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dissertation entitled

TEACHING LIVES:
AUTOBIOGRAPHY, UMUNTHU, PEACE AND SOCIAL JUSTICE
EDUCATION IN MALAWI

presented by
STEVE L. SHARRA

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for the

Ph.D. degree in Teacher Education

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TEACHING LIVES:
AUTOBIOGRAPHY, UM UNT H U, PEACE AND SOCIAL JUSTICE EDUCATION
IN MALAWI

By

Steve L. Sharra

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Department of Teacher Education
College of Education

2007

ABSTRACT

TEACHING LIVES:
AUTOBIOGRAPHY, UM UN THU, PEACE AND SOCIAL JUSTICE EDUCATION
IN MALAWI

By

Steve L. Sharra

This study examines teacher autobiographies, and classroom pedagogical practices, of
twenty-one Malawian teachers from seven Malawian primary schools. The aim of the
study was to investigate how these teachers defined and enacted peace and social justice
education. The study examines how the teachers used autobiography to define and
construct a peace and social justice curriculum and pedagogy, informed by an
endogenous African peace epistemology of humanness, uMunthu (Musopole, I994;
Sindima, 1995; Kaphagawani, 2000; Chigona, 2003; Tambulasi and Kayuni, 2005).

The methodology involved a writing institute, classroom observations, post-
observation interviews, in-depth life history interviews, and textual analysis of the
teachers’ autobiographies. In finding out what genres of writing were best suited to
teaching for peace and social justice, teachers told stories about their lives growing up
and going to school in the 19703 and 808 under a dictatorship, and about their lives now
as teachers. Autobiography therefore turned out to be an important genre for these
teachers, in developing a peace and social justice framework, and in defining uMunthu as

a peace epistemology. I worked with the teachers to plan lessons that sought to study

Malawi’s problems from a peace and social justice perspective. Part of this process
entailed a discussion of Malawi’s colonial and post-colonial periods.

The data from the study comprises teachers’ autobiographies, interview
transcripts, notes from classroom observations, and a field journal. A four-part thematic
framework—uMunthu, curriculum, pedagogy, and praxis—emerges from the data. In the
framework, peace, social justice and human security are defined as the humanness that
constitutes human identity. African epistemologies define this as uMunthu, (Chichewa),
or uBuntu, in other southern African languages. According to Musopole (1994), uMunthu
sees a human being as not only “belong[ing] to a community as a responsible member”
but also as having “communion, which is the mark of a reconciled community” (p. 180).
In the words of Desmond Tutu (1999), “We are bound up in a delicate network of
interdependence because, as we say in our African idiom, a person is a person through
other persons” (p. 35).

The autobiographies highlight topical issues that when addressed in the classroom
and in the school, constitute the peace curriculum. The peace curriculum enables a peace
pedagogy, aimed at social transformation through on-going action-in-reflection, referred
to as Praxis (Freire, 1970; Bell et al, 1997; Glass, 2001; Spence and Makuwira, 2005).

The research offers new perspectives on uMunthu, peace and social justice, for
teacher education, teacher professional development, curriculum development and
classroom teaching. As a peace building effort for Malawi, the study brings teachers’
lives to the fore and demonstrates the importance of endogenous African epistemologies,

especially as more and more Africans explore the ideals of an African Renaissance.

DEDICATION

I dedicate this work to my parents Mai ndi Bambo Shara; to my wife Gloria; and to my
children, Tsogolo, Tayamika, and Tinyade. A special dedication goes to the late Frank
Kamwendo, and to Tamara and David Schoenbaum, in Iowa City, for propping up my
first steps on this American leg of my life’s journey; and to the late Joseph Mucherera,

for our special, yet short-lived, friendship.

iv

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This birth has had a long gestation, and has been midwived by several people without
whose hands, we would be dealing with a stillbirth. I begin by thanking my dissertation
director, Dr. Lynn F endler, my dissertation committee chair and adviser, Dr. Jack
Schwille, and members of my dissertation committee— Dr. Susan Florio-Ruane, Dr John
Metzler, and Dr. Ernest Morrell. I would also like to thank Professor Tracy Dobson, Dr.
Joyce Grant, Professor Jay Featherstone, and Ms. Anne Schneller, for their personal
fiiendship from the moment I stepped foot in East Lansing.

The idea for this dissertation research started out in the Red Cedar Writing Project
(RCWP), housed in the MSU Writing Center, with the inspiration of Dr. Janet Swenson,
the Director of the RCWP and the MSU Writing Center, to whom I owe many endless
thanks. The RCWP cohort of 2002 sowed the seeds of the original idea, and the
Malawian teachers who participated in the research, who must remain unnamed, provided
the nurture. Remaining unnamed also are the head teachers in the four Malawian schools
where I set foot as I conducted this research, who were gracious with their time, and
welcomed me, as we say in Malawi, with both hands.

The Malawi Institute of Education (MIE) gave me a home during the data
collection phase, and for this I am grateful to the following: Dr. Simeon Hau, Dr. D.M.C.
Nyirenda. Mr. P. Mzumara, Mr. Ken Phiri, and Mr. R. Sichali. My stay at MIE was
sustained by the warm friendship of Mr. D. Kaambankadzanja, Mrs. E. Lemani, Mrs. M.
Phiri, Mrs. J. Matemba-Bvumbwe, and Mr. M. Iphani. I benefited from the deep

knowledge and insight of the education system in Malawi through close contact with Mr.

L. Ndalama and Dr. H. Mchazime. Mai Demba ensured that the MIE Guest House was
always homely and accommodating, and for this I sincerely thank her. The paper work
and research permissions process was made particularly smooth with the kind assistance
of Mrs. Mittawa at the South Eastern Education Division offices in Zomba, Mr. Dzunje at
the District Education Manager’s office in Ntcheu, and the District Education Manager’s
office in Dedza.

I have been blessed to have special friends who have provided me with deep
spiritual and intellectual nourishment in Eric & Vida Wihnot, Dr. James Damico, Dr.
Yovita Gwekwerere & Bernard Gwekwerere, Dr. Karen Lowenstein, Mark Hamilton, Dr.
Grace Ukasoanya, Violeta Yurita, Sandra Schmidt, Hilda Omae, and Nancy Lubeski. A
big part of my growing Pan-Afrikan consciousness has been the Blueprints Book Club,
pioneered by Dr. Leketi Makalela, and devotedly sustained by Walter Sistrunk, Mikelle
Antoine, Nii Dzani and Candis Driver. Equally inspiring has been the Afiica Education
Research Group, in the College of Education at MSU, whose members I sincerely thank.

I will be remiss if I do not mention the friendship, support and encouragement I
have received from fiiends and colleagues in the MSU Writing Center, including Mike
Sherry and Anne Lawrence. My intellectual politics, probably apparent on the pages of
this dissertation, have taken shape on the Malawi Internet listservs Nyasanet and
Malawitalk, where my Pan Afrikanist kindred spirits have included Zangaphee
Chimombo and Drama Nanthuru. Thanks to Dr. L. Kaonga, and to Bright Malopa, the
respective listowners. In the larger picture, I am grateful beyond what words can say to
Roy Hauya, Mr. Wise Chauluka, and Dr. Jonathan Makuwira, all of them formerly of the

Malawi Institute of Education; Dr. Susuwele Banda, Mr. Andy Byers at MIE; Mr. Lot

vi

Dzonzi, whose mentorship right from secondary school carved this path for me, the late
Dr. Anthony Nazombe, Professor Steve Chimombo, Mr. Benedicto Wokomaatani
Malunga, and Dr. Garton Sandifolo Kamchedzera, all of whom extended self-less support
in the formative years of my creative writing endeavors. To Dr. Dean Makuluni, Rev.
Stewart Lane, Olivia Liwewe, Gerard Chigona, Fr. Phalawala, Fr. Gamba; Talence
Kasiyamhuru, and Matthews Mpitapita, thank you for your friendship. And to Tamara
and David Schoenbaum, Dr. Sandra Barkan, Dr. James Marshall, and Dr. Donnarae
MacCann, in Iowa City, I cannot thank you enough for the trust you invested in me.

