Where in the World is Colleen?

This post features a recent article by a friend from EWB: Owen Scott.

DIGESTING DEVELOPMENT
BY OWEN SCOTT ENGINEERS WITHOUT BORDERS

EXPLORING CHANGE Promoting human development and driving extraordinary change requires a solid understanding of the complexities of poverty and the challenges to development that exist in both developing communities and here in Canada. This column examines the work of Engineers Without Borders volunteers, offers examples of new perspectives on old development problems, and shares our learning along the way.

STUPID PROBLEMS
For the almost 6 million people in rural Malawi who lack access to a safe supply of clean water close to their home, a lack of life-sustaining water is a daily challenge.

More than a challenge though, it’s also a tragedy.

Without a safe water supply, young children become victim to dehydration from diarrheal diseases, leading to over 11,000 preventable deaths caused by diarrhea every year. That’s five times the number of kids under 5 years old in Fredericton, dying every year from something completely preventable.

If that’s not a tragedy, then the word has no meaning.

More insidious, but in many ways no less tragic, is the burden of carrying water, which falls almost exclusively on women and girls. Frequently having to travel several kilometers to the nearest water source, women and girls in Malawi lose countless hours, and expend valuable energy, on this inescapable chore. This time and energy could otherwise be spent studying, resting, or growing additional food on the farm, to name only a few alternatives.

Together, these two factors – preventable childhood mortality from diarrheal diseases and chronic fatigue from carrying water – represent what’s often called the First Tragedy of international development, poverty itself. The First Tragedy is enough to get people caring. You can take the underlying statistics, add a few sad looking pictures, and start a fundraising campaign. People will donate. People will support your work.

However, all of this neglects the Second Tragedy, the fact that
things don’t need to be this way. Over the last 40 years Malawi has received enough investment in its water infrastructure that rural water coverage could be 82% and growing, instead of being at only 50.7% today. The difference would be almost another 4 million people with clean water access.

The problems are simple – too simple. Infuriatingly simple.

The first problem is maintenance – everyone wants to install water infrastructure, no one wants to maintain it. $10,000 pumps sit broken for lack of a $1 part. Rather than repairing them, international donor countries (like Canada) prefer to pour money into new infrastructure. It’s a huge wasted opportunity, and it’s measured in human lives.

The second problem is planning. Pressured to spend their budgets quickly, organizations don’t plan properly for the location of new infrastructure. The result is that some villages end up with more wells than they need, while other villages are chronically ignored.

This bad planning is exacerbated by commonly held views that foreign aid money needs to “get to the ground”, leading donors to pressure organizations to minimize overhead – a classic case of confusing efficiency with effectiveness.

The result is…well, bad results.

Poor planning means that money spent on water infrastructure doesn’t go as far as it can.

So there it is. The pie chart shows the impact of these stupid problems, lack of planning and lack of maintenance, on water access in Malawi. It shows the Second Tragedy of international development. It shows that we need to get smarter, that we need to use our aid money better. It shows the problems that we’re working on at Engineers Without Borders. They’re pretty important problems. We could use your help.

Owen Scott is a UNB Civil Engineering graduate working with Engineers Without Borders Water-Point Functionality team in Malawi

For the last 6 months, there has been one thing on everyone’s mind and tongues: Politics! It’s election time in Malawi. Actually, the election was Tuesday, May 19th. You likely won’t have heard about it in the international news unless you searched a little, which I happen to think is a good thing. These were relatively peaceful elections. And while there were some concerns over a regional divide and as the day approached, tensions rose and an air of anticipation settled in, it was smooth and safe.

For News from the BBC:
Malawi leader to be inaugurated

For Malawian News:
The Nation
The Daily Times

In fact, the day of and day after the elections were the quietest I have ever seen in Malawi. In Dedza, people stayed home, chatting amongst family and neighbours about the possibilities. The following day, groups of people huddled around radios, sometimes mending this or that or cutting vegetables for the meal, listening intently as the results from the polling stations started to trickle in. Even the children were quiet. At the office, a sense of relief and pride of the calm orderly state of affairs reigned, along with celebration for those who had voted for the winning party.

I must admit, I’m impressed. 7 months ago, sitting in the EWB house in Canada, watching the Canadian elections and feeling un-empowered, I started thinking about these Malawian elections. (Elections 2008/2009) I wondered what it would be like. It has not been an easy process for any of the candidates. It was a tough race, a tight one, with many changes, forged alliances, power-plays and speeches. Not that different than Canada really. There is a saying now: “Malawi has matured in her democracy.” I hope that it stays this way, that the exchange of ideas and views between friends can continue and for a safe and prosperous next 5 years.

