2005 Blog Archives

letter from South Africa 11• letter from South Africa 10 • Letter from South Africa 9 • Letter from South Africa 8 • Letter from South Africa 7 • Letter from South Africa 6 • Letter from South Africa 5 • Letter from South Africa 4 • Letter From Malawi •• Letter from Malawi 2 •• Letter from Malawi 3 Letter from Malawi 4 •• Letter from Zimbabwe • Letter From Zimbabwe 2 • Letter from South Africa • Letter from South Africa 2 • Letter from South Africa 3

Dear All,
Well it has been quite a whirlwind the last few weeks, hence the lack of communication from this end. Sorry if any of you wondered if I’d been dragged off Seigfried and Roy style by a stray lion that ended up in the townships (probably not the most tasteful metaphor)! After our Sunday tour of special needs homes and orphanages in Jo’burg we were back into the grassland of our community garden, scythes swinging and singing, with the very enthusiastic garden group. Days later we were still working out the details of the group’s Constitution, cutting grass, and finally lo and behold, the tractor arrived and great jubilation, singing, and dancing accompanied the ripping of the land. The soil is wonderful and rich, and it is such a communal relief to get our hands dirty and see actual progress of the project. We have even managed to get 665 meters of fence donated (although it hasn’t quite shown up yet), which leaves us more of a budget to ensure the sustainability of the garden. We all traipsed off to a nearby township, Sebokeng, to see the progress of another community garden which was very encouraging, lots of happy people smiling and laughing (many wearing Rasta hats…), and 10kg of spinach after only a month of growing. The next steps should be the most gratifying, actually putting into place the garden plan and planting seeds, and thankfully Melanie will still be here to help the garden grow for the next few months. Andrea has arrived and is like a breath of fresh air, and it is so wonderful to see Gary so content and happy. She is quickly getting the condensed version of the African Pendulum Swing (great name for a band). Meanwhile, Heather and I were off to Driefontein Orphanage, also known as the “dark dank place”. The orphanage consists of a ramshackle collection of tin huts and dark musty concrete buildings, all in various states of disrepair. The orphanage is not officially registered, and therefore not receiving any government assistance (meaning money, the green stuff), and the children do not have the identity papers needed for grants, so the home is sustained by a small amount of community support and the situation is desperate. It is being run by a lovely old couple called Mr. and Mrs. Tshabalala, who have been the guardians of the farm since the owner went out for “milk” 20 years ago, asking them to care for the farm in his absence. The owner was never heard from again, and it is unknown if he is dead or alive. There are 45 children living at Driefontein currently, the youngest being a 6 month old who lost his mother to AIDS related illness this past December. When we visited most of the older children were attending school and the sweet as pie young ones were all in a class room setting in a very small windowless metal shack. This shack is only one of a row of 4 or 5 other tin shacks that make up various sleeping and eating quarters and a cooking hut. There is no electricity and no running water to the site, hence the slight urine smell pervading all the children’s clothing. The water is carried about 1km to the site every day and the garden they grow to help sustain them is also watered by hand. The living quarters are dark and dingy and all have dirt floors covered by patterned plastic floor sheeting. The walls show signs of long term dampness and there is a strong odor of mildew within the various structures. There are massive gaping holes in the walls at the roof level of many of the structures making for very cold and drafty conditions in poor weather. A recent donation of bunk-beds has improved the sleeping arrangements, but the blankets are torn and dirty and poor planning means that the top bunk sits only one foot below the roof in some rooms. The children do not look well nourished or robust in any sense, and most of them have not had an HIV test, so there are many questions about their health. One sweet little boy called Gift had full blown AIDS, and was receiving antiretroviral medication. He was so thin and tiny for his 10 years, and so fatigued and unwell, that he pretended he was only 6 because he hasn’t the energy to attend school. There is no clinic close by, so when the children are sick they are nursed at home by Mrs. Tshabalala. She is obviously a very caring woman who loves these kids, but the limitations in terms of finances make for pretty drastic living conditions. She has been trained in home care and cares for the various people within the area, and is also local midwife. She cares for the sick and dying, and when they are gone she takes the orphaned children home with her to join the others in her care. She has also taken children out of situations of sexual and physical abuse. It was instantly obvious that this home could use our support, so in the remaining week we plan to write a proposal to Rand Water to have water piped up to the home, as well as arranging HIV testing for all the children. It has become clear that you can’t deal with the sadness of the situation 24/7 so we started off a wonderful hedonistic weekend by being wined and dined in Jo’burg by our friends Harry and Jobsi. I think Harry had been apprised of the fact that we were all working way too hard on this “holiday” so he rounded up a few friends and took us on a grand tour of the city. We started with Soweto, probably the most famous township in South Africa, where at “The Rock” we had huge platters of meat and French fries, typical of the daily diet here, and mingled with quite a shi-shi set of diners. Then off to another ritzy area and “Bassline”, an African jazz club where we witnessed the most amazing music with Shaluza Max, featuring the funkiest lead singers in dreads and traditional dress. The best live music I have heard here for sure. There are no obvious class or race differences in this joint, except that there is no poverty evident. At around 1am we headed to yet another celebratory hot spot, Kilimanjero, for dancing with the hip crowd till around 4am. Finally fall into bed only to be awoken at the crack of dawn for our trip to Rustler’s Valley, for the annual Easter Celebration with around 400 very “festive” revelers, lots of dancing, no way near enough sleep, and wonderful organic meals from the garden. As there was no room at the inn we crashed on sacks of hay in the preschool, and probably had a total quota of 6 hours sleep all weekend! Good preparation for our trip to Lesotho last week, when we were hosted by our friends Mike and Sarah, who own a stunning 10 hectare farm in Fourisberg, overlooking the most amazing valley. Mike has been a godsend, and they are both wonderful, warm people. As Mike is also our Permaculture Guru he accompanied (or chauffeured) us across the border of Lesotho to Leribe several times, and is lending a hand in our projects there. We have been working with Principal Moses at Molapo High School, who is an amazing man. He has wanted to establish a tree nursery at the school to help financially support the 100 orphans attending his school, a rarity in a country where most children who are unable to pay school fees for whatever reason would be kicked out. Is was so gratifying to be able to purchase the necessary supplies, have them delivered, and have the structure going up in a matter of days! We also purchased some agricultural tools for Linotsing High School in a small village in the hills near Leribe, as well as razor blades and rubber gloves to reduce the risk of transmission of HIV surrounding the practices of traditional healers in the area. We spent some time with Dr. Berger and Marnie, the pharmacist at the clinic, and heard of their challenges around the 1100 patients they now see with HIV, a number which is growing every day. There have been shortages of ARV’s and antifungals, and the workload seems unmanageable, yet they speak of all the positive moments and the richness of their cultural experience. So after all the do-gooding we felt entirely justified in heading back to Rustler’s for a somewhat tamer weekend of rest and recuperation. On Easter Friday we had the most magical day in the Sangoma valley, everywhere we looked there were the faithful in traditional dress, faces painted with grey clay, singing, drumming, and dancing on the first day of the Easter festivities. We proceeded to the temple at the mouth of the valley, where hundreds of people were camped under rock outcrops, and the head Sangoma was busy baptizing unwilling small children quite feverishly by dunking them repeatedly in the sacred pool under a waterfall. On the way there the thunder roared and the skies opened up, only to suddenly stop and allow the sunbeams to permeate the scene once we arrived. The spirit of the place was palpable, and a high energy surrounded our celebrations there. Then it was back to Monica’s temple where we participated in an incredible commitment ceremony for Gary and Andrea, and a blessing for all the travelers. It is so difficult to describe what happened in the two hours we were in her temple, so I’ll just free form ideas and allow your imaginations to create the scene. The room is dark and warm, despite the torrential rain and hail that thunders down outside. The room fills with sangomas, all in traditional dress, carrying metal crosses and wooden sacred sticks, drumming and singing weaves its way through the ceremony, where Andrea and Gary are seated on the floor in the centre of the room, tied together with long woven ropes and white cloth. The only light flickers from the candelabra on the altar, and the prayers are spoken in English, Zulu and Sesotho, with Monica opening the bible to the most meaningful places. Occasional guttural groaning indicates communication with some higher power, and there is the constant pulse of dance and swaying back and forth to the rhythmic beat. At one point Gary and Andrea’s heads are covered by the white cloth, and Monica places a hand over each head in blessing of the union, then uses the cloth to bind their hands together. After a blessing is given for the rest of us, we drink from a pot of murky water, blessed by the addition of sulfur from burned matches, then sing and dance our way out of the ceremony, shaking the hand of each of the sangomas. It was an incredible day, and one I will keep imbedded in my memory forever. Back to Steel Park in the back of Mike’s truck and we are immediately whisked off to Jobsi’s lovely Jo’burg home for an incredible day of finally wallowing in a giant tub of tacky tourist trifle. In twelve hours we managed to see what most travelers take months to accomplish. The Rhino and Lion Nature Reserve certainly delivered, with massive kings of the jungle virtually licking our car windows and chewing on the occasional spare wheel cover before lunging towards the park ranger’s truck in search of the horse carcass being delivered. The din was intense as the formidable males fought off the females for a chunk of flesh, and despite the caravan of curious onlookers, we could have been in the middle of Kruger National Park for all I knew. Saw each member of a pack of four cheetahs (incredibly shy but punchy energy), funky looking and yappy wild dogs in packs, humungous rhinos, zebras, crocodiles, warthogs, lots of different buck species, tigers, wildebeest, ostriches, vultures, snakes, small carnivorous creatures of all descriptions. Luckily, in view of survival of the fittest, there were some fences surrounding some of the more gnarly characters, although they all seemed to be quite delighted with their space (1400 hectares altogether). Wow, really must plan the next trip a little differently and actually try to see more of this country! Also descended 80 feet (or meters…spatial perception has never been my strongest point) into an incredible cave, 2.2 million years old with all the regular cave stuff magnified about 2.2 million times, best part no crawling or claustrophobia involved. Amazing stalactites and stalagmites, although after swearing once again I would never forget which was which, I already have. In order to not waste ay of this hedonistic self serving day we then were taken to Lesedi (“Place of Light” in Sesotho) where a pretty amazing collection (if you can suspend disbelief just for a moment) of villages of the Zulu, Basotho, Xhosa and Pedi peoples have been set up to help whities like myself to understand the richness of the South African culture. Traditional costumes, tales, an over the top video describing the various cultures, drumming, dance, lots of stories of trading 11 cows for a wife and the women doing all the work while the men sit around discussing life, smoking dhaka and watching the cows (sorry guys), thatched roved colorful dwellings (some available for rent of course), painted faces, beads swaying, and cow dung decorations on the mud floors. To top it all off we had an amazing dinner featuring ostrich, crocodile, bush fowl (that would be chicken), other unidentified meats, lots of yummy mushy veggies and Amstel Beer…..absolutely delicious! I must say, despite the force it down your throat nature of the venue, it was overall a fabulous and very uplifting day. Besides, now I can show you all my pictures and tell all sorts of embellished stories about my experiences! Back to work tomorrow then to Scotland on Friday night…can’t believe this part of my journey is coming to an end. Africa definitely has a way of getting into your blood so I’m certain I’ll be back. More news soon, thanks for listening! Lots of love, Anna

