Plan Malawi in partnership with the Mulanje District health and sanitation stakeholders, had successfully implemented CLTS and supported their communities in becoming ODF. Organized by Plan Malawi, 4 villages, Kamwendo, George, Mawindo and Napweto, were being recognized. Given that the area was prone to diarrheal diseases and there had been deaths in the past due to cholera outbreaks, the celebration meant more than just speeches and dancing. It gave the community the feeling of pride and empowerment for reaching a goal that ensured taking care of their own development and providing a brighter future for themselves.

This is no ordinary celebration. A celebration such as this calls for important people, including the District Commissioner, a Member of Parliament, a Minister, the District Health Officer, and the Traditional Authority. This celebration was witnessed by the Malawi Government Minister of Information and Civic Education who also happens to be the Member of Parliament for the area. High profile government officials were also present and they included the District Commissioner, District Health Officer, District Environmental Health Officer and other stakeholders.

A two hour drive into Mulanje last week, my team and I reached Kamwendo village to witness our first ever ODF ceremony. Along with us were Health Surveillance Assistants (HSAs) from Phalombe, who were excited to take part in the ceremony and learn from discussions with their fellow HSAs.

Stepping through a field of mud as the rain lightly drizzled, we reached the community-constructed canopy under which we were to be seated. An excited crowd of community members from the celebrated villages walked proudly towards the seats, anxiously awaiting the opening remarks. The community members stood in anticipation, creating a concert-like audience around the seated invitees, colouring the scene with their fancy chitenje clothes.

Messages of “Titenge Mbali Popititsa Ukhondo Wa Mmudzi Patsogolo” (translated, “Take part in improving sanitation of our villages”)were observed everywhere, on t-shirts worn by the staff and banners strung across the stage.

A prayer and introduction later, the crowd was introduced to the guests by the MC. Traditional dancers appeared next – men and women in vibrant coloured chitenje were dancing to the own rhythm of their singing and clapping, the crowd gracefully joining them in song.

It wouldn’t be a celebration without a traditional drama skit. A comedic performance left everyone in laughter. Funny stories of community members getting caught open defecating, the use of community by-laws, and avoidance of building latrines by sneaking to the nearby school’s ground, were dramatically exaggerated performed.

The event was topped off with the unveiling of the highly-anticipated ODF billboard commemorating the villages for becoming ODF! Placed at the side of the road for vehicles and passer-bys to see, the large sign boastfully displayed the communities’ achievement.

On a personal level, the ODF celebration to me, represented the opportunity for learning and sharing. It was wonderful to see the HSAs from the Phalombe CLTS program engaged so intently in discussion with their fellow Mulanje HSAs. Taking out their pens and notebooks, the dedication for them to also drive their own communities to reach ODF was evident. Encouraged by the celebration, these HSAs not only found new hope and motivation in themselves, they also took away the importance of learning. The HSAs excited to get back to Phalombe to continue being the driving force and on-the-ground support for CLTS in their own district!

There was much absorbed from attending this celebration, but perhaps the most important take-away was the notion of always taking events as learning opportunities. It was priceless to see the extension workers discussing and reflecting together, learning from one another and feeling empowered to be part of something greater than themselves.

Mrs. Buleck had gone straight to her mother’s village from the hospital. It is tradition for the mother to visit their family’s home to introduce the newborn to the their relatives and allow them to care for the baby during his or her first week or so.

It was to my surprise, however, that when Mrs. Buleck came home with her son, he didn’t have a name yet. “We just call him ‘the baby’”, she answered me with a big bright smile. “Me and my husband want you to pick a name for him.” Those who know me, know that I have a love for babies. You can only imagine how excited I was to be given the honour of naming this new bundle of joy.

Naming a child seemed like an easy enough task, but it became quite the opposite as I went through potential names in my head. I’ve heard a handful of interesting and odd Malawian names since I’ve arrived: Gift, Treasure, Loveness, Troubles, Blessing.. the list goes on.

