For the Love of Maggie

All of the Peace Corps language instructors are fantastic, but our Chitumbuka teacher, Maggie, was inarguably and incomparably wonderful. With her vaguely Whitney Houston-esque appearance, her bookish air ruffled by an undercurrent of mischief, and her generally soft-spoken manner counter-balanced by an adorable tendency to screech when excited, she was immediately easy to love. Her particular brand of humor was less about what she said and more about how she said it – in a way that was so distinctively her, so thoroughly Maggie. And these Maggie-isms were exactly what made our language classes so fun and so often full of giggles. (Many of them were stress-induced and Meflaquin-prompted, I’m sure, but they were giggles all the same).

Around week three, I finally started writing a few of these Maggie-isms down, and now I’m letting them make their internet debut with a couple of disclaimers: a) that they’re presented with absolute love, and b) that they’re probably only funny to a handful of people in the world.

Cam, Donald, Nick, and my fellow Katsekamingans – this is for you.

While introducing the word kumwa, meaning “to drink”:

“If you use this word alone, they will simply conclude you are a DRUNKARD.”

Nick: “All these goats and cows, there’s got to be some cheese in this country.”

Maggie: [a long pause, followed by absolute bemusement]

 “…My god.”

Briefing us for a market visit:

“There will be a lot of things being sold like the mandazi, the tomatoes, the WHAT AND WHAT.”

In response to a buzzing bee: “Ah, HEY, where is it from? What is this boozing?”

“Aw. Boza.” – in an absolutely sweet, indulgent tone, in response to Cam’s announcement that he would be having cheese for dinner. Meaning: liar.

Discussing the subjunctive tense and the verb kufwa, meaning “to die”:

Student: “So can you say ‘mufwe’? ‘You should die?’”

Maggie: “Ah. No.”

Students: [disappointed silence]

Maggie: “But you can say ‘mukafwe.’ ‘You should go and die.’”

After writing the example sentence “Maggie steals”:

Student: “Maggie, how could you?!”

Maggie: “THIEVES STEAL.”

During a conversation about the Malawian fondness for food that is super-sweet and super-salty:

Student: “But you don’t have to add salt.”

Maggie: [thoughtful pause]

 “…You do here.”

No context needed:

“That was ah-wu-sohm.”

And no context desired, probably:

“So you can say ‘kujulika mnthumbo’ to say ‘I have opened my bowels.’”

Some of us had a hard time staying awake near the end of training:

“Not everyone likes sleeping. It depends on what someone WANTS. Some will even take their blankets, cover their heads…[slipping into giggles, looking at Donald]”

Because we’re all mature adults, the lesson on Chitumbuka curse words was particularly fruitful in the way of giggles.

-       Introducing the word thako: “Those are butticles.”

-       In an ultra-conservative country, the schematic for cursing is really very simple: “You can use any private part.”

-       And one insult is the worst of them all: pathako pako, meaning “on your butt.”

o   Maggie’s take on this phrase: “If you hear them use this, that is now the time to get MORE ANGRY THAN EVER.”

o   Alternatively, there’s the insult pa munthu wako, meaning “on your head”: “If you say this, it is now less tense.”

-       And then, of course: “Kugonana. This is now sex.”

In a conversation about dogs:

Student: “Those are man’s best friend.”

Maggie. “Yes.

               ….

            And then we beat them.”

The collective favorite:

“I usually don’t speak Chichewa. I HATE IT.”

And my personal favorite. One day I miraculously remembered the word kugomezga, meaning “to hope.”

Nick: “How’d you remember that?”

Maggie: “She’s a dreamer.”

[A poignant pause offered just enough time for me to think, “Oh, I’ll remember this forever.” And then the next statement made certain that I would.]

“…She’s a witch.”

Oh Maggie.