Dear All,
Oh how quickly the pendulum swings here! Had a fantastic day today, and we were up early on a Sunday morning for a much anticipated trip to Rosebank Market in Jo’burg. Our wonderful and kind neighbor Jeff has been completely accommodating about driving us around the hectic Jo’burg area, tour guide and all. A totally different reality awaits us, trendy young folk, Jewish families, and a cohesive mix of black and white milling about this upper class neighborhood. Rosebank Market is an eclectic mix of amazing African Handicrafts, clothing, Asian imports, and other trinkets. Went absolutely mad buying up all the beautiful works of African art, excellent shopping therapy! My home is going to contain an incredible bounty of cloth, wall hangings, baskets, masks, sisal mats, wooden bowls etc……. had to be forcibly removed for my own safety and that of my bank account. After the market we piled our loot into the back of Stoti’s car are were off to meet up with Jobsi (adoptive daughter of our mama) and her husband Harry, both wonderful people who live a somewhat privileged and much deserved existence, and who have not forgotten their history and sense of duty to their people. Harry told us of a friend who has turned his back on a lucrative medical practice, and has sold his five surgeries, to open a home for disabled children, and before we knew it we were on the road to the township of Tembisa, second largest and oldest after Soweto. Arriving at the home we are greeted by the sounds of laughing children, and are introduced to Dr. Thindisa and his “family” of thirty disabled children. Here he has created a home and loving environment for these seriously disadvantaged children, ranging in age from 9 months to 18 years, and affected by cerebral palsy, spina bifida, downs syndrome, deaf and mute, and hydrocephalus. Most of the little ones were wearing diapers, and many were lying on the floor unable to ambulate. A beautiful little nine month old with spina bifida was lying in her crib, with all this positive energy circling around her. Many of these children have been abandoned by their parents, and I can’t help but imagine how horrific this world could be for anyone with any sort of disability. Despite the simplicity of the physical environment all of these children are smiling and giggling, hugging us, holding our hands, and reaching out for our affection. Had an absolute ball cuddling the kids, playing, laughing, soothing a crying child and chatting with the doctor, who in my post shopping high represented a kind of angelic “Mandela like” figure. It is somewhat representative of the craziness of life here that a visit to a home full of disabled children could be the highlight of my week, but there it is, and my heart is filled with joy to see the selflessness exhibited by this giving, wonderful man. As if Harry could sense our communal despondence, he then delivered us to another exquisite example of ubuntu (black community working together) in the Sithabile Child and Youth Care Centre, where Thabisile Msezane, a trained teacher and trauma counselor, and a funky warm black woman, has established a home for 90 children. Their mandate is to provide a safe harbour and home for children at risk from physical and sexual abuse, parental death, child labour, and abandonment, where children can reclaim their childhood, learn to play, gain education and look forward to a future with hope. Imagine the chaos of getting 90 children ready for bed! Immediately I am embraced by a beautiful five year old who attaches herself to my hip for the duration. The children here are happy, healthy, have clean warm beds to sleep in, a garden to run around in, and loving parents to embrace them. I can’t tell you how wonderful and inspiring it is for me to see that this environment is available, and that there is hope. I am feeling very “zen” for the first time in a long time, batteries recharged, and ready to jump back into our project in Evaton West. Lots of love and good vibes, Anna

Dear All,
Well it is Friday night in the aptly named Steel Park, on the way home we pass a huge monument of garbage disguised as both a “green space” (large areas of grass covering years of refuse), and an entrepreneurial goldmine of recycled goods, and the local cemetery where it has become our custom to scan the surrounds for the number of fresh red mounds of earth ready to swallow up the next suffering soul. The highways are lined with women in vibrant flowing dresses gracefully transporting boxes and buckets atop their regal heads, small children rushing home across treacherous tarmac after school for mealie meal, and in the background, ever present cauldrons of smoke stacks turn the sky the eerie, unrecognizable shade of a still sandstorm as you venture towards this sleepy little suburb of homes. Steel Park is an imposed grid of the identities of elements, minerals, and history; the streets named Carbon, Nickel, and Jock Oosterlack embody home for an indescribable mix of black and white, of history and hope. The Afrikaner neighbor is just now traipsing around the back yard explaining to Mama Stoti why he hasn’t done a better job of trimming the grass in her back yard. Everything we have learned in our time here defies explanation in this transformation to daily reality. Yet arriving home we are greeted by the familiar antics of children playing tag and soccer in the backyard, and the revolving gatherings of neighbors and family in the garage, a virtual avalanche of African energy, enthusiasm and antics, whether they are discussing the price of corn, local politics, dancing passionately to persuasive rhythms, or gathered around gazing at the moon. Stoti’s young granddaughter and her pal can speak to you in their own words:
Meme (18):
I’m enthusiastic about by the future. I’m going to do commercial law. One more year of school and I am leaving. The HIV situation here in South Africa is drastic, it’s a horror, it is terrifying to think that one moment of passion leads to the most horrific consequence. Everything has its responsibility. Start education from a young age, teach action and consequences. I have no experience of racism, have never been to a township school, my dad was an outspoken person, and he fixed everything. I knew about history from my father. The greatest thing that my dad left in me is willpower, the power to say no effectively. I feel very fortunate because I have two parents who are educated and they have educated me. I try in every way, like my dada to help them. Some of my friends go to Township schools and I help them. We need to get all unknown peers in a room, let us talk about it, we can exchange stories and views on how we feel about it. How can we reduce stigma? I would talk and ask about it, hear what everyone has to say about it.
If you know your status, and everyone knows their status, then it is clear what must be done. Condoms: not 100% safe, so I will abstain till I know the consequences of sex. I have other priorities such as biology. I have a boyfriend and he understands that I will not have sex until I am ready. For me living in SA has been a challenge because of the crime and the poverty. I have been through a lot in my prime and if I could change anything it would have to be the government grants, don’t ask me why. In my subconscious mind, I think it is discouraging people to work. If you are a girl in the Townships the easiest way is to fall pregnant, because the government will give you a grant.
My name is Mamello (15) and I think that HIV and AIDS is a terrible disease that has hit our nation and if I could change it I would. The Ubuntu (unity in South Africa, togetherness of culture, many different people) is not as strong as it used to be ten years ago. Blacks were stronger together then, now they are lobsters, pulling each other down. I think that since condoms are not 100% safe we especially the teenagers of today should abstain and wait for the right time, partner and age. Our school has taught us so much about Aids and how it is transmitted which makes me very careful about what I do. Most black parents do not talk freely to their children about Aids and sex because when they grew up they were not allowed to talk about it so that’s one of our problems , most parents do not open up to us. I am only a 15 year old girl and don’t really know much about Aids but I am trying to gather as much information as I POSSIBLY CAN because the more I know the more I will know how to keep myself clean and safe.
Leaving Rustler’s valley to come back here was bittersweet, and our last day at the Sangoma valley was mystical. After trundling along a bumpy dirt road in Eidin’s beat up backie (pickup), we meander into the Sangoma Valley, tenderly traversing streams, and navigating boulders. Arriving at this traditionally sacred valley we are greeted by a string of white dusted healers, sharply contrasting with the rusty earth in their brilliant green and crimson robes, adorned with cheetah patterned symbols, and carrying the awkward combination of metal crosses and sacred Basotho icons. The religion here is a blend of the traditional healer (sangoma) with its associated muti (medicine), animal sacrifice, and mythical stories, and modern day Christianity. Monica, the head sangoma welcomes us to her temple in the rocks aligning the valley, and we observe an incredible ceremony involving each healer’s sermon, singing, dancing, fire, and festivity. As doves and swallows sweep above us we get lost in the rhythm of the dance and drumming, and once the ceremony ends we are invited into Monica’s home, composed from a natural enclave of large boulders and mud walls, rats (very adorable little rats mind you) scurrying relentlessly about as we share a meal and offer our gifts of sea water, peaches, and necklaces. We are invited back to share in the Easter celebration, and wander back in peace to begin our other journey, back to reality. This week has brought many highs, and an equal number of frustrations as we dance around the layers of politics surrounding us. The further in we delve, the clearer the complications become, it’s like building a macramé wall around what should be the simplest of ideas to execute (about the most diplomatic way I can describe the system). A little hard to take for a Type A, Leo, Scottish-Italian Pharmacist, yet such an integral part of African life that you really have to join in or be swallowed up by seething anger. I suppose it is doubly frustrating that inefficiencies in the system translate into persistent poverty, yet another HIV infection of a young woman, and one more mound of red earth in the cemetery.
We have managed to make progress and spent an amazing day today at the garden site collecting garbage. Lots of garbage. Evaton West has no waste removal system, so the road sides become the heaps of plastic bags, Styrofoam, condom wrappers, plastic bottle tops, and broken beer bottles and ceramics. The legal and informal dumps support an entire ecosystem and today, at a nearby location, I met a young mother and her three children, who had spent the whole day at the dump collecting plastic bottles for recycling so that she could pay the school fees for her babies. There is a virtual village of transient people sleeping under the cover of nearby trees waiting for the next load of treasures to arrive. But back in Evaton we have forty cheery, enthusiastic, smiling faces ready to bear arms (gloves) and tackle the beast. We managed to collect over 100 bags and along the way were joined, pied piper style, by many children. Tandy, a sweet 3 year old took my finger in her tiny hand and marched along with me all day, and during the volleyball game with an inflated juice tetrapack bag, repetitively threw the “ball” at me after twelve adorable Sesotho renditions of eenie-meenie-miny-mo. It is so easy to fall in love with the kids here, and to worry for their future. Everyone is very excited about the coming week’s training session with Eidin, our somewhat kookie Irish permaculture trainer, and the entire group was participating eagerly when Melanie conducted an amazing visioning workshop about the garden. We hope to have a fence, water, mulch and manure by the end of the week and an entire team of committed gardeners ready to rebuild at least this part of the community. We are taking tomorrow as a fun day, and if our ride comes through (better late than never, African motto) we are planning to go to Jo’burg for overindulgence in African crafts at the Rosebank Market. More news to come I’m sure! Lots of love, Anna (aka Retabilee, “we are happy” in Sesotho)