Recently, someone asked me to describe what a typical day here in Malawi might look like. That’s a bit of a challenge since every day comes with its share of surprises. Certainly there are themes, there are patterns and there are similarities, but there are just as many unexpected interruptions.

Things like I wake up every morning to the rooster crowing outside my orange curtained window at atound 6am. I roll out from under my mosquito net, utter some sleepy “mwadzuka bwanji”s (good morning) to Stemkan, the hired help, who is usually the first one I see every morning. Then a round of “mwadzuka bwanji”s to anyone else who is up. I grab my reed mat at head to the living room, spread out my mat and start my ½ hour of morning yoga. I used to try to help in the mornings, but I’m not much of a morning person and just got in the way. Instead, I do yoga. It’s better for everyone.

After a bucket shower with water heated over a fire or hotplate and a quick breakfast of bread and tea, I get myself ready for work, grab my backpack, say goodbye to the kids and my family and head off to work. [There are many people in my family: Brenda (the mother and my bossy Malawian sister), Tears (the father and like a big brother), Stemkan (house boy, 19), Fraiser (sort-of son.. it’s complicated, 14), Johns (son, 11), Junior (nephew, 10) and Akuzike (daughter, 2).]

Tears and I used to walk to work together, but he recently got the battery for his car fixed, so now I walk alone. Sometimes, if I’m feeling lazy, I get a ride, but on most days I treasure the walk. Up the hill, past the lady selling tomatoes and home-made breads, past my favourite corner with all the little kids who get so excited every time I go by, up the hill and past Grace, a girl around 19 who’s working in her yard. On the left there is a house with a very old man who greats me every day with a big smile and clapping hands, a sign of respect. I pass some maize fields, more children, more grocery stalls and get to the main road, the only paved road in Dedza. I walk past the post office, the banks, and the bus depot. I get to work at around 7:30 or 8am. Just in time to collect my thoughts for a half hour before my days’ schedule gets upturned by one thing or another.

Sometimes these interruptions are welcome; a day spent out in the field at a farmer field school, planting potatoes or facilitating a leadership course. Maybe it’s an unexpected meeting, or a meeting that starts 2 hours late. Maybe it’s a job interview process to hire and M&E officer that the manager did not have time for and therefore asked me to do instead.

Sometimes its more disrupting than that; the regular and lasting power cuts, the vehicles that are over-scheduled for too many different places all at once, people falling sick from Malaria… Maybe I went to play netball with the local women’s team I joined only to find out they didn’t arrive to play that day. Maybe I come back home to find Brenda packing to go to Lilongwe and Tears off to Blantyre and me left to manage a house full of kids in a still foreign language.

Every day has its version of surprises.

I usually take my breakfast and dinner at home, but lunch I find for myself. It’s a good way to see the town, meet people and get to know my colleagues. I have taken to frequenting a restaurant at the bus depot. The food is not the best, but there is plenty, it’s cheap and there is always good company. Being located at the side of the bus depot, near to the town hall and sandwiched between several NGO offices, you can usually find a diverse crowd. Sometimes there are government staff, sometimes travellers looking for a bit to eat before continuing on their way, occasionally individuals working for local businesses or NGOs. Sometimes a mixed lot of all of them. It is run by a man, Henock whose wife is a headmistress and daughter is a teacher. They all live in my community, Mandala, and so we see each other in passing.

I walk home, greeting the ladies at the bus depot who comment on the way I’m dressed, the style of my hair, where I went that day, if I’ll be going to Lilongwe to buy them a present soon. If I’m accompanied by a man, I’m asked when I’m going to get married. I walk back along the main road, past the rasta boys fixing tires, the nurses coming back from their shift at the hospital. I turn left and pass the man selling fresh chips. Down the hill, waving “wawa” (hello) to my neighbours. I greet the old gentleman and his family. I turn slightly and keep going down to the corner where the kids play with their tyres and beer-carton trucks, who jump up and run over with cries of “Azungu!” every time I walk by, who one by one extend their hand for me to shake and then run away giggling. A few of them come back for second round.

I’m home. With laughter and a sigh of relief. I greet the family, relax in our living room on orange plush couches and talk about the day. Sometimes I manage to squeeze in a lesson of Chichewa. Dinner, usually of nsima, is spent talking and laughing with Brenda and Tears. We say goodnight, and I head to bed, pull my mosquito net around me, read for a bit and fall asleep, ready to get up to roosters and yoga tomorrow.

