The Stove Piper

As if playing the stove missionary in Chinangali 2 weren’t desperate enough, a couple of days later I transform into the Pipe Piper of Chinangali 1. Another frustrating start to a stove demonstration. This time we’re sure to have contacted the monitor, Noah, but he’s been too busy to tell people about today’s event. “I did arrange for a venue though!” he says proudly and leads us to an empty house. Again, CCM campaigning. Not even the owner is around but there are dozens of little pairs of eyes watching us from around the neighbourhood. School is over for the day. After a forty minute sluggish discussion in Chigogo between Justin and Noah about what to do, Noah sets out to gather some adults he thinks may be interested. I decide to escape the sun for a while and wait in the car for people to appear.

An hour passes and I’m glad to have brought some rice and veg in my Tupperware. As I munch and rehydrate in the shaded backseat I begin to notice giggles and “hawaryoos” shyly aimed in my direction. The little pairs of eyes have multiplied and are fixed on me. The windows are closed and I close my own eyes for a while in an attempt to wish I could become invisible and sleep for a while. The “hawaryoos” become louder and more frequent and naughty laughter begins to annoy me.

As I try to justify to myself why I feel irritable I realize there really is no good reason. I begin to think about what these children might be feeling instead. They’re not at school and are bored and yes, probably hungry too. But they’re laughing and hanging out together and full of life and curiosity. I begin think of Thomas’ stories from St Ignatius Primary School where he teaches maths. His biggest challenge is getting the pupils to be quiet and pay attention because he doesn’t use a cane like all his colleagues do and recommend. And here is a large group of kids with their eyes fixed on me, intently watching every move I make and ready to listen to anything I might say. “A perfect opportunity to be useful”, I tell myself as I roll down the car window.

“Bukweni!” I say. “Bukwa” they reply in choral unison. After introducing myself I start asking the name and age of my audience. There are at least forty children ranging in age from 6 to 13. I remember there’s a world map in the front page of our diary and give an impromptu geography lesson, explaining where I come from and asking if anyone can point out different continents on the map. They gaze at the map and for a few minutes struggle to locate even Africa amidst the other continents. I’m relieved when they are able to point at Tanzania, however, in a close-up map of Africa I find at the back of the diary. I’m reminded of my teaching experience in India last year and start getting into engaging with these thirsty growing minds. So I move onto English, and begin to learn Kiswahili human anatomy vocabulary, teaching them the English words in exchange.


I get out of the car and go the next step: the hokey POKEY!!! Yes. The hokey pokey indeed. The crowd has kept growing and I notice a group of mothers forming an outer shell to our circle. We sing and dance and laugh. Until the village drunkard breaks in. He’s persistent and forceful and is adamant to spoil the fun. But what really surprises me is people’s reaction to his behaviour. None of the mothers or grandmothers wants to step in and ask him to leave. It’s Anna, who is 13 year-old who takes him by the arm and with a smile on her face tries to pull him away. She’s pushed over and no one does anything about it. He continues to be a pain and it’s only after a good 10 minutes that Noah, who has finally returned with a few stove spectators, successfully tells the drunkard to get lost.



The children's curiosity is unquenchable and I wonder if being present at the stove demo is more important/ fun than continuing to play with them. Why not do both? I ask myself. And so I ask the kids if they’d like to see a really cool stove... Justin laughs and takes out his camera as he sees me approach the house with forty odd youngsters around me. After getting the kids into a line, I lead them one by one into the house where the ugali is cooking to greet Levina and take a look at the stove. There are now at least a dozen women outside the house asking Justin questions about the stove. “Is it true that snakes can come in through the chimney?”, “Why is it faster to cook with a traditional 3 stove fire?”, “How much firewood does it use?”, “Why can’t you use charcoal in it?”, “How can they be fixed during the rainy season?”... and so on.

Levina gets into the spirit too and uses her wonderful charisma to lead a lesson the way she does in our school trainings at Matumbulu Primary School. She talks to the children and answers questions. In the absence of a blackboard we use a branch to draw the usual illustrations on the sand and during a classic advert break hand out our fliers and ask the kids to give them to their parents. When the food is ready, the lady who is leading the cooking divides the ugali into three large and even portions: one to be shared by the dozen women attending the demo; one for the forty odd kids; and one for the only 3 men at the gathering.