Azungu, mu kupiti kuti?

One of a Malawian’s favorite things to ask is, “where are you going?” I hear them ask it of other Malawians but they love love love asking it of white people.  When you first get to country it drives you nuts.

Imagine, you have just come to a weird new place, your language skills have the same fluidity as cement, you’re living with a strange family who just stares at you all through dinner and every time you go out everyone wants to know where you going.  Even after 4 weeks of being in home stay and having the same routine, language class, lunch, technical training, maybe more language, people still yell it to you from the farthest reaches of a maize field, “Where are you going?!”

And your answers are always the same, “I’m going home” or “I’m going to school”, never is it “I’m going to water world!” or “To meet the president.” You know where we’re going, why are you asking?

But it doesn’t stop at home stay, once you get to your village it keeps up, “where are going?” Every time you walk outside with a bag, or your bike, “where are you going?”  Your answers are a little different now, “To the boma” “to chat with my friend” “to Lilongwe” “to Mzuzu” “to a meeting” but they still want to know.  And you know what; I have a guess about why.

In America, what is our favorite greeting? More than likely, you see someone you haven’t seen in a while and you open with “Hey! What’s up!” or “What’cha doing?” In our culture it is more common to ask what someone is doing.  Now, if I run into someone when I’m out at the mall or something I’ll as where they’re going but it will always be followed with a question about what they’re doing once they get there.  In our culture we want to know how busy you are, how are you occupying your time, what have you achieved lately?

Malawi? Not so much. In the village, they know what everyone is doing. You are probably going to your maize, cassava, or rice field.  If you live near the lake it’s probably fishing.  The women are getting water, making nsima or getting firewood. The kids, well, no one really cares what they’re doing.  The men? Probably in the field for a bit and then playing bow, a board game. We know what you’re doing out there, it’s no big mystery. What people here don’t do is go places and here is where I got my idea about why they like to ask “where are you going?”

A few days ago I was at Henery’s house and we were talking about the bridge that Karen and Carl made and the repairs that need to happen, some boards need replacing, and the kids need to stop digging at the foundation stones, when Margret, his wife walked by.  After a few minutes she commented on how she has never seen the bridge…..never seen the bridge….never seen the bridge. What? The bridge is maybe 300-400 meters from this house? How could you never see it? Not even out of curiosity! I guess I always knew that the villagers didn’t really go places, especially the women but that really threw it into focus, how little they move around. 

When someone asks me where I’m going it is so much more than just a question.  How could I possibly be going back to Lilongwe? Wasn’t I just there last month? How amazing it must be to go to so many different far off places.  What must it be like to go somewhere big like America? People are coming all the way from there for a just a few weeks and then turning around just to go back? It’s more than, “where are you going?” It’s almost like living vicariously through the Peace Corps volunteer.