Chiki chiki chiki!

“Follow follow follow follow the leader! I jump, I jump I jump, I sit I sit I sit, I sing I sing I sing!”

A trail of giggling, sparkling children follow us on part of our three hour hike in the Zomba mountains, singing the few songs Helaine taught them, showing us just how high they can jump up in the air and land on their own bare feet.

Climbing up the mountain was quite the trek, but Roda and Helaine distracted us from the uphill climb by patiently teaching us different fruit trees lining the red dirt road (papayas (mamau in Portuguese! Still “papaya” in Chichewa :), bananas (toji), and guavas are the most common!).

Two little girls in ripped dresses, faded and tattered, walked past us carrying bound firewood on top of their heads; they couldn’t have been more than seven years old. A few minutes later, ten more children in equally tattered clothing and bare feet carefully sidestepped us with heavy branches braced, centered squarely on their heads. In asking our tour guides what they were doing, they explained that this was just how they gather firewood from the mountains into their homes. We were perplexed, and further confounded when we saw smoke (growing ever larger throughout the day) streaming from the right side of the Zomba mountain, curling an ominous dark grey, enveloping the trees all around.

We stopped at a little colony near the top of our climb, children poised with their thumbs in their mouths, unsure of whether to run from the zungus or to stay and investigate. As Roda drew closer, they flocked around her, pestering her with chitter-chatter about who we were. She sat herself down on a bamboo mat in front of an open brick house, and beckoned me to sit down with her. Her friends came up to me and one-by-one heartily clasped my hand with theirs and welcomed me, “muli bwanje”.

The chatter went on amongst the women, a little girl was brought to a mother (who looked no older than 19) and as she approached us she let out a startled squeal and cried when I reached out to touch her.Zungus, light skinned, we truly are. The crowded dozen of children gathered at a little distance, the smaller ones peeping behind the elders. Kyson and I got up to chase them around the brick buildings, and the kids warmed up exceptionally fast to us (and our cameras). They chased us around and showed us where they lived, as well as where they bathed, washed clothes, and drank from in the river stream nearby.

Helaine asked a woman if we could see into her house, showing us where they cooked food, went to the bathroom, and stored items. The kitchen was composed of three large rocks, burnt black by fire, a red plastic plate of potato leaves, and another bowl or two. There were two small square-cut holes for ventilation (aka, there is no ventilation or way for the smoke to get out, no oxygen in the 2×2 room at all). The bathroom was situated directly next door, and you really had to watch where you stepped because there were little piles of human excrete in the dirt. The woman lived 5 stone steps above the kitchen in her little house, and herself had about ten children, with another one in her arms. She was nothing but smiles for her children and her life there though.

We stayed in their humble home for a little, and then bade them goodbye, and “Zkomo”, or thank you, and headed down a little dirt path. On the way down, we noticed that the forest grew brighter, as trees were more scattered. Tree stumps were visible from the road, and thethwack, thwack, thwack of an axe hitting a tree stopped us in curiosity. Roda explained that sometimes it was one person cutting down the tree, or sometimes even five children cutting it down and bringing it down the mountain. The government has tried to stop deforestation (by tree-cutting and burning), but laws fell on deaf ears. Trees were shaved down to bare stumps, left to dry for a few days, and collected down by children.

As we were walking further down to the main road, Naisi Road, the little group of children ran up to meet us, holding my bottle of madzi, or water, cheering as they saw us. As they ran around us in circles, laughing and chattering, we played with them and learned a little more about the joys of being kids. They sang “Follow the Leader” and “Chiki chiki chiki”, clapping and jumping and squatting and running in beat. I taught them how to skip, leading them down the deep red dirt road (and almost landing on my face after tripping on a rock). They said “tionana” before we reached the houses on the bottom, and ran back up, following the leader, a little girl in blue (she’s such a diva!). We also said bye to Grace and Roda, and spent the rest of the day exploring the Zomba mountain, its botanical gardens, the government/Parliament buildings (Zomba used to be the capital of Malawi, and still houses much of the government), and exteriors of the houses.

What a beautiful day we had!