can’t let our friends down. They stuck by us for years and now is not the time to change affiliation from Taiwan to the People’s Republic of China.” In addition Taiwan is dropping lots of money around to keep its name on the map and in the news. On the other hand, there has been no end of coverage about the PRC and its efforts to access African resources from north to south and the strong rumour going through the corridors here is that the Bingu government is about to change partners.
There are also a number of private Chinese here from both of the Chinas and also people from other parts of South East Asia. I stayed at Korean Garden Lodge in Lilongwe, which is a very comfortable medium end hotel. There are tales of a man from the PRC who came here with some money in the pocket and set up an ice cream factory. Now you see all sorts of coolers on wheels, not dissimilar to the ice cream bicycles that trundle around Montreal, except in Malawi they are pushed more like a wheelbarrow.
Private citizens from both countries have settled here but according to my Malawi friends they move in very separate circles and do not associate with each other. I saw a mixed couple with the Asian lady holding a brown baby while her Malawi husband spoke on his cell in Chichewa. He handed her the phone and she spoke in fluent Chichewa to the person at the other end and made me really jealous with her capacity. That appears to be unusual, because the comments from friends is that on the whole they do not mix and they do not speak English.
On the other hand, I have had fun running into the Japanese volunteers that are all over the country. They are the same sort of semi-serious, fun loving men and now many more women that I knew in 1971-72 when I lived in Blantyre and taught the new JOVC types English. In Nkata Bay, a young shy Japanese gal joined herself to our group of Doug, Sautso and Undeni as we drank Carlsberg, joked and laughed and danced to Malawi tunes until late in the night. She was extremely shy about dancing and claimed she couldn’t and we all laughed together as she was dragged shyly but happily onto the floor to be with us.
Nostalgia trips continued:
Last Sunday The Vanier students and staff went to church at the old CCAP mission across the highway. The night before, Prita practiced a couple of hymns with Kenny, Francis Jumbe and Palije and apparently they got a rousing ovation on Sunday. After church, a lady appeared on the verandah and introduced herself as a former student, Maria Bono, who was in the first class of students to pass through Mitundu Day Secondary School when Nellie and I taught there in 1968 and 1969. She had worked as a primary school teacher for many years in Mchinji and is now retired to a village near our own where she has been elected group village headman. The politically correct term “headperson” has not been introduced into the act governing chiefs and headman. It was a lot of fun to talk with her and to try to remember the names of some of those long ago classmates. The English I taught her in 1968 is almost gone so we had to converse in Chichewa with help from my nephews.
Monday that very same evening, at dusk, a minibus pulled up right at our driveway, which is quite unusual since the bus stop is about 300 metres up the road. A well dressed women came out and glad handed her way through the people who rushed to greet her. I am at a disadvantage, because I have not seen many of the family and older friends for many years. This was one member I had not seen since 1996. Esnati is a distant relative from grandmother anMumba or Makupo whose roots are down in Golomoti in the rift valley below Dedza or Ntcheu. In 1970 Nellie’s mother had gone to her mother’s village to help this orphan and she served as the elder mother’s caregiver until she died and then stayed with Nellie’s mom before eventually getting married and now setting herself up in Lilongwe as a small trader.
She was the Frida of her day. Frida came from the same historic home just before we arrived in 2003. She and her 2 brothers, Leonard and Moses are orphans (AIDS cannot be confirmed, but does it matter?). She now serves Nellie’s mother in her disability. Frida, like her predecessor Esnati are loved and treated like family, but since they have no parents they are placed in whichever house needs help. Leonard stays with Mr Chikapa, Sautso’s dad, as a helper since his wife died and he himself has been handicapped by stroke. The kids go to school and play with everyone else and are a full part of the village.
Their fate, as orphans, is far better than the town kids who hang out in the streets. It is reminiscent of Dickensian stories to see the number of young kids who claim they are orphans and are clearly not getting the love and support that our village orphans get. Another group that breaks my heart are the children of the bar girls. In the cheapest beer halls the women solicit the men and they live in a long row house of rooms out back. All afternoon, their children play amongst the drinkers and carousers while their mothers work. I do think there is room for another orphanage that uses the strengths of our Makupo women to help these types of children grow up in a wholesome atmosphere, go to school at the mission across the road with our Makupo children and are fed by the farmers we are trying to relocate to another piece of land. A project is taking shape.
For news of Makupo, I am half waiting to see what the Vanier crowd will come up with. I am hoping their study trip will paint a picture of Makupo life and all its strengths and weaknesses that can be shared on the web with others. Stay tuned.
We go to Nkata Bay on Friday and with any luck I may have another couple of hours of time to get another blog article in. I found this moment when the mini van needed the headlamps and taillights replaced so I am sitting at the trimmer’s sewing machine while the electrician fixes the car and the students are off doing interviews.
