Invigilator

In the Malawi secondary school system, no marks are given apart from the end of term exam. Last term, only 14% (6/40) Form One students passed. This is not surprising given that such a system means there is zero accountability for attendance or homework completion, and teachers don’t bother with unit exams. The result? Students have no need to actually learn the material prior to the last possible minute. Anyone who has ever crammed knows that this type of learning leads to surface knowledge that is unreliable in the exam room and rarely retained past the weekend. Compounding matters even further, pass rates don’t have any bearing on grade level promotion, so no one really takes them seriously. (The teachers claim there would be no room for all of the students who would fail, so they don’t bother to hold anyone back.) It’s no wonder, then, that pass rates for the Junior Certificate Exam (between Forms 2 and 3 grades) and the Malawi Senior Certificate Exam are dismally low. How can the students perform well under high pressure (the state exams are monitored by police officers) when they have never been asked to perform at all before?

I learn first-hand just how relaxed the attitude is when I show up to invigilate (yes, this amazing word is real – a great British term for administering tests) my assigned term two exams Tuesday. Morning exams supposedly begin at 8:00am. However, when I arrive just prior, students are still scattered all over the grounds and teachers are sitting around the lounge. Someone rings the bell at 8:10 or so and it is completely ignored by the students. Teachers are still trying to sort out the masses of photocopies that have arrived from our contracted typist.

I finally have my assigned papers in hand (Form 4 Maths) and go to get things started. A five minute warning and request that the students in the class go to gather their peers garners basically no response. It’s only when I start handing out exams to the few young people sitting in desks and announce the start of the clock that a stream of students loudly and disrespectfully enter the classroom. It takes ten minutes and me losing my cool a bit to get them settled and quiet.

If empty spaces on answer sheets are any indication, they proceed to bomb the exam.

Afternoon exams for electives (Home Economics, Bible Knowledge, Social and Development Studies) go slightly better, both because I’m able to set expectations at the end of Maths, and because they actually seem able to write something. Nonetheless, I come home bummed out by the lack of caring on the part of students and teachers alike. At this point, I’m pedagogically somewhat opposed to this type of testing to demonstrate knowledge, but if that’s the basis of the whole system, one might as well attempt to prepare students to succeed. Here’s hoping some of my Form 1 efforts have bourn fruits!

Soy Harvest

Most of our crops have thus far been of the “store on the vine, pick ‘em when you need ‘em” variety. Not so with the soy. At first we think it is turning yellow due to soy blight. Once Nathaniel finally gets the chance to do his soy research, it turns out that yellow just means they’re done growing and “slightly past peak for use as fresh beans.” Considering that we’re heading to Tanzania next Sunday, we decided to go for it and harvest the whole crop.

You can see pictures of the entire harvest. Imagine everything going smoothly aside from: 1) a hive of bees living on the inside of the seldom used side door to the garage – Nathaniel boldly fends them off with a broom, 2) mid-day threatening thunder, causing a wild hustle to pick the last yellow soy for drying prior to the storm, 3) frustrating minutes of shelling prior to Nathaniel’s interwebs discovery that 30 seconds of blanching goes a long way…

A little more shelling tonight and we’ll leave the rest for our planned edamame and homemade sushi night later this week. 

Rainy Season Green

We've been remiss in posting photos of our gorgeous yard now that it's in full rainy season bloom. A few days ago, I finally manage to get my act together to have the camera charged up the day after the lawn is mowed (it gets totally wild in a matter of days). Enjoy the photos!


In other tropical paradise news, our recent cooking exploits include green papaya salad, guava custard and guava butter, baba ghanoush (our eggplant bush has been very productive), pickled jalapeños, and refrigerator dill pickles (you wouldn't believe the size dill and cilantro plants get here). Looking forward to fresh picked edamame, peanuts and sweet corn in the next round of veggies!

Chambos… so close to a perfect season

It’s official: final make-up games have been played, league results are in, and the mighty Chambos have finished dead last (223 points and 21 sets behind the first-place UN Spikers). What blemished our perfect season? A freak victory over the very same UN Spikers. Maybe it was the lessened pressure of knowing that, no matter what we did, we were headed back to B league, maybe it was just that the Spikers came out flat-footed, thinking they had nothing to fear from the lowest-ranked team in the league but finally, when it couldn’t possibly matter, the Chambos brought our A game. The first set was close and we were neck-and-neck in the second when a disputed call (the Spikers captain was in the net) handed the serve back. It was just enough and we pulled out a win, 26-24. Of course, they rallied and beat us in the third set but still… no longer a perfect losing streak. Watch out B league – here we come!

Just Another Day In Paradise

Sometimes a day like yesterday comes along and reminds me how good I have things. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a good day from start to finish.

7:30am: (This is sleeping in for Malawi) wake up, read in bed and listen to the soft rain on the roof.

8:00am: Cook coconut-honey pancakes while sipping a mocha and reading Annie Proulx.

8:30am: Eat a leisurely breakfast with Ariel and Christin (housemate): pancakes slathered in homemade guava jam with a perfect fried egg

9:30am: Lounge on the khonde, finish a second mocha while watching the tail end of the rain

11:00am: Hitch a ride to town with Christin, skip going to the movie rental place when we run into the owner in the grocery store and give the movie to her there. On impulse, stop for nachos at the newest restaurant in town (Papaya’s). Fresh-fried flour tortilla chips: A for effort, but not the real deal. Someone could make a fortune here with a tortilla chip franchise.

