Homeward Bound ...

I write from a small cafe in Johannesburg airport.

If all goes well, my feet will touch soil in San Francisco tomorrow (Sunday) afternoon.

My second trip to Malawi left many colorful impressions.

Emotions tugged and pulled.

Sleep lost and sometimes found.

Intensity, warmth, openness, exploration, uncertainty, inspiration, fear, hope, encouragement, sadness, yearning, creativity, disappointment, and trust were all part of my journey.

My professional capabilities were stretched.

Rich experiences and memories linger.

Thank each of you for sharing this journey with me.

I am grateful for your engagement, your encouragement, and your insight as I find my way.

Simple moments bring much into our lives.

Often, my challenge is to be "present" and open enough to recognize and hold these gifts.

This is certainly true with intense travel and documentary work.

The little boy in this picture reminds me of this opportunity.

I want to bottle his joy and excitement!

May his smile and playful energy add a touch of brightness to your day.

Best wishes to all.

Let The Good Times Roll ...

When you need to brake quickly, you wish for tight, firm control of your finely tuned rig.

Yes, this African cyclist is ready, willing, and able.

Why bother with expensive brake levers and a complex mechanical system used by many bike owners when you can have finger tip power?

My buddy, hand and body shown in the picture above, pulls hard on the wire around his thumb and hopes for the best when he needs to stop.

He often travels long distances on the rough trails and uneven dirt roads of southern Malawi.

One sees large quantities of cargo - wood, pumpkins, sugar cane, flour, tobacco, bricks, people of all sizes - transported on older, "customized" bikes such as this machine.

These two wheeled bicycles provide inexpensive mobility, a freedom we tend in America to associate with a car.

Large weight loads and harsh conditions take quite a toll on both the rider and bike.

It is quite common to see shacks converted into bike repair shops on the side of major dirt roads.

The "mechanics" at these shops proudly display a collection of old tires, mechanical pumps, and beat up wrenches and other tools.

Purchasing a vehicle is generally an unimaginable "stretch" for almost all rural families.

Thus, bike ownership is golden.

For forty to a hundred dollars, a semi-rolling rig with an old saddle and heavy metal tubes may be purchased. As you can imagine, bikes are used for years and years and years.

Pedals and a functional chain are optional. Gears are very rare.

As I reflect on my time in Malawi, I touch visual memories with bikes in a central role ...

Families of three or four people riding together with five or more bags of goods they plan to sell at the market.

Women with their babies tied to their backs and one hand on the steering wheel while their personal possessions are held tightly in their other hand.

Young male riders swerving down a dusty path with three or four giant 75 Kg sacks tied to the back of their bikes.

An elderly man walking along side his old, partially broken bike with thick piles of wood fastened to every imaginable piece of the frame.

One way or another, bikes continue to roll and wobble forward along bumpy paths and roads within Malawi's countryside.

Each day, as we traveled through the countryside, my eyes spread wide and laughter came forward from my gut as I witnessed Malawi's version of a cycling parade.

Sapuleni's Story ...

On Thursday last week, I met Sapuleni.

She came with her youngest son to a roadside clinic near "Chipolonga" where our team provides nutritional assessments and, if needed, "Chiponde."

Unfortunately, her son is quite sick with severe acute malnutrition (SAM).

At the clinic, Sapuleni received advice and a bundle of Ready-to-Use-Therapeutic-Food.

Fortunately, with proper treatment, her son his likely to recover.

Before Sapuleni left the clinic, we had a chance to speak.

Her spirit and warm energy stood out in the crowd of mothers that morning.

I asked her if she would allow me to visit her at her home.

Then, I explained my goal.

Through an interpreter, I told her I am working on a documentary project to support children who are hungry, children who live within families that need food and medical attention. I told her I am taking pictures to communicate how clinics such as the roadside program she attended impact family's lives in Malawi.

I tried to explain that I want to better understand the reality of daily experience in a rural village - to touch the world she knows each and every day in an intimate way.

