Chingale

Every culture or region seems to have one group of people who are the source of jokes. These jokes usually revolve around the rural nature and economic status of the people of that area. The Chingale region is the source of that sort of joking in the southern region of Malawi. Economically, Chingale is the poorest part of the region. This has to do with the landscape, first. It is rocky and hilly, not at all conducive to agriculture, the primary source of economic stability for the entire country. Second, there is no steady water source, so irrigation is not an option. Everyone and everything is dependent upon rainfall, not a reliable method of farming. The landscape also makes road construct difficult, so since there is no economic motivation to construct, there are no good roads in the area. The best are one lane dirt roads, pocked with ruts and rocks. The worst are trails wide enough for a bicycle but hardly negotiable by car or truck, although both use these trails, since they are the only means of connecting the residents of those areas with the rest of the country. The schools that exist are understaffed and undersupplied. Education suffers. Only a few of the children’s parents can afford to send them to school. Pastors joke about being sentenced to Chingale, rather than being sent there. But I disagree. While all these factors are true, and life there is remote and difficult, the people of Chingale easily compensate for the geography and the economy. That truth was born out again Thursday when the team from Chigodi went to Chingale Presbytery to present our building project.

We had made arrangements to go to only one church. This meant that the women who were invited had to travel to the center of the region, to the Chingale CCAP church. This was not an easy task. I had never been there but our driver said he knew where it was. He knew where the Presbytery office was, but that was not the same church. We made several inquiries and followed several people’s directions, unsuccessfully, until we finally spotted the pastor and offered him a ride, in exchange for guidance. The problem was that one of those trails was the only way to the church. We hadn’t recognized it as a navigable road and had driven past it three times. The women of the region had no such difficulty. They were there to welcome us, with singing and dancing. More than a hundred women walked, rode bicycle taxis or hitched rides in the back of flatbed trucks to come to the church. One group made arrangements with a truck driver to bring the entire group from the church. They arrived and left sitting in the open flatbed of the truck, joyfully singing as dust swirled around them.

The church is more than a kilometer from the nearest market area, in the middle one of the few level, cleared gardens, ready for planting when the rains come. There is no electricity near the church and the nearest well is at the trading center. In spite of this, we were offered cool drinks when we arrived. Some of the ladies had carried them from the trading center when they came. They cared for their visitors with grace and generosity. None of them had cool drinks. They had water that several of them had carried in buckets on their heads from the market area.

We come, asking them to help us finish a dormitory that was left incomplete from the last administration. We suggest that if each church or prayer house in the Synod would contribute MK4,000 (about $27), we could finish the project. These ladies asked if they could contribute maize flour or casaba to sell, to make up their contributions. They don’t have cash, but they have some crops and they are willing to sacrifice those to support the project. I was deeply touched. At the end of the program, in typical Malawian tradition, they offer gifts to the visitors, in thanks for their coming. (Yes, we come asking for money and they give us gifts to thank us for coming and for asking – amazing!) Each church group or prayer house group brought their gifts, individually – small bags of ground nuts (peanuts), casaba, maize flour, pigeon peas, a head of cabbage, a bunch of bananas. All of this was carefully stacked in front of us and we shook hands with each one presenting a gift. These women scratch to feed their families and they were sharing with us from their family’s storerooms. While the meeting was going on, a small group of women had been cooking for the entire group. After the program, we ate in small groups – we three visitors in one area of the church, the pastor and session clerk in another and the woman gathered on the floor in the sanctuary. The guests were served rice, nsima, chicken, vegetables and cool bottles of soda. The pastor and session clerk were given nsima, chicken, vegetables and sobo (water and flavoring, like Lemon Blend). The women ate nsima and vegetables and drank water. Separate dining areas downplayed the different menus. It was humbling.

When we prepared to leave, they sang us out of the church and all the way to our vehicle. They carried the gifts they had given us and loaded them in the truck. Then they ran alongside the truck, singing and waving their chitenji (wraps) as we pulled onto the dirt path. Their reception and treatment of us overwhelmed me. Chingale is no joke. It is populated by generous, gracious people of God. That is not something to laugh about but rather to praise God for.