Part of Engineers Without Borders’ guiding philosophy for their overseas volunteers is to integrate yourself as much as possible into the community in which you are living. “Integration” means many different things to each of us. It may be eating local food at a nearby restaurant or at home, maybe even learning to cook some of it. It may be learning the local language. It may be living with a family and trying to understand their reality, relationships and community, or it may be living on your own, an experience fraught with its own challenges and learning. It may be going to church or joining a soccer team. It may be making friends in the community, along your daily commute and at work. It may be adjusting your dress to fit local customs.

“Integrating” is a fuzzy term we use to catch all of this and much more. It is the sum of the experience of learning as much as possible as fast as possible to better understand and appreciate a new place. It’s about building a life for yourself in a new place, of fitting in, but more importantly, of belonging. On top of that, it’s just pretty awesome.

But as I am slowly discovering, reverse-integration (for lack of a better word) is evident as well. People I meet are as interested to learn about life and culture in Canada as I am to learn about Malawi. In fact, I didn’t know I knew so much about Canada… or that I didn’t know and have hence had to do some research! I am asked about our politics, corruption and democracy. I am asked about diseases, medical care and care for senior citizens; about family, relationships, dating and marriage. I am questioned on our geography (I have never used a map of Canada as frequently as I have in the past 2 weeks), about the great lakes, our seasons and the prevalence of snow and ice. I am asked how we travel in a land of such changing seasons, how we grow our food, how we shop. I have been asked how we dress, how we talk, what we eat… to which I have to reply that we are fortunate to have people from all nations, all cultures and all walks of life who have brought their local traditions with them and then created a few of their own. We are a nation of diversity and complexity, but also one of acceptance. In fact, I didn’t realize (or appreciate) how diverse, complex and accepting we can be until I have to describe what life is like in Canada, and find that my answers are always in vague and conditional terms of “it depends.”

Certainly, Canada has its fair share of issues. I am not trying to idolize our situation. And certainly, as Canadians, I think we need to step-up and take action on a number of tough (and sometimes uncomfortable) issues, both at home and abroad.

I find myself comparing situations, experiences and opportunities between Malawi and Canada. I try not to, since in some ways to compare is out of context. But having lived for over 20 years in Canada, it is my basic frame of reference, and this comparison has often provided very interesting thoughts, discussions and heated debates about why things are the way they are and how to move forward.

But on a lighter more simplistic level, integration works both ways. Here are some examples.

Cooking Lessons

I love to eat. In particular, I love the variety and endless possibilities, the flavours and textures on top that very satisfying feeling of fullness that a good meal offers.

I also love to cook. In fact, the thing I missed the most as soon as I arrived and spent the first month in various rest-houses was the ability to cook for myself. I would go to the market and see all these different foods, different beans and vegetables, fruits like mangoes, pineapples, bananas and peaches that were being grown locally and my mind would start to wander. Then I would walk past the fish market or a butcher and immediately I would start to plan meals, imagining it so vividly I could taste it. I would be tempted to reach out to buy something, only to realize that my culinary fantasy couldn’t happen because I had no kitchen (let alone utensils) to create it.

I usually eat and enjoy the local dishes of Malwian rice (which is delicious!) or nsima served with one or more relish choices (and contrary to what I first thought and experienced, there are MANY relish choices). On top of being convenient and satisfying, this has taught me a lot about cooking, markets, prices and availability.

I moved into a house with both an outdoor and indoor kitchen, fully equipped and bustling with activity. I also moved into a house with a very good cook. (Brenda’s cooking is delicious and certainly some of the most varied I’ve had here.) Furthermore, as chance or fate would have it, I moved into a house of people willing to learn and try new things. Most women want to (and Brenda does) teach me to cook some of the local dishes. We go to the market together and pick out what we need and then go home to prepare it. And while I enjoy it, my mind still wanders off on tangents of possibility.

So occasionally, I burst out with a “Oh, did you know you could cook [this item] like this? Here, let me show you / Can I try!?” And if that’s not possible at that time, I usually describe the dish and the way of cooking it in detail. Sometimes I think it’s a good thing Brenda is patient and has a good sense of humour.

But as I said, my family is pretty open to trying new things, so occasionally, I get to whet my appetite on Canadian style food. We have sandwiches with avocados, tomatoes, lettuce (I found lettuce here!!), chicken and cucumber or egg-salad sandwiches on bread that I toasted in a pan. Usually, it’s just Brenda and Tears who join me in this, while the kids eat normal Malawian food, which has sometimes left me feeling like rather than helping I’ve actually created more work.