I asked her if she would allow me to bring my camera and sit with her and her family for a day or more during the weekend.

She smiled and let out a light laugh.

Yes, she must have thought, "here is a crazy azungu (white person)."

The notion of her daily life holding interest to someone from a far away place must have been both unusual and surprising. What could she possibly share?

I told her she didn't need to change or alter anything in her day. I spoke about authenticity and my desire to see her experience first hand in an unfiltered way.

After a short pause, she nodded her head and accepted my request.

As Sapuleni walked off in the morning light with her son on her back, I felt encouraged.

I planned to drive three hours early Saturday morning to meet with the chief of her village and then come to her house.

I did not know much about her family or her village, "Kwilasya," yet Sapuleni seemed to express much that I am drawn to with my photography work. She seemed strong, thoughtful, and expressive in her spirit.

In our first conversation, she shared a raw outline of the circumstances that led her to her son's health crisis.

She is very poor.

She has many children.

She has no food.

She has little opportunity for work.

All common challenges in rural Malawi.

I worked with one of the student doctors, a nurse, and a government health worker (a "HSA") to plan our visit.

After driving to her village from Blantyre, we picked up the local health care worker and drove to the chief's home. The chief was not available, but his wife provided permission for us to walk about a half mile on a small path through several fields of corn to visit Sapuleni's house.

By the end of our first three or four hours together, Sapuleni's life unfolded in bolder, more difficult, and more moving ways than I could have predicted.

I left our time together, torn up, moved, hopeful, challenged, worried, and inspired.

Here is a bit of Sapuleni's life story ...

* * *

At this time, Sapuleni does not know her age. This is common for many individuals who live in rural areas of Malawi.

It turns out, she has a very large family - nine children.

Here's the kicker. She is now a single, divorced Mother.

Her previous husband is a fisherman.

When they married, Sapuleni's parents provided the newlywed couple a small piece of sandy dirt to build a home and start a "garden" (think corn).

Sapuleni came from a Muslim family. Her husband came from a Christian family.

As you might guess, these types of mixed faith marriages are tough in any rural community, especially southern Malawi.

To support unity, she converted to Christianity at the time of her wedding.

Sapuleni and her husband built a one room house out of bricks and mud. For about seventeen years, they lived together in this small home and worked their way through tough times with bits of corn, fish, and vegetables as the primary source of food in their diet.

Sapuleni told me that "Hunger season," the period from about November through March, is always tough.

Unfortunately, when Sapuleni was pregnant with her ninth child, she became very sick. She had to go to the closest hospital, which is about ten kilometers from her home. There, she received medical care for about a month.

Since her family has no car or bicycle, communication with her husband and children was difficult during the time she was in the hospital.

After, she gave birth to her child, she returned home and found a surprise. She discovered her husband was sleeping with another woman while she was sick and away from the village.

This led to a series of heated conflicts.

Ultimately, Sapuleni asked her husband to make a choice - faithful marriage or divorce.

He chose divorce.

Suddenly, Sapuleni found herself alone with nine children, no education, no profession, no source of income, and few assets outside of a minor collection of old pots and pans.

To complicate matters, one of her children developed mental health issues.

The marriage separation took place about one year ago. Her husband left their home and ceased all communication and support.

Sapuleni's children are now 18, 17, 16, 15, 13, 9, twins at 6, and 1 year nine months old.

Her days involve constant motion and commitments of care.

Two to three times a day, she must walk about a half hour to get water from a bore hole with a manual pump. This, as you may guess, is not the purest of water sources. She pours several gallons of well water into a large yellow plastic can and returns home.

Her family's diet consists mostly of corn flour and boiled water. Sometimes, Sapuleni can sell bits of corn from her garden or find work in her neighbor's gardens to raise money and afford a bit of small fish and vegetables such as pumpkins.

Her previous husband he has not provided support of any kind. He still lives in the "hood," but his commitment to his first family, Sapuleni and all nine children, vanished completely when he left about a year ago.

