News and Diaries

Richard Crossby (Malawi)

( Last Updated: 05-12-2007 )

It is hard to think of a fuller four months than those I had teaching - living and travelling in Africa. Rather than expanding on just one or two experiences, I've jotted down a list of those that either jump out or, for me at least, encapsulate my time as an AV...

Bright Malawian mornings, off to school at 7(!), knowing no-one at home will believe that I was off to school at 7. The fantastic sounds of the school choir, the national anthem. Trying to make the Reformation interesting, simulating an earthquake drill, teaching rugby / rounders to groups of very keen but unacquainted students. Supervising prep (aka being quizzed about anything and everything by the students.)

Lesson planning, the satisfaction when you know it's sinking in, marking on the steps outside our house and chatting with my Form Ones. Staff room banter, explaining Bonfire Night, morning break with tea and mendazi (local doughnuts). The day the desks and benches went, graduation rehearsals complete with fire breathing. Dancing, noise.

Villa azungu. ‘running' water, hand washing - badly. Executing chickens, eating chicken foot wrapped in chicken intestine, the constant search for dried rat on stick. Daily expeditions to the market, the market getting knocked down, looking for the new market! Mastercheffing, 101 ways to cook rice, tomatoes and onions.

Trips to local villages, trip to immigration, (frequent) trips to the toilet... Africa time. Learning most of my Chichewa in daily sessions playing with the local children, and getting mobbed by them on the way to and from school. Shouts of ‘azungu', constant laughter, Malawian hospitality.

Trying to sneak into Mozambique. Snorkelling in and relaxing on the beaches of Lake Malawi, a boat safari to see elephants in Liwonde National Park, sailing on a dhow. Hiking on the Mulanje Massif and sleeping under the stars, conquering Dedza Mountain.

Minibuses, matolas. Staying in ‘the cesspit' aka The Liwonde Holiday Resort. Voluntarily staying in ‘the cesspit' again. Azungu price, buying huge amounts of tat, Ryan's tat breaking before we had left Zimbabwe (he had bought it in Victoria Falls town when we were walking across the bridge into Zambia). Long drops. Victoria Falls, bungi jumping (why?), rafting grade five rapids and surviving, buying more tat.

Being three hours late for the weekly train to Dar but still arriving 19 hours early... Lazing on Zanzibar, seeing the big five in the Masai Mara. Waking up with elephants outside the tents in South Luwanga - fantastic!
The dreadful reality of saying goodbye, great friendships, four months of constant adventure. AV...
... Trying to carry all that tat home.

Arriving in Pachok, Lepcha, January 2006.
We arrived in Buddabawe Bazaar tired and sore after a three-hour jeep ride. Our rucksacks, containing all our worldly possessions were taken off the jeep and placed in the middle of a crowd of children. I admit I was panicking slightly at this point, but it was my first wake up call. These children, being students at Pachok Lepcha Night School where we would be teaching, had walked for over 40 minutes to come and greet us.

At the house, which would be our home for the next three months, there was a whirlwind of introductions; I forgot all the names seconds later. I remember there being an incredible number of people around, staring and coming into our room. After a ridiculously large meal of rice, dhal, chicken and subgee, our host, Suksing, took us to the night school where a short programme of Lepcha dances and English songs had been prepared. We both got scarves or wreaths from every student or official there, and were consequently soon weighed down. The kids took us outside and we watched them playing and tried to learn a few names. It was the most welcome I've ever felt in my entire life, but the whole experience was so intense that I quickly stopped being able to take things in. It felt like I was another person, watching myself go through it.

We were told it would take us two weeks to settle in, but for me it was closer to two days. By this time, the culture shock had faded considerably, I was over the humiliation of making a child cry in my first lesson, and I no longer suffered the sinking feeling in my stomach when I woke up to see the grey plastic ceiling in the morning. The family we're living with, our family, are the friendliest, most welcoming people I've ever met. India is permanently intense and exhausting, a flurry of colours, flavours and sounds. 4 months later...I just couldn't leave!!

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