The Mua Mission in KuNgoni
Welcome back friends of KATW! We had a very exciting impromptu trip this past Sunday that was such a learning experience for the two of us. Last I left, Kelly and I had a nice dinner with our new friend Henry. Although the conversation did get heavy with many difficult subjects brought up, we were left with a promise from Henry to take us to one of his "happy places", the Mua Mission in KuNgoni.
The day was supposed to start around 10 in the morning, but Henry had a very odd morning and wasn't able to come pick us up until 1230 (it was a free ride, so we weren't going to complain). We were joined by Henry's young son, Henri, and after a quick introduction we set off. Henry's ride turned out to be his car that he had shipped here from the US. It was oddly comforting being in a familiar car once again, but quite a juxtaposition when compared to where we were.
Henry told us that he had been out to the mission several times, but because it was so off the beaten track it was easy to get lost. He wasn't kidding. The ride out was long, but very beautiful. We went from the low lands of Lilongwe up into the surrounding mountains that went on forever. At times Kelly and I thought that we were not actually traveling but watching movie scenery pass us by. Kelly mentioned that the landscape was so stereotypical of what one expects to see in an African country, that it seemed to be a caricature of itself. Words don't do the landscape justice so I will let the pictures speak.
While we enjoyed the incredible landscape, the ride itself was at times a bit harrowing. The roads in Malawi very seldom have traffic signs, informing those on it what the speed was, what road you were on, mile markers etc. These roads were two lane, windy mountain roads where one could easily crash into oncoming traffic if a turn wasn't taken correctly. The roads were also populated by cyclists, people selling goods on the sides, herds of animals (goats mainly) and others walking to where ever they needed to be. Villages would pop up out of nowhere and when that happened goats would almost get hit, we would go from very fast (80-90 mph) to a slow crawl or complete stop. If that wasn't enough, there were random barricades or checkpoints. When we asked Henry what the purpose of them was, he said that because the police force here make so little often times they would throw up these barricades so get money from those that wanted to pass through. Since he had diplomatic plates, we needn't worry, so we didn't.
After about two hours we arrived at our destination. The road up to the mission is a steep dirt road that is poorly marked, but at the very end of the road was an amazing little paradise. The mission was started in 1902 by 3 Catholic priests who wanted to help the natives out of poverty, sickness, and ignorance. I'm sure this is code for, they wanted to convert the "savages", but that's just my opinion. What we found that day was actually a cultural center dedicated to preserving the memory of the past. The current priest, a French Canadian, has made tremendous strides to incorporate native traditions, myths, philosophies into the teachings of the church as well as preserving important crafts, skills, and ceremonies. He has made such an impression on the people that the three original tribes of Malawi; Yao, Ngoni and Chewa, that they have inducted him as a member in all three. He has also been excommunicated by the Catholic Church three times.
The center has three main houses, one a studio where you can purchase beautiful hand carved pieces of art, a museum where one can learn about the mission, the three tribes and their beliefs, and the final building is where the carvers show off their skills. In the art gallery are astoundingly beautiful works of art made by generations of carvers and painters. The art gallery quite literally took my breath away.
We spent an hour in the studio where we all purchased many items and Henry inquired about a statue that he had specially ordered. Because the carvers were generations deep, anything one saw in the art gallery could be recreated by a current artist. Had I the money and the space, I would have ordered one of everything.
In the museum we learned about the tribes that once populated the area. Members of the tribes are still active, but like the Native Americans, have lost a lot and still struggle with identity. We did learn that those who are still active members of the 3 tribes meet once a year for a big ceremonial dance and conference in Tanzania. One of these years I will make it to the conference and view whatever they allow me to witness. Our tour guide, took us around the museum which has three rooms, but only one we were allowed to photograph. The two that we couldn't take pictures in, housed all of the ancient artifacts, pictures of traditional life and their ceremonial masks. Due to the tribes passing down their beliefs through oral tradition, symbolism in masks, ceremonies and objects was a way to educate the young ones. Every color, object, shape, creature etc. had multiple meanings. The masks, ten thousand in all, were all used as a way to encourage good behavior and discourage bad. They wanted their children to practice good oral hygiene so a bird like mask with many white teeth was used to teach that concept. A horned black mask with fire on top was to symbolize the power of magic and the responsibility one has when blessed with such power. It was so incredible to see such complicated messages molded into an object. I will never tire of learning about all of the ways art has been used by humans as a means of education and communication. It was quite easy to draw parallels between what I saw before me and all that I learned about native cultures all over the world. For instance, ancient Celts believed that during Samhain the souls could walk the Earth and to keep the bad ones away one would have to dress up, wear a mask or paint your face so that you were unrecognizable. It always surprises and angers me how so many like to dismiss "native culture" as something that only happened in Africa and the Americas before the white men came.
I was happy to see that history had not been fully erased and was actually making a comeback. There were still ceremonies being performed, albeit without some of the more unnecessarily violent rituals and we in fact ran into a group of masked dancers while we were leaving. They shook there rattles and moved in a way that didn't seem quite human. The masks that they wore were very intimidating and they made sure to get very close to us. It took a lot for me to not scream. They were, after all, just men in masks.
On the car ride home, I took time to contemplate all that I learned. Human history is fluid, progressing and rewinding, the past at times, overlapping the present. Sometimes it is erased completely, only traces being "discovered" for yet another rewrite of what possibly happened. I was so excited to learn about the earlier Malawians, before the white man came to try to erase and stigmatize their identity. There are people in Lilongwe who won't go up to the mission because of the "witchcraft" that is performed there. How proud the missionaries must be. The irony is not lost on me, that the one who should be preventing the preservation and resurrection of the native culture, is actually its biggest supporter. The center does come off as a tourist attraction, but one that is truly sincere. Yes there is a spectacle, a show that is put on, but if that means being able to remember and preserve that which once was, I say its worth it.
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