1:30pm: Munch slices of fresh avocado and tomato for “real lunch”

2:00pm: Enjoy the warm afternoon breeze while again lounging on the khonde, noodling on the guitar.

4:00pm: Putter in the garden, transplanting marigolds and napier grass, starting a new compost pile and mulching.

6:00pm: Power yoga with Rodney Yee. Two upward bows in a row? You bet.

7:00pm: Eat the delicious dinner Ariel has put together: steamed garden broccoli, mashed potatoes and chili.

8:00pm: A hard-fought round of scrabble. Victory!

9:30pm: Tucked safely into our mosquito net canopy, it’s time for bed.

HIV / AIDS Management

Our housekeeper, Phinious, is a highly motivated and thoughtful individual. When he approaches us about loaning / granting him the money to earn the Malawian equivalent of an associate’s degree in HIV / AIDS Management, we readily agree. Little do I know at the time that helping Phinious with his course homework will be one of the most interesting and enjoyable ways I spend my time here in Malawi.

In general, I’m impressed by the types of questions asked: define the “charity paradox” and talk about why grassroots development is important; discuss how the Millennium Development Goals relate to HIV / AIDS in Malawi; list and explain barriers to communication. Coaching Phinious through crafting his responses to these questions gets me my mentorin fix and my social justice conversation fix all in one. And I get an “on the ground” perspective on Malawian culture, tradition and what it might take to stop the AIDS epidemic here.

Our most profound conversation by far starts when Phinious knocks at the back door one afternoon. “One of my teachers told me that AIDS is a punishment from God,” he tells me, “and one of my teachers told me that AIDS came from gay people in New York. Which is true?” I’m surprised by this mis-information, as the teachers have seemed generally well informed and liberal-minded up until now, but probably should not be given the general religious fundamentalism that abounds. 

We embark on a two hour online investigation of the origins of the AIDS virus, exploring evolution, the biology of viruses and an amazing New Yorker article on “virus hunters” along the way. At the end, Phinious is fully convinced by the scientific evidence, although a bit concerned about how he will navigate the treacherous waters of moralism with his teachers and classmates. Here’s to passing on the information torch! Hearing Phinious' views and goals, I can't wait to see what impact he has...

Mock Bridal Shower

My life at school is, of necessity, one long “go-with-the-flow” because 1) I never know what is going on until I ask / someone thinks to translate to English for me and those translations are usually partial and 2) there are many hours when I’m not at school and everyone else is (they all teach classes in the afternoon for extra money) when I miss a lot of intrigue. My attendance at the Mock Bridal Shower follows a similar pattern.


Our school is right outside the presidential compound and serves the children of the army of housekeepers, gardeners and other low-ranking staff members who live and work inside. Thus, I’m not that surprised when the teachers are gushing one day about a bridal shower inside the compound that will be attended by the first lady – they insist I should attend. Sure, I’m game.

Next, I’m told that I need to give money for chitenje so I can have a dress made in the official colors – maroon and gold. Chitenje appears, I fork over the cash and my friend Mrs. Ann Ndege hooks me up with her tailor to have said fabric turned into a dress (which I later have to model for people in the teacher’s lounge).  

It’s not until I’m asked to pay for my ticket that I see the “Mock Bridal Shower” title at the top. Wait, what?! Mock bridal shower? Turns out that bridal showers, in Malawi, are basically fundraisers. Guests pay for a ticket to the event and the program involves various women giving advice to the bride and multiple rounds of dancing while throwing small bills at the bride, bride’s mother, speakers, groom, etc. to help them get a start in married life. (I haven’t been to a wedding yet, but apparently they involve many of the same customs.) One of my colleagues had the idea that, by throwing a fake bridal shower, the customs could be used as a fundraiser for charity. There’s no real bride. Which of course everyone else has known all along.

Ann says she’ll pick me up at 11:15 Sunday morning, so I’m all washed up and ready to go. Unlike the rest of us, Ann is speaking at the event (she’s in charge of the section on hygiene and clothing etiquette) so we have to arrive early even though the event doesn’t start until 1:30. The event is scheduled to go until 5:00, but the First Lady is late, and then the Master of Ceremonies gets too caught up in calling people up by social group (Army Wives! Public Servants! Ministers of Parliament!) to throw kwachas and we end up still barreling along at 7:00pm. Thank goodness for the loss of the First Lady’s patience, or we would have been there all night!

I won’t make you read a play-by-play of the full eight hour ordeal. Highlights included Nathaniel’s quasi boss, Permanent Secretary Dr. Mary Showa pledging 200,000 kwachas to sit next to the first lady during the event, MPs wearing incredible headdresses dancing and throwing kwachas, a dramatic power outage just after the First Lady gets up to speak about etiquette and my friend Ann referring to the fact that you need to be careful about the sweat that collects between your butt cheeks (in front of the first lady, multiple MPs, etc., of course).

I should note that I had zero idea what a big deal the event was prior to showing up and, as the only white person in a crowd of 200+, dressed in the uniform of the organizers who were acting as ushers and waiters, but seated at one of the head tables with the speakers (Ann wanted me for moral support), it was an awkward cultural experience to say the least. Of course, pictures say it best…

Me and Ann waiting for the event to start.

The event tent at the presidential palace.

Throwing kwachas at the first lady (in lime green).

Three of my colleagues, happy after the event.