The research for this dissertation would not have happened were it not for the
Compton Peace Foundation in Palo Alto, California, USA. In this regard I wish to extend
my gratitude to Ms. Edith Eddie, Executive Director for the Compton Peace Foundation;
Dr. Allen Isaacman, Dr. Bud Duvall and Dr. Karen Thompson, all at the University of
Minnesota; Dr. David Wiley, Dr. Keri Brondo, Dr. Peter Limb, and Dr. Anne Ferguson
who coordinated the MSU-Compton Africa Dissertation fellowship through the African
Studies Center and the Women and International Development program at MSU.

I reserve my final vote of the heavy, syncopated, Malawian-style, traditional
handclapping for my wife Gloria, my children Tsogolo, Tayarnika, and Tinyade; my
parents Bambo ndi Mai Shara; my mother-in-law Mrs. E. Chinkhandwe; my brother
Leonard, and sisters Rhoda, Rose, Esther and Memory; my ‘big’ sister Mrs. Marlene
Chikuni, and my cousin and best friend Fletcher Ziwoya. For you, thanks mean little, as
you continue shouldering the burden of my continuing intellectual pursuits. Ngatz'

m ’mayesa zathera pompa, mwauponda (If you hoped this was the end, you hoped on a
dry Spell).

vii

Table of Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ............................................................................................ v
Chapter One ........................................................................................................................ 1
In search of identity: From the seminary, into the world .................................................... l

Autobiography and life writing: possibilities for professional development in Malawi

...................................................................................................................................... 15

A culture of peace, social justice and human security as ultimate goal ........................ 17
Personal background and motivation ............................................................................ 22
Historical, political and socio-economic context .......................................................... 31
Outline of dissertation ................................................................................................... 36
Chapter 2 Methodology ............................................................................................. 38
Qualitative educational research ................................................................................... 41
First phase ..................................................................................................................... 46
Second phase ................................................................................................................. 55
Third phase ................................................................................................................... 56
Continuous data analysis .............................................................................................. 57
Gender inequality .......................................................................................................... 58
The role of religion ....................................................................................................... 6O
Participatory Action Research ...................................................................................... 62
Criteria for evaluation of the research .......................................................................... 65
Critical needs ................................................................................................................ 69
Chapter 3 ........................................................................................................................... 72
Defining peace-uMunthu: theoretical framework and literature review ........................... 72

An Afiican concept of peace and social justice: uMunthu and the human community 76

viii

Human security and social justice as peace praxis ....................................................... 86

Pedagogy as peace praxis ............................................................................................. 89
Curricular issues as peace praxis .................................................................................. 95
Autobiography as peace praxis ................................................................................... 100
Chapter 4 ......................................................................................................................... 106
Social justice, human security and autobiography: teachers’ lived experiences ............ 106
Peace, social justice and human security perspectives ............................................... 110
Restoring uMunthu for peace, social justice and human security ............................... 113
Brief profiles of participants who wrote autobiographies .......................................... 115
The implications of schooling under a dictatorship .................................................... 118
Peer violence ............................................................................................................... 122
Socio-economic contexts of schooling ....................................................................... 126
Gender and life in school ............................................................................................ 128
The “torturing profession”: Life as teachers ............................................................... 134
Trimphs, challenges, and possibilities ........................................................................ 147
Complicity and subversion ......................................................................................... 148
Perseverance ............................................................................................................... 149
Autobiography and the potential for professional development ................................. 150
Social injustice as local and global ............................................................................. 150
Chapter 5 ......................................................................................................................... 157
Lessons of peace: problem-solving and social justice approaches to pedagogy ............ 157
Defining a ‘peace’ lesson ............................................................................................ 162
Lesson Two: Activities in land preparation for groundnuts or beans ......................... 169
Lesson Three: Storytelling/Accidents involving water .............................................. 170
Lesson Four: Factors for the decline of Greek civilization ........................................ 173

ix

 

 

Lesson Five: Decimals ................................................................................................ 178

Lesson Six: Writing numbers 6, 7, 8 and 9 ................................................................. 180
Lesson Seven: Spelling ............................................................................................... 184
Lesson Eight: Filling in a bank withdrawal slip ......................................................... 190
Lesson Nine: Ratio ...................................................................................................... 194
Lesson Ten: Common accidents in the home, school and on the road ....................... 198
Teacher-centered pedagogy ........................................................................................ 201
Gender perspectives in peace and social justice education ......................................... 202
Teaching methods and strategies ................................................................................ 202
uMunthu, peace and social justice perspectives in the educational system ................ 203
The demands of praxis: practicing what you preach .................................................. 204
Connections to uMunthu, curriculum, pedagogical and praxis .................................. 209
Chapter 6 ......................................................................................................................... 212
‘Here now is an adequate revolution for me to espouse . . .’ .......................................... 212
So, what really broke the elephant’s tusk? ................................................................. 218
Life narratives and the curriculum .............................................................................. 221
Global and historical dimensions of peace and justice in the curriculum .................. 222
Tentativeness and incompleteness .............................................................................. 227

uMunthu, curriculum, pedagogy and praxis: a peace and social justice education

framework ................................................................................................................... 228
Risks, problems and limitations of study .................................................................... 229
Implications for future research and policy directions ............................................... 237
Coming full circle, paving new roads ......................................................................... 241
APPENDIX A: Map of Africa—Malawi inset ........................................................... 244

X

APPENDIX B: Map of Malawi—districts represented by teachers in study ............. 245

APPENDIX C: List of Participants by school ............................................................ 246
APPENDIX D: The structure of the school system in Malawi .................................. 247
APPENDIX E: Letters and forms of consent ............................................................. 248
APPENDIX E: Interview questions ............................................................................ 257

xi

Chapter One

In search of identity: From the seminary, into the
world

Do not mind the light you miss
For it is dimmer than you think
‘Speaking to a newly—born blind baby,’ Shemu Joya, 1990

******

A little rest for the wounds - who speaks of healing?
(And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation
to the next, as in a relay race:
the baton never falls.)
‘Wildpeace,’ Yehuda Amichai, 1994

When the then rector of Nankhunda Seminary, Fr. Dr. Vincent Nzolima (RIP),
called for me to go to his office on the morning of July 17, 1988, the last day of my Form
Three (11th grade), the last thing on my mind was expulsion from the school. I imagined
that he would probably mention to me things I needed to know for the coming year. I was
one of three House Captains, a leadership position I was going to carry with me into
Form Four. I was also chairperson of the Lwanga Parish students at Nankhunda, and of
the school’s chess club, and captain of the volleyball team. Thus nothing prepared me for
the news Fr. Dr. Nzolima, a tall, slim, gentle-mannered Malawian priest delivered to me
that cold mountain morning. The seminary staff had decided that I not return for my last
year of secondary school, he said to me, looking down at some papers on his desk. “The
staff feel that you seem better suited to the other side of the world,” he stated in his
measured, delayed articulation that fully involved his lips and eyes. It had become a
running joke at Nankhunda to try and parrot Fr. Dr. Nzolima’s slow, dragged speech

pattern amongst seminarians.

This news was most unexpected, and I felt as though I was floating in the air of
his lowly-lit, crowded office. It wasn’t until I was on the road, walking down the 6-mile
descent from the western tip of Zomba Plateau, three thousand feet above sea level, that it
hit me. Could this really be the end of the road for my life as a seminarian? How was I
going to break the news to my parents? I did not want to believe it. I did all I could to
fight back the tears, but they came washing down my face. My friends sensed what had
happened. Nobody asked a question. I walked the rest of the way in silence, down the

winding path, crossing cold glistening streams and breathing in the fresh air of Zomba

Mountain. It seemed as if even the majestic beauty of the mountain and its green
overgrowth had turned against me.
The priests at Nankhunda did not like to discuss the issue of ‘weeding.’ Every
time it came up, they would say it was really God who saw into everyone’s hearts, and
who knew whether one would become a priest or not. All that the priests were doing, they
liked to say, was carrying out God’s wish. It was all captured in the song we sang every

ni ght in the chapel before retiring to our dormitories:

Yesu ati munda wakula (Jesus says the field is huge)
Antchito aperewera (The workers are few)

Ntchito yanga ili yambiri (My work is heavy)
Adzandithandize ndani? (Who will join in and help me)?
Eh Ambuye, ndife ananu (Oh Lord, we are your children)

T iwopa, tilibe nzeru (We fear, we have no wisdom)

Koma inu mukatifuna (But if you need us Lord)
T idzavomera (We shall respond)

The news devastated my parents. My father had singularly worked hard to get me
into the catholic seminary, and both he and my mother were hoping I would be the first
priest in the Sharra clan. Now that hope had been shattered. Not only that, he would also

need to find me another secondary school for my last year. There were very few
Secondary schools in Malawi, and the competition was always stiff.

