Tuesday 14 June 2016

Today Yanni and I worked with the Wild Kidz project in the morning.  First of all we went to unearth our containers and peel back their plastic covers to witness that water had indeed formed inside the plastic tub.  About 4 tablespoons of water was in the bottom of each plastic tub (it’s winter here and relatively cool, a lot more would be collected in summer). Great rejoicing was had by all.  Pictures to follow.

Then we built our shelters, each choosing a wigwam shape and a stout tree to lean our sticks against.  My 6 boys were very enthusiastic about this, and collected a large amount of tall grasses and sticks.  One boy found a leaf skeleton and was thrilled with it, so we placed it in moss at the door opening.  We then debated a name for our shelter which started off as Skeleton House, to Leaf House, to Skeleaf House, which I thought a touching if borderline example of Ezra Pound’s Logopoeia.  As another example of the Malawi’s gift for making something out of nothing, we were given ‘string’ to help with our shelters, and the ‘string’ was in fact old car tires which had been pressed into small multi layered belts of rubber,  one layer being pulled off at a time and used as string.  No-one mentioned that you needed the strength of Sampson to pull the rubber apart, but fortunately the Malawi’s are  used to doing this and quickly reduced each rubber strip was a small pile of tatty, incredibly strong rubber string.

Yanni helping her kids build a shelter

Malawi 'string'

Yanni and her team of weedies with their puny  shelter

My gorgeous boys and their fantastic shelter

My boys built their structures with great zeal, if not much wisdom. Throughout they discussed whether their generally unsympathetic and unfeeling parents might allow them back tonight to sleep in their shelters.  The boys waxed lyrical about all the things that could be achieved by spending a night sleeping with your mates in a shelter you had built yourselves.  Strong sticks could be used to fight off dangerous animals such as bush pigs, snakes, crocodiles (we have a river very close by) and so on. Stout sticks were produced and strategies for fighting off such animals demonstrated.  Camp fires could be built, and a snake or bird caught, skewered and roasted for dinner.  The boys could each take a turn sleeping by the entrance to keep them all safe.  A second sentry could be posted to ensure the girls didn’t come back and steal their grass.  A nearby termites nest could be mined for clay and things made.  They could be awake all night and play.  A pitch of ecstasy had been reached by the time we were called to have our structures examined and judged.  Quietly, I pitied the parents who were going to be ambushed by the hopes of their small boys in 2 hours time, remembering my own similar entrapment at times.  If they were anything like as weak as me, I imagined they would be on camping duty tonight, watching over structures erected in the garden or living room with naked candles and similar to be minded.  Thank god it’s someone else’s turn.

Next, we were to build a fire, the idea being to light it and toast marshmallow snakes and frogs.  I wasn’t sure  it was right to imply it was OK to spear any animal on to a stick and cook it, but I suspect that here in Africa, that boat has already sailed, so I left it.  Each leader built a fire out of the materials being foraged in the local woods by their little group. There was a very pleasant 20 minutes with the sun shining, the cicadas calling, the beautiful trees and mischevios monkeys, and my highly excited boys running backwards and forward, full of enthusiasm and excitement.  What a beautiful way to spend a morning, I thought, as the other supervisors and I each built a jolly little fire out of our kid’s dead leaves, dried grass, twigs and strips of wood and bark.   Once the fires were assembled, the marshmallows speared on sticks, and the children assembled drooling and frothing at the mouth around the fires, we were ready.  At the signal, each supervisor bent, struck a match, lit the fire, and we all sat back to watch the flames creep across the fire and begin to build.  Except mine, of course.  To a chorus of dismay, mine petered out immediately.  I quickly bent and lit it again, the boys held their breath with hope, and it petered out again.  Unrestrainable groans from my boys.  The leader, who couldn’t see us, announces that it is time for the children to toast their marshmallows.    I quickly lit another match, stuffed it into the middle of the fire, and we watched it die.  The boys now openly wailed with distress.  Desperate to redeem myself I started doing all the things we had specifically been told not to do just before we lit the fire - dragging out little bits of straw or wood, lighting them, picking them up with my bare hands and putting them back in.  Ditto with sticks.  I stole a gayly burning stick from someone else’s fire and plunged it into the heart of ours, and again we watched it putter out. Finally I set light to the match box, and pushed this in to the middle of the fire.  Still nothing.  I sent the boys to collect the match boxes of all the other group leaders, and set fire to them too.  Still nothing. At this point, the leader called out that the children could all have a second marshmallow to toast.  My poor boys convulsed in misery, fearful of offending the musungu but no longer able to restrain their frustration, and they all slunk off and toasted their marshmallows over other nearby fires.   The morning session was then officially declared over, and the children were called to the side of the play area to be presented with their certificates, and just as the children left my fire sprang into vibrant life, and burnt fiercely for the next 20 minutes.  I watched with irritation as a number of people tried to put it out, because the rest had petered out and they were trying to clear away.   Dear god.  What a way to spend a morning.

All the fires alight except mine

The show over, the kids leave to get their certificates

As everyone leaves, my fire suddenly bursts in to life

This afternoon I worked on ideas for the educational program, and plan to post some of my masterpieces soon.