There were a lot of factors I needed to include in my decision for a name.
• Ease of pronunciation: It had to be easy for people to say because R’s and L’s are often interchanged here in Malawi. My own experience having my name improperly pronounced “Chessa” or “Tahssa” led me to cross off any names starting with T and followed by an E.
• Length and ease of remembrance: The name had to be relatively short and easy to remember. Three syllable names were fine so long as they were either common or unique enough to remember. My name was often heard as “Natasha”, which was always positively accepted with a “that’s a nice name”.
• Meaning: After the first few attempts at correctly pronouncing my name during an introduction, the next question that follows is typically, “Tahssa. What does it mean?”. If it’s not a Biblical name, and not one that already has an obvious meaning such as Lucky or Special, the significance of a name is a fair question to ask.

The Buleck family had already given him a Chichewa name, Yankho. It means, “the answer”. They had asked me to provide an English name for their son. With a traditional name like “The Answer”, it was obvious to me that the name had to carry significant meaning, or at least a story behind it. I had an entire weekend to ponder my decision and told Mrs. Buleck that I would name her new son when I returned.

Gratitude found me in many forms this past weekend. It found me in old and new friends, it found me in comforting conversations and hard conversations, it found me in sharing warm hot chocolate during a cool rainy day. And it found me right before departing back to Phalombe, in the taxi driver who picked up Genevieve and I while we walked briskly in the rain, and dropped me off at the depot in time to catch my bus. All this without expecting anything in return, all this out of the caring of his heart.

That was the story that ended the weekend, a much needed weekend of reflection and tough conversations, with the friends who cared for me like family, and a determination in me to always remember self-love.

I asked him for his name, he said it was Anthony. I thanked him for the kind gesture, grateful that it was the unexpected surprise that I needed. He happened to be my answer at that very moment, and was the story and significance for the new name for the new baby.

“ANTHONY!!”, Mr. Buleck exclaimed in joy (although he happened to pronounce it “Antony”). “That is a good name. I am very happy with that name”. Mrs. Buleck giggled and softly whispered “Antony” to her new son in her arms.

A few other heads popped into the room to see what the commotion was about. And so I started to explain the story of the name, happy to hear several happy murmurs of “Antony” around the room as I proceeded.

An allowance: An amount of money allowed, granted or paid to a person, typically to meet specified needs or expenses.

At first thought, an allowance would seem pretty harmless. A lunch allowance to repay for the missed lunch during a required field supervision visit or an accommodation allowance for attending a mandatory 2-day workshop off-site — harmless, right? And rightfully fair, considering the travel costs and time away from working on regular job duties. When allowances are provided to compensate for extra work or professional development earned, they would appear fair and well deserved.

But when allowances are provided without necessity, it can create a negative system that only perpetuates with further unnecessary and unjustified allowance hand-outs.

A lunch allowance for attending a meeting that ends 2 hours before lunchtime? Yes, it happens.
An allowance for giving a 5 minute speech at the introduction of a workshop? Yes, it happens.
A hugely inflated accommodation allowance for holding a slightly higher government rank? Yes, it happens.

And what happens when this allowance system keeps people feeling entitled to receiving money for any off-site work they have to do, regardless of whether or not it is part of their job description? Sometimes, something like this morning happens — The beginning starts with a room full of happy field workers ready to have a 20 minute conversation about a newly introduced program, the middle involves the infamous question “will we get an allowance?”, and the end involves a half-empty room and a whole lot of frustration.

When an allowance becomes the motivation and incentive to do your regular job, it creates incredible challenges for trying to get people to take interest, value or responsibility again in their work. Many NGOs today will incentivize people through the provision of unjustified allowances, enabling the sense of allowance entitlement. I don’t know what the solution is, but maybe it’ll take more mornings like today where an NGO risks the consequences of saying no to “will we get an allowance?” and does their part in trying to change the current norm.

For more on experiences with allowances, read my EWB colleague’s blog post, “Allowances. Sigh”, here: http://kristinastories.wordpress.com/

You don’t have those articles of clothing anymore. They’re history and long gone. You can’t remember which charity organization or second-hand store you had donated them to, but it doesn’t matter, because they are not part of your life anymore.

Well, it happens that, they are very much part of mine. Your first pair of snowpants, those brand-name jeans that fit a little too snug, those heavy duty construction boots that didn’t serve any purpose anymore, the free t-shirt you received after volunteering for community service, those high-heeled red pumps that were passed down to you from your mother for grad formal, and that fuzzy plush animal backpack that you carried around during your childhood days – they’ve taken a new life of their own – on the streets of Phalombe Trading Center, Malawi!