My father approached the headmaster for Police Secondary School, Mr. Ziba, and
they arranged a place for me. Police Secondary School was built in the late 19705, with
the aim of alleviating the problem of few secondary school places for children of police
officers. The Malawi Police Force funded the school fully, but everything else about it,
including the curriculum, was the same as at any ordinary secondary school in Malawi.

The main difference was that only children of police officers were eligible to attend

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Police Secondary School. It was therefore a civilian school, with no programs to
introduce people into the police profession as the school’s name might otherwise suggest.
Before long, my father had to leave for a 6-month promotion course at the Police
Training School in Limbe, some 43 miles away from Zomba. As he boarded the police
vehicle carrying him and other officers to Limbe, he repeated to me his firm wish that I
fo 1 low through with an application to the White Fathers congregation. The White Fathers
trained their own priests, who went to a different seminary from the Diocesan one. My
father was hoping that while the Nankhunda door had been closed to me, a White
Father’s one might open. He made me promise that I would submit the application. Like
the, he refused to believe that the expulsion from Nankhunda spelled the end of my
C 1 erical ambitions.
Such was my devotion to the priestly vocation that being expelled from one
Seminary did not seem the end of my priestly dreams. I vowed to myself that one way or
allother, I would achieve my goal and still become a priest one day. I mailed in a letter
inquiring about the White Fathers, and patiently waited for a reply. Several months went
by, but I did not lose hope. By the end of my last year in secondary school, it became
apparent that the White Fathers would probably not accept someone who had been
EXpelled from a diocesan seminary. I never got a reply from them.
It has now been eighteen years since, but the intensity of the memory has not let
Up. It has become an important event in my life history. This dissertation uses life

writing1 as one of the central methodologies for the research I carried out with twenty-

 

' Different scholars use different terms for the concept of writing about one’s life, with slight theoretical
variations. Some call it life story writing (Chaunfrault-Duchet, 2004), life history (Goodson, 1993, 1995),
life narrative (Schaffer & Smith, 2004), life writing (Holden , 2004), among other terms. In this study I use
these terms interchangeably

4

 

one Malawian teachers in 2004. I have thus intentionally opened this chapter on an
autobiographical note, as an illustration of how the dissertation uses autobiography as a
method, as text, as theory, and as praxis. In other words, the problem being investigated
is implicated, and therefore not distinguishable, from the methodology, and the theory
arising out of it. There are implications for this technique, which I explore in the
methodology chapter, and in the last chapter of the dissertation. Below I continue with
tlle narrative, describing my literary endeavors during my teacher training years in the
early 19905, and my growing awareness of social and political injustice in Malawi and in
the world. This is to demonstrate how I developed an awareness of writing about lived
eliperience, and how that awareness has eventually metamorphosed into this dissertation.
Later on I describe the organizational layout of this chapter, and how it fits with the rest
of the dissertation.
Until recently, the school year in Malawi used to begin in October, and end in
J uly the following calendar year. Thus two months after being expelled from Nankhunda
Seminary, I found myself enrolling at another school, for the 1988/89 school, my last
Year in secondary school. At Police Secondary School, I spent most of my Form Four
Year (senior year of high school) on the drama team. I wrote and acted in plays, and
posted my poetry, commentary and journalism pieces on the Writers’ Corner, a board the
English teacher, Mr. Lot Dzonzi, had designated as reserved space for students’ literary
endeavors. I was one of the first people to post on the board. I had been at Police
Secondary School for less than a month, and I had noticed a trend that I was unhappy
about. Everyone was supposed to use their own plate, fork, spoon, cup, etc, as the school

Clid not provide these. That very first week my cup and plate went missing from my dorm

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room. I feared they had been stolen, and reported the matter to the student responsible for
dining hall affairs. He explained that there was a system rampant on campus in which
people indiscriminately used other people’s property, without necessary stealing them.
He reassured me that my cup and plate would soon turn up somewhere, and that
meanwhile, I should feel free to pick up and use whatever cup and plate I found lying
around.

On Friday of that week I wrote an article that I titled ‘Plate communism,’ and
posted it on the board. I questioned the practice of taking and using other people’s
utensils without permission, and pointed out that it was an inconvenience to some. That
evening somebody whispered to me that my commentary had angered some prominent
senior students, who queried what right a new comer like me had in questioning
established practice at the school. They threatened to beat me up. I was advised to quietly
leave campus and come back in the evening, when the students’ anger would have
hopefirlly subsided. Early Saturday morning I left campus and went home. It was a very
short distance, less than half a mile, crossing the Acacia-lined street known as Gate Two
road and going down a dirt road next to houses built in condominium style. I spent the
rest of the day at home, and retumed to campus in the night.

I reported the threat to a friend, Nduluzi, who went and told Mr. Dzonzi. On
Monday morning at assembly, Mr. Dzonzi condemned the threat, and advised everyone
that the best way to deal with ideas one found disagreeable on the Writers’ Corner was to
respond in writing as well. He said the purpose of the Writers’ Comer was for people to
express their ideas and engage in constructive debate. I continued writing and posting on

the board, but I stayed clear of openly controversial issues.

6

I got to know Mr. Lot Dzonzi a lot better through the drama group, and felt much
inspired by him. Towards the end of the first term, he approached me and another
student, Vitumbiko Kamanga, and asked us to begin reading and studying Sizwe Bansi is
Dead, a two-character play by the South African playwright and anti-apartheid activist,
Athol F ugard (1974), for a performance later in the school year. Vitumbiko, who
preferred to be addressed as Vitu, was tall, lean and quiet. He was in Form Two, a
sophomore, and had a perfect command of the English language. He had attended
international primary schools in Kenya and South Afiica, where his father represented
Malawi as an officer in the diplomatic mission in those countries. That year, for the first
time in the history of Police Secondary School, we came third in the national schools
drama festivals.2 The following year, after I had finished Form Four and left, Vitu wrote a
play that won Police Secondary School first prize in a national AIDS playwriting
competition.

One afternoon after the secondary school leaving examinations had ended, Mr.
Dzonzi suggested that we spend one afternoon visiting the University of Malawi’s
Chancellor College campus, where he would introduce me to two important Malawian
writers whom he said I needed to be in touch with. Both of them were his former college
mates. They were teaching at the main constituent college of the University of Malawi,
Chancellor College. We walked the mile or so distance to the college, crossing the reed-
full Mponda River and passing the red-soiled farms on the outskirts of Chancellor

College.

 

2 The school was about 10 years old at the time. The following year, after I had left, the drama group won
first prize in the grand finals of the national schools drama festival, for the first time since its establishment.

7

From that day onwards I made it a habit to visit the college and look at notice
boards, looking for information about writing contests, literary developments, and current
events. At about the same time, one Sunday evening, I heard Professor Steve Chimombo,
one of Malawi’s most prolific creative writers, a teacher of writing and a long time
publisher of Malawi’s only arts magazine, WASI, being interviewed on the govemment-
run national radio station. It was the only radio station in Malawi at the time, named the
Malawi Broadcasting Corporation (MBC). He was being interviewed on a weekly literary
program called ‘Writers’ Comer.’ The Writer’s Corner at Police Secondary School had
ostensibly been named after the MBC program. Mr. Dzonzi wanted us to think of our
writing in terms of the quality of the writing discussed on Writers’ Corner.