Yours in solidarity
Doug
I have a note to myself to mention the China question as it is played out on a personal level here in Malawi. The papers are full of it. Bingu snubs Taiwan as the Taipei Foreign Minister is already on the plane to come to Malawi. Apparently, the president is not available to meet him and the opposition and media have a field day. On the one hand is the line, “We can’t let our friends down. They stuck by us for years and now is not the time to change affiliation from Taiwan to the People’s Republic of China.” In addition Taiwan is dropping lots of money around to keep its name on the map and in the news. On the other hand, there has been no end of coverage about the PRC and its efforts to access African resources from north to south and the strong rumour going through the corridors here is that the Bingu government is about to change partners.
There are also a number of private Chinese here from both of the Chinas and also people from other parts of South East Asia. I stayed at Korean Garden Lodge in Lilongwe, which is a very comfortable medium end hotel. There are tales of a man from the PRC who came here with some money in the pocket and set up an ice cream factory. Now you see all sorts of coolers on wheels, not dissimilar to the ice cream bicycles that trundle around Montreal, except in Malawi they are pushed more like a wheelbarrow.
Private citizens from both countries have settled here but according to my Malawi friends they move in very separate circles and do not associate with each other. I saw a mixed couple with the Asian lady holding a brown baby while her Malawi husband spoke on his cell in Chichewa. He handed her the phone and she spoke in fluent Chichewa to the person at the other end and made me really jealous with her capacity. That appears to be unusual, because the comments from friends is that on the whole they do not mix and they do not speak English.
On the other hand, I have had fun running into the Japanese volunteers that are all over the country. They are the same sort of semi-serious, fun loving men and now many more women that I knew in 1971-72 when I lived in Blantyre and taught the new JOVC types English. In Nkata Bay, a young shy Japanese gal joined herself to our group of Doug, Sautso and Undeni as we drank Carlsberg, joked and laughed and danced to Malawi tunes until late in the night. She was extremely shy about dancing and claimed she couldn’t and we all laughed together as she was dragged shyly but happily onto the floor to be with us.
Nostalgia trips continued:
Last Sunday The Vanier students and staff went to church at the old CCAP mission across the highway. The night before, Prita practiced a couple of hymns with Kenny, Francis Jumbe and Palije and apparently they got a rousing ovation on Sunday. After church, a lady appeared on the verandah and introduced herself as a former student, Maria Bono, who was in the first class of students to pass through Mitundu Day Secondary School when Nellie and I taught there in 1968 and 1969. She had worked as a primary school teacher for many years in Mchinji and is now retired to a village near our own where she has been elected group village headman. The politically correct term “headperson” has not been introduced into the act governing chiefs and headman. It was a lot of fun to talk with her and to try to remember the names of some of those long ago classmates. The English I taught her in 1968 is almost gone so we had to converse in Chichewa with help from my nephews.
Monday that very same evening, at dusk, a minibus pulled up right at our driveway, which is quite unusual since the bus stop is about 300 metres up the road. A well dressed women came out and glad handed her way through the people who rushed to greet her. I am at a disadvantage, because I have not seen many of the family and older friends for many years. This was one member I had not seen since 1996. Esnati is a distant relative from grandmother anMumba or Makupo whose roots are down in Golomoti in the rift valley below Dedza or Ntcheu. In 1970 Nellie’s mother had gone to her mother’s village to help this orphan and she served as the elder mother’s caregiver until she died and then stayed with Nellie’s mom before eventually getting married and now setting herself up in Lilongwe as a small trader.
She was the Frida of her day. Frida came from the same historic home just before we arrived in 2003. She and her 2 brothers, Leonard and Moses are orphans (AIDS cannot be confirmed, but does it matter?). She now serves Nellie’s mother in her disability. Frida, like her predecessor Esnati are loved and treated like family, but since they have no parents they are placed in whichever house needs help. Leonard stays with Mr Chikapa, Sautso’s dad, as a helper since his wife died and he himself has been handicapped by stroke. The kids go to school and play with everyone else and are a full part of the village.
Their fate, as orphans, is far better than the town kids who hang out in the streets. It is reminiscent of Dickensian stories to see the number of young kids who claim they are orphans and are clearly not getting the love and support that our village orphans get. Another group that breaks my heart are the children of the bar girls. In the cheapest beer halls the women solicit the men and they live in a long row house of rooms out back. All afternoon, their children play amongst the drinkers and carousers while their mothers work. I do think there is room for another orphanage that uses the strengths of our Makupo women to help these types of children grow up in a wholesome atmosphere, go to school at the mission across the road with our Makupo children and are fed by the farmers we are trying to relocate to another piece of land. A project is taking shape.
For news of Makupo, I am half waiting to see what the Vanier crowd will come up with. I am hoping their study trip will paint a picture of Makupo life and all its strengths and weaknesses that can be shared on the web with others. Stay tuned.
We go to Nkata Bay on Friday and with any luck I may have another couple of hours of time to get another blog article in. I found this moment when the mini van needed the headlamps and taillights replaced so I am sitting at the trimmer’s sewing machine while the electrician fixes the car and the students are off doing interviews.
Yours in solidarity
Doug
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