Photos from around the house

Cape Town

Around Zomba

IKI on You Tube

Nsanje Port

12th Avenue Mulunguzi

Trip north to Lilongwe

Zomba Plateau

Banking with Bwanas

I walk into the crowded Standard Bank in Zomba. The odor of a hundred people who walked to the bank today hits me in the face as I walk in. They all stand in a long snaking line leading up to a few open counters, with tellers handling stacks of 500 note Kwacha bills. They are the largest denomination worth about three US dollars each. If I were a middle class Malawian, I would now be residing myself to a fate of waiting perhaps an hour or more in this line just to deposit a few thousand Kwacha, the equivalent of fifty or sixty bucks.

But I am not a middle class Malawian, at least not any more. Since I left the Peace Corps, were I made about as much as an average college educated Malawian as a volunteer, I’m now in a different social class. I own my own car. I live in Mulunguzi, the 90210 of Zomba. I travel to the lake for weekend get-aways. I am the director at work and I have four employees at home. I am now a bwana, a boss.

Now when I walk into the bank, I walk through the crowded lobby and locate the staircase leading to the second floor. I walk up the stairs, pass a vault on my right and head into the next office. Faith recognizes me when I walk in, saying “Good afternoon Mr. Dalious, how can I help you today?” I sit down in a clean and comfortable chair, which seems always to be empty and waiting for me. Faith, my priority banking representative, hands me the form I require to withdraw or deposit funds. I either surrender or accept a large stack of Kwacha, a few hundred dollars, and thank Faith for her time. I am already on my way back down the stairs, through the lobby and out the front door. On my way out, it seems like no one has moved in the lobby since I entered, and that more than a few people are looking at me inquisitively. But then they realize that I am a bwana.

Being a bwana comes difficultly for me. I don’t feel like I have worked all that hard to get here; it seems more like a privilege or inheritance for being born in a certain place. Nor do I want to be a bwana. Its not that I do not want a car or to live in a nice house, but rather that I wish everyone would have the opportunity to acquire such things. And I don’t mind being an employer, in fact I am coming to enjoy it, but I would like to think that all my employees could hope to one day rise to my position. This is not the case in Malawi and given the current state of affairs, it doesn’t seem like it will happen any time soon. The problem with being a bwana here is that with the status you are granted an unjust entitlement to have what you want while others go without.

So what can I do? I answer when someone calls out bwana. I enjoy my mobility and my comfortable home. And I do my best to respect those around me. For I have been around long enough to know that there is little I can do personally to lift this country out of poverty, to create opportunities for those who have been given few, but also to know the worth of treating those waiting in line, the people who work for me and even the crippled beggars waiting outside for loose change with the respect they deserve. Though it often feels like an insignificantly small gesture to acknowledge someone, the alternative is to deny that which not even a bwana should be entitled to deny, an individual’s dignity.

Peace Corps responses to HIV/AIDS from within

Hi all,
I am back from a long blogging hiatus with a piece that I wrote for Peace Corps' 50th Anniversary. Enjoy!

Peace Corps responses to HIV/AIDS from within

What does the response to the HIV/AIDS epidemic look like nearly three decades into this ravaging disease’s tenure? How can we come from abroad armed only with knowledge of the epidemic and the will to make a difference and translate that into action which leaves a positive impact? These are difficult questions to answer. We have learned from years of experience that there are many development strategies that do not work and some that even become counterproductive, creating dependency on aid or destabilizing local economies. However, we have also seen development programs that give us hope, that originate from within communities and respond to the root causes of our woes. That we all have the ability to make change may be true, but good intentions alone will not suffice. Just as with other development programs, an effective response to HIV/AIDS is hard won and comes from within.

In my brief experience in Malawi working with the Department of Health and Social Services at the Zomba City Council the key to eliciting the answer from within lay in finding those willing to critically assess their role in responding to the epidemic and supporting their efforts. Thinking holistically, my counterpart and I took a closer look at how the department ensures for the delivery of all of its health services. Our first step was to better understand the health and wellbeing of the city’s residents. Moving from anecdotal observations to systematically collected information, we shaped a clearer picture of the health of Zomba City, acknowledging the heterogeneity of the city. From such a perspective, we are able to prioritize improvements in key health services in critical areas of the city and have united with all of Malawi’s urban councils to seek structural changes in local governance, allowing motivated Malawians the opportunity to better serve those in need.