The full family is now Sapuleni's sole responsibility.

To support her children, Sapuleni works in the only way she knows how to earn money - she provides manual labor in neighbor's homes and gardens.

Generally, she is paid 30 to 40 Kwacha (twenty to twenty five cents) per day for about eight hours of work.

Imagine this compensation as a means to support nine children. What a challenge.

On Sapuleni's best days, she makes about 100 Kwacha (sixty six cents).

With a day's wages, she can sometimes purchase one or two cups of milled corn flour for "Nsima," the primary source of food for her family.

Sapuleni has no brothers and no sisters. Her father passed away years ago. Her mother, who is about sixty years old, lives nearby in a small mud hut with a thatch roof.

So, there is no extended family to offer support.

Sapuleni's older children split their time between work and school.

They too make meager wages for simple manual labor.

As you may guess, it is difficult for Sapuleni to support her children in school.

Much like many other regions of Africa, Asia, and South America, there are requirements for uniforms and other fees in Malawi's public schools.

In some local classrooms there are over one hundred students - quite a student to teacher ratio.

Almost all teachers in rural Malawi are poorly paid and overworked. As a result, these professionals are sometimes far from sympathetic toward children who cannot meet basic requirements.

It is difficult to keep the poorest of the poor in school.

Quite often, Sapuleni's oldest son is thrown out of classes because he has no funds for simple class fees and no uniform. The fact that he needs to leave school early to work on many weekdays creates further challenges. Yet, Sapuleni continues to push hard for his education for all of her children. She believes this is essential for their future. Her oldest child, who is eighteen years old, currently attends second grade. He had to drop out and then re-enter school during the last year.

Poverty has a way of cycling deeper and deeper.

Sapuleni cannot afford fertilizer. She was not able to get a government voucher. So, her corn crop from the small plot of land around her house is weak and fragile.

I asked Sapuleni what her current feelings are about a large family.

She spoke about her love for her husband and all of her children and the evolving flow of life. She mentioned her experience with family planning. Through her years as a child and young adult, she never had any education in this area or understanding of this concept.

She wanted to be part of a large family.

She did not anticipate life would be so hard.

In Malawi, a large family is generally a source of wealth, blessing, and pride.

Unfortunately, the rest of her village is not in a position to offer support.

Each year, Sapuleni needs more and more food to support her growing children.

Through all her experience, even the rough moments, Sapuleni continues to have faith in God. She spoke about her beliefs and her hope that all will evolve in a positive way.

In may respects, Sapuleni's heart is tied to her children.

When she spoke about her dreams, her words were focused on their future.

Education is her main goal.

She described the importance of each child learning to read - a skill she never developed. At this point in time, only one of her children can read and write.

She spoke about the possibility of her children gaining employment. She yearns for this.

In a full year, Sapuleni's income is often only $30 to $50. Think about this. Her annual income is roughly equivalent to the cost of one dinner for one person at a restaurant in the United States.

Sapuleni allowed me to sit and witness her daily life. I encouraged her to act as though I was not present.

I filmed her making corn stew, cooking tiny fish, gathering corn, feeding her family, cleaning her house, and interacting with her children.

When I entered her home in the middle of the day, it was dark. Two small windows provided the only light. Within the brick walls, I found a barren slab of mud that serves as Sapuleni's floor, a few extra pieces of clothing, an old, broken, plastic radio that was dusty and tied with a cord, a few worn pots, several mosquito nets used as a shelf and a hammock, a wooden board that looked much like a old, abandoned door, and a small swarm of unidentified flying insects.

Outside of one worn, wooden chair, Sapuleni has no furniture of any kind. There is no bed and no kitchen in her home - she cooks outside on a small wooden fire in a thatch hut.

My experience with Sapuleni at her home provided an intimate "brush" with poverty.

She graciously provided an opportunity for me to see how she lived and how she cared for nine children with little material resources.

