Gone Fishin'

Finally, for the first time, I got to go fishing in Malawi today. A site-mate, Dan, and I had an iwe (Malawian child) named Chimwewe show us to his catfish hole. I managed to snag a small chambo (about 6"). When I say snag, I mean it got tangled in the reeds and Chimwewe waded into the water and untangled it. We also caught a few micro-catfish (about 3").

At one point, I was sitting on a tree stump, with Chimwewe next to me and his friend on the other side of the river. Chimwewe had is friend throw the stringer of fish over. The stringer hit the stump and stirred up a previously unnoticed hornet's nest. Chimwewe bailed before pointing it out to me. I calmly worked my way off the stump trying to avoid it, but halfway off, they swarmed, so I shouted a colorful word and just dove for the shore, that luckily Dan had just vacated. Four stings for my efforts. Worth it for a good day fishin'.

Musambizgi!

Here's a delightfully embarrassing tale. Background info: I'm currently traveling around the 11 schools in my cluster guest-teaching a double period at each (80min) on tables, graphs, and charts, a common element on most sections of the national exam. 

I was visiting Khwawa CDSS, Aaron and Abby's old school, and one I have visited many times. A young, new teacher was serving as my counterpart for this lesson. We walked into the classroom, he introduced me, and I began the lesson. 

Halfway through this lesson, there comes a point where students need to copy some notes. I was walking around, making sure the students were actually taking notes, when I came across one that was dozing off and didn't even have his notebook out. I reprimanded him by say, "why aren't you taking notes? If you want to sleep, you can go home." Some students in the class started shouting "musambizgi" [teacher]. I didn't quite get what they were shouting this for, until another student said, "Sir, that is a teacher." 

Sure enough, it was not only a teacher, but the one that introduced me. 

Malawi-versary, Ilala Style

Today marks two years in Malawi for myself and the other remaining 11 amazing PCVs in the Ed12 group. 

To celebrate such an auspicious occasion, I have done something I've wanted to do since I learned about it in training, ride the historic MV Ilala. After being placed in Chilumba, it only made sense that one day I would book passage on this 173' ship. Well, today was the day. Right now I am writing this post from the top deck of the Ilala as we pass thorough Young's Bay, nearing completion of the day's journey that started in Nkhata Bay and has lasted 12 hours. 

More Travel Tales

Today, I decided to take the nice bus to Mzuzu. After waiting for an hour, and passing up a couple mostly empty minibuses willing to negotiate on price, I am informed via another PCV that there are some of the n00b PCVs on the bus and it's broken down. Damnit Axa!

I decided to walk away from the stage an start hitching. An hour later, and not even a minibus passed me. 

Then, Issac, my Coca-Cola truck driving savior. He wanted to chat, so he stopped for me. Apparently, he likes Americans since his Peace Corps teacher, Mr. Prize, who taught him 8 years ago in Nkhata Bay district. If you're reading this Mr. Prize, thank you!

Today's Minibus Ride

Just thought I'd recap what is a not-too-unusual minibus ride I had on my way home from school today. 

I had to wait about 30min for a ride. The roads were deserted. In that time, one pickup (that I flagged but didn't stop) and a semi (same) passed. Then, a slow going minibus to Mzuzu pulled up.

I load into the middle row that's empty, as this bus is unusually vacant. The man in the back is quite sick. We drive a ways and reach the next major chipitala (clinic) where the sick man exited and another man boards with a large car battery. A little ways down the road we stop, reverse about 300m, and pick up a woman with a tray full of pieces of fish. Then we barely get back up to speed before stopping to pick up two students. 

The conductor asks me to pay by holding out his hand and snapping (not actually rude here), so I ask "zilinga" (how much). He responds "five hundred," to which I must point out that my journey is only half of one that is known to cost 500. He consults the driver, who asks me if 300 is acceptable. It is. 

For the next couple of kilometers, the minibus conductor is picking up the fish pieces, looking at them, and putting them back down. We stop and let the students off at St Anne's CDSS. The conductor, bored with the fish, wipes his hand on the back of the front seat. 

We continue on, and I purchase a particularly delectable piece of fish from the woman. The driver then drops her off and she pays him with a piece of fish. After that, a little further down the road, the police flag the minibus to stop (routine check or speeding offense, I don't know, but a bribe would likely be required). Luckily, they're based in Uliwa and I just get out and head to the post office. 

Wait! The driver calls me back. He can't help but notice that I'm holding some plant cuttings, which are basil I received from Dan, a sitemate, while staying with him. The driver asks me what it is, so I tell him "food." We both eat a leaf, which he seems to enjoy. He then asks if I can "share him" one of the cuttings so he can plant it. I oblige by splitting one and giving him the smaller piece. 

I walk away thinking of tonight's dinner: kampango fish cooked in a cheesy tomato sauce with fresh basil serves over rice and accompanied by a cold Kuche Kuche. I love Malawi!

Probably the best meal in Malawi