The next morning I walked to Chancellor College. I stopped at the Porters’ Lodge
and asked where Professor Chimombo’s office was. I followed the directions I was given,
and took the stairs behind the Porters’ Lodge to go to the second and last floor of the
building. The English Department was housed on this floor. I walked along the long,
concrete corridor, checking the name on each door as I passed by. I located Professor
Chimombo’s door, which was half aj at, and knocked. As I entered the office, my eyes
landed on a face that had become familiar around Zomba Municipality. I recall attending
Chatechism school at St. Charles Lwanga parish, in my early teens, with two of his
children, Zanga and Tina. Professor Chimombo kept his hair long, and nursed a goatee,
both of which made him look like Wole Soyinka the Nigerian playwright and critic, the
first black African to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, in 1987.

Professor Chimombo welcomed me and told me to take a seat. I introduced

myself, and explained the reason I had come to his office. I asked him how I could join

8

the Chancellor College Writers’ Workshop that he had talked about in the radio
interview. He talked about his trip to Ghana, before explaining that the Chancellor
College Writers’ Workshop was being coordinated by his colleague Dr. Anthony
Nazombe. He encouraged me to go and see Dr. Anthony Nazombe3, whose office I had
passed before reaching Professor Chimombo’s office.

Dr. Nazombe always wore a bright, pleasant and cheerful smile. He was of
medium height and build, slightly bald, and did not keep a beard. Upon explaining to him
why I had come to his office, Dr. Nazombe encouraged me to join and become a member
of the Writers’ Workshop. Before I lefi his office I purchased a copy of his just released
anthology of Malawian poetry, The Haunting Wind: New Poetry from Malawi (1990).
Another Malawi, one I had not encountered before, opened up before my eyes. I read
poetry that spoke about my country in a way I had not known before. In those poems I
heard the voices of Malawians who had been forced into exile because political dissent
had been outlawed.4 I heard the voices of Malawians murdered because they had raised

questions about the country’s leadership. I saw images of Malawians, materially

 

3 Dr. Nazombe sadly died just days after my 2004 return to Malawi.
4 The poem ‘A Love Poem for my Country’ by the exiled poet Frank Chipasula expresses this in its first
two verses:

I have nothing to give you, but my anger

And the filaments of my hatred reach across the border
You, you have sold many and me to exile.

Now shorn of precious minds, you rely only on

What bands can grow to build your crumbling image

Your streets are littered with handcuffed men

And the drums are thuds of the wardens’ spiked boots.

You wriggle with agony as the terrible twins, law and order,
Call out the tune through the thick tunnel of barbed wire.

Excerpted from The Penguin Book of Modern Afi'ican Poetry, ed. Gerald Moore and Ulli Beier (1998)

impoverished, yet forced to praise the country’s leadership for the ‘independence’ the life
president had brought us from British colonialism. I opened my eyes to the Malawi for
which heroic individuals had shed blood, to end a racist dependency on a foreign
ideology and regain local control of the change process, only to end up with another,
equally morbid dependency.5 From Dr. Nazombe I learned about the recent history of
Malawi’s literary’s trajectory, including the ongoing detention of Malawi’s most
celebrated poet Jack Mapanje, a friend of Dr. Nazombe who had been head of the English
Department when he was arrested and detained without trial two years earlier. Dr.
Nazombe told me about the poet Frank Chipasula, who had left Malawi in the 19705 after
his brother was detained.

Questions I had kept inside my head because they were inappropriate suddenly
found an outlet. Musings I had about my existence and that of my family and
acquaintances found voice. It now occurred to me that writing could be a vehicle through
which to express fears, anxieties, frustrations, and hopes and aspirations. The need to be
cryptic and measured, for fear of being poetically uncovered and politically detained,

provided for even more excitement and urgency.6

 

5 The lines from the poem ‘I remember’ by Naomi Mnthali capture this:

I remember, Countrymen,

The days of ‘Dawn Over the Land’.
Of hopes and expectations

When I truly understood

Slavery was a thing of the past—
We, the people of the land,

Had been freed.

I was there when slowly

Darkness set in.

Excerpted from Growing Up with Poetry: An Anthology for Secondary Schools, ed. David Rubadiri (1989)
6 In a poemI wrote in the early 19905, titled ‘Shire, the second birth,’ there are signs of political change in
the country, but it’s still too early to say for sure, hence a need to continue being cryptic, as the last stanza
demonstrates:

1 0

In November of that year, 1989, I attended an interview for a new teacher
education program. Names of those who had been selected to begin the program were
announced on Christmas Eve, with an urgent message that everyone was supposed to
report at their respective teachers’ colleges on Boxing Day, the day after Christmas. At
the Lilongwe Teachers’ College, where I did my teacher education program from
December 1989 to September 1993, I initiated the formation of a writers’ workshop,
modeled after the one I had attended at Chancellor College. Together with other student
teachers, we met every lunch hour and workshopped our poetry, fiction and journalism.
An event that occurred just before we finished our program and graduated in September
1993 served to sharpen our consciousness as students, convincing us as to why our
country was in need of social justice and peace. A rumor spread around campus alleging
that the Ministry of Education had been diverting some of the money we were supposed
to receive as part of our stipends. Throughout the four years we were in the MASTEP
program (Malawi Special Teacher Education Program), we received MK144 per month,
approximately $20 in 19905 equivalence, later adjusted to MK356, about $50 at the time.
For most of the student teachers with families, it was impossible to live on this amount. I
was unmarried, with no children at the time so I did not suffer as much as my colleagues
who were married and had children. Most of my colleagues survived by growing their

own food, spending entire afiemoons in their gardens with their wives and grown-up

 

Skeletons swim afloat the Shire
as she wretches out of her bosom
renegades of a society

witnesses of a faith

prisoners of a conscience

11

children, when they should have been either studying or planning for the next day’s
teaching.

The rumor going around campus alleged that in the contract documents the
Malawi government had signed with the World Bank, which provided the loan for our
teacher education program, our stipends were much higher. Mafuti Limbe, who had been
part of our writers’ group, emerged as the student leader for the agitation that followed
these rumors7. Our elected student representatives were not brave enough to take the risk.
Limbe somehow managed to obtain documents to back his claims, and many students
contributed money to enable him travel to other teacher training college campuses across
the country to liaise with other student teachers, and to consult a lawyer. Within days, it
became a nation-wide campaign in all colleges and centers housing MASTEP student
teachers. We staged demonstrations and refused to go to class. We chanted songs about
the money that had been stolen from us by the government. We put up placards
denouncing the administrators of the program as thieves. Adding fuel to our actions was a
national referendum held the previous year, 1992, in which the majority of Malawians
had voted to end three decades of single party rule and adopt multiparty democracy.
These were exciting times in Malawi. This was the first time since independence in 1964
that Malawians were able to hold demonstrations, and hold the government and the
leadership to account for their actions. It was also the first time that the media could
report on such issues, the number of newspapers having blossomed from the one

government-run newspaper to well over twenty newspapers in a space of twelve months.

 

7 Names of people and schools participating in this dissertation have been changed, for purposes of
confidentiality.

12

'I

In.

oil

s.
Act.

I
I'IAJ

We were not able to establish why the administrators of our program had withheld
some of our money, but such was the atmosphere in which the entire country was
managed that they could do that and get away with it. It is possible that the money they
took from our stipends went to solve another problem somewhere, but such was the lack
of public accountability that nobody cared to offer explanations. In one interview I
carried out for this dissertation research, one teacher told me how even now, teachers are
still regarded as ignorant and worthless, people who can be trampled upon. She told me:
“it is said they [the authorities in the ministry headquarters] take a teacher to be ignorant,
ill-informed. Somebody who knows nothing. Uneducated, dumb.”

Because of the demonstrations and the media coverage our issue received, top
officials in the Ministry of Education visited teacher training college campuses and
promised that the problem would be resolved. We would receive our money, in arrears of
all the years we had been underpaid. The government followed through with its promise
and we received our money the last week of our program. The country had changed, and
a new Malawi was afoot.

