The school my sitemate taught at is right near a baobab tree, a tree native to Malawi, usually huge and really old with thick yet delicate branches and a crazy collection of roots. For her village farewell her community organized a ceremony right under it. As is typical for Malawian ceremonies it was excruciatingly long and filled with odd speeches, dramas, and lots and lots of latecomers shuffling and falling into seats. I sat next to Alyssa, my sitemate as she accepted bags of groundnuts, folded up 50 kwatchas, and handshakes saying goodbye to her community of roughly two and a half years. And though much of the time I spaced out following the twisting and turning of baobab roots, I did realize that throughout the ceremony I felt a true demonstration of the huge range of ups and downs that I encounter and live through in Malawi. The men in the drama group that I work with, were of course drunk, which I confirmed after they took a picture with me and demonstrated their oh-so-sweet breath, the guests of honor were quite late, and the man in charge ignored a whole group of women who were not acknowledged when the groundnut group they worked with were introduced. But with the drunkenness, lateness, and disregard, was also a presentation by students who expressed their gratitude both sincerely and eloquently, an appearance of all the outsiders she invited from neighboring villages, and a crazy dance done by students in awkward costumes.
At the end of the ceremony everyone created sort of an assembly line to shake Alyssa’s hand and wish her the best in her journey back home. A long line of students, community leaders, drunken drama boys, chiefs, and friends stood in line and shook her hand. Most of them took her hand and said ‘thank you,’ so sincerely and heartfelt that I was close to crying. Alyssa and I then headed back to her house where she started packing, her boarders started cleaning, and various community members lingered both in and outside the house. And then all these people starting asking for things. Of course, Alyssa had given some of her things away, but its always a difficult quandary when wanting to give belongings away, knowing people need them, but at the same time not wanting to favor people, not wanting to establish yourself as so wealthy you can always purchase new things, and just in general the hassle of deciding who and how or for what to pass off stuff to. So many people came asking Alyssa for items picking up bike pumps, telling her she promised them chitenges, demanding buckets. She was quite rightfully annoyed as she frantically packed and her community wouldn’t give up on the taking aspect, right after so many of them had so thoughtfully thanked her.
I was telling this to one of my other sitemates and how it bothered me and how it was so difficult to experience such an extreme of emotions, being so touched by gratitude and then ten minutes later seeing all of these people with seemingly little respect taking, demanding, and asking for the things Alyssa would leave behind. He then pointed out that maybe they didn’t really find it all that disrespectful. Alyssa and I had been talking previously about how people will just keep asking for more. And more. Alyssa worked as a teacher at her school for a full two years, working not only at the school but with different groups on pressing and selling oil, on the construction of a library, and with a Girl Guide group. She then extended for seven months to continue working and teaching and I would say maybe more than two months before she left her community and the surrounding community would badger her about how she wasn’t staying for longer. Part of me feels that maybe if I were living in a village where I had limited resources and often just not enough of basic necessities, I too, would just ask until I was completely shot down. Because why not? What do they really have to lose? At the same time its difficult not to become frustrated when you feel you are sacrificing a lot and the gratitude you receive is expressed in wanting you to sacrifice more. But all sacrifice is hard and I think here maybe why it’s so upsetting is because I am not at all sure my efforts of sacrifice will be remembered or last. And maybe that’s actually something to learn, because that’s not really the point of sacrifice anyway.
