Cupcake Days

Today was a day deemed worthy a self-proclaimed “Cupcake Day.” Let me explain. Back in the States my secret vice was sweets (it still would be if I had the access, I’m sure). I could mix up a good batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies and eat a ¼ of the dough before the oven was even warm...same goes for brownies. However, I never kept all the ingredients around my house on a regular basis for this exact reason: I had to plan to bake. Therefore when a burning desire for cupcakes or cookies was lit, I hopped in my car and drove to the nearest bakery. After my purchase I promptly ate the delicious sweets before arriving home (destroying the evidence, of course) :) Yes, my secret is out! (p.s. my favorite cupcakes are vanilla cake and frosting with those round sprinkles...yum! If you can overnight some, you’ll win a prize).


At any rate, it’s hard to keep focused sometimes when thinking of delicious foods not found in Bwanje, or Lilongwe for that matter. Okay, so Cupcake Days are when I’ve had a rough day due to any number of factors, or feeling particularly bummed out. During training, we were “warned” that there are times (read: times, because it wont stop at one, I’m sure) where we may get upset for what seemed justified at the time but later seemed absolutely ridiculous. Today was one of those days, the kind that comes out of nowhere and you’re wondering “how did I become that upset.”

Today was a market day for Bwanje, meaning that dozens of vendors come and line the road with goods such as food, vegetables, blankets, pots, clothing, and more. I left Peter at home because he’d be stopping to eat everything from his beloved cow pies to half eaten who-knows-what on the ground and I was on a mission to pick up a few things. I enjoy market days because there is so much going on, bustling of people, and so many things being sold. I dislike market days for the same reasons, sometimes.

So I was in need of buying a 20 liter bucket (I’m making a bigger water filter contraption-thing and ruined one due to poor planning). I found a vendor and told him what I wanted and he offered me a price of 450 kwacha, of which I felt was much too high. I offered 350 kwacha. Then he offered 400 kwacha. Let’s just say he wasn’t having it, and he was far too serious as well (I figure if I can make someone laugh while I’m bartering a price, then all is well). I knew in other areas I could get it for cheaper which is why I stuck to my guns. We discussed for a few minutes and it wasn’t going anywhere. Then he asks me “What is the difference of 50 kwacha?” I felt immediately offended. 50 kwacha? 50 kwacha buys me two eggs, my protein for a day, or a bag of soya which lasts me 3 meals. I thought “Yes, sir, that is a big deal for me.”

Okay, in the big scheme of things the money is probably not that big of a deal. However, I felt like he was pointing this out because I’m white (it is widely assumed in Malawi if you are white then you have a lot of money), but I am by no means saying this was his point, however I felt angry about it at the time. I explained that I live in the village and do not make a lot of money (which is about $5 a day, give or take) and that the money was important to me. I do my best to make cost effective purchases so I can stretch my kwacha and buy what I need. I walked away before getting into a useless argument I could see brewing.

I couldn't believe how upset I felt, and I still had more shopping to do. As I was walking to the usipa stands to buy fish for Peter, a man whom I’d met once before came up to me and began conversation. I’m sorry, not today I thought. He tried to sell me items from his business that I was not interested in, and then proceeded to follow me and try to tell me what I wanted to buy. These are times I wish I was not the only obvious white person in the village. These times I would sometimes like to be rude but I’m “working” 24/7 and must always be kind to people or I may get a negative reputation. Multiple times (10, at least) I did my pleasant-est to tell him no thank you and that I was busy shopping. Finally, after many attempts he finally left and I quickly finished up my shopping. (I was excited to find fresh bread [scones] and a carrot to purchase, which are rarities in the village).

Had I been able to find cupcakes with fluffy vanilla frosting (maybe sprinkles on the inside too), I would have been able to temporarily drown my sorrows. There are some days in Malawi I do not feel like being the center of attention. There is no hiding when I am out of my house. I can’t simply put on my favorite green hat and a baggy pair of jeans and t-shirt to go to the store. Regardless of my mood I’m always expected (maybe by myself?) to be “on the ball” and ready to go. It gets tiring, for anyone.

I haven’t written this blog to complain about my day (already did that in my journal ;)), but more so to convey some of the real life of living here. It can be tough getting used to a place, people, a lifestyle that is completely new to you. Imagine a reverse situation of someone from village life being thrown into the big city? It can be scary, exciting, frustrating, rewarding, and the like. Emotions here are a pendulum and sometimes a person has no idea what to expect. And little things, like the man asking about the 50 kwacha, can set me off when in any other situation it wouldn’t faze me.

So as I sit in my house after the sun has set, with a plate of freshly shelled peanuts to my left and to my right a Jameson bottle serving as a candle holder with dripping wax down the side (too bad the bottle was empty when I moved in, ha!), I revel in the fact that tomorrow is a different day, a new day. There are more peanuts to be shelled, curtains to be sewn, and I’m sure lots of pee from Peter to clean up. The beauty of crummy days is that it can only get better from here :)