It is now the hot dry season in Malawi, all over there are totally dry river and stream beds. I am thankful that Namwera is in the mountains and thus, stays cooler than other parts of the country. The area around the lake in particular gets very hot.
This past Saturday, there was a Sacramentine Schools Network event at the sisters' school in Monkey Bay, not in sight of, but a ten minute walk from the shore.
It is a very nice facility, very well kept up. That is something universal in the Sacramentine houses and their institutions. They also have a brand new full sized bus, plastic sleeves still on the head rests, which was viewed with perhaps a twinge if envy by the OLL staff as we are still fundraising for a mini bus.
Despite how sharp everything was, and not withstanding the bus, Madam Nantambwe stated that she would never want to teach there, "It is too hot!" Malawians, I have been surprised to learn, dislike the heat just like Americans. I had assumed that all Africans were used to really hot weather, but have been proved wrong.
It was hot! And while the presenting sister talked about team work, I did my best to keep my arms barely balanced on the desk and my fingertips barely touching, trying to stay at least unstuck from anything as I sweated through the presentation. At lunch, we were given a two hour break. It does not take two hours to eat. Everyone was sitting in corners of shade, and I was sitting with some of the sisters, but they were speaking Chichewa (which I am still very bad at and can only understand rudimentary essential phrases), so I pulled up trusty Google maps and opted to go for a walk.
As I boldly left the compound for the backed exterior, I was surprised that being out and moving really wasn't that bad. In fact, as I wandered down a side street through a collection of houses I realized that the heat was not so extreme as West Texas in July when my brother had gotten married. Thus realization gave me new energy as I threaded my way through huts looking for the lake shore.
It was really a pleasant walk, because here there are baobab trees, which I love, and many of the houses, maybe especially the really poor ones showed a pride ownership and upkeep (note the flowers).
The children along the way were also a positive. I am rather used now to being pointed at and hearing children notify everyone in the vicinity that there is an "azungu," a foreigner. I am still repulsed by the primary school boys who come up and demand "azungu, give me money." I've even had a girl come up, and say pointing to my rosary around my wrist, "give me jewelry." I know these people are poor, but the attitude of entitlement is as bad as in the wealthy at home.
On this walk, however, I encountered lots of groups of children, and was hailed by all of them, "Azungu, hi!" "Azungu, boh!" "How are you?," And not one group asked for money.
There was one troupe of children who I heard at a distance, "You say, 'how are You?'" lots of giggles, then "say 'how are yoooo'" The coaching continued until I was right there, then one solitary voice called out "How Rrr you?" "I am good, and how are you?" Shrieks of laughter. Then they all had to ask and receive a response.
When I got back to the school, I felt alive. Then I sat down, and within seconds there was a puddle on my desk and my arms were glistening. Not sure how that works, but I had not noticed sweating outside. There I was with all the other teachers looking sharp and clean, if a bit board and drowsy, and I positively dripping!
The heat is now rising here in Namwera. We've even had a government warning, but life goes on unchanged.
It does cool down in the evenings, and I still go walking in the afternoon. The chickens seem to be the only ones to have paid much mind to the warning.
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