Saturday May 30, Lake Malawi, Senga Bay (morning)

We strolled down the dirt road outside the Wheel House as the sun was sinking last evening. Children shouted and waved at us, so we danced at them, which made them cackle. They continued encouraging us, emulating our dances and repeated yelling "hello!" They would run away laughing if we tried to approach. We continued to stroll and passed a woman who said she was a teacher at a school nearby. Katie cautioned me on jumping straight into "how are you doing?" She told me that I have to start with, "hello" because the whole: "Hello." "Hello." "How are you?" "Fine. How are you?" exchange is memorized and deviations could be confusing. We took a path that led down to the shore and walked back along the beach past a small fishing village. Katie foud a gang of excited youngsters whose shrieks of excitement roused all the rest of the kids within earshot. They all came running out in one big herd, all of them wanting to shake Katie's hands. She began to chase the kids around a chicken coop. We sang, and danced, and clapped with them. The village women looked on smiling, and offered us a big grasshopper, which we refused, on our way out. The men, at best looked on with amusement, and at worst derision. They propositioned us for money and cigarettes. Katie said, "So that's what it's like; the kids are great, men are a pain in the ass!" As soon as I got here I'd been latching onto the face of every child I'd seen. I now think it's because they are immediately relatable. With a child, you make some goofy faces, dance around, and they love it. It doesn't matter if you're foreign, don't speak their language, don't share their culture. The adults all want the money they presume I have, and are therefore often difficult to relate to. Exchanges based on assumptions and ignorance can be obviously strained. Yesterday as I sat on the beach, finally relaxing, an "artist" named Mac approached me, laid out a towel directly beside me, and begin unpacking and laying out his merchandise. I told him that I had no money to give at the moment, but he was unfazed, saying that we could instead trade; my trousers perhaps, or my phone. I wanted to try and talk to this kid, if he did in fact do these painting and pieces of jewelery, then that was something interesting, and I feel I can talk about art or process with people, but there was none of that. I offered to trade art for art. I tore out a piece of notebook paper and tore it in half. I told him that I'd draw on one half and he could draw on the other, and that we'd trade the next day. He just laughed at me. Told me I was crazy and creative. At least it got him to leave me alone.

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