Monkey Bay Market

Had a great trip to the Monkey Bay market last week - only my second in 7 weeks as I am now a full time working mother and that leaves very little time for the things which feed the soul! Not many souls would be nourished by the Monkey Bay market - but I know some of you whose would! It is hell of a hot and hell of a dusty and hell of a loud - in fact pure hell for those who are not obsessed bargain hunters like myself (and others who know who they are!).
Under the baobab tree are about 30 vendors of piles of second hand clothes which have apparently done the rounds of European and American second hand stores and have been sent to Africa as a last resort. This is a contentious issue for the more leftie of aid workers, as apparently this has affected African countries' textile industries. However, from first hand observation, I must say that the local textile trade is all in chitenjes, and, because every local woman wears one every day over her western clothes (and often wears two if she has a baby to sling over her shoulder - and many do!)there is very little danger of the chitenje trade ever dying out. But it does mean that, instead of everyone being dressed in rags or shocking nylon Chinese imports (a far greater danger), people have access to cheap, well-made clothes. Prices are highest for t-shirts and boardshorts, which are like a uniform for the male youth here.
Local traders buy bales of clothes which have been sorted into types - "Blousie, Spagetti (strappy tops), T-shuttie, Dressie," etc. And then sell them for a fluctuating price (I suspect) according to whether you are a Mzungu (whitie) or a local. This makes me feel better about buying as I think the vendor makes more if I buy and I certainly buy more than any locals - so everyone is happy.
Anyway, for me it is a joy to scuffle through the unlikely-looking piles and come across gems. Have found labels, labels, labels, sweeties! Last week the last dismal-looking pile turned out to be Italian label frocks of various eras - some splendours. One was a lime yellow silk mini, never worn, label still attached! Oh the thrill! My children are dressed exclusively in Monkey Bay finds (sadly they favour things emblazoned with Buzz Lightyear and Spiderman and the thrill they get from such hideous articles offsets my disgust of them.)
But probably even more soul-feeding than the treasure hunt was the journey there and back. I set off all alone (treat!) in Jurie's flash 4x4 which has a clever ipod thingy that works off his tape deck. So I had gorgeous music blaring and the road winds (really winds I mean, in a hairpin after corkscrew fashion!) through the hills of the Lake Malawi National Park, which are covered in what is known as Miombo woodland. It is exquisite - the trees are all green still and have incredibly twisty branches - almost like the trees in Japanese woodcuts, or Pierneef paintings. One has to drive very slowly as the road is dirt and being worked on at the moment, and there is a cyclist carrying a live goat, or a roll of 2m long mats, or a carefully balanced pile of 20 egg trays, or three live ducks, or 1m long woven baskets of charcoal, or two women and a baby, around every corner. It is all very scenic....

