Lunch with His Excellency

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Recipe: Steamed Apple Ginger Muffins

So, steaming is a new discovery for me and I really like it because, while I’m sure it’s possible to burn things while steaming them, I’m not sure exactly how. Whereas baking with embers, still, after two years, remains an inexact science for me. Steaming things is pretty easy, either:
Take a small pot (sefrier) and put it in a larger pot (sefrier). Fill the big pot with about a half inch of water, and fill the smaller pot with whatever you’re steaming. Stick the top from your water filter over the whole thing and voila! Although you do want to refill the water every now and again.
Or, take empty veggie/tuna/condensed milk cans and fill them about half full of batter. Stick em in the large pot with a bit of water and again, slap the water filter cap on it all. There ya go.

Ingredients:

3 packets of apple cinnamon oatmeal (or a cup of actual apples, diced; one teaspoon cinnamon, and half a cup of sugar)
1/2 cup flour
1 egg, beaten
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ginger
1/4 cup molasses (syrup from Shopright or Tutlas)
1/2 cup blue band (butter if you have it.)
2 tbs milk powder, + 1/2 cup water (or, you know, actual milk)

Cream sugar and blue band (butter). Beat in egg, then molasses. Mix up all the dry ingredients. Add the dry mixture to sugar, interspersing with the milk. Fill either the small pot or cans with batter. Stick in a pot over fire/charcoal/parafin/whatever you use to cook and steam it until a knife stuck in comes out clean (bout a half an hour). Remember to keep adding water!
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Before I begin this month’s blog entry, I would like to send an especial thanks out to Stephanie Meyer, author of the “Twilight” series, for sustaining myself, and countless other Peace Corps volunteers, throughout large portions of our service. True we have to stick “Dead Aid” book-jackets on them and when someone comments that they didn’t realize vampires played such a crucial role in globalization we have to think quickly and come up with some snappy comment about how of course they do and oh by the way have you read about Jeffrey Sach’s opinions on werewolves’ role in the Millenium Development Goals because it’s absolutely fascinating.
Still, it’s worth it. Worth it because while we may not have electricity or running water, or even a nearby road, we have the certainty that Bella and Edward share a love that transcends mortality, age, and even the perils of high school. Or as a wise volunteer put it “We live in the middle-of-nowhere-Africa, you get your kicks where you find them.”
Now onto our regularly scheduled blog entry. Normally, as a Peace Corps volunteer in Africa, I live a fairly obscure life. I’m on the internet about once a month, I can’t text about 90% of America, I’m not on twitter, and my address leads to a post box over three hours away from where I live. Even if you live in Malawi, getting to my house involves riding an hour and a half down a dirt road, getting off at the last stop on the bus route, and asking someone to take you to where I live. Generally more anonymity than I’ve ever had. Then there’s months like July.
July I ate at both the America ambassador’s house (with the ambassador), and at the Malawian statehouse (with His Excellency, Ngwazi, the President of Malawi and Chairman of the African Union, Professor Dr. Bingu wa Mutharika). Not too bad for one month.
I was at the ambassador’s, of course, for the annual fourth of July celebration, where all the American ex-pats in Malawi gather for a picnic. The picnic takes place on the ambassador’s lawn, which is just like any other lawn, really, except that his lawn can comfortably fit every American ex-pat in Malawi, a makeshift grill, a swimming pool, several craft and sale tables, as well as a bouncy castle. Peace Corps is assigned certain tasks throughout the picnic. Mine was face-painting, though I have no idea why. A five year old actually said to me “Well it’s nice, but it doesn’t exactly look like an American flag, does it?”
Despite my lousy face-painting skills, I had a great time lounging around, talking with friends, eating good food (all the traditionals of course - hotdogs, hamburgers, baked beans, coleslaw, and imported Doritos) and trying to convince the bouncy castle guards that yes I am under four feet tall thank you very much!
Two weeks later we received a text saying we were again invited to Lilongwe, this time for a luncheon with the President. Since I didn’t want to take too much time away from site (and since travel was compensated by the Peace Corps) I decided to take the expensive and chic night bus down to Lilongwe. You know the night buses in “Harry Potter”? It’s kind of like that. Except that so far as I remember, J.K. Rawling never wrote about a music video where a man shot lasers out of his eyes into another man, who then turned into a goat while a chorus of scantily clad woman in the background cheerfully chanted “Bye bye Satan!” (Although this bus is a step up from the normal buses, which stop every two seconds on the seven hour journey south, and frequently stuff not only passengers, but furniture, pounds of dead fish, and chickens in the aisles. There is a reason we hitchhike.)
In Lilongwe we each received an official invitation, which instructed us that the dress code was “evening wear, or traditional dress.” This was not too hard for the girls. Most of us have, at some point, bought a chitenje and had a tailor turn it into a dress or national wear. For the boys though, things were a bit harder. For some reason, not many of them had thought to pack suits when planning their two year service in Malawi. So most of them set off to the market and bought a suit. Not too hard. One thing, however, did pose a problem. I think the best way to explain it is by recounting a conversation between a friend of mine and two of our bosses:

