Disclaimer: The contents of this blog are my own and do not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.

In 1959, in the lead-up to independence, Malawi (then Nyasaland) declared a State of Emergency, due to ongoing conflicts associated with the independence struggle.

“A striking event took place during the State of Emergency. On 6 March 1959, the Provincial Commissioner sent a message to the missionaries at Livingstonia indicating that a Nyassa Railways launch, the Ncheni, would be anchored off Chitimba at 0530 the next morning and that any missionaries who wished to be evacuated and preserved from the presumed dangers of living in the midst of an African population would be taken to Nkhata Bay. When the missionaries’ governing body met, it was decided that no one wished to be evacuated and the community would stick together.

Furthermore, it was agreed that they would communicate their solidarity to the outside world by arranging whitewashed bricks so that they spelt “Ephesians 2-14.” Airmen who flew over the mission, on return to base, consulted the Bible and read the text: “For He [Christ] is our peace, who has made the two one and has broken down the wall that divides us from one another.” They also photographed the bricks from the air and within a few days the photograph was published in Southern Rhodesia and Britain. An article in The Observer commented, ‘A new form of aerial warfare has appeared in Nyasaland. Rhodesian fighter pilots, flying on patrol, have spotted white stones outside the Livingstonia Mission—a Mission well-known to be sympathetic to the cause for independence. They spelt Ephesians 2-14.’ Their point had been made.”
—Kenneth R. Ross, Malawi and Scotland Together in the Talking Place Since 1858

These stones are actually still there. I was able to see them on a trip to Livingstonia, resting outside what is now a museum. I bring up the story of the stones, not because I think of it as some feel-good story of people doing the right thing and making a statement about it to the world. What the story demonstrates to me is the contradiction of views amongst people that were from the same group, on the same side, and supposed to be working towards the same goal. Rhodesians, Brits, the Missionaries and the Government Officials, all called themselves Christian and claimed to desire the betterment and salvation of the people of Malawi. But many people, including some missionaries outside of Livingstonia, could not see beyond this one simplistic desire to recognize the humanity of those they wanted to serve. Although they held to a basic, watered-down version of the ideal Christian worldview, they could not follow it to its logical end, because other parts of their own worldview clouded their judgment.

Sometimes it is easier to discover your own beliefs and experiences when confronted with those of another. There are many ways that Malawian culture differs from my own. One of the last questions we get asked on our language proficiency exams is “America ndi Malawi amasiyana bwanji?”—How are America and Malawi different? For many people that I meet here (although not all), they have heard only one thing about America—it is incredibly rich. Often people say “you must take me to America,” believing that no one is poor there and if things will be better. Of course, Malawi (and Africa as a whole) is also perceived in an overly simplistic way by many Americans who know one thing about it—it is poor. Sometimes, people are also aware that there is war in Africa and they imagine the whole continent to be raging with violence. However, Africa is incredibly big (most maps actually shrink the size of Africa significantly because it is not considered as geopolitically important as Europe, all of which could fit within a single African nation, DRC) and diverse. Malawi itself is extremely peaceful, and largely has been since independence. There are also wars everywhere. Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie talks about perceptions like these in a TED talk called “The Danger of a Single Story.” At one point she says, “The problem with stereotypes is not that they are wrong—they are usually partially true. The problem is that they only tell part of the story.” And of course, the best way to challenge a single story is by experiencing that thing you perceive head-on.

Culturally, Malawi is different in a variety of ways. The community is more important than the individual here. In the US, and in many western countries, each person thinks about themselves primarily. People are not only okay with living alone, but many people prefer and enjoy it. Some people would not like to have a family. Sometimes, people here ask if they can live with me and help around the house and I will pay them. When I say no, they often ask why and I say because I want and like to live alone. They continue to ask why because it is such a strange concept to actually enjoy being alone. A similar thing happens with the common question-are you married? After “no” The inevitable follow-up is “why not?”

