THE GIFT OF LEGACY

THE GIFT OF LEGACY
By Mary Tuchscherer

As a child, I sat cross-legged and stared for hours at glossy packages waiting for me underneath the Christmas tree. Often anticipation and exuberance got the best of me when Mom and Dad weren’t looking. I remember the night my sister and I meticulously un-wrapped our electric toothbrushes, brushed until sparkly clean, and giggled uncontrollably, as we taped them up again before our parents could catch us.

At my father’s funeral, one man shared a story of how my dad gifted him with money so he could follow his dream to attend seminary. Another told of the time my dad slipped him extra pay for his work as a farmhand. The only caveat from my father’s voice: “This is just between you and me, son.”

It was a gift to be part of a family that could afford to shower me and others with gifts, but I soon learned that not all the children in my rural community were as fortunate. Once I learned the hard way, when out of what I mistook for jealousy, a friend stole my new winter boots. My child’s heart did not understand, and I felt alone, confused, and out of place.

Later in life I understood my good fortune to live in a country that encouraged education and where medical care was readily accessible. As my instruction progressed, I found cues in photographs and books that depicted a different way of life: famine, starving children, and orphaned babies. I read about girls who were not allowed to go to school because of their gender, or women who couldn’t receive maternal health care because they weren’t considered to be of value. My world expanded. I remembered the child who stole my boots. My heart opened.

Life experience has shown me that when I pay attention to life, I discover opportunities for myself and for others. That is why in 2007 I answered, “Yes!” to an invitation to travel to Malawi, Africa, one of the ten poorest countries in the world. That one decision changed my life.

Eighteen months later, in August 2009, I returned to Malawi with a group of eight women and a man. We brought a multitude of packages with us: Tylenol, aspirin, condoms, bandages, books, soccer balls, and more. There were no shiny wrappings to rip off, but undeniable gratitude from those who received the gifts. As a result of the gifts, an HIV/AIDS or malaria patient would find temporary relief from pain and fever, an elderly arthritic woman in the village could sleep through the night, or a husband and wife could unite without the threat of disease or pregnancy. These gifts offered temporary relief from the harshness of life in an impoverished country.

Perhaps the more permanent gifts were those of the heart. It began at Ndi Moyo Clinic, a holistic palliative care clinic for HIV/AIDS patients. There, under a newly constructed geodesic dome, people felt the power of Reiki and Healing Touch for the first time. There illiterate women stricken with AIDS told their stories to be recorded for future generations. Friendships formed and lives shifted. I don’t know which was more powerful; the passion for giving or the receptivity of those of us who received.

At Mua Mission, seven Malawian and nine North American women united to empower each other through the creative expression of writing. We wrote about the land we came from, our names, the wisdom of our ancestors, and we communicated our thoughts and feelings for each other through blessings.

In a culture that encourages women to remain silent, poets were birthed, buried voices returned to life, dreams were conceived and women connected - deeply. Like the subtle movement of a minor earthquake, a shift began. Having broken the barrier of difference, we recognized as friends with a common humanity those once considered “other.”

Further north in the poverty-stricken village of Tukombo a group of elder women gathered to have their hands, knotted from decades of pounding cassava and washing clothes on river rocks, caressed with lavender scented oil for the first and possibly the last time in their lives. Slices of simple white bread and orange Fanta were served to women who often survive on less than one meal a day.

Somewhere along the journey, the line between giver and receiver blurred. It doesn’t matter where, what matters is that we became one. We all became sisters of the heart who made a pact to continue to give voice to girls and women near and far. Personally, I felt grateful to harvest the seeds of generosity my father planted in my soul so long ago.

The Gift

The Gift

Love embraced

Love replenished

Love extended

Unexpected

Unanticipated

Unforeseen

The long forgotten now unmasked

Unbind the restraints

Celebrated inner radiance

Illuminate

Wings spread

Voice shared

Self awakened

Freedom

Woman

malawian feast

They don’t know how to cook. Zilani, one of our new Malawian friends, cringes after taking a bite of the lunch prepared by the kitchen staff. It’s because they’re men. Shall we cook a proper Malawian meal? Then and there the Malawian women agreed that it would be a shame if we left the warm heart of Africa without experiencing an authentic Malawian meal.

After a shopping trip to the local market, seven Malawian women filed into the kitchen adjacent to the dining hall, relegating two baffled male cooks to the outdoors. I snuck in with a video camera and beheld a most colorful sight. The buzz of merry chatter filled the room as women poured their hearts into preparing a feast fit for kings and queens. It was apparent to me that the women took the utmost pride in sharing of their culinary delights with their new American/Canadian compadres. The aroma of kuku ya stew (stewed chicken), chambo cho kazinga (fried tilapia), mbatata (potatoes), fried zucchini and eggplant, and punga wakare (curried rice) seeped out through the kitchen doors to the dining area teasing our taste buds.