Friend: Hey (boss 1), how are you?
Boss 1: Good, how’s site?
Friend: Oh it’s going well, yeah, so listen...
Boss 1 & 2: Oh boy
Friend: I’ve got this really great suit, dark blue with a really nice tie, but...
Boss 1: What size?
Friend: Uh, 11
Boss 1: Oh no. I’m completely out of size 11 shoes
Boss 2: I’ve still got a pair

I’d be willing to guess “providing shoes for volunteers to wear to a state function” was not in any Peace Corps staff job description. I have to say though, it was really nice to show up at the office the next day and see everyone all dressed up and free of the two coats of dirt we normally wear.
We showed up at the statehouse around eleven, and immediately the differences between an official American function and an official Malawian function were evident. As we pulled up to the wrought iron gates, guards with machine guns waved us to a stop and boarded our buses.
“Good morning!” They said.
“Good morning.” We chorused back, a bit uncertain.
“We just want to say most welcome. Feel free, feel at home, you are safe here, so enjoy. Most welcome, feel free!” And with a big smile they waved at us and got off the bus. After that it was a matter of showing our invitations, getting patted down briefly, and we were in the statehouse compound. To get into the ambassador’s house by contrast, we had to show our invitation, point out our name on a list, show our peace corps I.D. and walk through a metal detector.
Once inside we were led out to an enormous white tent, complete with chandeliers, flooring, and air conditioning. Now, I can list on one hand the number of buildings in Malawi I have been in with air conditioning. So to be in a tent with A.C.? Crazy.
Two hours of chatting later and we were all seated at our tables where drinks were laid out. The drinks were: bottles of water with the President’s face on them, two types of fruit juice, Cabernet Sauvignon, Champagne, and Amarula (chocolate liquer). Now, we had heard rumors that there would be an open bar, but I think most of us were a little overwhelmed by the selection suddenly laid out before us.
See, most of the time, we live in tiny African villages in the middle of nowhere. My nearest wine, for example, is three hours away, and it definitely comes in a box. Liquor is sold in tiny packets called “sachets” and is so terrible that the most popular chaser is a slap to the face to distract you from the taste. And suddenly there are three bottles of really expensive alcohol laid out on each table. As a friend put it, “I don’t want to get drunk at a Presidential function but... well, is it really right to let this go to waste?” Being the lush I am, I had three sips of amarula and an entire box of pineapple juice. Whoo! Party!
After lunch our country director, gave a very nice speech about the partnership between America and Malawi and how both countries will continue to strive for the development of Malawi. Then, the President stood up and gave a speech that, to me, was surprisingly genuine, heartfelt, and touching. He said that he has traveled a lot, and that it’s always hard, and this is one of the reasons he so respects what we are doing. He said that what we are doing is one of the most important aspects of development, because we actually work in and with individual communities, and that, most importantly, we turn strangers into friends. He said he held the luncheon as a way to say thanks. When you consider that he could have just sent a card, that’s quite a nice gesture. Not to mention, it was really gratifying just to hear someone say, “You do good work here, and we appreciate it, thanks.”
The party ended with (very tasteful) dancing. After greeting all of us, the President left, but told us to keep dancing, so we did, eventually having the band jump down and dance around with us. About seven hours after we had first arrived at the statehouse we left again, having given, I think, a pretty good impression of ourselves, and Peace Corps as a whole.
Later in the night we briefly met up with the President’s stepson, who we actually had met a few times before (not actually that big a coincidence, remember that Malawi is about the size of Indiana here). After chatting with us a bit he had to head out.  A few minutes later he dashed back in, looking around and exclaiming quickly, “has anyone seen my bodyguard?”
Things I have occasionally left places and had to go back to look for include but are not limited to: my purse, my phone, my camera, my jacket or sweater. Things I have never left anywhere or had to return to look for: my bodyguard.
Returning to site I was greeted by my ecstatic villagers, many of whom had seen me on T.V. (the whole luncheon having been broadcast) and told me that I had dressed very prettily. They also said they had seen me dancing and I had danced very well. The only way I can explain this is by stating that it’s a big aspect of Malawian culture to flat out lie if it’s polite. Even considering the widely televised dorky dancing, it was still a very nice shindig.