Dear All,
We are taking a much needed reprieve from the daily realities of life in South Africa and have arrived at the most magical place, Rustler’s Valley. The energy here is intense and magical, an incredibly beautiful and peaceful oasis on the edge of Lesotho’s border. It is like having a little piece of Salt Spring, a peaceful retreat with organic permaculture gardens, trance like music ever present, and the most incredible view of this exquisite valley in the foothills of the Maluti Mountains. The history encapsulated within these monuments seems to be weeping for the current tragedies it is observing, the mountain’s only sense of control the strength of witnessing. Frik the owner bought over a thousand hectares 25 years ago, and has sold off 750 hectares right next door as a game farm with rhinos, all sorts of deer, zebras etc, in fact the scenery around here finally feels like Africa, a little bit Lion King, and a wonderful contrast to the industrial smoggy reality of the Vaal. A funky collection of cob houses with thatched roofs, and the constant unbelievable chorus of birds of all descriptions and sizes to captivate the imagination. It is giving us a chance to absorb and process all the information we have been presented with so far. It is a relief to leave the Vaal for a short while, a desperate landscape of towering pillars of pollution, the air thick and yellow, leaving a sting in your eyes and a foul taste on your tongue. As we fly along the highway towards our next destination, miles and miles of cheery sunflowers beckon for hope, potatoes, maize and plowed fields offer the promise that life can be renewed here, a stark contrast to the stories and emotions we are experiencing daily. Our meeting with the domestic violence group at Evaton West brought everything into too clear a focus, no room for rose colored glasses here. It is amazing to me how quickly things lose their shock value here, and how fearful I am at accepting that such things as five men raping a mother in front of her 4 year old child are commonplace. Such horrific stories are repeated two or three times weekly, and these women have no support system to call on. No counselling, and a social worker who may appear once a month at best. Reports of abuse of women and children are reported to the local police, then sit in perpetuity under some pile of paperwork as horrific history repeats itself. There must be some action towards a positive resolution however, and things are moving along at a rapid rate here. Despite the seemingly endless string of meetings with various official types, we actually seem to be making some progress. We seem to have the local Councillor on side, although there are the complications of local politics to contend with. The Councillor appears to have a longstanding battle with the local community group that we have been working with, so there is the dance of tiptoeing around this issue. It is criminal that personal politics means that nothing has happened in the community, no infrastructure exists, and meanwhile people are still dying every day. We aren’t fussy, and any dance maneuver is worth it if it means that the community gets its needs met. We hope to have the garden site cleaned up, as currently is acts as the local dump site (of course this community has no waste collection), and the soil tilled by the time we return to Evaton West in 10 days. On the road to actually getting our hands dirty and establishing the garden, we continue to be shocked by the situation here. Met with a local white private practitioner here the other day, in the Vaal there are only 6 Doctors who are specialists in HIV/AIDS, serving a population of about 1.5 million people, 40-50% of whom (official numbers) are affected by the disease. Social Medicine does exist, and antiretroviral medication does seem to be available free of charge (although shortages do occur, with dire consequences when it comes to the development of resistant viruses). The problem however is that there is a lack of expertise and an overwhelming workload for these medical teams. Patients who are extremely sick can end up spending the entire day in a line up to be seen and receive treatment, and often suboptimal care results in a worsening of the condition. This obviously makes the local impoverished community extremely suspicious, and over and over we keep hearing that a lack of faith in the medical system prevents people from getting tested for HIV. Elizabeth, our neighbor perhaps said it best when she said she would never get tested as she would “die of depression” if she was HIV positive. Despite the fact that if treated properly there is life after HIV, the reality for the majority of the black community here is that can be a death sentence. Hope is there though that real change can start to take place all over South Africa, in fact it is an essential component of growth if the country is to survive. The future leaders of South Africa are trapped in perpetual poverty, and are dying of AIDS. We were extremely encouraged by a visit to Bloemfontaine on our way to Rustler’s yesterday. A partnership between the University of the Free State, government, the private sector, and the local township community of Manuang has been evolving since 1991, and in the last 14 years the group has transformed a dusty plot of land in to an amazing community centre offering training courses in everything from business development, sewing, baking bread, to computer technology. They have a large agriculture project with hydroponics, a very progressive state of the art medical center serving 80,000 patients yearly, and an economic development center for the community. They have built a very strong relationship with various partners, and all development has been led by the needs of the community. It provides inspiration for us to see that this is actually possible, and we hope to work towards a smaller but equally effective idea at Evaton West. Of course frustration rears it’s ugly head on a daily basis, there is money available all over the place from government and the private sector, and all it requires is a dedicated person to write grant applications, and follow through with sustainable fund raising for community projects. It is hard to fathom that this simple process hasn’t already been established, and that for the last two years since Gary was last here the pandemic has been gaining momentum, and the poverty and suffering has worsened. Anyway, it is encouraging to see progress happening now, and at least the wheels are in motion. We as SOLID and a community must commit to keep the wheels greased and moving forward, and to see that the positive change is sustainable. We are about half an hour from the Lesotho border now, and plan to venture into the kingdom this week, linking with the District Aids Task Force to see where our skills and enthusiasm can be of most use. I’m sure the experience will uncover an entirely new world, with its own challenges and beauty, and we are looking forward to sharing it with you all. Lots of love, Anna

Yo, all.