Your donations may have reached your local Value Village store, but if they weren’t picked up there, they could have very well settled down in Malawi, Africa, sometimes with the tags still in tact. A 5 dollar shirt is now selling in the market for 100 kwacha – approximately 60 cents.

Take a look at Yasmine in her adorable, pretty pink princess dress – she showed it off to me proudly when I visited her parents for lunch. It’s just one of the many market finds for under 200 kwacha, and worth every tambala. She eats, plays and sometimes even sleeps in this dress, giving it a whole new life in Malawi.

These awesome finds don’t escape non-Malawians either. Yes, I’ll admit it. I have fallen victim to being a second-hand market shopaholic.

Every Monday and Thursday are market days. People come from neighbouring districts to sell their items: vegetables, fruit, fish, random hardware, bed sheets, suitcases, pots and buckets, and of course.. clothes! Piles and piles of clothes just waiting to be sorted, tried and purchased. And every Monday and Thursday, I make sure to stop by the market to scope out these piles of treasure that the West has given away. Not even “potentials” go un-noticed because even crazy and wild prints can be turned into brand new wardrobe pieces for just a few cents at the local tailor.

Apart from purchasing a great find, chuckling at Value Village tags still attached to perfectly good clothes as I sort, or just simply enjoying the 2 times of week that I get to “go shopping”, there’s one more thing I thoroughly enjoy on market days. That is, seeing eager and excited shoppers try on various articles of clothing all at once. So, you know that red and green wool sweater, those funky patterned rain boots and that fuzzy plush animal backpack? Well, those items did strut their stuff last Thursday, on the fashion forward streets of Phalombe.

The trash in Aisle 3 found it’s way to being treasures in Pile 3.

If you support the work that we do, the people we do it for, and the impact that it’s making, I encourage you to check out my perspective: https://perspectives.ewb.ca/tessaroselli

Tessa’s Perspective: Putting a Stick in the Wheel

My village brother Kesten gave me a lift to work one morning on his push bicycle. I sat on the back shelf that is used for transporting items. That’s him, in that photo with me, a little camera shy but mostly delighted to have his picture taken.

Kesten about to take me to work on his bicycle

On the way that morning, he asked me if I knew how to ride. Before he gave me the chance to answer, he proceeded to tell me “njinga yanga ili bwino” (my bike is good), but that it had required several repairs and maintenance efforts. In my broken Chichewa, I asked him if he ever hoped for a new bicycle. His response was again, “njinga yanga ili bwino”. It was clear that he felt proud of his bicycle and was happy to continue making investments to keep it functioning. It didn’t matter how many times he had to fix it, because he valued the outcome from those repairs: a working bicycle.

Kesten’s response reminded me of the reason why I am here – to invest in meaningful efforts and change towards a working system. Sometimes, like Kesten’s bicycle, lots of small repairs are needed. But sometimes, the repair needed is to disrupt the system to break the momentum that is steering it towards a cliff.

We are all too familiar with the issues around foreign aid. We’ve heard it time and time again – development projects continue to fail due to a lack of sustainability, inefficient resource use, poor coordination & collaboration with key stakeholders, or a disregard to implement through/into existing systems. The reality is, this happens all the time – whether it is in Malawi or any other developing nation. Good intentions aren’t enough – while trying to work towards improving human development, many organizations have continued to perpetuate this cycle. They are making small crucial repairs to the bike, without realizing their steering in the wrong direction.

Engineers Without Borders is taking a different approach by deciding to be the change they want to see. We have chosen to work on problems that matter, in a way that makes sense, to create impact that lasts. We have chosen to “repair” the bicycle by putting a stick in the wheel.

In Phalombe District, Malawi, things are still developing. The district recently welcomed several NGOs, including EWB, interested in helping improve the sanitation and hygiene of its rural communities. There are many stakeholders involved and differing approaches being implemented.

