I am familiar with the seasons in the northern United States. I know the smell of summer on the beach in WA, the crisp sharpness of the air in VA as fall turns to winter, and sharp biting cold of Illinois.
The seasons in Malawi are totally different. It is now the beginning of the rainy season. Around me, I see the dry red landscape turning green, but while it is a season of life with wild flowers magically appearing in the neighboring plantation's woodlot (my favorite place to walk) and chameleons and frogs arriving from who knows where, it is also a season of hunger and desperation.
Maize is the staple crop here in Malawi. If corn is king in the Midwestern United States, he has nothing on his cousin maize. Maize is a tyrant and lord of life. Most Malawians eat tsima, a polenta like dish, as the main part of every meal. They plan to eat maize 365 days a year, and thus, for many, it is the only staple crop they plant. So, if the crop is bad, there is no alternative to fall back on.
This has proved extremely problematic in recent years as maize drains the soil of nutrients and the climate changes. In the past decade or so, Malawians have watched with growing alarm as the rainy season shortens. Maize requires a significant and regular quantity of water. This year, the rains came two weeks ago. They came regularly every afternoon for a week. Seeing that these were not just intermittent precursors (We had had one or two very heavy, but short deluges previously. Each about a week apart.), many farmers, that is most Malawians including my fellow teachers, planted their maize. Then the rain stopped. Nothing fell for about a week.
My coworkers talked nervously, wondering if the maize would germinate in the now dry ground. Monday the wind started up and the thunder rumbled. I was cheerfully certain that that meant rain. Nothing fell. Tuesday afternoon, there was the same pressure, wind, and thunder. Nothing fell until midnight, then a steady rain rattled down on the roof for about two hours.
While Malawians wait for this year's crop to ripen, they see the prices of last year's crop jump. Most Malawians finished their harvest from last year months ago. Some planted casava and sweet potatoes which are not so temperamental as maize and have food to eat. Even these farmers, however, are not free from insecurity. As in many poor countries theft us high. Sr. Maureen told me that, those who have planted other crops can wake up to find that in the night someone has harvested all their crop and they now have nothing. This has happened to her own family. No matter how smart or resilient a person is, how can they carry on in such an environment?
This past month, the poor have been blest with an abundance of mangoes to sustain them. For weeks there have been tarps spread along the road covered with piles of mangoes for sale. There are big green ones and little yellow ones that grow wild. There are also the giant azungu mangoes (foreigner mangoes; the pictured is comparatively small), which are a hybrid -- the flavor is quite different -- still a mongo, but a bit odd -- but the ratio of fruit to pit us insane.
The tarps of mangoes, however, are shrinking in size. I wonder what if anything will replace them between now and the harvest. Maybe it is the flying ants which are a welcomed source of fat and protein.
One thing that has remained constant and recognizable is the liturgical seasons. With the Advent season, purple adorns the Church
There is an advent wreath, songs of waiting, and Sr. Ornela has begun to decorate the convent.
And the feast of the Immaculate Conception:
😂😂I never thought they can be English name for "ngumbi", flying ants.