Dinner was quieter than usual as we were all busy shoveling food into our mouths leaving little time to talk. A chorus of mmm could be heard all around the table as we contentedly filled our bellies with seconds and even thirds. To express our gratitude for this unexpected gift, we did a little song and dance for our lovely Malawian chefs, singing our hearts out in Chichewa…zikomo zikomo (thank you). The looks of surprise and delight on their faces spoke volumes to their receiving our gift. And to our surprise and delight, they then spontaneously gifted us with a song in return… taku landi lani zikomo (we have received you, thank you).

~cynthia hsu

Women in Malawi

I awoke at 4 am to the sounds of Malawi and village life. The rooster crowed way too early, followed by the hoot of the owl, chirping birds, and croaking frogs. I heard the rushing waters filling the deep gorge that separates me from the village of mud huts with thatched roofs. I smelled the morning fires and knew the women were already at work. I am in awe of these women. They are the backbone of family and community life. Their day starts early. I see them carrying buckets of laundry and pots to a pool of quiet water at the river’s edge. They use the smooth rocks to beat and scrub their clothing. They wash cooking pots and dishes with babies strapped to their backs. I see the strength of their arms, but wonder how they maintain their stamina. The Malawian women who are on retreat with us tell me the women only sleep 3 or 4 hours a night. Their days are filled with chores. They gather sticks to start the fire, nurse babies, prepare nsema, a corn meal staple of the Malawian diet, cook the food, work in the garden, tend the children, and carry buckets of water from the well on their heads. I gather strength from these women. Their lives are so different from mine, yet I know what they do for their family and community. They are the spirit that keeps Malawi alive.
Sue McCollum

Quotes of the Day

“Oh jear”
“I’ll share some of my goat”
“Those aren’t real people”
“Is that the Malawian sugar? Does it come in little baggies??
“OMG, I just got it!”
“I thought those were little potatoes”
“Huh….hmmmm”
“We’re going to stand in line for a hug and get married”
“Just one more step back George…”
“The drums are playing in the village”

Sounds of Mua Mission

Hello loved ones! I haven’t seen the whole blog yet so I don’t know if anyone has written about the sounds of Mua Mission, Mulawi. We awaken at about 5:45 to a VERY loud pounding of a drum (THAT was a surprise the first morning!) Then the village, just yards across the riverbank (Mua Mission complex having been built on the land around and above the river on one side) comes instantly alive and the sounds continue nonstop all day: women washing their clothes in the river and beating them against the rocks, young men scraping off (to clean) large aluminum pans in which they cook meat or some parts of an animal to sell in the market, goats bleating, people greeting each other and calling across the rocks in melodious Chechewa, and always the children, the children playing and laughing and singing and crying. This morning, starting at about 7, the added sound of some kind of African soukous-like/ Caribbean-sounding dance music playing on (I guess) a tape recorder added the background soundtrack. (I was just informed that it is Zamimbian and Malawaian and maybe other African music. Did I say that the music hasn’t stopped all day (and it is now 6:30 pm)? The same tape playing over and over and over….. Oh, and now that it is dark the crickets and bullfrogs are adding to the chorus! This may sound chaotic but in reality it isn’t—somehow it all fits together as part of the tapestry of color and life and family and community and the beauty of the landscape, the sound of the river, the large open sky and the rising moon.
A few words about the food, also don’t know if this has been written of, but this is mostly for those who know me or others from the California “food world.” So guys, I’ve been eating on a very regular basis loads of white rice, goat meat (good!), white bread, instant coffee, and Coca-Cola—and it’s all good, folks.
There is SO SO SO much more that is happening here in terms of the writing and the Interplay… more to follow….
Blessings !---Judith

The Journey Begins...

As I entered the room, I was enveloped with the fluttery voices, fast paced conversations and a general giddiness so thick it was palpable throughout the house. This was the first time that all of these women were in the same physical space. It is true, some of us have spoken on the phone or through email, but now, we were all together! This was truly different. This day made it all real, the journey was tangible. These courageous women had begun our journey together.
On Sunday, July 19, 2009, these amazing women, six physically present in a California home and the three others joining via technological hook-ups from the Eastern United States, began this amazing journey together. Throughout the day, we opened our hearts, minds and souls to the journey, each other, and the women whose lives we will be touching in Malawi (rather the women who will touch our lives in Malawi!). I could see each woman's unique and wonderful gifts enriching the day.

This blog will be a collaborative effort of these 9 women journeying together as a part of the The Voice Flame Writer's, Malawi Project. The blog will chronicle the trip that officially takes place from August 3 through August 19 in the African country of Malawi. The goal of this project is to support the native women preserve their legacy.

I feel honored and humbled by the task ahead of me (and this probably is the same for each of us). Though only 9 of us are actually going to Malawi, there the many people who offered their support for each of us, are coming along. They will be present as we meet, talk with, and share experiences with these women. Thank you all- Blessings!