So here I am in a paradise that I was a bit unsure for while if it existed at all on this old continent.
We arrived at Rustler’s Valley yesterday evening. We left the Vaal industry belt, driving through clouds of smog that when mixed with the rain clouds and rainfall reminded me of granite. The sky that is supposed to be ephemeral and transparaent took on the qualities of rock; stolid and unmovable. We then got be close up to these chemical plants (not the kind of plants I was hoping to be this intimate with). They just go on forever. They are indescribable to me. The only thing I can think of is a scene from a science fictio n film, no human around, pipes and exhaust everywhere, metal and harsh-ness and dirt and filth in that polished industry-kinda way. Have you ever been to the mill at Crofton? Imagine that times 15.
Eventually it started to rain in the way it seems to in Africa. Instant flooding. And the sound, like every god and goddesss is pisssing at the same time. It makes me laugh with disbelief, especially when a human is trying to be speak and be heard. This rain summons silence and awe. Now I know why raised beds are needed here for gardening. We get to the fields. So many fields of sunflowers, all in their prime, bowing down to the ground on this one rainy day. Still no human around. No humans checkng their crops, weeding or plowing. Birds though. White heron-like birds companioning cattle that match the sky in colour. These gray beauties with big eyes and horns . I would love to know what they are called.
The sky gets bigger, the townships get fewer and weare racing on at the regular speed of 140km.
Our final meeting for the week is at the University in Bloemfontein. They have accomplished what we are just seeding. What we are realizing is that we don’t have to do this alone. We are realizing that there IS money in the government (and industry to quell guilt). That all we have to do is write proposals, and we will be able to accomplish our vision of clinic, commuitity center, garden, telecenter. Becuase of the past, there is a fear of bribery etc, so there is so much burocracy just to get some money for something that everyone knows will benefit the whole of South Africa.
We also have so much passion. We are a team of four, and yet at times, after being in 3 meetings that same day, an still have to schmooze with the deputy chancellor of the university over a diner of veal, write 5 emails, and hopefully get some sleep, we are still present enough to do it all well and process it all. I have only missed half a meeting so far. My intestines are quite disappointed by all of this and don’t seem to be wanting to accept being in Africa. I’m not surprised.
So by the time we left Bloemfontein, we were over ripe or a break. And yet here I am on the computer again. It is hard to leave something that has so much momentum.
I am sitting with the computer resting on an antique piano, listenng to trance techno music. I look out to my right and see Anna, Gary, and Heather on the deck talking shop. Beyond them Isee the wonderfully chaotic permaculture garden bursting with bamboo, some brassica that I don’t recognize because it is the size of the bamboo beside it, and a bonsai baobab tree. Beyond this, the Maloti mountains, as old as your mind can imagine, peaking, and sinking, right before my eyes. Gary brings me over a picture of a friend from SSI, Chad smiling and looking radiant. He was here too, in this lush oasis. We laugh, and in this laughter, our world shrinks to it’s natural size. You all don’t seem so far away anymore.
I must go. There is a yoni in the rocks beyond our round cob house that is heaving and sighing me to her.
I am sorry if this is too long of an email. I am realizing how vital it is to my sanity to keep in contact with you all, to share my stories. It is a time of unloading, and decompressing. And I haven’t even touched on as much as I would like you all to know about, or as much as I need to get back into a semi normal state of being. There is a franticness and disorientation when unecissary death is around, and there is no escaping it. When we walked to the garden site, there was a funeral with 15 people. They said it was for a child. Usually funerals are on the weekend, and so I asked why on a Thursday, they said it/s cheaper. The singing is what caught my attention, That and everyone in white. Here I go crying again. An hourly occurance, mostly.
It’s a good thing I had no idea what I was getting myself into or I would not have come. Blind courage has it’s place in getting things to change in the world. Hecate seems to have a bottomless cauldron.
Peace to all beings. Melanie.

Dear All,
Last evening after another day of meetings and learning we had a visit from mama Stoti's next door neighbor, Elizabeth. She is carrying for her dying brother and wanted to know if AIDS runs in the family, as so many people in any one family tend to die of AIDS. Anna and I tried to explain to her that it is only spread between sexual partners and in child birth and breast feeding. She listened to us, but she was unconvinced. Anna asked her how she felt about mandatary testing to even the playing field for everyone and maybe elevate some of the stigma around it. Elizabeth replied "Over my dead body. I would die of depression". We talked to her about the importance of being tested so that you could continue to live a healthy lifestyle. We explained that with proper health and nutrition in combination with the antiretroviral drugs a person can now live for 20 to 30 years. She said that she would not live she would die of depression. many people just give up and die of depression once they know that they are positive. There is such stigma attached to this disease, combined with a lack of social and health services and a lack of comprehensive education. Those trying to educate and make a difference are up against many obsticals. That doesn’t mean that the situation is hopeless, it only means that we must all work harder to bring the resources and the awareness to the people who need it most. I'm probably repeating myself here. Help is needed on so many levels. We were at a domestic violence and abuse meeting this morning in Evaton West. This group of dedicated women have been working since October with no training to back them up. No means of letting the community know that they are doing the work and no referral resources. There is no counseling in the community at all. No social workers and one police car that circulates for a large area and a population of between 85,000 and 105,000 people. They have passion and are ready willing and able to learn. they have their hearts in the right places despite the obstacles that they face. It is people like the ones we have met in Evaton West that remind us that we must do everything in our power to empower them. They know what they need, we only just have to listen and try to bring in partners who can help them help themselves. And by god we are trying to do just that. Don't ever feel that we can't make a difference any one of you reading this e-mail may have something to offer. For now your prayers and visions for a better future for our brothers and sisters in third world countries all over the world is even helpful. Money and skills are desperately needed. The amazing thing is that we don't have to give up what we have to reach out and affect change especially when it takes on the form of empowering another. It is hard being here at times. I here things every day that I don't want to hear and yet I must hear. I am blessed to be here and with the people I have come with. OK this is me getting sentimental, but that’s alright. Emotions swing like a pendulum and there is really no place where it sits still in the middle. This weekend we go to the farm Gary has talked about so much. It sounds like an oasis for the soul. I'm ready to go on retreat.......get me out of here. As one friend would say Beam me up Scotty. I love you all and I don't want anyone to worry about us as we are taking good care to stay safe physically and emotionally. We are making a lot of friends here and every day we learn more. Take care Much love Heather

Dear All,
The morning comes quickly here, with a cacophany of bird songs, and a soothing orange glow filling the vast open sky. Next door, a friend wakes and cares for her brother, now dying of AIDS, as our host Stoti greets the photo of her eldest son, who passed away last year. Every moment of every day spent here offers an opportunity to learn, to care, and to exponentially increase our desire to affect change. Imagine a world where 8 out of 10 young women presenting at the clinic test positive for HIV, some days the stats are 100%. Many of these women already show signs of AIDS such as TB, pneumonias, oral sores, and cervical cancers, and most are between 20 and 35 years of age. If that isn't alarming enough, these women don't have a clinic in their own community, so  they have to walk long distances through fields of tall grass and trees, and frequently rape occurs on this path. These same women are so disempowered by poverty, so hungry and desperate that they allow men to have sex with them without condoms, men who have multiple partners, just to provide a "slice of bread on the table". Teenage pregnancy is frighteningly common, even occurring in primary school (age 11 and 12) and teenagers may have sex simply to buy clothing so that they are not discriminated against as the poorest of the poor. Of course there is always the issue of rape, sexual violence against women is so common here, and there seems to be an aura of anger amongst the youth. Just as a parasite changes its environment to suit its needs these purpetrators now rape primarily children (based on the misconception that sex with a virgin will cure AIDS - the younger the better) and elderly women (less chance of HIV infection). Rape is now so prevalent in this society that women don't trust their fathers, brothers, male children or uncles.
 
There seems to be a desperate breakdown in community here, since the walls of Apartheid have come crashing down the black citizens are still suffering in poverty, only now they are able to see what the rest of the westernised world has. They are still starving in a 6x6 foot tin shack in the middle of no-where. The misconceptions around HIV are terrifying because they are leading to dire consequences. A government grant of 740 Rand (about $150) a month to support those extremely sick with AIDS has now become an incentive to get HIV infected as people believe they will get the money right away. Young children don't worry about getting pregnant because they get 160 Rand (30 dollars a month) child support. The communication between the government and these isolated townships is extemely poor, and there is something wrong with a world where people are so starving that these incentives exist.
 
People are dying every day here, and there is a sense of  communal disbelief when it is an elder dying. Mothers are losing their son's and daughters, children are losing their parents, leaving nine year olds to raise and provide for a family of four. HIV infection is everywhere around us, its energy palpable, and its expression on almost every face, but no one speaks its name for fear of the stigma and rejection of their own families and communities.
 
There are signs of hope in the face of this pandemic. Grass roots organizations at the community level are lifting the dreams and aspirations of those infected with and affected by HIV. Support groups and public education programs are trying desperately to lift the veil of misconception and empower local people to implement the community's solutions to the vast problems.  There is plenty of passion, initiative, knowledge and many dedicated people, who simply require our community's support to facilitate change. More and more we are beginning to see that a big part of our presence here is to help this facilitation and to reach out to partners who can assist in improvement of the quality of life. We are passionate about sharing our experiences with our Salt Spring community so that there is a greater understanding of the effect that this pandemic has globally. Our hope is that instead of dying from AIDS, 8000 people a day in our world can open their minds and hearts to the struggle around the pandemic, and that becomes infectious.
Anna Callegari, Gary McNutt, Heather Martin-McNab and Melanie Furman