Sapuleni's life is truly tough. Yet, through our time together, Sapuleni expressed warmth, hope, and a sense of resiliency.

I never sensed any remote sense of blame toward others. Nor did I ever feel she held onto the experience of a "victim." She seemed calm and "present."

She seems to work her way through each day, one day at a time.

It is hard for me to imagine the uncertainty she must live with.

It is fortunate her faith is so strong.

As we left our time with Sapuleni our little team of travelers provided several gifts, bundles of beans, corn flour, sugar, and soap - all cherished and graciously accepted.

As we drove down a long dirt path near her village, many questions flowed through my heart and head.

How might we transform Sapuleni's family's trajectory?

I searched for a way to uplift her experience and create some form of sustainable income.

Is there a way to use a "micro loan," a gift, an investment in inventory or equipment to allow her and her family to transcend current circumstances? How might we allow her to grow more food or produce greater income?

I wondered if there are creative and cost effective solutions that can impact her entire village.

Ideas flowed.

We could purchase a hundred small "chicks" for about fifty dollars. But, how would she feed and protect these little birds? Between the wild dogs and other predators as well as a village of hungry people, it is unlikely this idea can work as well as planned.

We could create a maize mill in her village. This would be valued, but expensive and inefficient given the small number of families nearby.

Fertilizer? Even a single bag would make an extreme difference.

Cloth for hand made products? She would need to learn to sew. Who would her customers be? How would her goods make it to market? Wouldn't this continue her cycle of depency on poorly paid hourly labor?

We might provide funds for inventory to start a small vegetable stand on the main path near her village. Would any food and funding support just be consumed?

We don't have a solution yet, but we are trying to find a promising path that Sapuleni wishes to pursue. We want to drive our engagement from her needs and aspirations. We may involve the chief of her village in this pursuit.

A charismatic and engaged nurse, Rosemarie, who came with me to the village for my visit was moved by Sapuleni's story. She is serving as a local "bridge."

We raised a small amount of money. We plan to explore a range of alternatives. There is a bit of hope.

Sapuleni's story is the story of thousands of mothers in Malawi.

There are no easy solutions to the experience of extreme poverty and hunger.

I recognize that sustainable change for Sapuleni's family is just a "drop in the bucket" for this country's and this continent's needs.

Yet, I don't know where else to start. So often, when we wish to impact large human issues, it requires starting at an intimate level. In many cases, we can not get "there," to a new future, unless we build up the broken pieces of our existing, fragile foundation.

We can toss food and other short-term resources into this crisis. And, we may be able to create powerful healing - much like the outcomes of Project Peanut Butter. At the same time, it seems essential to enable truly sustainable change that comes from within Sapuleni's own home and community.

I am not at all sure how to achieve this. I can see problems with so, so many alternatives.

Almost all of the forty to fifty families who live near Sapuleni share her poverty and food shortage. Working through logistics and potential curruption, cultural challenges, training issue, potential jealousy and equity issues from other village members and related parties, and other concners will all play a part in determining if any support for Sapuleni can be successful in the long term.

Clearly, positive, long-term solutions for this community may involve a combination of many changes - micro loans, small businesses, improved farming and crop yields, more accessible and more effective education, infrastructure investments, technology, and improved family planning are all needed.

It is fascinating to reflect on what people who live in extreme poverty say when you ask a simple question :

"What change will bring the most benefit to your life?"

The four answers I hear most often here in Malawi are: roads, education, fertilizer, and employment.

Ok. There are few individuals who go straight for the"gusto." They simply answer "money."

Yes. Wealth, happiness, and prosperity are defined and achieved in many ways.

Despite Sapuleni's lack of material resources, she has many valuable assets.

My hope?

That the future brings brighter days to her doorstep.

Fish Tales ...

A story from Africa's creative spirit ...

A number of lakes and large rivers exist in Malawi.

