Ndimalima bwino!

I can safely say that I’ve never worked as hard in my life before coming to Peace Corps.  Sure, learning Chichewa is a struggle sometimes and is an ongoing challenge.  Scheduling meetings and having people a) not show, b) attend a funeral, c) stay home to escape the rain...is just part of learning the culture and patience.  But mostly I have not worked as hard as I do in my garden.

Malawian’s livelihood is heavily based on their farming regardless of acreage and all worked by hand.  Men and women will leave their houses around 3am to get to the garden to build the ridges where, come rains, crops of all kinds will begin growing.  I know numerous women easily double my age that can do more back breaking work than I can.  Soft azungu…

The only way I thought I might begin to have an appreciation for how hard Malawians work in the garden was to begin my own.  Now, I’m lucky to have 5x10 meters of unused ground for growing such delicious goodies.  I’ll admit I’ve stared at it for the past two months, while others in the fields around my house have been preparing theirs, hoping that somehow Peter might dig enough to turn up the soil for me.  No such luck.  

With my kasu (hoe) in hand, I began digging.  From the short studying and learning I’ve done through Peace Corps, I knew I wanted to get the subsoil on top in hopes to turn up the nutrients...or whatever is left there.  So I began digging hard.  Hard to the point in which I had sweat dripping off my nose and streaming down my back.  Sweat to the point that your clothes automatically feel like saran wrap to your body.  It doesn’t hurt that it’s still hot season (reaching 100F+ during the day) but I’ll tell you for sure it wasn’t all the heat.  I felt like starting to sing that song that says “Put your back into it” but I had Malawian music on my iPod and for all I know that’s what they were telling me to do.

As I dug, I kept finding pieces of bricks, old maize sacks, and even a pair of old shorts.  House improvements or shopping anyone?  Upon tossing them to the side, Peter and Chule run over excited to see what goodies had been discarded.  To their disappointment it would be a few more rounds before I found the goat and cow bones.  I wouldn’t let them have the fat juicy grasshopper bugs that the iwe’s like to catch and then fry.  Instead I put them aside for my neighbor gal, Mary (awesome name, by the way).  She hasn’t prepared any for me to eat yet, but I’m all up for new experiences.  After all, it’d probably make this experience feel even more like something out of the Lion King, when Pumba and Timon are eating those fat grub.  Yum!

My first day out there brought on four enormous blisters even I was impressed to have incurred.  I’ll be honest to say the last time I think I got a blister was on my foot from breaking in my sandals, and that isn’t hard work.  The last time my hands had hurt this bad was when I decided to cement a step at the back door...with my hands.  Let’s just say cement burns your tender flesh and with gravel imbedded in them it was by far worse than working in the garden for a week.  But nonetheless, we tend to mentally forget previous experiences of hurt and think that the current one is worse.  My hands had felt as if I had bruised them to the bone.  Adding insult to injury, pulling the bucket of water up the well for my bafa popped one of them.  Bring on the gravel.

My counterpart advised me to soak my hands in salt water at night to help with the blisters.  I think he must have thought “what a softy!” until he actually saw how deep I was actually digging and then could understand my blisters.  Then he probably shifted to “she’s crazy.”  Malawians make ridges.  Mary makes, uhm, a pit?  Just wait...when I have a garden full of *breathe in* corn, pumpkin, tomatoes, basil, hibiscus, cabbage, lettuce, onions, carrots, cauliflower, millet, jew mallow…..*sigh* *breathe* and pigeon pea everyone will think “I should do a garden like the azungu!”  Ok, probably not.  But at least I’ll be eating my own homegrown veggies!

Days gone by and my hands have gotten stronger...as well as my biceps, back, stomach, and legs.  Body building anyone? Dang, who thought gardening would be such a work out?!  It’s great though because time away from site makes me “soft” so it’s nice to get back to work and feel strong again.

The only gardening I’ve done in my life before coming here was a little bit with my grandfather.  He always had the best carrots.  During high school he helped me begin growing squash, cantaloupe, and cucumber in the backyard.  I can’t say that I’m a natural gardener (we’ll have to see how this years crops turn out), but I truly enjoy it.  One of my goals coming to Peace Corps was to build a garden that my grandfather would be proud of.  So it’s in the works and I’m sure he’ll send down some good vibes for me.  In the mean time I’ll keep digging and preparing, strengthening my hands to give the next guy with a marriage proposal a second thought via handshake.  Hopefully he wont see it as having strong nsima hands...

Bug.  Bigger than my thumb!

Workin' hard, or hardly workin'?