Day's Diary

March 31, 2007 ~ Precious Cargo

+ Click here to return to Journal Directory

Friday, March 30 was the closing of the college for the first term. Actually, exams ended on Thursday morning and had this been an American college, all the students would have been gone by lunch time, but this is Malawi and all protocol must be observed. Protocol is that the term ends with communion. Communion was scheduled for Friday morning at 7:30, so every student stayed for communion. It was a wonderful service, led by Rev. Stephen McCracken, a missionary from Ireland, who has been here four years. The message was powerful as he tied together so many things that had happened during the term with the message of Easter. The communion was meaningful, complete with hymns that I knew, like one of my favorites, “Man of Sorrows.” It was a most fitting end to the term. It prepared me for the Holy Week to come, especially in a church culture that does not focus on Lent. I’m so grateful that all protocol is observed.

Once the worship service was over, however, it was like an American college: the focus was on getting home. Silas and Margaret and I had planned a trip to Likhubula House in Mulanje, to say farewell to one of the staff members who is leaving to start her own business. As it always happens, the word got out that we were going. Before I was out the door of the chapel, a student approached me about the possibility of a ride to Blantyre. When I said we were not going through Blantyre, he said he would happily go with us to Limbe, the turn off point to Mulanje, and take a minibus from there. Silas was standing close by and I realized he was surrounded by students. I guessed correctly that they were asking him for the same thing. I directed my conversation to him so we could compare notes and know how many promises we were making. The Isuzu is only so big and there were three of us who were committed to going. We quickly conferred and determined we had only 4 passengers, in addition to the three of us, so two could ride in the back of the truck and be comfortable. That is allowed in Malawi. We set the time of departure for 9:30, giving everyone half an hour to get packed and to my yard to climb in.

I decided I would put a foam pad in the back of the truck to make the ride a bit more comfortable. As I was carrying it out, two students came to say goodbye. One took the mat and put it in the back of the truck and the other said her thanks and goodbyes. I reminded her that the break was only for two weeks and we would be back together, but this is Malawi and all protocol must be observed, especially “thank you.” The second student came back to say his thanks and goodbye and to let me know that there were several more students outside to see me. I went out and knew immediately they had not come to say goodbye but to get a ride. They had their katundu (luggage) in hand. I knew we had said yes to four, but there were 7 standing there, all with their belongings in hand. I’m not certain who invited the other 3, but this is Malawi. That sort of thing happens with great regularity. I jokingly said I hoped there were no more to come, since the truck was only so big and the katundu seemed to have expanded. They assured me they were all to come. I got suspicious when another student came to the front gate, but he quickly explained that he was there to show me the cloth his church was selling as a fundraiser. I was so relieved that he didn’t want a ride that I agreed to buy 2 meters, sight unseen. He went home to get it, before I left – or changed my mind, I think. As it turns out, I already have 2 meters of it that was given to me as a gift last week, but one never has too many chitenzi (wrap-around-cloth, which the women wear here all the time).

About this time Silas and Margaret arrived and were a bit taken back by the size of the crowd that had gathered. Silas asked me what I had promised and I assured him it wasn’t my doing. He just laughed and said he thought we would need to stop and get more air in the tires if we were hauling so many and so much. I explained that at this rate, five of them would need to ride in the back, with all the katundu. The answer was a Malawian “No problem!” Thomas Nyang’ama guaranteed me he was a master packer and everything and everyone would fit. I had my doubts, but he did it. Just look at the photo! I can’t imagine wanting to ride like that, but they all assured me that this was much preferable to a minibus – and cheaper, Silas observed. Once everyone was in, I closed the back of the truck and we headed to the local BP station to add air in the tires. We needed it.

 

Now the road between Zomba and Limbe/Blantyre is not smooth. It is filled with potholes from the rains. Some have been repaired, but new ones appear every time it rains. There are rises in the road from the patches and holes in the road from the rains. It is like driving an obstacle course to offer a smooth ride under the best of conditions. Figure in the weight of katundu and 5 young men in the back, and it becomes a great challenge. Add to that the hills to be climbed and the slower vehicles we usually pass (because they are overloaded) and there is a whole new dimension added to the driving. Silas refused the challenge. They were my students and it was my truck. He would add the air, but that was all. I seemed to remember both of us saying yes to the students, but I drove.

When I hit the first pothole, I cringed. I could only imagine the jolt the guys in the back took. I said I needed to be more careful of our precious cargo in the back. Margaret just howled. She loved the thought of “precious cargo.” Each time she spotted a hole ahead, she counseled me about my precious cargo. When we came to the first major hill and I had to downshift to third gear to make it to the top, she said, “Thank the precious cargo.” We in the comfort of the cab seating all laughed about it.

Our first stop was before Limbe, at a turnoff along the tarmac, to a dirt road. Kondwani Lemani was almost home from this point. He would walk the rest of the way. We stopped and there at the turnoff were his wife and 10 month old son, eagerly watching for us. They didn’t wait for him to get out of the truck before they hugged him. I thought his wife was going to pull him over the tailgate before it was open.

We were carrying precious cargo, loved ones who were coming home for a very short break, to wives and children who had not been able to accompany them to college and were eagerly awaiting their homecoming, if only for two weeks. At Limbe, three got out. We made 3 more stops before reaching Mulanje and each time Margaret smiled at me and say, “Precious cargo delivered.”