Many people travel long distances by foot, bicycle, car, or minibus (a type of cheap, shared taxi) to pursue fish - a luxury and desired source of protein.

Nets and lines are used.

Let's just say the "bait" may be unique and colorful.

Sometimes, a quantity of fresh fish are caught and gathered in a bucket or basket.

The big challenge?

How can one get pounds of raw seafood home in the middle of day with high African heat and long distances to travel?

I am told fresh fish will spoil in just a few hours in Malawi if the fish are bundled up in a car or carried in a basket or bucket. The heat and muggy air will prevail.

Some of you may suggest an ice box as a solution.

Great idea. The only problem? Ice is rare and expensive to generate.

We need a quick, simple, low cost solution, a solution that does not require planning and equipment.

A ways back in time, an African somewhere on this vast continent discovered an elegant alternative to the modern ice box.

This solution involves a vehicle of some kind.

The slightly wealthier traveler, the fisherman with enough "coin" to jump in a mini-bus or the good fortune to be successful as a hitch hiker, may strap his/her "catch" to the mirror outside of the vehicle with a rope through the gill and mouth of each fish.

Then, when the vehicle moves along the dirt and paved roads, moisture from the fresh fish evaporates. And, due to the magic of physics, this evaporation causes cooling.

The faster the speed, the faster the evaporation and the greater the "cooling effect."

In this way, fish can be left, without ice or other sources of preservation, for hours in the deep heat of the day as the vehicle drives from an area near the lakes and rivers to the fisherman's home.

Yes, this approach also creates nutritional benefits - the addition of essential vitamins CO2 and road grit. Fortified fish.

When the fisherman arrives home, the need to scale, clean, and boil or fry the fish is immediate.

I am told, when consumed, "roadside preserved fish" maintains a new and slightly "altered" flavor.

It is clear the hygiene around this process may involve a certain degree of compromise. Yet, the fish make it home without spoiling. Clever.

As they say, "Necessity is the mother and father and grandparent of innovation!"

Ester's Path ...

Just before we met, Olive Menyani and her daughter, Ester, walked three hours in morning darkness to arrive at a nutritional clinic in the village of "Mbiza."

Ester is now ten months old.

Unfortunately, her health is compromised by a number of illnesses.

To complicate her life further, like so many families in this area of Malawi, there is little food currently available within her home.

In this case, Chiponde is positively impacting Ester's condition. Yet, she has a rough path ahead.

The hope is to help Ester get through the next month and into the "harvest season." With food and medical support, the Project Peanut Butter team hopes Ester will recover and grow toward normal height and weight.

When I look at this image, it reminds me of my experience on that morning.

There is something in Ester's eyes that held my attention, tore at my heart.

Perhaps, it is vulnerability, a fragile sense of trust, a sense of openness, or the feeling hope that only a young child can express in such pure form.

Soles That Travel Well ...

Bare feet and long, rock filled trails dominate rural Malawi.

Now, imagine if you spent the first thirty five years of your life walking without shoes on hot, uneven dirt.

You too might develop toes that spread widely and travel boldly.

This mother's youngest child is enrolled in Project Peanut Butter's nutrition program.

This image was produced as she paused on her long walk back to her village.

As I looked through my lens, I wondered about the many stories attached to the soles of her well-worn feet.

These ten toes look as though they "evolved" in form and function, through many colorful experiences, through many years!

Chief Waisoni Injesi ...

We met on a hot Sunday afternoon.

I came to ask Chief Waisoni Injesi for permission to allow me into his village.

As an "Azungu" (white person), it is not appropriate for me to arrive unannounced in a remote African community ... especially with strange equipment and lots of intimate questions.

First, there were formal introductions and meet-the-chief protocol - I learned to shake a chief's hand with reverence, bow from the waist, and ensure my head is lower than the "mighty" chief's head. Ok. I am embellishing a touch.

I came with a local health care worker and a nurse who works in our program. This provided a link to the Chief's world and a means for me to communicate in the chief's language. We sat for about an hour in conversation.