Dear All,
Just had the most amazing day out at ABC orphanage with Maxi (a white South African) and 8 of her 14 kids. In the space of a few short hours it encompassed many of the issues that South Africa faces today, and it was incredibly heartwearming to see that there can be solutions. Maxi starting taking abandoned or orphaned children into her home 8 years ago with her husband, and now provides wonderful care for 14 kids, three of which are infected with HIV, and two, Precious and Luke, suffering with full blown Aids. Precious is such a gorgeous, sweet little five year old, and it is so encouraging to see how incredibly well she is doing on antiretroviral therapy. When Gary first met her she had TB and was horribly scarred from a severe case of chickenpocks and faced the grim reality of wearing a silicone mask 24 hours a day to reduce her facial scarring. Since starting therapy her scars have greatly diminished and she is just a happy, lovely little girl. We all really bonded with her as she took us by the hand and led us around, showing us her play set, paintings, and puppydogs. Luke is three now, and was abandoned as an infant, suffering from cerebral palsy, autism, and infected with HIV. When Gary first captured him on film he was not mobile at all, not communicative and repetitively hitting himself in the head and displaying antisocial behaviour. He developed full blown Aids, has nearly died several times from complications, but now walked himself into the room, made eye contact with our group, laughed, and is growing leaps and bounds. All of the children were wonderfully warm and we were delighted to spend the afternoon playing with them. Maxi is an incredibly devoted and loving mom to these kids, and is now running the orphanage herself since her husband left her for an 18 year black township girl from him bible studies class two years ago (seems quite a dichotomous move for someone providing care to these affected kids). Maxi faces an absurd number of challenges in her world, not the least being an armed robbery at her home several weeks ago. She had been at church, and the children were at home when a stranger came to the door, asked to speak to the helper Marie, and once through the security gate three others came running with weapons, racing into the house, and holding a seven year old boy hostage with a gun to his head. When Maxi returned to the home, police were in the driveway and on the road, the house was silent, and learning of the robbery Maxi was terrified that all her children were dead. Well I can tell you, not a dry eye amongst the Canadians! Antiretoviral therapy seems to be available, but unless people are willing and able to pay for the medication, there is a six month waiting period. The stigma around HIV is so huge here that people are not getting tested for fear of being ostracised by their families and communities. In many cases the first diagnosis of HIV arrives when the patient presents with an opportunistic infection such as PCP (pneumonia), TB, or severe oral thrush and mouth sores. In these cases a six month waiting period is a death sentence. The issues around HIV here keep on popping up and astounding me, and the misconceptions and untruths about the disease are ever present, despite massive public education schemes. Even the incredibly dedicated team of health workers at Evaton West, who are dealing directly with affected people in their communities, voices questions like "can you get HIV from breathing a persons air" and "can you get HIV from a toilet seat". The fear of diagnosis and perceived futility of medical care means that even the leader of the health team, despite waking every morning thinking that she should, has not tested herself for HIV. Her sister died of Aids last year. Every family I have spoken to is affected in some way, either by infection or death, it is everywhere you look, yet no one wants to openly talk about it or face the reality of the risk. The morning flea market a perfect example, stalls of plastic bowls, African trinkets, clothing, tombstones, coffins, and goats, just another African day. As magically seems to be happening, we arrived at Maxi's at the very same moment as a couple from the area who are developing their 10 acre property into an eco village with organic gardens and traditional Sutho village with cob houses specifcally designed for people infected with and suffering from HIV. My initial harsh impression of the white South Africans keeps getting chipped away at. Carol who never gave the issue much thought her whole life, was deeply affected when she learned that a worker in a neighbouring farm was simply left to die of Aids on the property, with no one to care for him. She took him off to the nearby hospice, and he is on his way to health, while she experiences a major shift in her realities. Hence, the last five months have been totally devoted to developing her project, cutting out the burocracy associated with government, and working in her own home and community to affect change. We are staying with a wonderful African mama in her home in Steel Park (getting the impression of the local industry?) and are constantly getting visits from the neighborhood. Stoti (or mama as we call her) has embraced us like family, and is now on a health kick eating brown rice and veggies as opposed to pap (cornmeal) and meat (the local diet, not very nutritious!) Had a great gathering last night at Joe's home, a real african meal, wine and dancing. Trying to learn how to be somewhat cool and unwhite by taking dance classes with two nine year olds, soooooo much looser than me! Busy week coming up with garden planning, meetings galore, and more local experience. So much to see and learn, despite these verbose messages I don't feel that I am able to share even a 10th of what I am seeing and feeling. So wonderful to be here and to be able to open this world to you, lots more news soon! Love Anna

Hello all

Well it's been almost 2 weeks since we left and 10 days here.  John is in the throes of things travelling the hour between Kasina and here each day. Yesterday he travelled through torrential rains and wind with the windshield wipers not working for 1/3 of the time. The house we have is in not too bad a shape. But it has to made ready and during that time we will remain in Lilongwe at the Sisters house.  Concrete floors through out which is great but the whole house is sagging around it's perimiter as are all the houses on the compound because they were 'built upon the sand' so to speak, and no foundations.  It needed some electrians work to provide power for the stove and extra plug or two to run the computer.

We are slowly finding out that the area we are going into is problematic. The reason for the diocese asking the Sisters to go in is that there are problems in the health centre and people aren't going to it.  As far as health centres go, it is a fantastic building with lots of staff and nothing is being utilized.  Peter, the lab technician, showed John his lab yesterday and John is going to take a picture and send it.  The test tubes are drying upside down on top of the dirtiest sticks you've ever seen and the lab cabinet is small with busted up glass and all bottles have rags in their tops as stoppers.  No drugs to speak of.  The office closet holds a bow and set of arrows, real ones, and when John asked after them, the staff member said they were for security.

Seems the Parish Priest, a young Malawian named Gracian, has had his life threatened a number of times and robbery and theft are a real problem.  Even the cisterns for water pressure behind the Sisters house at Kasina, have been vandalized a number of times with fertilizer thrown in as well as defacating in it.  So we will remain here at the sisters house for as long as it takes to get burglar bars installed on the doors and windows and we will also hire a night watchman for 75 mk a night, about 75 cents our money.
I wonder always, at the exploitation of these people, but for us to pay more would shake the whole equilibrium of the village, but isn't that what is needed?  Shouldn't the wages of all be more equitable?  There is a lot of talk about gender equality with the women's groups I'm going to with Sr. Mary, but what about 'race equality'.  I wish change was easy and there
would be solutions for everything but change does not happen overnight.  The new president, is all about anti corruption, as the last government wasted and squandered all aid money coming into the country as well as making that bad deal to Zimbabwe a few years back selling all their maize stocks just prior and during their famine of 2002.  But, this president has threats on his life, as those in government fear that their cushy positions of pay plus bonus plus fancy car plus gas plus you name it is now on the line.

The sisters here live a very basic life, potatoes, meat balls and boiled
cabbage, hmmmmm, and lots of papaya for desert.  The mangos are just coming on as well, as there are two huge trees in the garden. But I don't mind as it was what I expected and less actually. They are a fine group of women as they have devoted their lives to the bettering of others through education and health care as well as counselling and advocate work.

The Sisters we are with range in age of 40 to 65 and you've never heard a more progressive group of women.  All are in agreement that they are here to provide the basics of the three I mentioned.  They say that that is their primary role for being here and I believe that, and if the locals choose their faith, so be it.  I like their philosophy that's for sure, you should hear the discussions we have at the dinner table.  They aren't fundamental about anything except giving to the beggars.  They say that if we continue to give to beggars we are aiding and abetting that life style and they will never change.  I still can't resist giving, however at the market the other day, I remained in the car and a young lad or two asked 'give me some money'and I said 'nope'.  They answered 'nope'and I repeated 'nope', you
give me some money.  Then the conversation turned to other things like learning english and what grade they were in at school.  Sister Clara here is Malawian and will live with John and I at Kasina once the house is ready in preperation for her house being ready and she has b een teaching me Chichewa.  It is difficult, but the other day she taught me njala and pepani; njala meaning I'm hungry, and pepani meaning I'm sorry.  The young lad at my window said 'njala' and I immediately looked into my book for that word, I said, 'I know that word' and sure enough there it was, and the reply to go with it was 'pepani'.  This is the hardest thing to do in the world
you know.  But in the end, we had a fine respectful conversation and I gave him my two empty coke bottles and he trotted off happier than a clam.

The women's groups out at kaphuka are doing well enough.  As Bridget and I walked the projects, a woman came running with her 6 month old daughter, calling Joanna, Joanna, and pointing at me and then her daughter; well it looks like there is now a Joanna in the village and I hear there is a Christina as well, also 6 m onths old and no Johnse to date. The chicken and goat projects as well as the planted gardens are doing very well.  I would say that of the 23 projects started 10 - 12 have been successful.  The
others, well some just took their money to start up businesses and bought food, straight and simple.  My object now, is not to give money, but to provide the means to start their businesses, through education, resource materials and buying of seeds, chickens, or goats.  When I was out on Saturday, I indicated I would like to drive over to teach english 3 afternoons a week.  You see, when we get out to Kasina, it is actually on the other side of the mountain from Kaphuka and it is about 10km around the mountain into Kaphuka.  The women were so excited. Dwallens wife, Rebecca,
said it was her dream to learn English. I saw one of the school teachers from last year and he indicated that it would fine to use the classroom with the desks.

There is also a new presbyterian church the villagers have built adjacent to the hoop ball field by the school.  This sunday there is a choir meet of all the villages to raise money for the tin roof.  You know in Canada, metal roofs have doubled this past year, you can imagine what that means here.  It is a fine looking building, roughly constructed of red brick and I wonder at the amount of cement mixed with the mud to hold the Church.  It will always have a dirt floor and the benches will be borrowed from the school and the rest will sit on the floor.

I still say the faith of the people here is amazing.  I am reading a book called 'Justified by Faith' a book that takes you through the history of Malawi to now and if it weren't for the missionaries presence anywhere in Africa in fact, there wouldn't be health care, education or agriculture. When the Brits came into these countries, they were interested only in imposing taxes, and justice and policing.  They left the rest to the missionaries to administer.  While I am here, I mean to educate myself as to the history of these countries and the resulting colonization, the role of governments and missionaries, for I know both have at one time or another
wreaked havoc on the countries of Africa.  From what I can see missionary groups, and other small faith based organizations are still THE GREATEST PRESENCE IN THE FIELD YET.  Yes there are others, many others, but not at the grassroots level these groups are.  You know we talk about grassroots all the time, especially at SOLID, the group we are affiliated with on
Saltspring Island.  And I tell you the work we did last year and this year with the two organizations, right or wrong that they may be regarding one issue or another, is grassroots, doing the dirty work, risking their lives to provide even the most basic of health care and education, counselling as well as grief counselling and teaching the women the difference between foster care and adoption, getting it through their heads that if they don't care for the orphans of their villages, then the other option is foster care or adoption and the government here has just ratified an agreement with the
UN to uphold the rights of the child.