During these teacher education years, back in my practicum school, I had been
teaching full time. At the same time I also wrote, published and broadcast poetry, short
stories, radio plays and literary reviews. The systemic political, economic and social
injustice was at work even in the villages far removed from the seat of power in the
capital. Everyone, including young children, was required to buy a party membership
card and carry it at all times. Because my father was a police officer and I had lived and
grown up in Police quarters, I had been exempt, as was my family, from buying the party

membership card. I was thus taken by surprise when one morning the party chairperson

13

”\u

a -
LI_

in the area visited the school I was teaching in and ordered that all students who had not
yet bought the party membership card leave the school and go back home. He did this a
number of times in the school year. Many students who could not afford the money for
the card would miss school for several days until they found money to buy the card. On
some days entrances to public hospitals, market squares, and public buses would be
blocked by party officials demanding that one produce the membership card to be
allowed in. Pregnant women were ordered to buy two cards; one for the mother, the other
for the unborn child. Many of the teachers who were participants in this dissertation
research wrote about party cards and other cases of political repression and injustice in
their autobiographies. Their autobiographies are analyzed in Chapter 4.

The vignette I have described above is part of my life story, and the story of my
country. I have used it to open this dissertation to set the tone for the part of the research
that deals with the autobiographies of the teachers who participated in the research. The
dissertation research used autobiography as the starting point, with participants telling
stories about their lives as young people, as students, and as teachers. The use of life
history and life writing fits with my overall framework and provides part of the data
resource, along with the other parts of the research, including classroom observations.

This introductory chapter sets out to accomplish five things, namely, introducing
the research, providing the contexts for the research, and outlining the organization of the
dissertation. The chapter starts by explaining the place of autobiographical and life
writing as a new possible directions for teacher development in Malawi. Next the chapter
describes the overall goal of the project, which is a study in the promotion of peace,

social justice and human security, through education, in Malawi. The third ftmction of the

14

chapter is to situate my own personal background and motivation in the conceptualization
of the research, and the larger connections to the need for this kind of research in Malawi
at this point in time. The fourth purpose is to layout the historical, political and socio-
economic context that gives a background to the country and . The chapter ends by laying
out the focus of the remaining chapters of the dissertation, the fifth and last thing the
introduction sets out to accomplish.
Autobiography and life writing: possibilities for professional development in
Malawi

When the results of the Write a Story literary competition, sponsored by the
British Government through the British High Commission in Malawi were announced, in
November 1995, all three winners of the first, second and third prizes turned out to be
school teachers”. The first and third prizes went to primary school teachers, and the

second prize went to a secondary school teacher.

This fact, which went unnoticed, can be said to point to the existence of a strong
literary interest, if not potential, amongst Malawian teachers. It is a potential that, if
capitalized on, could provide a new direction for teachers’ professional development.
One direction in dire need of attention, and one that teachers can use writing to address, is
issues of peace, social justice and human security. Political injustice and insecurity in
Malawi have not only been sustained and complicated by respective governments, but

they have, according to Chimombo (1999), been the very machinery that has oppressed

 

8 Although I was not actively teaching when I won the first prize, the motivation for my story had its
origins from my teaching days. The competition was organized and sponsored by the British Government
through what was known as the British-Malawi Partnership Scheme. As Malawi’s former colonial ruler, the
British Government is Malawi’s biggest bilateral donor, with projects in education, governance, and other
areas.

15

people from colonial times to the present. Malawian, African and other scholars in the
critical tradition around the world have described how global historical processes of
slavery, capitalism and globalization have given rise to the dominance of the West and
global North, while impoverishing the Third World and the global South. Vandana Shiva
(2000) has pointed out that “Colonialism has from the very beginning been a contest over
the mind and the intellect. What will count as knowledge? And who will count as expert
or as innovator? Such questions have been central to the project of colonizing diverse
cultures and their knowledge systems” (p. vii). According to Harvey Sindima (1995), the
colonial project attacked the institution of “African thought and its foundational concepts
of person and community” resulting in the relegation of Afiican thought systems to myth
and superstition. In the process, many Africans have come to see everything Afiican as
inferior, a situation to which, as I elaborate later, Ngugi (1981) has reacted by urging a
“decolonization” of the African mind, while Achebe (1965) has called on writers to help
Afiica “regain belief in itself and put away the complexes of the years of denigration and
self-abasement” (p. 44). Sindima (1995) argues that Afiica’s agenda should therefore lie
in the epistemological concept of uMunthu, the core concept that defines and constructs
human identity (Musopole, 1994; Sindima, 1995; Ramose, 1996; Tutu, 1999; Chigona,
2002; Tambulasi and Kayuni, 2005). Throughout the dissertation I offer insights into the
ontological meaning and understanding of uMunthu and how it enables an emancipatory
project in which life writing informs a peace and social justice praxis that makes possible
social change.

The research for this dissertation used the assumption that teachers’

autobiographical and life writing could provide space in which definitions of peace,

16

social justice and human security could start with the teachers’ lived experiences to create
an awareness for the need of, and a commitment to the cultivation of uMunthu, peace and
social justice in schools. In this assumption, knowledge produced from teachers’ writings
could be used for various purposes in and out of the classroom. It could be used for
making education relevant to students and their communities (PCAR, 2003), as when
teachers’ passion for writing encourages students to do their own writing. The
combination of a focus on uMunthu and human dignity, social justice and human security
with life narrative and classroom pedagogy forms a ‘peace’ perspective for this research.
A program of teacher professional development centered on ‘peace’ perspectives has the
potential to make teaching and learning relevant to problems of social justice and human
security familiar to the students, teachers, and their community. This research therefore
shares transdisciplinary conceptual ground with peace education, peace and conflict

studies, autobiographical studies, educational inquiry, and African epistemologies.

A culture of peace, social justice and human security as ultimate goal

The ultimate goal being sought in this whole endeavor is peace, social justice and
human security, as defined from primary teachers’ perspectives, in Malawian classrooms,
as well as in the school system. While these definitions are supported by the literature on
peace education around the world, they use Malawian contexts, thereby broadening and
contributing to the scholarship on peace education. At the school level, this change may
mean a number of things, as the examples below illustrate. While the examples do come
from what some of the teachers wrote in their autobiographies, my purpose in using them

here is not to portray the research as if it were a report on a successfirl reform initiative.

l7

Rather I use them for the reason that they depict some of the teachers in a moment when
they are beginning to grapple with the meaning of “peace” fiom their own perspectives,
in their peculiar circumstances. To underscore this point, I also include incidents when
some of the teachers came up with definitions of peace that were outside the framework
we were using. One teacher wrote in his autobiography about how the idea of teaching
for peace had given the teachers in his school language for expressing a change in their
attitudes towards students, from insensitivity to compassion: “We meet and discuss
lessons of peace education. This has made most of teachers’ attitudes of beating a child,
giving strong punishments when she/he has gone wrong, to phase out. This time teachers
of [Chigwale] . . . are able to discuss and hear the problems of a child in a friendly
manner.” At one of our Thursday afternoon meetings during the project period, another
teacher told us of how that morning he was about to order a late student to go back home,
“but then I remembered ‘peace’.” He changed his mind, asked the student why he was
late, whether there was a problem at home, and gently allowed him in.

At another level, this change might mean teachers coming up with their own
initiatives to implement projects in the classroom or in the staff room. The group of
teachers from Tsigado and Medosi mobilized themselves, rented a bus, and with some
students from their schools, traveled to Mphunzi Hills, in Dedza district, where they
visited a government-protected heritage site where rock paintings, said to resemble
Egyptian hieroglyphics, are believed to be over two thousand years old (Metcalfe, 1956).9
The teachers also took their own initiative and wrote a project proposal, which they sent

out to organizations that might be interested in working directly with classroom teachers

 

9 The Chongoni Rock Art Area is one of 20 places designated as World Heritage Sites by UNESCO in
2006.
18

in the teaching of peace. In so doing, the teachers were hoping to continue working
toward peace and social justice through education by creating for themselves a support
network and community in which to continue their collaboration (Cochran-Smith &
Lytle, 1993).