Chief Waisoni Injesi is quite skilled at nodding and prodding and responding.

There were many "Mmmmms" and "Ohooooos."

It took about thirty minutes for me to feel confident that we were on a positive track.

This picture was taken at the end of our time together.

The chief sits in this portrait with one of his wives. That's his daughter and grandchild in the background.

For me, the chief's face and eyes reflect a sense of thoughtful calmness.

He spoke about the way he leads - apparently, he handles crisis and joy with a sense of consistent, stable, strong emotional perspective.

He said he does not receive gifts or any form of taxes and other forced payments from the families in his village.

Chief Injesi is responsible for forty five households near his home.

He became chief for this community thirty six years ago.

He does not know his age.

Turns out, he has two wives. Each wife lives in a different home.

From what I can tell, the chief shuttles back in forth between each wife to ensure diplomacy and balanced leadership is available across his village. Smile.

Through his eyes, despite the progress in many areas of Malawi, it is much more difficult to live today than it was when he first became chief.

There are more people to feed with the same amount of land. This chief's land is sandy and less fertile than many other areas of Malawi.

Of great importance, over the last several years, the chief has not been able to procure government vouchers for discounted fertilizer.

He said that this is the single most important goal he has at this time - to gain access to modern fertilizer.

Chief Waisoni Injesi said almost all of his village is starving during this year's "hunger season."

Even his own family desperately needs food - one of his own children is using "Chiponde."

This chief never went to school. He said that some children in his village are able to attend school. Other children are not able to go to school because their families have no funds for uniforms and other supplies and/or the children are needed to work in the home and in the fields.

A few years back, the chief tried to establish a community garden, a source of mutual support. He hoped to diminish the village food insecurity. Unfortunately, this did not work. Crops never grew effectively. In this case, much like the many existing gardens of corn and tobacco near village homes, fertilizer was too expensive to afford.

Despite all the challenges in chief Injesi's village, he was open, positive, and warm.

He laughed very hard when I gave him my camera to take pictures of his family. His hand shook and his face became very serious as he attempted to work this modern gadget.

He laughed again with great enthusiasm when I started to play with the three dozen children who gathered just outside the chief's gate while we, the "Azungus" (white people), were working through our introduction and request.

In the end, we were granted the chief's full permission to work within his village.

I spent most of a day with an inspirational, single mom named "Sapuleni," who has nine children.

The chief knew her situation and wished her well.

Beauty And The Mud Hut ...

At times, the vivid colors of African fabric and the expressive curves and of an African woman's body seem eternal, especially in warm afternoon light.

I meet this woman, Margret Chitsulo, a few days ago at her home.

She has four children, two boys and two girls.

She and her husband, who works as a fisherman at a nearby lake, are quite poor. 

At this time of year, her family is often without food for days at a time.  When resources allow, she feeds her children bits of corn, millet, rice, and fish.

Yet, her spirit is bright.  

She did not go to school.  Her mother and father did not go to school.  She is pushing hard for her children to complete a basic education.  Her greatest wish is to see her children complete school and start into jobs far from the village where she lives.  She wants her kids to have a life much different than her life, a life without so much hunger and struggle.  

She spent about an hour sharing the details of her home and the activities of her "everyday" afternoon.

  

Tribal Medicine Rattles And Rocks ...

Around noon, in the full heat of the day, I met Fanny Chikopa and her youngest child, Mphatso, in a small village near Chickweo. 

Fanny has four children.  

Each day, her husband walks for several hours to a nearby lake and works as a fisherman.  When all goes well, he catches "chambo" and "matemba."  

Unfortunately, at the end of the day his nets are often empty.  

To help support the family, Fanny tends a small garden of corn and pumpkins near her brick and mud home.  

During hunger season, like so many other families in their village, Fanny has little food to feed her children.  

Fanny spoke about the challenge of making it through January, February, and March each year.  

