I’ve posted a lot of photos and descriptions of my work so far, but I don’t think I’ve painted a true-to-form picture of the place I live. Blantyre is a city with a lot of sights to take in, but even more so it’s a place that’s filled with sounds. The noises are many and varied: minibus drivers peddling their hundred-kwacha fares, honking traffic screeching to a stop in front of unconcerned pedestrians crossing the street, the low hum of chatter in the courtyards at Queens occasionally punctuated by bursts of unconstrained laughter. More than just sounds, it’s the music that has captured my attention on numerous occasions. I’ve chosen to highlight a few of those occasions here.

We went to church (actually a megachurch) last weekend and it was quite the experience–4 hours filled with song and dance. The congregation was on its feet for nearly the entire service and the melodies they sang were infectious. The one song that remained stuck in my head, though, was a Chichewa song of praise. I left the service with an echo of the tune ringing in my ears, disappointed that I hadn’t recorded it when I had the chance. Two days later in the CPAP Office, my ears pricked up as I heard the familiar chorus. It was the women in the sunken amphitheatre outside, the ones who were waiting to attend to their sick children in the Paeds ward, raising their voices under the direction of a pastor. The clip I recorded of their spontaneous song is a glimpse into daily life at Queens and the people who populate its walls.

Lyrics
Kumadze ake odikha,
Anditsogolera,
Ndimoyo wanga wofoka
Awulimbikitsa

(A rough translation of Psalm 23 from the Bible: “he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul”)

This past Thursday, we visited the Jacaranda School, an institution 20 minutes outside of the city that provides education for children who are orphaned by HIV/AIDS. We were welcomed with open arms by a group of bold, outspoken, and whip-smart kids. Bright murals adorned nearly every wall of the school and neatly planted vegetable gardens were tucked away in every available nook. We were invited to come speak about our technologies, about women in STEM, and about pursuing higher education. It was an incredible experience to engage the Jacaranda students and answer their questions about our devices, the program, and our fields of study. Christina, speaking about her own experience as a Malawian woman studying Electrical Engineering at the Poly, gave one of the most empowering speeches I’ve ever heard. After her talk she was immediately surrounded by a huddle of wide-eyed girls who were interested in being doctors and scientists. Though Christina’s speech was definitely the highlight of the trip, my personal favorite moment was when the girls acapella group (Jacapella) sang us a song called Malaika to showcase their talents and welcome us to the school:

Yesterday, we dropped by a wedding we were invited to by Henry the Honey Man. He’s a professor at the Polytechnic who sells us amazing honey that he makes in his village. His nephew was getting married and he knew we were interested in learning more about Malawian traditions, so he invited us to the reception. There were a lot of similarities to American weddings: a bride in white, stunningly color-coordinated bridesmaids and groomsmen, middle-aged relatives videotaping the ceremony on iPads. Yet there was definitely a lot of Malawian flare, especially when the bride and groom walked into the room strutting down a rose-petal strewn red carpet to dance with their wedding party while relatives ululated and threw money in the air. The “money dance,” as we started calling it, is a way for relatives, friends, and visitors (we were singled out, of course) to come dance with the bride and groom. You’re supposed to exchange your money into small bills (20 or 50 kwacha) and then throw money at the beaming couple for the duration of the song. This entire process was repeated for about 5 hours. There were a range of songs including autotuned, reggae dance hits and a Malawian rendition of “Little Drummer Boy” that were blasted from stacks of speakers 15 feet high. The best, though, was a drum song played live by the band. It was a song that everyone seemed to know and that they all sang along to: