Worth It

I had an interesting conversation with my host parents the other night. We stayed at the dinner table long after the kids had gone to bed, and chatted about my cultural experiences here in Malawi. I was explaining that I really feel there is gap in the information provided to volunteers during orientation in countries like Malawi, about the kind of treatment they can expect to receive from the locals. I knew I would stand out from the crowd here, but I did not know that I would experience such a range of feelings in my interactions with Malawians: humour, anger, bitterness, amusement, sadness, embarrassment, fear, happiness, impatience, frustration, and the list goes on.

One my earliest blogs spoke about my need for anonymity, a feeling I have not known since before I arrived in Malawi. As the weeks have progressed, I have come to long not for anonymity, but for equal treatment. No special treatment, no worse treatment, no different treatment at all, please and thank you. In my mind and in the mind of a select few, including my host family, I am just another person living and working here in Malawi. But to the majority of the population I am an mzungu (white), therefore rich, and female … and it is these three factors upon which my treatment is based.

First, let’s tackle ‘white, therefore rich’. I get dramatically over-charged for even the smallest items in the market. After watching the vendor try to sell a necklace to someone for 150 kwatcha, he’ll turn to me and suggest 500 kwatcha. The emotions here are usually a mix of frustration, humour and ‘you must think I’m stupid’. I always tell the vendors “I didn’t land yesterday, I’ve been living and working here for 3 months, you can’t give me the mzungu price”. This is usually responded to by a laugh and a, “My friend… it’s not the mzungu price, you are my friend, I give you good price”. People don’t believe me when I truthfully say I’m not buying today, or I’m just waiting for a friend, etc. They look at me in disbelief, with the occasional eye roll and a surprised “Ohhh…” The lack of trust is infuriating, and it’s something I don’t have an answer for. I think he’s cheating me, he thinks I’m lying to him. Where do we go from here?

I regularly get asked by random strangers on the street for a job. Unless they get pushy, my emotion here is usually sadness. I have to explain through my limited Chichewa that I am just a volunteer, I am not making any money and I do not own my own home. Therefore I cannot hire this person to work as my gardener, my guard, etc. I’ve had people walk up and present to me foot-long scars down their chest, blind children, and empty bowls and cups. Street children are particularly heart-wrenching. They walk up to me with dirty faces and bare feet, their hands cupped saying “Mama please”. Normally I cannot say no. But every Malawian who has ever seen me giving money to a begging child has scolded me, telling me that giving them money encourages them to leave school early. I see their point, but they also have to eat.

Often times, this asking for money just makes me bitter and angry. Recently, I was walking home from my friends’ place, when I caught up to a large group of 13 or 14 year olds walking the same direction. I thought I would be able to make it past them without incident but I was wrong. It had been a long day and one, “Madam, give me 50 kwatcha now” pushed me right over the edge. These children were living in my nicer area of town, all with new shoes and some with diamond earrings. They obviously have access to media through a t.v., because I heard them quoting lines like “She’s a bitch” and “I’m a hustler”. “No, you’re not a hustler, and no I won’t give you 50 kwatcha”, was my response. I really lost my cool when one more of them pressured me again for money. I turned to him and asked why he didn’t beg his friend with the diamond earring for some money. The resounding “Ohhhhhh!” told me right away that I should have kept my mouth shut. They proceeded to follow me home, laughing and harassing me in Chichewa for the remainder of my 10-minute walk. I tried to keep my pace steady and my voice calm, but I couldn’t help but realize there were 8 of them and 1 of me. I had my purse and my laptop on me, and I arrived home safe but definitely rattled, but not before I had a face-off with another of the boys, after he actually followed me right up to my gate.

This incident brings me to the other classification upon which my treatment here is based: ‘female’. I would argue that this incident would not have happened to me if I had been a white male. Sure, the boys might still have asked a man for money, but I doubt they would have harasses him and followed him home. I would argue that foreign women have a much more difficult time in Malawi than do foreign men. Women have to deal with the constant added distraction of leering eyes, lingering handshakes and pestering questions about marital status. I had a tense moment at the market last weekend, when my friend was buying from a vendor. A man who had been pestering me to visit his booth and who would not believe me when I told him I wasn’t buying that day, began to pester me once more to follow him, this time saying, “Madam, please just come, it’s not business”. “Well why would I come with you if it’s not business?” I responded. Then he dropped the “Are you married?” bomb. “No.” “Good. I like you”, he said… giving me that creepy look that every girl knows. “Okay great but I do have a boyfriend and he won’t be happy when I tell him about this”, I said. “Ohh you have a boyfriend? Are you sure?” he answered back. And the conversation continued like this through an uncomfortably tight handshake that he wouldn’t release for several minutes. In the end I finally got away… a typical disgusted girl, mad at my friend for taking long and dousing my hands in Purell.

Most of the propositions that have come my way have not been this aggressive. My favourite happened early one morning, when I was walking down the street to my friends’ place. A young man on his bicycle rode past me, smiled, and continued, but before long I heard the sound of his tires turning around on the pavement. He rode up beside me and asked where I was going, where I was coming from, and all the questions that I’ve come to understand are typical Malawian inquiries for foreigners. (We’re taught to be wary of providing information to strangers at home, but I’ve realized Malawians are just curious about my life, they don’t want memorize my routine and kill me). So after chatting for about 2 minutes, he politely said, “Yes, so, I will like, for you to…. Well, you will be my girlfriend.” A statement, not a question. I couldn’t help myself, I laughed out loud a little. I explained to him that I was already a girlfriend to someone else, and besides, I’d be returning to Canada soon. He took the rejection graciously and rode off to town, where he told me he was heading to work with plaster on a construction site. I assured him he seemed very nice and would find a girlfriend here in Malawi very soon, and he just smiled. I stopped walking for a moment and watched him cycle down the road, wondering what would become of this young man.

The humourous and genuine interactions I’ve had with many Malawians like this man have certainly made up for my more negative experiences. While being an unmarried, white female in an African country may have its disadvantages from the point-of-view of the attention I received, I believe this attention also worked to my advantage during the Violence Against Girls in Education sessions. Because I became somewhat of a ‘spectacle’ on the school grounds, girls always raced to my sessions and sat listening intently to what I had to say. Even the use of a translator was helpful because I was able to process my thoughts and construct sentences more clearly while waiting for the translator to finish my previous sentence.

Though not quite over yet, my experience in Malawi has just furthered my belief that God can use anyone, in any situation, from any walk of life, to help others. I was a terrified white girl with little international experience upon my arrival in Malawi, but I truly feel content about the work I was able to accomplish here, despite how frustrating the process has been. If even one girl was able to realize her potential and understand the importance of education, then I believe the aggressive propositions, untrusting interactions, over-charging and harassment have all been worth it.

Love to all,
Jacqueline