There is also what sociologists call “high power distance.” In the U.S., we like to imagine that we are all equal and on the same playing field (although this is often not the case in reality). In Malawi, in addition to the democratic political system, there is also a chieftancy system for each tribe which runs Paramount Chief (who is essentially the king of that tribe)—>Traditional Authority—>Sub-Traditional Authority—>Senior Group Village Headman—>Group Village Headman—>Village Headman. At a ceremony, ALL of the important people present must be explicitly given respect at the opening of a meeting. Whenever I want to do something in the community, I need to make sure it is with the chief’s approval. If it is not, it can cause a world of trouble, and will be seen by many as extremely disrespectful. Whenever I see the T/A, (traditional authority), I must bow or squat when greeting him in order to give proper respect. Women typically kneel before him when greeting him. This type of power dynamic extends beyond the chiefs. In school, when students come to my desk, the boys squat and the girls kneel. They always address me as “Madam,” no matter what. (A male teacher is addressed as “Sir,” no matter what). Students are expected to carry their teacher’s things to the classroom (in Malawi there is one staff room for the teachers and the teachers move in the various classrooms while the students stay in the same classroom throughout the day). If I tell a student “don’t worry I can carry it,” it is offensive to that student and does not make sense to them. This is often the first cross-cultural misunderstanding that occurs when foreigners arrive in Malawi, because we typically think “Oh, no don’t worry I’ll get it!” is very polite, but here refusing to let someone carry your bags is somewhat rude and should be expected because of the extreme culture of hospitality here. Sometimes the teachers will even give money to the students to have them go buy snacks for them during breaks. From an American perspective this is extremely bizarre.

Then there is time. In most western countries, if you tell someone you will arrive at 9 a.m., you will arrive at 9 a.m. or maybe earlier. Here, if you say 9 a.m. that could many anywhere from 9:30 a.m. to noon. Time is just a lot more general and less precise. This usually takes some getting used to as a Peace Corps Volunteer, when scheduling meetings that people either don’t show up to, or show up late to. We are given the advice “always bring a book!” so as not to be bored during the inevitable at least 45 minute waiting time for people to arrive. I personally believe this generalization of time is largely due to the first thing I discussed, the community being more important than the individual. If you’re walking on the road, and you see someone, you must greet them. If you don’t, it is very rude. If it is someone you know, you must stop and chat with them for a little bit. And if it is a group of people, you have to greet every single person individually. Now, this doesn’t seem like a lot except that, unlike many places in the U.S., almost everyone is always outside here. And when traveling it’s usually by foot or bicycle, so you see people constantly. A 10 minute walk can quickly turn into a 30 minute walk if you happen to run into enough people. Here, other people are more important than time and your scheduled appointments, because you are not the most important person in your own life.

These three I can typically handle and adjust to. But this final one I still struggle with—indirect communication. Although I am from a part of the United States where, culturally, people are much less direct in their communication than other parts of the country, it is by no means on the level of Malawi. In many places in America, if someone offends you, you will tell them. In fact, many people consider it cowardly to avoid talking about it, talk about it behind someone’s back, or have someone talk about the offense to the person on your behalf. Nearly the opposite is true here. It is very rude to tell someone directly what they have done wrong (of course if you are angry and emotional, it’s a different story). If someone has wronged you, you should tell a friend and that friend should go and discuss it with that person. Or at least you should go along with a friend to discuss it. People don’t talk about many things that we burst at the seams to discuss in the U.S. often marriages seem to take place overnight because people don’t disclose that they are courting anyone before they are engaged. And “code language” is often used for various things. If I introduce a girl to someone and say “this is my friend,” that person will assume that she is my girlfriend. If I say, “this is my best friend,” they will assume that she is my fiancée. This is a bit difficult because there’s no real way to actually say that a girl is just my friend, since men and women typically don’t befriend each other here outside the workplace—if you’re hanging out with someone of the opposite sex, it’s assumed you want to marry them. If a woman is pregnant, it is not mentioned at all and she often does her best to hide it until the baby is born. I visited a family one day, had a nice chat, and the wife of the family cooked me food. I came back a week later and she had a newborn. I asked how old he was and she said “about 4 days). I hadn’t even noticed that she was pregnant. You can almost never discuss going to the bathroom. If you have to go, don’t say where you’re going, just say “I’m coming back.” All Chichewa words for sexual parts of the body are considered risqué and rude to even mention, even the actual words for it, not just the slang. When I’m doing a pad project or something related to HIV, even people who don’t speak a lot of English prefer that I use the English words for vagina and penis rather than the Chichewa word. Like I said, this is perhaps the most frustrating cultural difference for me because it affects how I interact with the other cultural differences—I will never know if I’m being entirely culturally sensitive because if I’m not, people will not tell me. People who are used to me, by this point know that I won’t be offended if they tell me I’m doing something wrong, but I often worry with people I’ve just met.