Not all of the meanings the teachers made out of the peace framework were as
predictable as the above examples. After teaching a reading lesson in which students read
about a hunter who frightened off a predatory lion, one teacher said the lesson had
‘peace’ elements because one of the sentences in the textbook read, “It was a peaceful
day.” Another teacher taught a lesson in which students listed the names of traditional
leaders in the area, and the teacher defined the lesson as dealing with peace on the
account that knowing who their leaders were would help students become respectful of
authority. These examples show the difficulty that teachers encountered in understanding
what constituted peace from a social justice perspective.

Because I am taking the above episodes out of the field contexts in which they
happened, mentioning them at this early stage might appear premature. However I’m
doing so for the purpose of demonstrating the contextual and situated nature of the
learning process (Lave and Wenger, 2001) that both the participants and I as a researcher
went through because of the experience of the research process.

Many of the ideas, lessons and activities presented as ‘peace’ activities in this
dissertation share a lot with practices that many teachers engage in, both in Malawi and in
other countries, without necessarily using the term ‘peace.’ In Malawi the teachers came
up with these activities and ideas because they represented a new approach for

understanding and carrying out their teaching work. These teachers used these ideas and

19

activities as part of their conceptualization of what teaching for peace would look like in
their classrooms and schools. However they are also activities that make good teaching
practice in general. According to Gil Fell (1988), “[m]uch of what education for peace
proposes is an integral part of the ‘good education’ practiced by many teachers for
years.” Seeing these practices as specifically promoting peace enables the raising of
consciousness about the importance of teaching for peace. Says Fell: “The reason for
including these under the umbrella of education for peace is that by doing so those
processes become more conscious and clear connections can be drawn between the
personal and the political” (p.77).

Fell’s view of how peace education shares a lot of similar practices with good
teaching practices in general is also shared by Harris (1988), who writes: “An irony of
peace education is that an educator need not necessarily teach the topics of peace
education in order to conduct a peaceable classroom” (p.122). Thus the type of learning
that happens in a peace classroom can happen in any classroom as well. What matters,
according to Harris, is that there should be a deliberate intent. Likewise, there are no
clear-cut guidelines for what substance should make it into a peace education curriculum,
although there can be guidelines and some generally agreed upon principles. According
to Nordland (1996), all a teacher needs is to “know about the important problems and [. .
.] reflect about how they affect us—today and in the future—and what we possibly can

do about them—together” (p.288).

20

If educators who do not necessarily call themselves peace educators also enact
ideals that pertain to peace education, it should also be pointed out that peace education
per se may not necessarily bring about peace in the world. Harris (1988) offers the
following caveat:

These educational activities are not a sufficient condition for achieving peace, but they
are necessary. People’s traditional patterns and ways of thinking need to be challenged in
order to overcome the culture of violence that dominates the world. Graduates of peace
education classes can, in turn, use similar methods to teach others about the problems of
war and peace (p.184).

Because the ultimate goal being sought is the promotion of peace and social
justice, i.e., peace both at the individual and at the global level, educating for peace can
not use a ‘tool kit’ approach, says Fell, but rather an approach that incorporates “a set of
interwoven attitudes and skills which, used consciously, can become an integral part of
the ethos of a school” (p. 184). It is this same understanding that some educators also use
when they teach using similar approaches, even if they use different terms to describe
their practice, ranging from education for democracy, civic education, tolerance
education, and human rights education (Ardizzone, 2001). Other foci encountered in the
peace education literature include education for global responsibility, conflict resolution,
development education, and nuclear education, among others (see Chapter 2 for a more
detailed explanation of peace education).

This dissertation is concerned with exploring what these envisaged changes have
to do with the agency of autobiographical and life history writing, peace, peace
education, social justice, and human security. Much of the dissertation also has to do with
my personal background and intellectual motivation for my current and future work. I

find it necessary to tell the story of how this came about so as to drive home the point

21

about the place of autobiography and life history in the study, and to bring to the fore the

narratives that have come to inform the purpose of the study.

Personal background and motivation

After obtaining my teaching certificate in September 1993 I taught for one more
term before joining the Malawi Institute of Education, where I had been offered a
position in the editorial section of the Institute’s publishing unit. I joined the Malawi
Institute of Education, the national curriculum center in Malawi, in May 1994. As an
educational editor, I worked with textbook writers and curriculum specialists. The year
1995 saw my children’s novel Fleeing the War win first prize in a British Council-
sponsored writing competition titled Write a Story. The novel tells the story of a
Mozambican family, living near the border with Malawi, who flee civil war in their
country and are offered a new home in Malawi. As a peace researcher, I see how the
story embodies love and hope in the face of hatred and despair. Published exactly ten
years ago this year, when I had yet to induct myself into peace research, the story is a
good fit with my current focus on peace. The publication of Fleeing the War opened a
new chapter in my life, which led to where I am at presently, writing a dissertation on

autobiographical writing, and peace and education.

22

In 1996, following the publication of Fleeing the War, I was elected president of
the Malawi Writers Union, after serving as the organization’s treasurer for one year. In
my position as president of the national writers’ body I chaired the 1997 Malawi
International Book Fair and Literary Festival. Later that year I became an Honorary
Fellow in Writing, in the University of Iowa’s Intemational Writing Program (IWP). In
the spring of 1998 I served as a writer-in-residence in the University of Iowa’s Center for
International Programs.

In August 1998 I entered a masters’ degree program in English Education at the
University of Iowa, where my studies focused on the training of teachers for the teaching
of secondary literacy and creative writing. The courses I took at Iowa for my masters’
program introduced an analytical perspective to my work. I had already been following
and reading the literary works of some Africa’s most prominent writers, including Ngugi
wa Thiong’o, Chinua Achebe and Wole Soyinka, in addition to Malawian writers such as
Jack Mapanj e, Steve Chimombo, Anthony Nazombe, Edison Mpina, Emily Mkamanga,
Frank Chipasula, Stella Chipasula, and others. At Iowa I continued reading these writers,
but now added to them an analytical perspective of a different order. I experienced a
deepening of the revelation that these Malawian and African writers did not write merely
to be seen as writers, but rather to engage with their societies on fundamental aspects of
daily-lived experience. In other words, they produced art as an engagement with society
on issues dealing with social, economic, political, historical and global contexts of
people’s lives.

Prior to this understanding, I had taken my own writing as merely a function of

describing or depicting, and never burdened with difficult dilemmas about politics, power

23

and change. Ngugi (1981, 1997) captures this engagement when he demonstrates how

writers cannot avoid politics and history:

A writer’s subject matter is history: the process of a people acting on nature, changing it,
and in so doing, acting on and changing themselves. The changing relations of production
including power relations is a whole territory of concern to a writer. Politics is hence part
and parcel of this literary territory. ’0

Ngugi’s own fiction is heavily influenced by history and politics, depicting the struggles
of African people from the moment of colonization to the neocolonialism of the post-
independence period. Ngugi describes the moment when Christianity and the West
collide with African social systems, as in the 1965 novel The River Between, and the
impact of the struggle for independence on ordinary people as in the 1964 novel Weep
Not, Child. In his novels dealing with the post-independence period, Ngugi has been
concerned with the global network of official corruption, as in Devil on the Cross (1980,
1982), and the blatant betrayal of the ideals that ordinary Kenyans lost their lives fighting
for, best depicted in Petals of Blood (1977) and Matigari (1989). There is a
‘transforrnative’ function playing out in Ngugi’s fiction, argues Abdulrazak Gurnah
(1993). Out of problems of land expropriation and a rupturing of ‘ways of life’, atrocities
of European settlerism, and the perpetuation of capitalist structures and exploitation by
African elites, a ‘redemption’ awaits (Gumah, p. 142).