EWB is acting different. We are choosing to stop the current way the wheel is turning by exploring a new modality – we are working directly through the existing local government systems and community-level structures, rather than creating short term parallel structures that end with the project. Instead of following the typical in-and-out approach of most NGOs that don’t consider the long-term implications of the way they approach districts, EWB is helping to build the capacity of government officers and community members to take ownership of the program, and continue the low-resource scaling of sanitation and hygiene promotion through CLTS (http://postcardsfrommalawi.wordpress.com/2011/06/04/lets-talk-about-sanitation/). We’re showing that working through permanent structures is feasible, and can create long lasting change. We’re making lasting impacts in communities, and showing that there are better ways than the current NGO project model.

We’re putting a stick in the wheel to change the current norms through unconventional approaches.

A stick in the wheel to support the development of a system that works.

A system where organizations and local governments work hand-in-hand to provide the right solutions to the people who need it most. A system that strives towards a common goal and ensures the change is systemic, not just localized and temporary. A system that values the involvement of all stakeholders equally and promotes greater justice and sustainability. A system that creates lasting impact.

I sat beside Phalombe’s District Water Supervisor in his office today, my computer fully charged in anticipation to facilitate another computer lesson on Microsoft Excel. He had committed to working on computer lessons twice a week with me in hopes of improving his technical skills on inputting, analyzing, interpreting and making decisions with the district’s water point data.

He pulls up a chair beside mine and we re-cap on the computer functions and techniques we had gone through during our previous lesson. As we start to go through the various ways one can use the sort function to rearrange columns of data, he asks me a question that later prompted some development thoughts that I had been sitting on for a while.

“What’s the difference between backspace and delete?”

A member of the EWB Ottawa Chapter had first sparked my thoughts on this metaphor for development work a few months ago. What is the right way to go when dealing with interventions in the developing world. Is it better to BACKSPACE and go back to the drawing board to change the way we are currently approaching interventions, or is it better to DELETE and simply throw away an approach or method that didn’t seem to work?

The thought that immediately came to mind was the very reason I was stationed in Phalombe in the first place. Engineers Without Borders, in consortium with another NGO InterAide, are working through the Phalombe District Council to implement CLTS. It is a different modality which allows the District Council to be the coordinating body throughout the project’s lifespan, and for the district to eventually take ownership of CLTS activities after the 1 year term is up.

With this new approach, we can say that we’ve hit delete. Often, NGOs come into a district with an intervention they want to implement on their own. However, the NGO will use district personnel, resources and time without actually having the district involved in any planning or decision making activities. Some of the major flaws in development today is the lack of district involvement, which can inevitably cause issues of transparency, accountability and sustainability. Without district ownership over an intervention, the prospect of sustainability can be minimal. And before a district can fully take ownership with honest motivation and incentive, the NGO must understand the values, capacities, and needs of the district. Does the coordinating department have the human resources to be able to move the intervention forward? Does inter and intra-departmental coordination exist, and if it doesn’t, can linkages be fostered? Are accountability mechanisms in place for district members to deliver on their duties? How can we build on the strengths of the district instead of their weaknesses? EWB is trying to use a more innovative approach by deleting non-sustainable implementation and moving forward with strategies that ensure long-term sustainability and transformative change.

What about hitting backspace? There are countless interventions that have failed in the past which have paved the way for new designs. The emerging trend of TSSM, Total Sanitation & Sanitation Marketing, is gaining more recognition today. To scale up sanitation in rural communities, TSSM uses existing promising sanitation approaches to improve demand for the supply of sanitation products and services. The new approach has backspaced on the separate implementation of total sanitation (such as CLTS) or sanitation marketing, and have combined the two instead. Once communities have been ignited and their mindsets and attitudes around poor sanitation and hygiene practices have changed, the newly emerged value for sanitation can inherently create a demand to move up the sanitation ladder. This is to say, sanitation marketing can be working hand-in-hand with CLTS post-triggering to promote hygiene and sanitation, research the current needs of the community, assess their capacities to invest in sanitation technologies and the value placed on investment, and create a demand for improved sanitation facilities. The integrated approach takes the benefits of each sanitation intervention for more effective and rapid scale-up of sanitation.

Combining both approaches is seen in many interventions today, even in Phalombe District. EWB is also trying a similar approach by introducing CLTS, and supplementing with a component of sanitation marketing to support laggard communities. Sanitation marketing will assist those communities that require the help of sanitation technologies, and to supply services and products for communities that have the desire to step from basic sanitation to improved sanitation.