Poverty and hunger are not a new experience for Fanny.  She has five brothers and four sisters.  Quite typical for Malawi.  Her parents and her siblings live in the same village.

You may note the charm on Mphatso's neck.  

There is a story behind this piece of powerful jewelry.

A tribal "healer" made this necklace for Mhpatso to overcome sickness at a young age.

When Mphatso was eight months old, he was very sick.  His eyes were infected and he struggled to maintain general health.  

At first, Fanny took her son to the local, rural hospital.  Unfortunately, after weeks of treatment, he did not get well with traditional, western, "allopathic" medicine.  

So, Fanny took Mphatso to see a tribal doctor to gather a "second opinion." 

The local traditional "healer" assessed Mphatso's illness and informed Fanny that "the bones in her son's head were not united."  The "healer" then told Fanny that Mphatso's head would grow large if he was not treated with special herbs.  

Fanny paid a fee of 50 Kwacha (33 cents) and the "healer" mixed a special potion of herbs.  

The "healer" then wrapped the herbs in cloth and tied thread around the "medicine" -  the necklace  shown in the picture.  

Mphatso has been wearing this "medicine" for four months. 

Fanny said that Mphatso has ten more months of treatment to finish his therapy. 

Apparently, ever since the necklace was put in place, Mphatso's eyes improved and his health changed dramatically.  

Fanny is convinced that the traditional medicine led to Mphatso's recovery.

Who knows?   From my vantage point, this may be true.  

Faith and momentum in one's beliefs are powerful tools.

In a few months, Mhpatso, which translates as "gift" in english, will walk about in a colorful, difficult world.   

Harvest will bring plenty of corn and vegetables for the early months of the Spring and Summer, yet the annual hunger cycle and challenges associated with extreme poverty will likely continue.  

Mphatso's early path has been touched by both the old and the new.  

Yet, his future is filled with uncertainty.  

How Malawi will change?  My guess?  Slowly. 

How will his village evolve?  It depends.  Roads and infrastructure can transform a region in a few years, but the resources to create these changes are not readily available.   The tribal chiefs I met with indicated it is harder now than it was years ago for families across the region.

Will there be a solution to food shortages and extreme poverty that is sustainable and effective?  This is complex.  No one has a viable and proven path at this time.  

It may take several generations before electricity and clean water are widely available near Mphatso's home.

  

One thing is clear.  Mphatso needs both traditional and modern faith, a deeper education than his parents and grand parents, and new opportunities to thrive.

  

Chief Mphatso Mati Mati ...

Chief Mphatso Mati Mati, which means "Gift Tomato" in English, agreed to meet with me a few days ago.

You may note his regal "flip flops."  

Yes.  He recognized I am a very, very important visitor.

Chief Mphatso Mati Mati leads 1,600 families in a area near "Chipolonga."

As an "Azungo," I sought his permission to visit three families within a nearby village.

The blue bag near his feet is the "offering" I brought for our meeting - beans, soap, corn flour, and sugar.  

After a long introduction and explanation of our work by the nurse and translator who traveled with me, the chief and I held a warm conversation.

It turns out, Chief Mphatso has been "chief" for fifteen years.  

He was appointed at age twenty one years old to his current role by the village community.  Apparently, he had the "right stuff."

Despite options to expand his marriage options, the chief has just one wife and seven children.

He spoke about how he leads.  He uses old school tools such as messengers and town hall meetings to communicate with his constituency.  He spoke about poverty and conflict.  He spoke about crops and harvest.  

The thatch structure on the left side of the image above is his own drying hut for tobacco.  Few individuals in Malawi smoke, but tobacco is known as a sturdy crop that produces cash.

The brick and mud structure behind him is his home.

Fortunately, he knew about Chiponde.  

During our conversation, he reflected on the ongoing work the non profit group I am associated with completed over the last few years.  He assessed our small caravan.  He listened and asked a few hard questions.  

Then, with a nod and a light smile, he granted me access to his village.

Off we went ...