Where's me culture??

"Where's me culchur?", as we'd say in Cork.

Well, I’m back again from Mua! The cultural training course was fab altogether.

Mua is a really rural, isolated parish near Salima, along the shore of Lake Malawi. Apparently you can see the very edge of the lake in the distance from Mua, but my eyesight must not be the best because I didn’t notice it the entire time I was there. Having said that, I’m not the most observant of persons so that could be it also...! It was really very beautiful, all the diverse plant and animal life of Malawi seems to accumulate there, and the colour and beauty is amazing! I know I keep saying this about various places in Malawi, but it really was stunningly picturesque there.

The four days of cultural training fairly flew. I set out at 7/7.30 am (!) on Monday morning, as it was a 2-hour drive to Mua from Kanengo, and the course was starting at 9.30 am. The drive was pretty uneventful, apart from spotting a random guy walking butt-naked along the side of the road... I think that was the highlight of the trip there, for me anyway. I’m not sure what the driver thought. I thought at first that perhaps he was simply wearing an ensemble close in colour to his skin, but no... it WAS his skin. Apparently, the smoking of a crude form of marijuana called chamba or ham (LOL) is common in the region around Mua, so random people simply high as a kite on this stuff, walking around naked as a jay bird is not entirely uncommon. Makes for an interesting drive though...! There’s something you don’t see on Patrick St.

The course started late, as we were delayed by some German people – uncharacteristically not arriving on time! LOL – any Germans I know are as punctual as clockwork, but not these apparently... We were about an hour late starting due to this, but I suppose it didn’t make any difference in the long run. We had so many coffee breaks during the course of the day that I simply couldn’t be unhappy! There was no Barry’s, but I was content nonetheless!

The course itself was incredibly informative. It was taught by a Canadian priest who has now been living and working in Malawi for 42 years, so before you get cynical about a foreigner teaching a course on Malawian culture, remember that probably means he’s been living here longer than most Malawians, LOL!!

He was very in-depth, I learned an awful lot about tribal tradition in Malawi, the origins of the various ethnic groups present, and their different customs and even languages. We were introduced to Malawian song and dance, and I have to say that the sight of a dozen German and American guys trying to mimic tribal dance certainly brightened my day! My German buddy from the Centre, T, was there too. We got to laugh at each other in turn, it was great! I don’t quite have the natural rythm of Malawian women, I sort of “dad-dance”, so I don’t even want to know what I looked like shaking it like an Ngoni woman.

The only pain in the bum was having to walk about a kilometre or so for dinner in the evenings. The rest of the people taking part in the course stayed in a sort of hostel-type accommodation at one end of the parish. There wasn’t enough room for me, however, so I stayed in the priests’ building, with some more of the White Fathers.

I had my own room, though, so that was nice! The rest of them had to share – ho ho ho... This walk was no problem in the morning for breakfast or about noon for lunch, but dinner was at about 6.30 pm. It gets dark here at about 5.30 or 6, and by 6.30 it’s absolutely pitch black, and of course there are no streetlights, needless to say. And of course, do I have a torch? Would I think of bringing one? No no, that would be far too sensible for my style. So I had to borrow one off the priests and make my way in the darkness.

What is wrong with this, you say? Sure you had a torch, I hear you say? Yes, but a torch is not much good against a pack of dogs or hyenas, both of which reside in Mua... I was jumping out of my skin at every howl, every foot/pawfall! As is always the case, my imagination was in overdrive – I’m a city girl at heart, I think...

Of course, what happened one night but I got locked out of the building. I came back from my friends and dinner at about half 9, only to find the building locked. I knocked and I banged and I banged and I roared, but to no avail. I went around the front... locked. I went around the back where the guard should have been to let me in, again. There was a pack of dogs yowling at each other somewhere nearby, or at least what sounded like dogs, and I was bloody well livid. I’m sure I roared enough to wake the dead. I’d been at this for about 20 minutes when one of the priests came out to rescue me. Says I, “I thought there was a guard?”, and says he, “there is, but he must be asleep”.

Where is he, so I can bloody well swing for him!

Was he sorry? Ah no, no need for that. I heard him say something in Chichewa that sounded like the equivalent of “oh right, yeah. Whoops”. Grrr! Honestly, I thought I shouted enough to wake the dead, never mind the guard... I could have been eaten by hyenas outside the gate and I’d say this guy would have slept through it. Maybe he would have found my chewed leftovers outside the gate in the morning and said “whoops”... Bah humbug.

I’m glad I stayed with the priests though. There was even an Irish priest there as parish priest. I think I might have mentioned him before. He’s from Kerry, but sure we’ll let him off... (bwahahaha) I had a grand old time in the evenings, hanging out in the parochial house eating peanuts and drinking Carlsberg. I tried whiskey as well, but it tasted like horse urine to me to be honest, so I didn’t finish it. Seriously, I thought it tasted like something to disinfect your toilet. Will steer clear in future, I think I prefer my lager...

And, AND – the best bit of all was the last day! We got a real treat, in the form of an entire troupe of Malawian traditional dancers who performed for over 2 hours, in the dances of the various tribal traditions. Wedding dances, war dances, even funeral dances... The clothes were amazing! The men especially were like peacocks with all the coloured feathers... For one of the dances especially, they wore a sort of crown of brightly coloured feathers, with animal skins at their waists and ankles, along with little bells at their ankles to make a jingling noise as they danced. Then they also did a traditional dance called Gule Wamkulu which is very popular and widespread in Malawi. One person wears an elaborate costume meant to represent varying persons or things, and the dances usually have some sort of moral to them. I found it highly amusing, especially when I noted that the one meant to symbolise “white man” was the spit of my dad... he had the glasses and everything... I didn’t know he’d been in the colonial government of Malawi... Daddy, you should have told me about that!

I even bought a beautifully carved statue in the form of one of these warrior-dancers. It’s spectacular! I love the art here, I’ve bought some pieces already and I don’t know how I’ll fit them in the suitcase, but I feel that allowance from Trocaire for excess baggage might have to be used on the way back... LOL! One of the priests back in Kanengo at the Centre has said we could even varnish it with linseed oil to bring out the design more, so that will be great!

Myself and Matt will have to have an “African room” in the house when I get home... This will be the first he’s heard of it no doubt – LOL – but I’m sure I’ll bring him round. Won’t I, darling? :-P