Chonde tikhali cheke

This morning Mari dropped us off on her way to work to walk up a nearby mountain, which has a big cross on the top of it, and the stations of the cross at intervals on the path up to the top of the mountain.  This was erected on the mountain by the founder of the Krizevac Foundation, which is the organization behind Beehive, the IT college and the new nursery.

To people who know us well, the thought of me and Lin walking the stations of the cross might  seem a little unlikely, but it is also a very pleasant walk up the mountain, with lovely views over Blantyre, and a lot of birds and butterflies. 

What struck me most strongly as we set off, was the contrast between the quiet of the mountain on one side of us, and the hubbub of Blantyre below us; but most of all that the sound of the city was primarily the sound of human voices, rather than the traffic noise you would hear in a British city.  There was an occasional burst of music, the inevitable cockerel crowing, and sometimes some kind of machinery, but the sound of Blantyre talking was what drifted up the mountain.

We saw a few people on our way.  We were following a young man up the path, who stopped at every station of the cross to pray – even so he reached the mountain top before us, because we stopped even more frequently, either to rest in the shade, to have a drink, or for Lin to take a photo.  She managed to get some very good shots, especially of birds and butterflies, but this took patience, and quite a bit of time too.

About halfway up, we met two young men cleaning one of the plaques, using lemons and soap.  We stopped and greeted them, and chatted for a little bit; took their photograph, and then went on – learning a new phrase in the process “Muyenda bwino” – travel well.

We followed the rocky path quite easily for the most part, with help from the stations of the cross themselves, and the occasional yellow sign saying “Chonde tikhali cheke – Silence please”.  This did not apply to the whole route, but was designed to stop chattering passers-by disturbing people at prayer.

Finally we reached the top, and spent about half an hour taking pictures of the spectacular views, spotting buildings we recognized, and chatting to the young man we had been following.  After he left us, I walked all round the cross, which is enormous, and discovered another, wooden cross, leaning up against one side of the concrete one, which someone must have carried all the way up there, presumably as some kind of penance, or petition.

The journey down took us less time, despite a lot of bird photography!  Since we have been here we have named a lot of birds we recognize only by their call.  Marian had already christened one bird the “squeaky wheelbarrow bird”, to which we have added the “bicycle pump bird” and the “monkey bird”.  We both got quite excited because I managed to spot a bicycle pump bird in song, and Lin even got a picture of it, so we could look it up in Vince’s bird book.  Sitting here, we haven’t done it yet – perhaps I don’t really want to know what its proper name is!

We also saw a leaf which had been eaten almost exactly symmetrically on both sides, which, of course, Lin had to photograph.  We decided this had been eaten by “symmetrical munching caterpillar”.

By the time we made it to the bottom of the mountain, it was really beginning to get quite hot.  We successfully followed Marian’s instructions, and found our way through the streets of Chilomoni to the IT college, passing on the way a sign which said “Sod off photographers”.  I missed it, and when Lin told me about it, my automatic reaction was to ask her whether she’d taken a  photo of it, which reduced us both to hysterics.  Some of the shop signs here are amazing – one of my favourites is the “God is able hair salon”, closely followed by “Aunt Mange’s hair salon” and Marian has seen one called “When God says yes boutique”.  Religion is really so much a part of everyday life here.

It was further to the college than we had realized, but we made it in time for lunch.  Marian had taken Sue and Brian to the airport, and was then asked to wait and pick up a new volunteer who was arriving, called Chris.  Unfortunately his plane was delayed, so she wasn’t back for lunch or for our planned visit to the Chilomoni Children’s Centre Construction workers’ choir.  Earlier in the week we were amazed, and impressed, to discover that the construction workers have not only a choir, but also a drama group, which goes out to villages performing educational plays about HIV and AIDS.  It’s quite hard to imagine that sort of thing happening on a British building site – or am I stereotyping too harshly? Perhaps it’s akin to a colliery brass band?

The choir master was at the English class last night, and, when we expressed an interest in coming to listen, he invited us warmly to come and teach them a song.  There was a lot of debate over dinner last night about what we could sing, and even by lunch time we weren’t quite sure.

Lunch was nsima and beans.  Finally! – Nsima!  How can I describe it?  It looks rather like mashed potato at first glance, but it doesn’t move like mashed potato – it almost wobbles like jelly.  I couldn’t help but think that they make glue out of cornstarch, as I contemplated it!  However, mixed in well with beans and sauce, it was actually fine.  It doesn’t really taste of much anyway, and it’s really the texture which takes a bit of getting used to.

Lin and I then followed the sound of the choir round the corner and into the half-completed children’s centre, picking up our hard hats on the way.  The choir was in full voice as we arrived.  We stood there in the concrete shell of the children’s centre, listening as they stood in a circle, in their dirty overalls, with smiles on their faces, and sang with energy and enthusiasm, and harmonies to make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. It brought a tear to my eye, it was so beautiful.  When they finished, Lin and I applauded them.  The choirmaster turned round and asked if we would sing with them, and we joined the circle, and were given the words to a Chichewa song, written out on a piece of paper.

One of them said, “First learn the words and the music, and then you can tell us what it means!”  I looked at the sheet and said, “Well Yesu is Jesus, and Alleluya is Hallelujah, but that’s all I can manage!”  which made them all laugh.  Luckily the woman standing next to me had a really strong voice, so I was able to keep to the alto part reasonably well.  I think the experience of singing with the construction workers choir is probably the highlight of my holiday so far.  When it ended, the choirmaster told us to go away and practice, and that the choir practices on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.  I explained that we will be on holiday next week, but that I would come to practices in the two weeks after that, whenever I am on the site.  I am now a member (temporary) of the Chilomoni construction workers’ choir!

The whole experience gave us both a real lift for the afternoon, and we headed back to the IT college to scrounge a cup of coffee, which Hugh obligingly provided, even though he doesn’t drink it himself!  We then retired to the reception area, to avoid disturbing the workers, apart from the receptionist, who was reading a book about the English royal family, and sat chatting, and waiting for Marian to pick us up.

When she arrived, we drove into Blantyre, and went to the Ryalls Hotel, probably the most expensive hotel in Blantyre, where we went to a travel agency and booked next week’s trip to a game reserve, and then had tea and cake – very delicious!  Then home for supper – chicken curry – via the Liquor Garden to pick up Sarah and Marc.