These are just a few things, although I could go on far longer. Looking at these things has made me realize my own culture by contrast. Americans often like to assume they have no culture. Everyone else has a culture, we’re just normal. This is not true.

Before coming here, I was aware of what American culture was to an extent, but not its fullness. And I think I mostly associated it with negative things. Hearing the news from back home, it is difficult not to continue doing this at times. My image of America lessens every time I hear about something heartbreaking that is done by an official or representative. We are not the shining city on a hill that we so frequently claim to be, and I am often tempted to tell Malawians that when they ask me about America and the wealth they have heard so much about.

And yet.

A year ago, when we were swearing in, we took the same oath as any foreign service officer takes, the same oath of office the president takes on Inauguration Day. And I teared up while reciting it. I felt a strong connection to my own country that I had not felt before—a feeling of patriotism that a year prior I might have viewed as jingoistic.

A few months ago I began showing schoolhouse rock videos to my students to explain some parts of grammar. Along the way I found some of the old America Rock videos. One of them was about the Melting Pot. One line always stood out when watching it: “How great it is to be an American and something else as well.” I think that line hit me because often (though again, of course not with everyone), the single image of an American that people have here is of a white person. Americans of other ethnicities may find themselves in situations where they have to defend that they are an American and so it is discussed a lot here. Somehow it suddenly meant more to me that America was diverse, I suppose because I had seen that this was something that, although perhaps not unique in all the world, is different from where I currently am, not something I had truly realized before. Another video, “Suffering till suffrage,” talked about the women’s rights movement, which of course I watched while having the gender inequalities that exist here in the back of my mind. Not only that, but remembering the current school of thought that the story of America is a story that has become ever more inclusive throughout its history (or at least has aspired to do so, whether or not it has succeeded). I remember that in PST, we had to make skits showing cultural differences between Malawi and America. One was negative and one was positive. The negative one showed someone hurrying to a meeting and neglecting and berating a homeless person. The positive one portrayed someone asking for help with an idea, and bringing gradually more people into the room with all kinds of diverse backgrounds to help, doing it together, with no one person being in charge or in power over the other. These are the ideals we strive for: diversity, equality, innovation, individuality.

On the 4th of July this year, I attended the ambassador’s annual Independence Day celebration. The marines marched in and held the flag up and I began singing. I didn’t take my eyes off of the flag the whole time. It was as if I was trying to contemplate its meaning and the symbolism we ascribe to our country. I imagined the mythology surrounding the flag and the song, the image of Francis Scott Key in a prison, looking out at the scorched earth and seeing one beacon of hope that remained. “And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.” And yet, while listening to the National Anthem remembering all of the great evils and injustices that this flag presided over and the ones that we don’t recognize that it presides over today.

America is a contradiction. It is a contradiction because people are a contradiction and cultures everywhere will always contradict their own beliefs. But I see the story of America as a long arduous process of trying to bring our practices in line with our values. It takes longer than one would like and sometimes we move backwards instead of forward. But I realized I was singing, that I do feel proud to be an American—but I do not feel proud of what America is, but what it aspires to be. Our ideals make us who we are, and it is these ideals that I personally believe were the motivation for Sargent Shriver and John F. Kennedy to begin the Peace Corps in 1964. The dream of a better world that is always improving. I see Peace Corps as a service to my country much more now than I did a year ago. Perhaps it is naive and idealistic to assume that the world can become a better place, but someone has to try. The goal of Peace Corps in the beginning was said to be “to promote international friendship and understanding.” Our country director has said sometimes people are cynical about this lofty goal: “Do you really believe that’s what you’re doing? Promoting friendship?” And the simply response is: yes, we do.

I think of the missionaries and how the only way they were able to recognize their own biases was by working hand-in-hand with people that had often been assumed to be beneath them. When I read Ephesians 2:14, I think of the American ideals of equality and diversity. The wall of division between us has been knocked down. Let us work together then, in all the small ways that we can, to make the world a better place.