Just as HIV/AIDS destroys the body’s ability to fight off infection and heal, mismanaged and underfunded health systems take away the government’s ability to prevent disease and provide treatment and care for those suffering. Improving health systems is like prescribing ARTs, as it enables the country to regain control and heal itself. In development jargon it is called health systems strengthening. It is the slow and strategic process of realigning the country’s public health services to respond to the HIV/AIDS epidemic and other health challenges. It is not a quick fix, but consistently pursued it is a crucial part of the HIV/AIDS response as well as an important step toward improving the overall wellbeing of Malawians.

I consider it a privilege to have been a small part of this important process in Malawi and it is my sincere hope that Peace Corps Malawi will continue to play its important role, in villages and cities, to promote sound development from within.

Mike Dalious
Peace Corps Response Volunteer 2010-11

Christmas in Matawale

Thanksgiving

Visit from NAPHAM

Chambe Peak

A journey home

Down four steps, the asphalt is still damp from the midday showers. The air is cool, but humid as the sun begins its decent. Pedaling out the gate, barefoot villagers pass carrying loads of firewood off the plateau balanced on their heads; men, women and children. The load varies accordingly, though they are all carrying more than one would deem possible for the length of their journey. Down the hill, soldiers wait idly by the road to have their turn at driving the lorry around the bend and up the hill. The large ‘L’ warning all that they should be given wide berth as they learn to take the corner. Passing over the drainage ditch, which has suffered heavily under the weight of the attempts gone wrong, I enter into a world of green growth. All matter of plants, urged on by the heavy rains, have begun their upward exploration is search of sunlight. Men swinging machetes respond with accuracy gained over a lifetime. The single track down across the bridges is dark brown with hints of glittery quartz. It shimmers as I glide quickly over the hills and down towards the stream. With the clambering of loosely nailed boards I fly over the stream and start to pedal again up the far side. The red bricks of the cathedral and the fresh green growth give a hint of Christmas as the temperature hovers around 80 degrees. Emerging from the green, the traffic rushes by in three directions. Taking the fourth, I continue downward. It is a long and steady descent from here which takes me past university students walking in pairs of two and three. The asphalt comes to an end, but my journey continues. Here the rich brown soil, cultivated into rows like corrugated tin roofs, gives life to future nsima paddies, and the road begins to show signs of the heavy rain, exposing rock and creating ditches. The plateau off to the left stands proud as magnificent clouds approaching from the southeast catch colorful rays of light. Rounding the corner, I slow, responding to the children. Mzungu bo!?! Bo, bo! Close now, their bright eyes and warm smiles regain the dignity lost to their dirty, hole-ridden clothes and lack of shoes. Riding past every day for six months now has only served to encourage their curiosity as they run along shouting greetings in English learned from an older sibling. Weaving through an unplanned community, I arrive to the grid like streets of Matawale. A right turn, followed by a quick left brings familiar faces calling out my name. Always the same: How are you? I am fine. How are you? I am fine. Thank you. Thank you. The green gate and tree laden with avocados signals the end of the journey home. In fifteen minutes, an experience, lived over and again, can prove to be as calming and mundane as it can a source of unexpected inspiration.

World AIDS Day

Today I co-facilitated a community dialogue with the faith community of Zomba City. We had Catholics, Baptists, Seventh Day Adventists, Muslims, Protestants and several other small denominations all in the same room to discuss the response to the HIV/AIDS epidemic. After introducing them to the concept of a community dialogue, we asked them to share their beliefs with the group related to human rights and HIV prevention, treatment, care & support and impact mitigation.

Allowing them to express their beliefs in an informative way, rather than a preachy way, we were able to go around the room and hear from everyone. With attention paid to the differences, but emphasis placed on the similarities, we were able to come out with an action plan that includes teaching religious tolerance, accepting people living with HIV/AIDS and continuing the dialogue by inviting additional denominations to the discussions. And that was just my morning…

After returning to the office to write some emails and prepare for my sessions with the new volunteers, I was called upon to teach an employee how to properly use a condom. This is not really within my scope of work, however our AIDS Coordinator was still out at her community dialogue session and I learned from my colleague that the gentleman was HIV positive and his wife was not. He came into the main office today, World AIDS Day, because his CD4 count was falling and he was afraid that his wife would become infected. Since his diagnosis nearly three years ago they have been practicing partial abstinence, but his failing health forced him to consider using condoms and to request food supplements from the city to help him recover.