While Ngugi’s fiction and plays serve particular purposes in putting ordinary
people’s lives into perspectives, he continues dealing with issues of injustice and
exploitation in his academic work as well, adopting a critical, analytical Marxist
framework. His chapter titled ‘The Quest for Relevance’ in his 1981 collection of essays

Decolonising the Mind: The Politics of Language in African Literature is a no-holds-

 

'0 Writers in Politics: A Re—Engagement with Issues of Literature and Society, p. 68.
24

barred indictment of the legacy of colonial education in alienating Africans from their

own heritage, forcing Afiican students to view themselves through the eyes of Europe:

African children who encountered literature in colonial schools and universities were thus
experiencing the world as defined and reflected in the European experience of history.
Their entire way of looking at the world, even the world of the immediate environment,
was Eurocentric. Europe was the center of the universe (p. 93).

In seeing African literature as of central importance in creating a curriculum that will be
relevant to African students, Ngugi is in agreement with Chinua Achebe, another of
Africa’s greatest novelists and literary scholars, in placing writing and literature in
education at the core of the emancipation and the anti-imperialist struggle. A paragraph
from Achebe’s essay ‘The Novelist as Teacher’ (1965, 1988) has become a rallying point
for my efforts to lay out a framework for using teachers’ writing to serve the purpose of

making education relevant to African students:

Here then is an adequate revolution for me to espouse-- to help my society regain belief
in itself and put away the complexes of the years of denigration and self-abasement. And
it is essentially a question of education, in the best sense of that word. Here, I think, my
aims and the deepest aspirations of my society meet. For no thinking African can escape
the pain of the wound in our soul (Hopes and lmpediments, p. 44)

Achebe’s words in this paragraph, from a 1965 lecture he gave at Leeds University in
England, go straight to the heart of what colonial education in Africa has done to
denigrate and create feelings and images of self-abasement in Africans, especially
educated elites. As a writer, Achebe adjoins his gift for writing to the efforts of teachers,
whose most important duty is to restore self-confidence in the Afiican identity and
heritage of the students and the society. This kind of education will also have to address
the root causes of the ‘denigration’ and ‘self-abasement,’ namely, the colonial project and
its racism, which sought to deny the humanity of the African. The wound that came as a

result of the colonial project is still there, as is the pain, says Achebe, the evidence of

25

which is, in my view, the social problems of human insecurity and social injustice in
Malawi and other formerly colonized societies.

It is from these sources, and several others, that my intellectual itinerary has
gathered guidance. This journey has therefore used inspiration and examples from Ngugi,
Achebe and others, merging writer and teacher roles to engage with the social ills of
Malawian and African societies. The research that I conducted and am describing in this
dissertation is the continuation of the same efforts, in an effort to contribute to the change
that many seek. Achebe (1971) sees change as part of the artist’s function in society,
when he writes:

And so our world stands in just as much need for change today as it ever did in the past. Our
writers responding to something in themselves and acting also within the traditional concept of an
artist’s role in society—using his art to control his environment—have addressed themselves to
some of these matters in their art (p. 1197).

The parameters that define writing and literature from these African perspectives have
therefore been broad enough to accommodate life history writing and autobiography.
Seeing writing and literature as dealing with politics, history and social life, the
demarcations between fiction and non-fiction, literary writing and academic writing, and
between art and analysis go asunder. Most of the teachers who participated in the
research did not see themselves as writers, but because the focus was on telling stories
about their lives, they did not encounter the same problems generally anticipated when
non-writers try their hand at writing.

As a doctoral student at Michigan State University, I have continued envisaging
teaching and writing as central to what I am attempting to do. I participated in the 2002

Red Cedar Writing Project (RCWP) summer institute, becoming a teacher consultant in

26

the MSU-site of the National Writing Project (N WP). It was my participation in the
RCWP that gave me direction for this dissertation research. A yearly gathering of
teachers who are themselves writers, the RCWP, MSU’s chapter of the NWP, runs for 5
weeks every summer. Teachers spend those 5 weeks, starting early in the morning and
finishing late in the evening, working on their creative writing, work-shopping their
writing with other participants, and sharing with each other strategies for teaching writing
and encouraging students to become good writers. I immediately saw how the RCWP
summer institute would provide me space similar to the times I participated in the
Chancellor College Writers’ Workshop, and the MASTEP Writers’ Workshop.

During the RCWP, it occurred to me that my passion for writing would provide
me a motivation to design a research agenda and investigate other Malawian teachers’
writing. As the study unfolded both at the literature review stage and in the field, the
country’s history and politics and problems of peace and human security have become
inescapable. The role of autobiographical and life writing has provided a means with
which to re-examine the country’s problems, which has in turn raised questions about
how to teach for peace in these contexts. In due course I will present an account of the
historical, political and socio-economic background of Malawi, but before that, let us
examine the grounds that constitute the need for some form of memory recollection
project for purposes of peace education in Malawi.

The Malawi I grew up in had a political culture that inherited and perpetuated
from colonialism social injustice and insecurity to individuals and to communities. The
education system was caught up in the dictatorship, with teachers being part of the

machinery for injustice, while also being oppressed themselves. The events from this

27

period, and the experiences of today’s Malawi with its consequences from the past, have
not been examined from the perspectives of teachers, nor a literary one, (Chimombo,
1999; Mapanje, 1996), let alone a peace and social justice education one. Taken together,
these three perspectives allow for the highlighting of social justice and human security
aspects of people’s lived experience, while a life history approach allows for
autobiographical narrative to help individuals make sense of this lived experience.
Because of the narrative character of injustice, and the need for stories to make sense of
injustice, the autobiographical perspectives have implications for teaching and schooling,
as has been observed even in other countries such as the United States (F lorio-Ruane,
2001). The political culture of Malawi during this period attracted voices that sought to
make sense of what was going on. The writing that was produced, in cryptic verse to
evade detection, was a form of resistance against the regime (Mapanje, 2002; Lwanda,
1993). By writing about lived experience, the teachers in this study regain the initiative to
write against the regime (Gready, 2003). In their reconstruction of the narrative, they
examine the dictatorship and its hold on Malawi society, creating what F lorio-Ruane
terms an “awareness of narrative as social construction” (p.145).

At another level, writing about lived experience in Malawi’s recent past and
present also contributes to the scholarship on memory, which has been neglected by
peace scholars, according to Soyinka-Airewele (2002). Soyinka-Airewele contends that
the current efforts at democracy and peace especially in post-conflict Afiican states do
not go far enough because they do not deal with the problem of collective memory. She
points to countries that have experienced serious conflict, such as Rwanda, Sierra Leone

and Liberia, as “vivid reminders of the volatility of memory and of its functionalization

28

in the political realm” (p.421). Attempts to build peace and democracy in these countries
are being forced to embrace convenient ‘reconciliation’ and ‘restoration’ processes that
do not take into account the long view of collective memory, further marginalizing the
stories of groups who endured atrocities by former regimes that are now escaping social
justice. She sees concepts such as ‘world order’ and ‘global security’ imposed from the
global North, and the eagerness of the political elites to maintain power networks at the
expense of the memory of ordinary people, as factors. As will become apparent in these
pages, Malawi is a prime example of this phenomenon.

In Malawi, an attempt was made to compensate victims of the 30-year
dictatorship, but its reach did not go far enough to make it easy for everyone who was
affected to receive compensation. There were no public hearings for perpetrators and
victims alike, in contrast to the manner of the South African Truth and Reconciliation
Commission. When top officials of the then ruling Malawi Congress Party and its
government were taken to trial for the 1983 murder of three cabinet ministers and one
Member of Parliament, they were acquitted on the grounds of insufficient evidence.
Today, many of the people who carried out injustices in the name of the then ruling party,
during the dictatorship, are enjoying the freedom of the multiparty era, having never been
made to account for their atrocities.

