Not Solitude (Scott's post)

Life in the village is nice.  We are surrounded by Zambians who have known us since October 2011 and we have come to respect one another, gotten used to one another, know what to expect from one another.  But even when things are good at home, I need a break from the routine.  So Gina and I planned our first trip out of country to neighboring Malawi.  We heard good things about it:  beautiful beaches, mountains, inexpensive.  And we are thinking of doing some major traveling after we complete our Peace Corps service, so declined to go someplace we would need to purchase expensive flights to get to.  The trip started with a short stay in Solwezi and Lusaka to get a few administrative things done at Peace Corps offices, so we got used to comforts we don't have in the village like electricity and running water, restaurants with something more than chicken and nshima, and hanging out with people who can speak English fluently.  We started to feel like we would have if we were going on a vacation in America!  Including that feeling that we needed to "get away from it all".  And in our case "it all" means the village.  So I was excited when we signed up for a three-day canoe trip on Lake Malawi on a section of the lake that did not have a road running along its shores.  I pictured quiet paddling along the shore, gliding in to calm coves for swimming and snorkeling with world-renowned cichlid fishes, and camping on secluded beaches to watch the sun set and moon rise.  I imagined going on a weekend getaway into the mountains in Washington State where I would work hard to get somewhere where I could find some solitude. And most of what I pictured I actually saw.  The part I neglected to think about was that this was Malawi, one-sixth the size of Zambia but crammed with about the same 14 or 15 million people.  It is about the same size as Pennsylvania but with a couple million more people.  And the lake is a great source of food in a place where it seems every inch of land is being cultivated for corn, tobacco, cassava, cotton, or tea, so people make a living on the lake.  Everywhere we paddled there was either a village fisherman working from is dugout canoe, or village children yelling out to greet us, or villagers staring at us in amazement as we unpacked canoes with all our camping gear.  What was I thinking?  Had I not been living in this part of Africa for 20 months I could have appreciated the novelty of this village life a lot more.  But like I said, I was ready to "get away from it all".  And this was the same kind of "all" I was used to, just Malawian style.  So it put me on edge. 

The kind of frustration I was feeling was exemplified in an encounter I had on the second day of the canoe trip.  We had stopped at a beach for lunch and were accosted by the usual gaggle of kids staring at us and older villagers nonchalantly walking by partly to get somewhere but partly to see what the white people were doing on their beach.  In our village I am used to the fish-bowl experience and accept it, but on vacation I was hoping to escape for a bit.  In our village I would have greeted the older villagers as they walked by and not concerned myself with the kids staring.  But here I just wanted some solitude.  To get away from it all.  But "it all" was right here.  So as Gina and I leaned against a rock in the shade looking out at the beach, trying to relax, we were being stared at by a group of teenage and younger kids which I was trying to ignore.  Along walked an older man carrying some axe handles who I also tried to ignore by not moving my head as my eyes were shielded by sunglasses.  From the corner of my eye I saw him stop and look at us, and then greet us as would be expected in a typical village scenario.  I gave him a half-hearted greeting and a vague nod to acknowledge him but send the message that I was not in the mood for talking.  He paused for a moment, said "Fuck you" with a bad Malawian accent, and walked away.  I was not sure if I heard him right until the kids nearby laughed and imitated his exact words several times, happy to get the entertainment they were hoping for that I wasn't giving them.  I felt bad because I knew the proper way to greet the older man would have been to stand up, exchange pleasantries, perhaps shake hands.  But after doing this for what seemed liked continuously in the past week, and because it was usually followed by a solicitation for taking a look at something the Malawian wanted to sell or the question about what country I was from, I declined.  I was just tired of it.  I wanted a beach to myself.  Or at least where I could be left alone in solitude.

This is not to say Malawi was not worth it.  It was.  It was cool to compare Zambia and Malawi, culturally and physically.  And we had some good times on beaches with warm and clear water to swim in, mountains to hike through, interesting people to meet, fresh fish to eat.  I'd even recommend it to someone who inquired about it, taking into account what they were looking for and preparing them for what to expect.  Hey Malawi is nice, just don't expect to get much solitude.