But, maybe the question is not around whether we should backspace or delete, but rather, can we “shift” instead — shifting our way of thinking to be flexible, shifting our approach when necessary, and knowing when it’s appropriate to either backspace, delete or do neither. Shifting can be the answer after we fully understand the field realities of communities, and have identified sustainable initiatives that can support communities for the long-run.

Just as there are those days that are seamless and go perfectly as planned, there are days that seem to just feel wrong. That was yesterday, my Month 5. It was one of those days where everything felt like a challenge or an annoyance. The day that marked Month 5 was one of those days when you sleep for almost 10 hours but still wake up tired, when you come back from bathing and find no breakfast, when you have a hard time wanting to greet neighbours on your way to work, when you spend all day mentally exhausting yourself on a report but don’t feel accomplished, when you walk back to your village to get lunch on your swollen foot only to find yourself in an empty house .. and no lunch, when the unstable cellphone coverage makes you have to re-send important messages 10 times before they go through, when people show up an hour late for an important meeting with you, when you’re stressed out of your mind because your plate is only piling up with more responsibilities and tasks, when you want to quit what you’re doing and start thinking that swimming across the Atlantic Ocean back to Canada seems like a logistically sound idea..

Truthfully, by the end of yesterday, I wanted to cry. Month 5 only reminded me of everything I was missing back home (missing all of you so much!) and nothing of what I had here in Malawi.

But then you have days like today when all of that feels like a million light years away because of a single moment. Maybe it was the twirling in her pretty second-hand market dress, maybe it was the sweet smiles she gave me over a silent nsima lunch, or maybe it was those big brown eyes that reminded me that you can either choose to feel down on days like Month 5, or you can choose to see the simplicity of life on days like today. Thanks, Yasmine.

The minibus dropped me off in the middle of a bustling trading centre stretched along one relatively short dirt road – this was the town of Phalombe. I later soon realized how small the boma (town) actually was; no bank, no district hospital, no big grocery stores. Instead, like any typical trading centre, it was alive with vegetable and fruit vendors, bottle stores, “market theatres”, chitenje stalls and a whole lot of Malawian and Zambian pop music blasting from various market stalls. The only big thing about the boma was the massive and breathtaking Mulanje Mountain Range overlooking the trading centre. I thought to myself, “so, this is Phalombe” – my new home for the next 9 months.

The breathtaking Mulanje Mountain Range that spans Phalombe and Mulanje District.

A quick talk with the District Commissioner (DC) led me on a 10 minute walk from the office behind the main trading centre road to Sakhome Village, a quiet linear community, and soon to be my new home away from home. I walked up with the District Community Development Officer (DCDO, yay acronyms!) towards a small, simple brick and concrete house, surrounded by a relatively spacious “front yard” hosting a gravity fed water tap, and neighbourhood homes close by.

A sweet older lady greeted me with open arms as I walked toward a small group of people waiting patiently outside the house. She was the Grandmother, or “Agogo”, and she beckoned me to sit on the front-yard bench as she remained on a reed mat on the floor, smiling brightly at me with missing teeth. She was absolutely delighted that I would be moving into her home, which was very apparent by the abundance of “takulandilani” (“you’re most welcome”) and many high fives accompanied by more missing teeth

It took about a mere 30 seconds before a flock of small young children between the ages of 1 and 13 ran towards the house and sat silently on the concrete step in front of me, wondering who the strange “mzungu” (Westerner) in Sakhome Village was. As I watched ten pairs of eyes stare curiously at me, my new host sister shyly appeared from the group of new faces and offered her help to take my bags. She was Abi, a small sweet girl whom I’d be sharing a room (and bed) with.

Nextdoor neighbour, Gloria, pounding groundnuts in front of my house in Sakhome Village!

Large open space, concrete flooring, a small eating/working desk with chairs, a raised bedframe with 4-post mosquito net canopy, a window, wall hooks, and lots of empty space to store my belongings – the room was more than I had expected. I took a moment to let the idea of finally anchoring myself in one place after two months of moving around sink in. I was excited – and even more excited to share my new home life with my new family, comprised of Agogo, her niece Abi, and her two nephews, Fenson and Kesten. Abi and Fenson are siblings whose parents unfortunately passed away a few years ago due to illness. Kesten lives with Agogo in Phalombe for school.