This Sunday though, I had a breakthrough cooking experience with the kids. I found/was given spaghetti earlier that afternoon, and we happened to have bought lettuce and green pepper the day before. (I should point out that all three of those ingredients are rather rare.) My mind instantly turned to my all-time favourite comfort meal of pasta and salad. I was pretty excited, and Brenda agreed to let me cook dinner. I started washing and breaking the lettuce as Johns walked into the kitchen. After watching for a minute, he came over and started to help. I turned to cut tomatoes; he watched for a minute then found a stool and extended his hand for the knife so he could do it. The same went for the sauce, with me instructing a bit, giving some encouragement and stepping back as he happily cut up everything. The same for the pasta. So by the end of it, I knew he was going to want to try some. (Johns has already shown an interest in doing/going/eating/talking whatever or wherever I do/go/eat/say). What I did not expect was that the whole house was going to be interested to try it. Even little Akuzike declined her nsima to eat some pasta when she saw us eating it.

This mixture of cultures and unexpected help left me feeling pretty excited and satisfied. Tears was shocked that Johns was cooking. Brenda was amused and accepting. The kids were content. When asked, John’s rationale, beyond wanting to do what I do, was that if anything happened to the family, he’d be able to feed Akuzike. It was my turn to be shocked as that’s pretty astute and insightful for a 10 year old.

Tutoring

I mentioned that one of the easier ways to better understand anything is to learn the language. Living with children is probably the best way and motivator to do so. While I’ve been rather slack in this area, occasionally I get Brenda or Tears or various people I meet to help teach me.

However, Brenda has just gone back to school. She came home the other day, confused and head hurting from science class. I asked to see what she was learning, and realized that I could probably help. I have spent a fair amount of time going to school and studying engineering. So now, Brenda is teaching me Chichewa, and I’m teaching her atomic structure and matrices.

African Style

The same thing goes for African style, where the mixing and meshing of cultures is at once normal and shocking.

Most people in Malawi wear western style clothing, although the women wear a chitenge wrapped around their skirt and sometimes have blouses, skirts and dresses made from the local material. I figured that since I was living and working in Malawi, it was time for me to have a suit made. I found some lovely Chitenge material (which actually reminds me a lot of Canada since it is white with red leaves and gold and black detailing) and went with Brenda to find a decent tailor to get something made. After a few deep breaths (as far as I can tell, what you end up with is never quite what you asked for… an experience echoed by every lady I talk to), a fair amount of negotiation and some trial and error (I really wish I had hips as small as that tailor seems to think I have!) I received a beautiful suit. Two skirts and a top, sewn with a little creative licence, but looking good none-the-less.

Happy and feeling good, I went to work. I thought I’d fit right in, like any good Malawian lady. As usual I was wrong! I have NEVER received so much attention as I did that day. Ladies on the street stopped me to complement my dress. Women I walk by daily called out to me and introduced themselves. Conversations about fabric and tailors ensued. Men nodded in approval. My female colleagues gave me two thumbs up. As I walked home, the neighbours greeted me a bit more than usual, waved and stared. A girl, probably 14, walked past and in halting English quietly said “Madame, you have a beautiful dress.” I made it home, closed the door and looked around in wonder… so much for fitting in!

Being home didn’t last for long since I still needed to go out and get some bread and peanut butter for the next mornings’ breakfast. The kids were home and decided to accompany/escort me. Akuzike, being the princess she is, hates getting dirty, but had left her shoes somewhere. Johns was carrying her, but was struggling, so I went back and got a chitenge so that I could carry her on my back. This was happening in the middle of the street, so some kind ladies came by to help, laughing all the while. Then off we went, getting even more stares as people had NO idea what to do with the white lady wearing a tailored Malawian suit, carrying a baby on her back with a chitenge, escorted by two boys and trudging up the hill.

It didn’t stop there because later that night Brenda told me that she had been approached her whole walk home by the same ladies who told her they had seen her sister (me) walking by in my Malawian dress, that I was looking good and for Brenda to keep up the good work.

—

This is my experience with integration.

After months of waiting, debating and anticipating where I’ll be going and what I’ll be doing, EWB has finally provided an answer.

Location: Malawi

View Larger Map

Partner: Concern Universal

Work: Value-chain analysis and agriculture business development (more on this forthcoming)

Departure: November 8th, 2008

Length: 13 months

Now that I have a great organization, an interesting project, a destination, and a cool team of volunteers to meet, I’m super excited! I can’t wait to share more with you soon, or at least as soon as I know. Please, don’t get too attached to this turn in events. EWB is highly dynamic, so while I’m really excited about this particular placement, I have no doubt that little details will change as the departure date progresses.