CORPSAFRICA
  • Home
  • About
    • About us >
      • The Model
      • Human-Centered Design
      • Impact
      • Development Partners
      • Junior CorpsAfrica
    • Team >
      • Staff
      • Board of Directors
      • Advisory Council
    • Work With Us
    • Press
    • Videos
    • Testimonials
    • Contact us
  • Countries
    • Morocco
    • Senegal
    • Malawi
    • Rwanda
    • Ghana
    • Kenya
  • Volunteers
    • Meet the Volunteers >
      • Morocco Volunteers >
        • Group 1 Morocco
        • Group 2 Morocco
        • Group 3 Morocco
        • Group 4 Morocco
        • Group 5 Morocco
        • Group 6 Morocco
      • Malawi Volunteers >
        • Group 1 Malawi
        • Group 2 Malawi
        • Group 3 Malawi
        • Group 4 Malawi
        • Group 5 Malawi
        • Group 6 Malawi
      • Senegal Volunteers >
        • Group 1 Senegal
        • Group 2 Senegal
        • Group 3 Senegal
        • Group 4 Senegal
        • Group 5 Senegal
        • Group 6 Senegal
      • Rwanda Volunteers >
        • Group 1 Rwanda
        • Group 2 Rwanda
        • Group 3 Rwanda
    • Podcast - "My CorpsAfrica Story"
    • Featured Projects >
      • Dzaleka Basketball Court
      • Kitchen Gardens
      • Coronavirus Response
    • Featured Volunteers
    • Alumni Association
    • Apply
  • Events
    • Events >
      • PROJECTing Resilience
    • All Country Conference
  • Blog
  • Donate
    • Donate to CorpsAfrica
    • Pay It Forward Campaign
    • Holbrooke Campaign
    • Corporate Council for CorpsAfrica
    • Planned Giving
    • Amazon Smile

A bachelor

12/12/2016

0 Comments

 
 Written by Lusekelo Simwela, CorpsAfrica Volunteer in Malawi

Apparently the name Lusekelo is hard to pronounce. So her choice of names for me were either,  'inu'(you) or 'abatchala' (bachelor).  I particularly hated the latter, but as she said it, I was way too old to not be married so the name was so that I get to. Strange logic, I know. Her name is Berthia, and she was my neighbor's daughter in the house that I was renting when I got to Mwanza for the first time in March 2016. She is 16. Her and her little sister Tadala used to draw water from the village borehole for me. I liked the arrangement, I paid them 100 kwacha per pail and I always had water. Even though I was paying them I felt like they were the little sisters I never had.
 
Between those water deliveries and the many lunches and suppers their family invited me to, we had discussions about life and school.  They told me that they stopped going to school. This had me perplexed, the parents are not rich but they were not so poor that they couldn't afford to pay the school fees. Berthia told me that she dropped out in grade five and Tadala in grade three. I talked to them about going back to school and for a moment I thought I had gotten through to them but next day I saw them selling their school uniform.  It was almost to say, "we are never going  back."
 
I moved from the house a few weeks later and fired them because apparently the going price per pail was actually 70 kwacha. Apparently "abatchala" should pay more so they feel the pinch of not being married. Even stranger logic. . .  a few months passed by and I got comfortable in my new house. Summer was back and Frozy(a soda from Mozambique) hadn't been banned yet, so I asked a boy to sell me the very sweet mozambican drinks and bottled water. A month on the boy asked me for a 2000 kwacha advance. When I asked him why, he said he wanted to rent a house for himself. I was paying him 8000 kwacha per month, so this didn't make sense. After asking him further I found out that he was moving in with his new but also pregnant wife... Berthia.
 
I was surprised, but 16? Didn't the law at some point say if parents allowed it it was fine? So I met the mum and jokingly asked her when the 'chinkhoswe' (engagement celebration) for Berthia was going to be. And she said if Tadala had been married for three months without a chinkhoswe why should her big sister want a chinkhoswe for? She said this without an ounce of shame, she said it with a huge smile and even let out a chuckle. I laughed with her as a deep sadness crept in within me. The girl who,  when I was her age would not be born for another year is now married, I am 26.

0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Support
    Welcome
    ​to the CorpsAfrica Volunteer Blog! 
    Get an inside look at the experiences of CorpsAfrica Volunteers in the field.

    Archives

    December 2022
    November 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    December 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    August 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016

    RSS Feed

Picture