Right before dinner that night, I met 15 year old Martin and Gerald, the neighbourhood boys that live next door. All the children, unique with their own personalities and characteristics make up a really interesting and entertaining atypical family unit. And because nobody is really at a good level of conversational English, I realized that I was in for many amusing and unintended games of shirades. Although my first few attempts at Chichewa were miserable fails, I soon became accustomed to communicating with hand gestures and I learned that people were happy to hear any of my limited bank of Chichewa responses if it meant I would continue talking to them. “Eh” (yes) and “zikomo” (thank you) were among my most frequently used.

Abi wearing the Canadian flag pins I gave her as earrings

My last moment of final unpacking happened just over a week ago when I emptied my 60L bag with the rest of my belongings. Just as I have settled in this home, I’ve also come to realize the people of Phalombe boma have also settled in with my presence here. I am reminded of this constantly:

When a new face calls out my name while I walk through the market — when the greeting changed from “Azungu, boh?” to “Tessa, boh?” — when random children join me on my walk home from work because they know where I live — when the man who works at the market stall that I frequent knows how many phone units I am coming to purchase before I have a chance to tell him — when neighbours know they can borrow my toothpaste without asking — when I come home to the village kids singing completely wrong lyrical variations of Sean Kingston’s “why you wanna go” song after having played it for them on repeat — when people start conversing with me strictly in Chichewa because they’re happy to know I’ve been around long enough to have learned the basics — when I get “ndakusowa” (I miss you’s) after coming back from a weekend trip away — when I get calls from the village asking me when I’ll be back every day that I am away — when I’ve developed close enough relationships with district staff that they have started including me in their weekend plans — when babies that used to cry when I first held them don’t cry anymore — when I know to bring a sweater to work because I am too familiar with the unpredictably windy and cold walks home — when I miss the noise and presence of neighbourhood kids in the mornings now that school has started up again — when the local tailor refuses to take payment because I am a relatively “regular customer” — when the server at the restaurant across from my office never fails to mention that he remembers my full name each time I grab lunch there — when Symon at the office who sits at the desk beside mine feels comfortable enough with me to sing Josh Groban’s “You Raise Me Up” all morning — when people mention different areas in the district and I know exactly where they are — when I know the minibus price is 700 kwacha from Limbe bus depot to Phalombe boma without having to ask the driver or conductor — when I know what types of items will be sold on Market days, Monday and Thursday — and most importantly, when I answer the question “Where is your home?” with “My home is at Sakhome”

Lounging on a Saturday (Agogo - far left, Kesten - far right, Martin - front blue shirt, Gerald - front green shirt, Crispin - middle wearing hat)

Kesten about to take me to work on his bicycle

Hands are fascinating. Two amazing instruments having the capability to accomplish a myriad of activities. I have always been fascinated by people’s hands and the simple and complex things they are used for.

My mother for instance, is a little woman with little hands. But growing up, I would frequently be astounded by how small her hands were because they were always accomplishing so much. I was first reminded of my mother’s hands a few weeks ago before heading to work. I had discovered Abi, my village sister, applying lotion on her hands one morning when she gave me the bottle to use on mine shortly after. As we sat on the front-yard bench applying lotion in the early morning, Abi broke the silence as she took one of my hands and said “ohh, manja soft”, meaning “soft hands”. Instinctively, I looked over to hers, picked them both up and felt to see if they were the same. They weren’t very soft. Although small, they looked very strong and tough, but felt feminine and delicate at the same time.

I grew a little more conscious of what those little hands were capable of doing and were meant to do after that morning. I became aware of all the activities Abi was responsible for around the house. Since my village family is not comprised of the typical family unit (Grandmother, her niece Abi, and her nephews Fenson and Kesten), Abi is left to tend to almost all of the daily chores as she takes on the role of Head of Household. She sweeps the floors and outside grounds in the mornings, washes all the clothes, fetches and heats the water, cooks every meal, scrubs all the dishes and watches over the smaller neighbourhood kids. And every morning, she also doesn’t fail to make time to apply lotion to those precious hands of hers.