Yesterday we went in to the township where a women's group has been operating for nearly 2 years.  Sr. Mary is working with these women and 2 are trained to assist in the teaching.  Others are in charge of the literacy group and there are 100 women or so that go to that.  They are learning the basics in Chichewa first.  Yesterdays talk was 2 hours long and in the heat, it was gruelling.  The basis of the lesson was, to whom did the responsibility of caring for orphans belong, the exteneded family, the village, the government or was fostering and adoption an option.  Most felt that the children belonged to the family and then the village, however they
can't afford to keep them, educate them and fully nurture them.  The next lesson was on the age group of orphans and their particular needs in each age group.  The question was asked to the women, 'what do you tell a child that is asking for his mommy in the 3-4 age group, when his mother has died'.  One actually said, that she was eaten by a beast and another replied that she was at the market and would return soon.  Of course the counselling then given was that to provide false hope would be devestating to the child,
they would not learn to trust and they would see adults as liars as they grew up.  For the younger ones 0-2 they were asked 'how does one provide for
the needs of this age group'.  All agreed that in the 'old days' this was
not such a problem as the orphaned baby was given to a relative to nurse and nurture, however all agreed that they are so afraid of contracting AIDS that they no longer do this and are even afraid to hold the child to nurture it.
There are orphanages here, and one around the corner from our house takes in only infants and only for 6 months.  Then I'm not sure where they head off, perhaps to an orphanage for older children.  I mean to visit the orphanages in the next few weeks to find out their needs and see the circumstances.

Well that's a good start for now.  I'm not sure if you've gotten the other mail outs as we had to change the way we do emails.  I'm not too impressed by that but it saves us sending things as attachments I suppose except for pictures.  So the new address is jcbooy @ malawi.net.  It's been down the past 2 to 3 days and so we haven't received a bit of mail yet from anyone in 10 days.  We will still browse the hotmail address from time to time to keep it alive but that's about it.

We ask for prayer for safety and health, especially travelling on the roads. We thank all again for what you gave and contributed to this work.  It is very expensive to live here as well, so all the money we received will go far in the villages as they have not much!

Blessings to all

Jo and John Booy

Hello everyone, muli bwanji!

How are you all?  We have finally moved to Kasina and are headed into Lilongwe today to pick up the last of the items for the house and to have a shower as ours is in renovation stages.  Funny enough, it is like any move, change, change, change, what can I say; getting used to new things, like stoves and breakers and power outages and what they effect in a new place. Am I getting older or what?  Change gets harder it seems, that's why it's good to do it?????!!!  Enroute, we'll take the back roads in through Nkhoma where Mr. Magombo, the headmaster we met last year lives.  He came to visit yesterday for lunch on his bicycle.  He was enroute to mail a letter at
Linthipe.  This is about a 30km return trip for him!  He invited us to visit him and his family this morning and attend the local market as well.  We look forward to this.

We've been working hard here for the past 2 weeks, painting, renovating and driving back and forth to Lilongwe each day.  Every day begins with loading up materials from the various shops in town and battling rush hour traffic through old town and then the drive to Linthipe, which as I wrote last year is an experience in itself.  One has always to be on the look out for goats, chickens, and dogs which are the worst, they walk out onto the highway and stand there no matter how hard you honk, and then there is the human traffic, kids going to school, or back from school with books in one hand
and a kasu (hoe)in the other, men on bicycles with their wares of fire wood, coal, clay pots in home made baskets about 6 ft wide and 4 ft high balanced on the back of the bike, and even single beds, evestrough, roofing material and it goes on and on.  Now the evestrough is the one to watch for because the wind can shift it cross wise on the back of the bike and as you pass it, well it can be dangerous.  Each day we pray for safety on the roads, for it
is perhaps the number one immediate danger you face each day.

Coming into Kasina from the highway turn off is a 10 minute drive.  The other day, on route to Kasina, we encountered the tell tale barrier across the road of green branches, which is indication of a funeral taking place. Out of respect, you drive very slowly, men come off their bicycles and walk, and this you do until you come to the next placement of green branches.  It was early in the day yet as we arrived, and the women were arriving dressed
in their Sunday best with dishes of food, maize carried in baskets on their heads, children tied to their backs in bright chitenji's, and other children in tow.  The men gather in the shade of one tree, and the women under another.  Another small house, contains the body and those sitting with the grieving.  A funeral is a time of paying respect and a great deal of time is spent around this time.  Many do not work for 2 or 3 days and people come from everywhere to pay their respects depending on the status of the person
who has died.

Going home at night is another story.  If you don't leave early enough and arrive Lilongwe city outskirst at dark, you are at great risk.  This is when you truly know you are in a 3rd world country as most vehicles are in such a state of disrepair, that basic maintenance such as replacement of headlights and signal lights are neglected due to cost.  We attempted to pass a very slow moving lorry at dusk and had to pull in at the last second due to an oncoming vehicle with no lights.  And as we passed through old town, a young man ran out in front of the truck at the last minute and we had to come to
screaching halt.  Some vehicles run on only running lights, and the worst is the car with only one headlight!

Kasina itself is a beautiful spot, or at least our home is located in a
beautiful spot.  There are jackaranda trees and a flame tree outside the yard which is covered in red flowers.  There is a breeze blowing all the time and the house has good cross breeze.  We hired a night watch named Joseph.  He has a wife named Mary and daughter Catherine.  A fine young man and he knows some English.  We will slowly work towards learning more Chichewa.  Can get by now on some of the greetings and such, phrases like, good work, stay safe, allright, I'm leaving, that sort of thing.  Sentences like 'where is the school'are difficult because of the infixes, prefixes and suffixes, all of which leave us slightly confused.  When Sr. Clara joins us at the house in a week or two, we will get back into some more basics.

The clinic across from us seems to bustle with events.  There are even a few sick people at it from time to time.  Yesterday was a perinatal clinic for women expecting.  A HSA, Health Surveillance Assistant, teaches the women about nutrition and the care of their children, it is basically a prenatal clinic.  But I heard singing and wandered over to listen.  About 50 women were sitting in the clinic singing.  I asked Henry the office clerk why they were singing.  He said, that as the HSA teaches the lesson, the women put it
into a song to commit it to memory.  I guess it is much the same of faith and Church.  People sing about what they believe or learn.

Life with the sisters has been fun.  The table is never without hordes of laughter and great story telling.  What can I say, they're Irish!!!!

We had the local welder, his sons and workers in to put burglar bars on the windows.  This was quite an experience!  John picked them up in our tiny truck (I've never seen a truck so small in Canada) and there were 7 guys, 3 welding machines and the boss, Ginga, all working in the house for the day. These guys don't wear any eye protection at all.  We managed to dodge the equipment all day to avoid looking into the flash of light.

I'll be starting with the women at Kaphuka this week.  We would have gone today, but the chief of the Traditional Area of Kaphuka which encompasses many villages around Kaphuka village, died this past week.  As he is a chief, the funeral will last many days and Bridget and I will have to postpone going in until next week.  Bridget indicated that I would have to have many levels of English studies as some of the women would not even know
how to use a pen, let alone know the alphabet or recognize it.

We went to a choir festival at kaphuka a few Sundays ago.  It was a blast. It was a fundraiser to raise money for a tin roof on the new Presbyterian Church.  We arrived at about 1:30 in the afternoon and everyone was just finishing lunch before heading off to the Church with the various choirs. As we came into the new Headmaster's home to have a bite with them, we were greeted by Mr. Magombo, the headmaster we had encountered last trip and stayed in touch with.  What a joyful reunion that was.  We did not realize that the theological school he was attending, was so close to Kaphuka
Village.  Two guesses as to who the new Presbyterian Pastor might be!!!! The new building is located on the same property as the school.  As you went in you had to leave a small donation.  But that wasn't the end of it.  As each choir came up to sing, Dwallen, one of the board members would shout, can we get 500 kwacha for this choir to sing, and people would come up with the funds until there was 500 kwacha and then they would sing.  No sooner
did they get started and another c hoir would come up with an equal amount and the previous one would have to sit down.  The only down side was, a choir seldom had a chance to finish a song.  Oh but it was beautiful.  What harmony!!

There a couple of items I require.  I need an email address for Zelly Taylor who is taking care of the dogs.  I haven't heard from her and I think her address has changed.  Her number is 653-4044 in Fulford.  Could someone call her and get her my new email address as I haven't been able to even get that to her due to her old email not working.  And I also wonder if Donna Bellavance has a new email address yet?  I need to do some business with Greg Bellavance and need his email address as well.  I'm sure if I put it out like this, I'll be sure to receive a reply.  Thanks!

I'll attempt a picture as well.  Maybe 2 if I can manage it.  It takes about 20 minutes to send so we'll give it a shot.

Many blessings to all, hope you are well.

Mutsale bwino, Mulunga akudalitseni ambuye.  Stay safe, God bless you!

