Wednesday, 11th April 2007

To: Dowa

Rode up to Dowa today. Wanted to find Martha for some great rejoicing! Rode up, up, up the escarpment. Very beautiful.

When I arrived in town, my heart was thumping. How exciting to be here! I recognized everything, it hadn't changed a bit. Only that the old market was no longer being used because the government had promised to revamp it. That had been 2 years ago, but the revamping hadn't started yet. So, ALL the market vendors were now just selling their stuff on the "main" road, making "downtown" Dowa very busy. (I love using terms like "main road" and "downtown" when describing Dowa. This is a very small village, accessed only by dirt road. Nonetheless, there is a hospital there.)


So, I arrived and saw a man sitting on a beer crate, having a Carlsburg, on the front porch of the PTC grocery store. I wandered over, parked my bike, and walked up the 2 or 3 steps to the porch.

I asked the man, "Excuse me, sir, may I ask some advice?"

With a friendly grin, he said, "Yes."

I said, "I'm looking for an old, old friend of mine. Her name is Martha Manda. Her husband works at..."

He interrupted, with a smile, "... at Action Aid. Mr. Manda was a security man at Action Aid."

I said, "Yes! That's right! Do you know them?"

He said, "I know them very well... and I know you too."

This shocked me. "Really? You remember me?"

He said, "How could I forget you? Didn't you used to work up there at Red Cross? You and your sister, Martha, used to go walking hand in hand through town, all the time. Always laughing." He grinned when he said that. He finished with, "I've lived here for a long time."

This was very exciting! I asked if he could direct me to Martha's house.

He said, "I'm sorry to say that Mr. Manda passed away. That was ... 3 years ago. After that, Martha moved back to her home in Nkhotakhota."

Well, I thought, that's o.k., I've been to that home before. It's over by the lake. I'll just follow her there. Not that I didn't care about Martha's husband, of course I did, but Martha was never too keen on him anyway. Apparently, after making a lot of money working in the coal mines in South Africa, he then came back to Malawi and spent it all entertaining girlfriends. Martha and I used to giggle and plot about how she was going to start a business, become independent, and dump him. We started a business together once, raising chickens, but it flopped. (Nonetheless, Mr. Manda was always very curteous and polite and nice to me - it was sad that he died.)

"But how can I contact her in Nkhotakhota?" I asked. "Does she have a neighbor or anybody with a phone?"

This man was so friendly, typical Malawian. He'd just been sitting there on that beer crate, passing the time, watching the world go by. But now that his services were needed, he was ready to help. He said, "Wait a moment. Her old neighbor is selling groundnuts at the market. Let me go find her and ask." So, he left his beer crate and I sat down on it and waited.

After about 10 minutes, he came back with Honesta! The neighbor to Martha! I knew her! She came walking up the steps, smiling widely, and said, "Leigh Anne! Leigh Anne!" with an embrace that lasted forever. We were both giggling.

Then, when she stepped back, she had tears as she started saying, "Martha... Martha...," and shaking her head. My heart sank and my eyes started swelling, but I waited for her to say it. She finally said it. "Martha ... anamwalira." She died. So there I was, twice in two days, crying. But at least this time it was with a friend, at least someone I knew, rather than with a random "medical person" whom I didn't even know. We hugged and embraced and cried and hugged and embraced and cried for a long time.

Finally, I asked, "Liti?" When? It was just one year ago, 15th Jan 2006. Apparently, she'd written me a letter, about 1 year before. Honesta said that she'd told her that she was going to write to Leigh Anne. I never received that letter and I wonder where it went. Probably to Dad's house, but maybe using an old address. I was thinking that if I'd just received that letter, or maybe if I'd just come a little sooner, I might have been able to help, with medicine. She had AIDS.

But then Honesta and I smiled to each other and she told me she couldn't believe it was really me, that she never thought she'd see me again. She and I had sat down on beer crates, and the friendly man who apparently knew me had also sat down, and we were chatting. Honesta was telling me that I'd have to come to the house, Martha's children are there, when a young man came riding by on his bicycle. He stopped his bike and walked slowly up the porch steps of the grocery store, looking at me. He grinned and said, "Leigh Anne?"

Surprised (who is this person, I thought?), I said, "Yes?"

He said, "Oh, no!" and cried and laughed at the same time as he came running the rest of the way up the steps. But he could see that I was confused. "I'm Blessings," he said, "Martha's son! Don't you remember me?"

I said, "Oh my God! Blessings!" and stood up and gave him a big hug (which embarrassed the 25-year-old, but I didn't care). When I first knew Blessings, he was just 10 years old. But now, he told me, he had a wife and children and they are all living in Martha's old house.

He insisted that I come spend the night. Honesta said, "I'll go close up my market stall and come. We'll talk and talk!" So, I went in the store and bought quite a few beers and lots and lots of sodas, knowing there'd be plenty of kids around, and some cooking oil and bread, and other essentials, and off we went.

When we got to the house, I remembered it right away. "My sister's house," I thought. "My sister's compound," I thought. "My sister's outdoor kitchen," I thought.

And then people started showing up, and I didn't always recognize them at first. Martha's daughter, Rose, now aged 21, and also married with children. Another son, Charles, also with children. They led me inside and I sat down and they kept bringing in children and putting them on my lap and saying, "This is your grandchild, son to Blessings," and "This is also your grandchild, daughter to Rose," and "Even this one. Another grandchild. Daughter to Blessings." And they kept saying to the children, "Wonani agogo." Look at your grandma. Here is a picture of Blessings and a few of the kids. And here is another picture of me with a couple of the "grandkids".

We had a party and a feast that night. Of course, they killed a chicken. Always makes me feel bad when they do that, when you know they can never eat chicken. But it was o.k., I knew they wanted to do it. Eventually, Honesta came and so did her husband. So did her daughter, Doreen, whom I only remembered as a baby on Honesta's back - but she was now 14.

We talked and laughed and told some stories about Martha and I told the one about when we had reached the ranks of sisterhood. I knew Martha pretty well, but had never slept at her place before. Then, I moved away from Down and down to Thyolo, in the southern part of Malawi. A few months later, I came back to visit and slept at her house for several nights. The first night, when it came time to sleep, Martha came to me with a bowl of water and said, "Leigh Anne, do you want to wash your feet?" I said, "No, that's o.k. I'm clean." Martha shrugged and we slept. The next day, we spent the whole day talking and laughing, fetching water and peeling potatoes. When it came time to sleep, Martha came with a bowl of water and said, "Achemwali, sambaani mapazi." Sister, clean your feet. She and I both laughed and laughed and I cleaned my feet. In one day, I had gone from "Leigh Anne" to "Sister" and she had gone from a polite question ("Do you want to wash your feet?") to a command ("Wash your feet.").

I leave you with one more picture of some folks in the house that night, including Rose, the daughter. It was a nice night, all things considered.

-------------------- TODAY ------------------ TOTAL

Cycled -------------- 46 km (29 mi) ----------- 4,346 km (2,723 mi)

Lift ----------------- 20 km (12 mi) ----------- 2,470 km (1,650 mi)

Total --------------- 66 km (41 mi) ------------ 6,816 km (4,373 mi)

In Saddle ----------- 4 hours 20 min ----------- 285 hours 34 min

Ascended ----------- 1,300 feet ---------------- 76,090 feet