black and blue, but barrelling on

Hello all
I know you've just heard from me, but that missive was all jolliness (apart from our poor thief) ,and now I must vent about what living in Aahfrica is doing to my offspring.
Last week (naturally during my one night away at Mua) Ben and Buji were having a game of rough (why is it that boys play much, much rougher games when being looked after by their fathers?) in the kitchen and when Buj drew back his arm to punch some fellow, Ben ran into it at speed and was caught full in the eye by the elbow. He managed to stagger to Bush and then passed out for at least a few seconds. Apparently Bush was exemplary in the crisis and got his tongue out of the way and laid him down and checked his pupils and all the usuals and Ben then came to seemingly without further damage. Had I been there I would have wanted to rush him to the doctor, but men are of sterner (and I can't help feeling, more heartless) stuff and carried on regardless. Still, to their credit, it is a week later and he shows no signs of damage. The he rushed onto the jetty to swim and got a splinter about 2cm long in his heel that he refused to let me at with my needle and tweezers. But miraculously, it is already out after applications of traxa every night.
Then Eddie fell right off Liinu's landing with a splat, but after a good cry, was fine. Then yesterday he managed to take a slice of skin off his finger (no-one knows how) and soon after that disaster, saw a huge boat tie up at our jetty (the navy on some sort of junket with many well-dressed ladies and beers) and in his haste to see it raced for the stairs and straight into them, sending his teeth right into his upper lip. He now looks like a very mournful duck. Somehow there is even a wound outside his lip too and the inside looks cut and bruised. But he is undeterred and still eating and it didn't bleed for long so I listened to Jurie and Bush's advice and didn't rush him off to the clinic (I always feel kids are likely to pick up worse things there with all those ill people waiting around). But last night I did worry and kept getting up to silently apply unguents to him as he slept (almost impossible when he's awake.)
Then I went on my first paddle (we've been here over a month and you will remember it was my resolution to paddle every day! Can only say that I have been too busy, I really have!) and ended up with such a sore back which I then immobilised completely when I rushed ofter Ben and Buj in a panic as they jumped off the jetty in the dark after supper despite strict instructions that Ben was not allowed to (Jurie let Buj, so that rather did in my restriction). Of course as the bigger boys ran off down the jetty (panic already!) Eddie followed them and I raced after them all yelling blue murder and seized Ed only to find my back in a vice-like grip of muscle spasm the like of which I have never experienced. Left Bush to deal with any disaster and walked off to my bed like a bent-over automaton, trying not to weep. It was terrible. Couldn't turn all night, but Bush was a dear and sorted out the errant boys and bathed them and put them to bed while I lay like a very sorry for myself plank.
Still, all is well really - it's our day off and Bush has the hammock and New African magazine, the three boys are quietly doing puzzles and I am on the floor writing this with a cup of tea at my side. Java is away in the village being a local with Lioness.
All is peaceful, if a bit buckled and bent!

chitenjes, a thief and mua mission

Have just been on an epic chitenje shopping trip to the metropolis of Lilongwe. In the Old Town is a rabbit warren of a market place (one of many I think) and there, along the back wall, under a baking sheet of corrugated iron roof, are the ladies of Zambia. They all wear and sell and fit wigs of curly hair and, more importantly for Pam and I, have tables and tables groaning under the weight of fabulous, stupendous, gorgeous chitenjes from Tanzania in the main, but also from Gambia and Ivory Coast. We spent rather a lot of time and money in that sweltering place. I nearly fainted at one point (whether from the heat or the splendour of the patterns is debatable). One has to buy from almost every woman otherwise you are in for it (a VERY bad look is about all, actually) and so one has to extensively chat and negotiate. But the fabric made it all worthwhile. I think I will wear only chitenje clothes from now on. It is real love!
Getting to Lilongwe was an adventure on many fronts. Firstly we had to go and fetch one of our employees from the local police station where he had been locked up for stealing kikois. Didn't want to have to do it as he is such a nice chap, but Jurie was in no mood for girlish squeamishness and gave us short shrift. So we had to drop him and his fellow prisoner (handcuffed together in the back seat)off at the Monkey Bay police station (a pit). Of course he said how sorry he was on the way and reduced me to tears (had to stare out the window for a long while). Such a silly crime and because he sold them to ladies in the village, he was bound to be caught. Now he has lost his job with us.
This sad detour made us late for our stopover at Mua Mission. What a joy that place is! It was started 100 years ago by Catholic brothers, and has been run by an artistic Father since 1976. It has a cultural centre of magnificence - every building is painted in concrete frescos and one can stay in the guest centre which has little rondavels beautifully decorated with carved everything - loo roll holders, curtain rails, doors, pillars, masks at the door and goodness knows what else. It was truly splendid - especially as the drive there was horribly dusty and sweaty as they are working on the roads. It was over a delicious dinner that Davey, our driver, told us that the intentions of the police at Monkey Bay were to beat our thief the next day to extract any missing information. So into a spin we went again and sent a flurry of messages and phonecalls to Bush and Jurie insisting they intervene. Well, they did and dropped charges and he is now free, but lacking a job. The whole debacle did rather take the shine off our adventure, though.
But the next day we had another visual feast when we saw the carvings they do there - so intricate and gorgeous. Bought a lot for our shop. Such gorgeous almost circular bowls with lids, carved all over with intertwined leaves. Beautiful.
Treats in store for anyone who visits!