Hello everyone

Another 2 weeks have gone by. Don't know where the time is going. Each day
jam packed full of things to do. Last letter, I mentioned we were enroute
to Lilongwe for the rest of our supplies via Nkhoma. What a beautiful
location! Built right up on the slope of Nkhoma mountain, you can see the
brick buildings of the schools, hospital, theological centre and all the
staff housing that accompanies it. The village was built in the
architectural style similar to Europian buildings, and a Dutch influence is
very apparent as they were the ones that came in to build much of the centre
in the 1960's. As far as hospitals go, this one is very good. It used to
have a training centre for nursing, but closed last spring. There is a TB
ward, eye ward, childrens, maternity ward and no general surgeon. They used
to depend on a visiting surgeon, but the staff say that it is rare to have
visiting surgeons now. So all surgery is done by the clinical officer,
trained as a GP. We were introduced to head of administration and various
school teachers and put in some inquiries as to needs for volunteers to
assist at the hospital or school. There are other expats working in the
village, and there is what they call 'visitors housing' available. We
visited with our friend Mr. Magombo and family and presented the children
with a frisbee. They loved it. Then off to the market.

Now that our house is finished, we are both on to our 'real' jobs. John's
first job is to do an assessment of all buildings. He made a tour with the
diocese administrator Mr. Mbanama to see all of the facilities, the clinic,
all it's wards, the staff housing, the NRU (nutritional unit)pit privies,
and outdoor kitchen facilities. He has taken pictures of clogged septic
tanks, open sewage runs beside the NRU, chimneys on cook houses ready to
fall over and overall lack of ammenities for a properly run health centre.
The NRU is a small house with 8 rooms for women, mostly pregnant and with a
baby, to live in while bringing up their nutrition, both mother and child.
There is food, pablum for the babies and maize for the women, supplied by
the World Food Organization. These rooms are full now, and the worst time
will be January and February during the growing season; this is when there
is the greatest food shortage. What will happen then if these women and
children are not out by then. The water stand pipe they use has no drainage
and the water runs along side the NRU with the children playing in it. Open
sewage is just around the building. The need for disease prevention is
high.

The finished report, pictures with explanations, put into a power point
presentation, will be submitted to the EU and Government of Malawi, joint
funders for projects such as these. The deadline is Nov. 30 for funding
middle of December. We are certain to get the monies requested, and if we
do, the work will commence immediately so as to be completed by mid April.

I have started sewing classes twice a week here in Kasina for the women.
Knitting, and crochet are also supplied. After teaching 3 basic stitches,
and completing a small bag for the sewing supplies I purchased for them
through donations received at home, we will move on to hand sewing a quilt
top to be raffled off during the xmas season for 5 kwacha each ticket. We
hope to raise 1000 kwacha and this will be banked by the needle craft group
for more supplies. There are 3 peddle operated sewing machines in the
needle craft building, and we hope to move on to sewing simple garments,
purchasing a bolt of school uniform material and sewing school uniforms
thereby providing an income. Also, the handsewing group can open a mending
business, also earning a small income from this work. The most important
part is to take this group to sustainability by April, and have someone to
head the group when I go.

English classes have also commenced in Kaphuka village. I go twice a week,
drive around the mountain with Hastings, our carpenter's helper and my
interpreter and assitant teacher. What a godsend! Hastings is also the
relief night watchman with Joseph being our 5 night/wk watchman. By the way,
we pay 200 kwacha per night for the night watch. If Hastings were to put
away his savings after 5 months, he would have enough to pay for 1 year of
electrician courses in Lilongwe.

The first class, brought in 53 people, 3 of them men. I supplied note
books, pens and pencils to be paid back at 15kwacha. Cost was 25kwacha.
Some of the women had not gone to even to standard one and when we went
through printing the alphabet, to try to teach those who could not write to
print their name, the woman I was assisting could not do more than a circle
even though I had shown her about 10 times how to write capital "A". One of
my goals is to ensure that each one can print their name so they don't have
to use a thumb print to sign a document or collect their mail. The class is
about 15 min written, then 1 hour oral going over greetings, at the market,
in the family etc. Then we go out to play ball, and use the ball to ask
questions, I throw it, and say "how are you" and they respond in kind "I am
fine, and you". All questions are directed in this manner. I have taught
an English song as well with actions, they like that alot. We've had to
split into two circles, Hastings taking the other. Yesterday, was the
second class, 75 total and not all of them the same as before. Short books,
pencils, pens and space to sit. More men too! All very eager to learn.
The old women are most eager! Although they are unable to pronouce some of
the words properly due to missing teeth. Oh, but they try! The headmaster
has asked when can the children join in with the classes and when was I
going to start teaching needle work. I explained, that I could only come
those two times per week. My greatest fear it that due to the rains, I
won't be doing even that! The worst thing about working here... to instill
hope just to back out of a project as conditions warrant not being able to
do the activity.

The rainy season has officially started. I picked up two young labourers
returning to Kaphuka for the weekend enroute to the english lesson. The
roads turn to mud in the rain and there are a few inclines that are very
tricky on the way to kaphuka and I slid off the road (it doesn't help that
the roads are very high in the centre and slope steeply off on both sides).
Well, I had the two passengers in the back of the truck and Hastings to push
me out. YEH! If the roads get much worse, our little truck will not make
it into Kaphuka and actually won't make it in and out of Kasina either. The
undercarriage is too low and we keep bottoming out. The ruts will get very
deep and inbetween the rains will dry that way until work can be done on
them in May.

Another result of the rainy season is the bugs. The second night after the
rains began, the flying termites were out in full force, with wings about 1
1/2 inch long, they were coming in every small window crack and pouring in
under the doors. We finally put towels at the doors to keep them out. An
hour later, came the carpenter ants, and when we went to bed, we heard the
sound of people running, first Joseph, his gum boots making a clomping sound
past our bedroom window and then others returning with him. We got up to
see what was happening, and there was a new hatch of bug, flying white ants,
making a sound like freezing rain pellets on the glass, a real delicacy....
only two hatches a year, the next in February. Joseph had gathered the
other watch men from the health centre and they were all catching the ants
and collecting them into a plastic bucket. When John asked if they were
good cooked, Joseph yes, but they are much better fresh..... and John
watched him scoop them up and pop them into his mouth!!!

Our first week at Kasina, the power was out for 30 hours. I couldn't find
an answer to why, and then we heard that 3 of the towers servicing Dedza
area were blown over in the high wind of the night before the power went
out. I had a freezer full of meat. I had stocked up - never again. All
week the power went on and off and with it the water as it is supplied via
an electric pump. So off to the borehole. But that means no computer,
lights, cooker, fridge etc. We ate bread with peanut butter for 5 meals in
a row with salads to off set it. It is a good exercise in living the way
the rest of them do here. So we bought some firewood, charcoal and an
outdoor pot to use in our outdoor kitchen, which we have by the way and
don't have to use because we have a cooker. The reason the power poles went
down? They didn't have enough cable to hold them upright as the cables had
been cut - people need the metal.

The kids are here all the time. We bought balls for the communities of
Kasina and Kaphuka a week ago. Now the kids are here to get the ball. They
play in the front yard or just outside of it in the clinics yard. Alex, our
first visitor, fell asleep in the doorway watching me paint one day. Our
door is left open all day for people to come and go. The kids are there all
the time. Sr. Catherine says, "why of course they're there, it's pure
cinema"! Looking into the door or windows, they call "hello hello and then
giva me the frisbee". I have taught, "may I have the frisbee or ball" so
they have that down pat now. We sit on the front porch reading some of the
books I've brought and they like the songs. If you are happy and you know
it, clap your hands, is a favourite because of the actions.

Hastings helps John during 3 days of the week. They were starting to build
a small cabinet for the kitchen here (there is no cupboard or prep area) and
John needed nails. So he sent Hastings off to the house they'd been working
at for nails. Hastings couldn't remember was it nails or screws so he
returned with both. John said well where are they. Hastings pointed at his
head. There neatly lined up were 3 screws woven into one side of his hair
and three nails on the other side. What a hoot!

While visiting the seminary one morning, I passed some men with a slaughered
goat in their wheelbarrow. They were trying to sell me some. I asked how
much? They said just 140kwacha per kg. So I asked when it had been
slaughtered, they said 2 days ago, and I thanked them very much. It looked
very nice I said, but I didn't need goat.

I offered to take a class at the seminary, which really isn't a seminary as
what they offer here is a year of reflection, some courses in english,
psychology, history etc. It is a year off between secondary school and
entering seminary. The students are around 20ish. There are 43 of them. I
offered a debate that lasted 80 minutes based on material put out by the
Catholic Church on Gender Equity. A hot issue around the world, and I know
there is a lot of material circulation regarding Gender in all walks. I
wanted to appeal to the fact that they as educated, and if they were to take on a parish in their future, meant that they would have access to 43
villages and in fact could change the way of thinking that was culturaly inherent. There is so much talk about not changing the culture, but the culture has to change, if issues such as rape, family violence, incest, and poverty is to change. Those educated here agree, it is the only way to change! I related some stories from the course material and one was an exchange on rape. The first women said she was raped and the police said it was probably her own fault as she was too provocative, the second woman said, I'm a grandmother and I was raped, and the third woman said, my 9 year old grand daughter was raped and the next said, I know of a 2 year old that was raped, was she being provocative. And you know, the young men laughed. I'm not sure if they though I was telling a joke or what.

We then did the 24 hour day for men and for women. Women start their
days here at 4:00 am by bulding the fire, cooking breakfast and so one until
they drop into bed at 9:00 pm. The men start their day at 6:00 am and eat
the breakfast and go to work (when I asked what they thought that meant,
they said go to the office) and then come home at 5:00 pm and they rest.
This is in their own words. So I asked if they thought this was fair,
right, equitable? And they agreed it wasn't. So what can they do about
it.... silence! It was hard to get them to speak, I think if I was there
every English class, they'd open up. A couple of them later told me they'd
enjoyed the opportunity to speak, so I asked why didn't they! They said it
was due to peer pressure and what others might think if they voiced their
opinion.

