28.1.07
Mwadzuka bwanji? I’m just writing this on my first day off, it feels like, since the weekend before I left the UK 12 days ago. I’m sat on the porch outside my room at the pottery in Dedza with the usual magnificent view of lush hills and then mountains. The only downside is the constant dark rain clouds but I’m learning it’s not so much of a downside unless it’s raining. Oh and my feet are a wee bittie cold.
Friday was probably the best day of the lot. I shadowed Liz as she visited 6 schools on the east side of Dedza – very rural areas that edge towards the southern-most part of the lake. It had already been a very eventful morning, having arrived at the bank and it wasn’t working (the whole bank it seems), the usual drama at the petrol pump and so on. We finally left town and not long after turning off the tarmac we rounded a corner to see the vicious face of a small boy who pelted stones at our windscreen. Our driver Emmanuel screeched to a halt, jumped out of the car and chased the boy back to his village. He grabbed one by the arm and his even smaller cohort was slung over his shoulder. The boys were petrified. Eventually Emmanuel, the two boys and their mother came down to apologise. It was all a bit much, especially because the boys were in such a state. At this point I was far more worried about the hot water pouring out from under the bonnet of the car and down the hill. I wished Emmanuel would worry about that rather than roadside etiquette.
The first school we went to had previously no teachers’ housing which, I’m beginning to understand, is crucial to attracting and retaining good teachers in rural areas. Since a Scottish teacher was placed here last summer and told the school she would fundraise, the school and wider community have chipped in and made a start on building the houses for free. Funds will come to help the clay plastering and tin roofs to be put in place. Here is the headteacher with the new buildings.

Headteacher with house Me, Emmanuel and Headteacher discussing house construction (!)We had another few schools which began to merge into one another in my mind, but I do remember one particular school – Chikololere, linked with (I think) Prestonfield in Edinburgh. Imagine the surreal sight of offroading for 30 minutes to the school to see a Scottish flag in the central gardens of the school. The school was really well run and the staff friendly, and so the students were confident and friendly. They all remembered my name, which was of course amusing at first and rather irksome after the hour visit. The school brought out some ‘gifts’ for their link school – beautiful carved goblets and dishes. Liz and I were really impressed. Imagine our amusement at the next school when we received the exact same set of carvings (complete with the same ‘made by Damian’ on the bottom) at the next school along, who also swore it was ‘by the school’.
Students at Dedza School Linked school display
One of the last schools we visited I walked into a classroom where there were a range of murals, started by their global teacher, when I noticed probably the largest rat I’d ever seen run up past the window. It was probably about 7 or 8 inches long. As I pointed to it Liz thought I was looking at the murals and was pleased at my utter amazement at the artwork. The next classroom was the World Food Programme storeroom and the rats were having a full on party in there. Those schools selected for this programme typically use their best classroom to store the huge sacks of maize donated by WFP. Some of the maize comes in from, predictably, Europe and the States. This having passed through nothing but maize fields to get to the school....something is seriously wrong there. Arguments about nurturing local economies aside, from the school’s point of view the best classroom is out of use, meaning further overcrowding in the poorer classrooms or increased use of baobab trees for younger years.
Use of classroom for WFP storage
Anyway, back to the rat school as we stepped into the WFP classroom all the rats eating the maize scuttled away. There isn’t too much the teachers can do, except perhaps leave poison and put up with the smell for the next month or two (and hope the maize isn’t contaminated). The teacher then showed me the ‘argos’, provided by the WFP with which the school can place their next order directly with Rome! Noone knows how it works but it is something to do with the mysteries of satellite technology. A funny Steve Bell or Private Eye-esque cartoon came into my mind; two rats are furiously trying to open the argos with their ratty paws squeaking ‘quick, tell Rome we’re gonna need 10 more bags’.
After 6 hours offroad we were pretty peckish and so stopped at this village for chips. There were, possibly, the best tasting chips ever. Note my utter delight at our chips with peri peri. And we were glad we decided to eat in, cos the banter was pretty good.
Anyway, I’ll probably stop there – it’s far too long already. Suffice to say all is going well – I’m completely immersed both in the work and, usually, in mud. But happy as a pig.
Hope you’re all well and remember, witty comments please so I know some of you are out there
xxx