As I taught this young guy how to put on a condom, I was struck by how unfair life can be. Here is a guy younger than I contemplating his actions and his death. I could see it in his eyes. He was scared and I was scared for him. As my colleague translated what I was saying, I had brief moments to reflect on my own life, on my own worries. Me, concerned about finding someone to love, versus him, concerned that his love will die because of him. I am telling you I could see this in his eyes, in how he held himself. It is a moment that I will not forget and one that will serve to humble me.

misplaced nostalgia

A song comes on that reminds me of my life in Washington DC. I think back to the time I spent in that city, the first big city that I lived in. I try hard to picture the streets, to see my daily sights, to remember my life as it was in that city. It strikes me that my home is here in Zomba now, as thoughts of the glowing street lights, driving on the right, the Giant supermarket in Columbia Heights, and being surrounded by Americans and Latinos seem so foreign in comparison to the dusty roads, the banana trees, the ad hoc markets and being a muzungu (white person) in Africa.

The feeling of a misplaced nostalgia is not new to me. My time in New Zealand and then in Bolivia elicited similar feelings. I think back to my life as it used to be, longing for something or—more pressingly—someone, I idealize those moments, yearning for them only to realize that my place is here now. I am at the same time content and frustrated. There is sacrifice in moving across the world, but yet there is also a gain in perspective and the opportunity to live anew without fear or hesitation. Experience encourages me to keep moving forward with a willingness to venture in new directions and explore new thoughts and emotions. I grasp tightly onto the manner in which I have learned to live my life, embracing all that surrounds me, and continue searching for that next place, the next lesson and perhaps someone with whom to share it.

Those who do more than endure

Yesterday I spent the day out in the community. The National Association of People Living with HIV/AIDS in Malawi (NAPHAM) was in town with their drama group and they performed at two community-based organizations that provide HIV/AIDS services. It was a long day for me as the events were conducted in Chichewa making it difficult for me to follow along. However, it gave me ample opportunity to think about what I should write about next.

On the way out to the first community we passed by a funeral, seen from the branches laid across the road to alert those passing so they can slow down and show respect for the dead. The driver of the bus slowed accordingly and softened the radio, which temporally dampened the joyous mood of the actors on board. Once we passed over the second strip of branches the music was revived and the volume of conversation quickly rose.

As we were watching the first performance, I was struck by a small boy with a distended belly and blondish hair–familiar signs of malnutrition–who through hazy eyes knelt down near me, placed his forearms on the ground for his head to rest on and quickly fell asleep.

Both of these stories partially describe my experience here. They serve to illustrate the depth of poverty which embraces much of Malawi. However, these stories in isolation do not do justice to the people that endure them on a daily basis. For they are strong enough to bare the constant loss and the pains of hunger without losing their startling ability to warm your heart with a glowing smile and kind eyes. The bus rolled on to a vibrant performance and the small boy got up to go off and play with his little friends.

This strength of character did not escape the drama group. With their play, they walked down the path of HIV infection and the saddening stigma experienced by so many. And with tears in their eyes and frowns covering their faces, they would explode into radiant smiles with the tears still running down their faces to a wave of laughter and applause from the audience. Quickly as it came the smile would disappear into a look of confusion and fear as the actor lashed out at his wife or neighbor. The dramas were roller coasters of emotion that cleverly illuminated the lives of their audience in a way that encouraged acceptance and coexistence. For me they were a reminder to write of more than the ugly and strange face of poverty, to acknowledge those who do more than endure.

Lake of Stars

Ice Cream and Frozen Pizzas

When I get frustrated and have an internet connection, I go to craigslist and search for used motorcycles in the Washington DC area. The other day I found a black 2002 BMW R1150R with 40K for $4500. It was almost too much to take, the thought of such a beautiful and powerful bike on the back roads of Virginia, free of goats and bicycles overloaded with charcoal swerving back and forth. It is fall now back home. The leaves must be changing colors and nothing sounds more appealing than a ride through the hills.

I am at that point in time when trip back to the US sounds very appealing. Work is going well, but it is the hot season and with the humidity at almost 100%, I sit in my office at 8am and begin to sweat. This time of year I can understand why things move slowly here. With your clothes sticking to you and your bug bites itchy, thoughts can quickly slip from urban health indicators and the procedures to collect them to a cold drink in the early evening with friends back home. Air conditioning, good restaurants and even supermarkets make for exciting thoughts. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy to be here, but a short hiatus back to the land of ice cream and frozen pizzas sure is tempting.

They tell me that as the rains start the temperature will fall. So I will keep taking my three cold showers a day and make frequent trips to the swimming pool to deal with the heat. And I am adjusting my work schedule and my expectations to get the important tasks done and follow them up with siestas in the shade. Writing this blog is the first of those tasks today, so I am off to the shade!