Going to Church here in Kasina is a great experience. This is a small
village church and it takes in about 1000 people, who start parading by our
house about an hour before the service starts from all other outlying
villages. The choirs, there are 5 of them, take a service each week. They
have drums, and other percussion instruments and the music is beautiful,
there is also dancing to accompany it. When the offering is taken, they
come to the front with baskets of money, but also a parade of people with
baskets of food items, produce wrapped in chitenjes, and children carrying
fruit. The choir is singing and the people are dancing. They lay it at the
front of the church for the poor. Who are the poor? They all are poor, but
there are always those who are more so. We don't understand a word except
for Mulungu and Amen. But it is great to be there in spirit. The lesson,
is usually ethical, based on bible principles. Hard work ethics, doing what
is right, helping others, reflection of the year coming to a close, having
done much, some of it good, some of it not so good, and change.
Encouragement throughout the message. People are happy, they live a simple
hard life, but the smile is so quick to appear on each face.

Numerous times we have been visited by the clinical officer (doctor)Mr.
Banda and his wife with gifts of bananas solemnly presented in a basket
covered in a cloth. They come back and forth with bananas from their
garden. John once admired the bananas and since then they appear every 5
days or so with a fresh bunch. Now Father Gracian, also presents us with
bananas! Today we have 3 clumps of them, about 60 bananas. I don't eat
bananas! Once I remarked to Mr. Magombo at Nkhoma market, "oh, I must find
a small mat" a week later he appeared on his bicyle after a 30 km journey,
with a small mat. You have to be careful what you say here, or it appears.

Mrs. Banda is the standard 1 school teacher. Both she and Mr. Banda speak
excellent English. You know why... they have a tv set and a dish, and when
we first dropped in one Friday night after supper, the whole neighbourhood
was there squeezed in with babies on their backs watching their version of
music videos. What a hoot.

Mrs. Banda has a small nursery school beside her house. The children of the
compound attend. I paid it a visit the other day. The nursery school
teacher shouts out to a child, "what is your name" the child stands squeezes
his eyes shut in terror of me and replies "my name is Wickson" where do you
live? "I live in Kasina village" how old are you? "I am 3 years old" and
the kids in standard 5 can't do the same. What a great activity. They are
learning the alphabet as well and songs. When Wickson is done, they all
shout a cheer "welle done, welle done, right on! keep it up!

Remember the roof fundraiser we went to, it raised 16000 kwacha! That is the half way mark.

There are always requests to us for funding of projects. Schooling and education is so important, and any education towards sustainability is what we want to support. From time to time we are asked for funds to help out,
for school supplies, to provide schooling for a secondary school student to
attend tech school (about $210 US per year) and so on. We would love to help more, and you can help us if you wish. If you'd like to help, you can
send a US draft, Bank of America, Chase Manhatten, which ever, not personal cheque or money order, to us, and we'll cash it to use towards education and poverty reduction as we see the need arise in priority. THere have been a number of you wanting to know how to assist, this is how. Most of you have our address in Lilongwe, that is where to send any correspondence.

Beth Gessinger from Saltspring island is trying to get here for 3 months to volunteer. Any help for her would be appreciated, even the encouragement, give her a call.

Last time I had some requests. They were filled almost immediately. Great job! This time I have only one. Could someone please contact the Squire family on Saltspring island to get Jamie Squires email address. He is in Somalia with MSF, Doctors without Borders. I have lost his email. He emailed us through MSF, but I haven't been successful in contacting him through that address.

Thanks to the Saltspring schools for getting on line to be pen pals to students at Kaphuka Village, and thanks for all the support shown to us so far. Continue to keep us and those we work with in your prayers. Pray the rain is plentiful and the planting season is successful.

God bless

Johanna and John

Hello to everyone and Merry Christmas from Malawi.

For most of you, as you are getting ready for Christmas, you are also
experiencing first snows, which we thankfully aren't. However, if I had to
trade 6 inches of mud for snow, I might consider it! Today I returned from
Dedza, in the pouring rain, wipers not working, and the truck coughing
(trouble with the carburator) and I had to pay 7 men 150 Kwacha to push me
through 1/2 km of mud on the Kasina road. Sometimes we had to stop to take
the mud out above the tires and under the hood. This day was quite an
experience, and I could write a book on it alone!

During this month, we have finally felt that we are making head way with
programs and projects and seeing the fruits of some of our labours. We have
yet to hear from the EU and Government of Malawi regarding the funding for
Kasina Health Centre Infrastructure Project but are very optimistic. We
should know by December 22. They had actually pursued us and encouraged us
to send in the project proposal!

Sister Clara, a Malawian sister has come to live with us until her house in
finished and ready to move into. She has a great sense of humour, works
like a demon and has made the chores a lot lighter here in the house for me.
She has been working in the clinic as she is a trained midwife/nurse and
comes home with amazing stories. Each day, there are more patients being
admitted for malaria. Yesterday, I noticed that there are more drips of
quinine hanging than I've seen before. By now there are patients under the
beds and on the floor. Mostly babies are brought in with Malaria. If you
wait too long, their blood count is down and the fever so high, it is
difficult to save them, and yes, many have died within a few hours of
admitting. Just this week, a small child drowned in a flower pot half
filled with water. There was a stabbing earlier this week, a young many
stabbed his mother and sister and were brought into the clinic at midnight.
The ambulance was again in Dedza for repairs and there was no transport to
bring especially the mother to Nkhoma hospital, 9 km up the road. She was
transported 8am that morning and the word we received was she died in the
ambulance. All the news is by word of mouth. Other passengers in the
ambulance dropped off before they reached the hospital had heard she had
died and this news made it back to Kasina by lunch. By that evening
however, we heard that she had made an amazing recovery and was indeed alive
and being treated. We told the clinic that any life and death emergencies
should be reported to us so we could transport the patient.

The NRU is so busy now (Nutritional Recovery Unit) and the World Food
Program has recently made a drop of milk, childrens porridge and maize flour
for them. They have a garden at the back of the NRU to grow nutritional
foods, but the staff take it to bring home. So many are needing to be
taught how to cook nutritional foods for their young, but aren't given the
chance because everyone is of course hungry. There is no extra funding for
the NRU. The clinic runs on a budget of $10,000 US per year. The pharmacy
is empty. Donations are down and have been down since 9/11. This is such a
fine facility for the area, with a small amount of money, it could be
wonderful and to have the drugs to save lives would be so great. Hardly any
of the equipment is functioning. They don't have a blood pressure cuff. As
Medical Missionaries of Mary take over the administration of the hospital, I
would ask for your donations to the clinic, made out to the MMM. They are
tax receiptable and the money if allocated to a specific cause will be used
for that specifically. The program money we brought that you all
contributed, is sitting in a seperate account where we can draw on it for
the literacy program, sewing and kids projects. I will take a portion of
that and donate it to the NRU as well. January and February are the worst
months, so I will wait until then.

The rainy season is definitely with us and as I write I can hear the
rumbling of thunder and a few flashes of lightening. The roads in and out
of Kasina as well as Kaphuka Village have been passable, even though I have
to negotiate the potholes and ruts carefully so as not to rub the
undercarriage of our small truck, especially into Kaphuka. I always try to
pick up those travelling between the villages, and usually keep an eye open
for a couple of men to load into the back incase of mud!
Last time at Kaphuka Village, on the way home, I passed a group of children
I recognized from earlier in the week as Kasina. A group of about 8
children, travelling with a 12 year old girl, and a few bundles of clothing.
We weren't more than 5 minutes out of Kaphuka when they waved us down and I
recognized them as Kasina kids, but they weren't, they were Kaphuka kids.
They had travelled back and forth the almost 2 hour walk each day for
confirmation classes and were going into Kasina for the following day's
confirmation service at the Catholic Church. They were happy to pile into
the back of the truck. When I looked back, I saw a couple of little boys
peeking through the glass, absolutely thrilled with the ride, not because
they didn't have to walk, but because it was likely their first ride in a
vehicle.

The English classes at Kaphuka Village are going well. I have to tell you
that every time I am there we get at least 20 - 40 more women. Every week,
when I go to Lilongwe, I am back in the stationary store to purchase more
note books, pens and pencils. That doesn't mean all the women come back.
But this last Wednesday, something was different. There were about 40 new
women, very poor and absolutely no English and they came in small groups
even up to 4 pm when I try to end the class. I was working with a new class
helper and interpreter and that was difficult in a group this big because he
didn't have the routine down like I did with Hastings. Hastings has started
to work with John full time. The work here can be so rewarding and sometimes
excrutiatingly frustrating. The English classes have been super and so
rewarding. I had noticed that this class though was different. The noise
level was rising, and every woman I asked, 'how are you' to and 'how many
children do you have', you know the usual questions for this class, would
shrug and turn away. This was wierd, so I tryed to continue on, but then
when I returned to the board to continue, it would have been erased by
Timothe because he would be teaching, or he would be speaking in Chichewa or
translating when he needn't and I found we were constantly working against
each other. By the time I would sort out what he was doing and why, I would
have lost my train of thought and then I would pause, turn to the board try
and take a deep breath and start