Those amazing small hands keeps family life operating at home, which consequently extends to neighbouring homes in the village, and onwards to the community. In those moments, I am reminded of my own mother and her hands, and the significance of all that they have done for our family growing up. I am reminded of those who have told me that I have soft hands, including Abi that one morning, and made me wonder about the sorts of activities my hands are contributing to – helping, carrying, comforting, sharing, working. Even as I type this blog post, I recognize that my hands are acting as the very instruments linking worlds together by allowing me to share my experience here with others back home. Every good-morning wave coupled with a “mwadzuka bwanji” greeting shows attention and welcomes those around me. Every attempt at cooking nsima in my village shows dedication to learning and being part of Malawian culture. Every Malawian Kwacha I spend in the market to bring food back home for my family is a sign of love and appreciation for giving me a comfortable place to stay every night. I am also reminded of the hands that care for me so much, and are there to comfort me with a hug or a hold whenever needed (thanks, Love).

Being in Malawi and working in a development context, Abi’s hands also remind me of all the hardworking hands that are helping shape development in this country everyday. Development outcomes often hold more significance over the process it took to get there which is often overlooked or under-appreciated. The activities that are thought of as being less significant – the hands that contribute to the local economy through the selling of products in the market, the hands of natural leaders that mobilize villagers to take ownership of their development, the hands that help distribute insecticide treated bed-nets in areas with high incidences of malaria, and so on – are often not as recognized or given enough attention.

To me, Abi’s hands represent all the other sets of hands that play an integral role in contributing to development in Malawi, that continue to shape the lives of its people and its visitors (including myself), and that are not necessarily always recognized for the efforts to which they lend.

There’s something about babies that makes my heart smile which is probably the reason for my instinctual reaction to want to carry them. Although my front-hold technique works fine, I have been in awe with the Malawian baby carrying method that consists of a series of simple steps that results in the mwana (baby) being comfortably secured on the mother’s back with a traditional printed wrap, the chitenje. This technique seems so comfortable in fact, that often you see babies fast asleep in this wrap, their heads bobbing peacefully while their mother carries on with her normal activities. It also appears to be just as comfortable for the bearer, as the baby’s weight is distributed equally just like a backpack. Why buy a fancy babypack or stroller when all you really need is a piece of cloth?

So, inspired by a previous post written by Alyssa, by all the cute Malawian babies that I have had the fortune to hold (with much excitement), to come up close to hold a hand or pinch a cheek, and for all the times I have walked passed a mother carrying her baby and wondered how exactly the “baby wrap” technique is done, I depict here the step-wise process for “ndibereke bwanji mwana” (how to carry a baby) the Malawian way, captured with pictures for visual and smile enhancement

My wonderful subjects for this post are: Macy, my 16 year old village neighbour, and her adorable baby brother Isaac.

Step 1: Check the  baby for leaks that may prevent a dry and happy baby-carrying experience. Ensure that the baby is not crying to be fed, in which case this issue takes priority over baby-carrying and resumption of daily tasks.

Step 2: Give the baby a quick smile and kiss before carrying on with the technique as you may not have the chance to witness their cuteness for several hours.

Step 3: With the baby carried in front of you and your chitenje readily available for securing the child, bend forward slightly to create a platform for the baby to lie on your back. Carefully swing the baby from your front to your back to rest on his/her stomach. At this point, the baby may be squirming – take caution that the baby does not fall off by holding the child with one hand while the free hand handles the chitenje.

Step 4: Still in the bent-forward position, take the chitenje and throw it over the baby’s back so that one end reaches over one shoulder and the other end reaches under the opposite arm.

Step 5: Quickly, pull the chitenje taut and secure the baby in place by tying both ends of the chitenje in a tight knot. Slowly revert back to a standing position and adjust the chitenje accordingly.

Step 6 (optional):  Once the baby is secured comfortably, add another chitenje or blanket for extra comfort and/or warmth for the child.

It’s really interesting to witness this process done first hand. It definitely takes practice to get it right and to do it with ease. Given my track record for baby-holding and my rapidly growing experience around Malawian babies, it’s probably only a matter of time before I get to put these steps to the test myself

Happy baby carrying!