A problem that complicates the process of speaking out about past injustice to
allow for social justice and reconciliation is the absence of written documents to support
allegations of injustice. Without this recourse, there are Malawians, including the youth,
who remain uninformed about what went on. The erasure of the memory of injustice may

well have been a strategy of the regime to shield themselves from any future charges. The

29

Malawi Congress Party and its leadership developed what Jack Mapanje, a Malawian
poet who himself was detained without trial for three years and seven months, calls a
culture of ‘orality’ (1996, 2002). Mapanje argues that by issuing verbal edicts, and never
signing any documents, the t0p leadership created a culture in which atrocities were
carried out with no paper trail. When the dictatorship ended and a new multiparty
government was formed in 1994, attempts to bring to justice members of the Malawi
Congress Party did not amount to much. Most of the cases against them were dismissed
for lack of credible evidence. Mapanje has observed that there is no reason to expect that
any of those responsible for the atrocities of the one-party era will be brought to justice in
a system that relies on documentary evidence. “There was no documentary evidence, and
none should be expected to be produced given the oral culture they created” (2002,
p.185). Mapanje expresses the exasperation of many when he points out that the whole
point for creating an oral culture was so that there would be no evidence for any of the
atrocities, enabling the people responsible for the crimes to deny any wrongdoing. Only
oral evidence can convict any of these people, yet, ironically, no oral evidence is
admitted in the judicial system, laments Mapanje. The only recourse left to people who
have suffered the injustice of being denied due process and recognition of what they went
through is at least an opportunity to tell their story. South Africa has given an example of
the problems, possibilities and limitations associated with past injustices and the
complexities involved in keeping memories alive.

Alan Weider (2003) has worked with South Afiican teachers who resisted
apartheid through their teaching in Cape Town schools. Using oral history as his

framework, Weider’s interviews with eighteen South African teachers are collected in his

30

book Voices from Cape Town Classrooms: Oral Histories of Teachers Who Fought
Apartheid. Against expectations for stories from the apartheid era to be buried and
forgotten, and calls to forget the past and move on, these teachers wanted to tell their
stories. Their stories, writes Weider, “offer both personal and collective windows into
teaching and learning and school life during the apartheid years—and those stories are
important” (p.178). Their importance lies in how they tell “of political and academic
teachers who exude commitment and caring and love, for both their students and their
country.” For Weider, these stories provide a “testimony” that has the “possibility of
educating and changing the world” (p.1). The testimony has the potential to achieve this
because “[t]hrough people’s stories we can understand the horrors of man’s inhumanity
to man, and we can teach ‘never again.’ But we can also celebrate the beauty of the
human spirit” (pp. 1-2). Below I present a brief historical background of the political and
economic context of the social injustice that have shaped Malawian life.
Historical, political and socio-economic context

Formerly known as Nyasaland in colonial times, problems of state-sponsored
social injustice and human insecurity in Malawi can be said to have come with the
establishment of the colony in 1894. This is far from saying that social injustice and
insecurity did not exist before the colonial era. They probably did, but this was before the
present boundaries were drawn, and before the organization of people into nations. The
nature of social injustice and insecurity then was thus quite different from what was to
ensue once colonialism entered the scene. Before the era of modern state formation,
problems of peace and human security in the region can be traced back to the Arab Slave

Trade, starting as early as the 10th century (Reader, 1998), and the wars, in the early 19th

31

century, waged by the ruler of the Zulu empire, Shaka Zulu (Mapanje, 2002). The
colonialists drew artificial boundaries in the southern Afiican region and created new
colonies and protectorates where empires had previously existed. The injustices of
colonialism have been catalogued and discussed in deeper detail elsewhere, but one
relevant example is an episode that happened to Masauko Chipembere (2001), whose
autobiography has been important in the formulation of this study. Chipembere’s first-
hand experiences with racism led to his heightened awareness of what Afiicans needed to
do to end racial and political injustice in the then Nyasaland (now Malawi), and on the
entire African continent. He thus dedicated his life to the struggle for independence,
making up his mind after encountering a nasty incident. As a student at Goromonzi, in
the then Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, in the late 19405, Chipembere was riding a
bicycle one day when a White man with his wife demanded, in the local Shona language,
that he take off his hat. This was the expectation of every White man upon meeting a
Black person. Chipembere, being from Nyasaland, didn’t speak or understand the Shona
language. The man started beating him up with his walking stick. Chipembere describes
the experience as a baptism with fire. “I was now convinced that the white man in Afiica
hated and despised Africans and wanted to perpetuate a relationship of master and serf
between himself and black people. I resolved I was going to dedicate my life to the
destruction of white domination and the achievement of self rule by the African people”
(p. 105).

The country became Malawi upon gaining independence in 1964. Under colonial
rule, the first agitation against foreign domination came in 1915, and was led by the

Reverend John Chilembwe. Reverend Chilembwe led his congregation as well other

32

Africans in an uprising against colonial rule in 1915. He was killed in the process, along
with other freedom fighters (Shepperson & Price, 195 8).

Resistance to colonial rule continued underground over the next decades, until the
19505, when it reached out countrywide, creating a formidable national movement for
independence. At that point, the key leaders in the struggle, fearing that their young ages
would not endear them to the older Africans across the country (Chipembere was 25 at
this particular time), decided to invite Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda, an elderly Nyasa (the
term used to describe Africans from Nyasaland) who was at the time practicing medicine
in Kumasi, Ghana. Dr. Banda had left Malawi as a teenager and went to study in the
United States in the early 19205, and later in the United Kingdon. When he finally
returned to Nyasaland on July 6, 1958, Dr. Banda had been away from home for 40 years.

Dr. Banda breathed new life into the independence struggle, until Malawi won
sovereignty in 1964. But within three months of independence, disagreements between
Dr. Banda and his cabinet ministers over foreign policy, and Dr. Banda’s contempt for
the young Malawian politicians who had invited him back, exploded into what has since
become to be known as The Cabinet Crisis. Within those three months the majority of the
cabinet ministers resigned and fled the country. Over the years they were both hunted
down in foreign capitals and assassinated by Dr. Banda’s intelligence machinery, or they
were captured and brought back to Malawi to be tried. Dr. Banda’s dictatorial rule lasted
30 years, in which no presidential elections were held, and in which most fi'eedoms were
curtailed. According to some sources, up to 254,040 Malawians, out of a population that
is now around 11 million, were possibly detained for being political dissidents of Dr.

Banda (Lwanda, 1993).

33

When Dr. Banda finally bowed down to local and international pressure and
allowed for a referendum to be held on whether Malawi should continue as a one-party
state, or open up to multiparty democracy, the majority of Malawians opted for
multiparty democracy. This was in 1992, and Malawi has since held three multiparty
presidential elections, the most recent being in 2004.

Today, the country has a GDP per capita income of about $157, and 65 percent of
the population lives below the poverty line, according the National Statistics Office of
Malawi (2003). Due to an HIV /AIDS pandemic, life expectancy is at 40 for males and 44
for females, 1998 figures1 1. The education system, suffering from poor funding and
catering to a tiny population of Malawians, has worsened since the new multiparty
government introduced universal free primary education in 1994. Meant as a long-term
poverty reduction measure, free primary education caused enrolment in primary schools
to rise from 1.9 million to 3.2 million, putting a stress on teachers and resources.

The country has never experienced civil or inter-regional war, and has therefore
been largely, relatively, peacefirl, in this particular sense. However the most recent UN
Human Development Report (2002) puts it at twelfih poorest in the world, falling in the
same category as countries that have been torn by decades of civil and inter-regional war
(United Nations Development Program, 2005). Political violence has accompanied each
of the last two post-dictatorship presidential elections. Malawi still uses violence as a tool
for political control (Banda, 2004, p. 2). In this other sense, the absence of civil or inter-

regional war does not necessarily indicate an ideal peace.

 

” Although numbers such as these are understood to be averages, and therefore not representative of the
entire population, this understanding still falls short of capturing the actual differences based on gender,
class, disability, and regional distinctions. The numbers also fall short of portraying non-quantifiable
cultural, community, religious and other features of Malawian life.

34

The above scenario points to a country with intractable social and economic
problems, the solving of which the country’s two consecutive leaders since 1994 have
made a national priority. The above historical context forms the basis for the argument
that an education framework based on uMunthu, peace and social justice provides one
possible direction in making education relevant to problems of structural violence and
historical inequality in Malawi. The rest of the chapters should be read as following from
this historical context.

The study undertaken in this dissertation research proceeds with the assumption
that the next step after universalizing educational access would be to improve the quality
of education, by making teaching and learning relevant to the studying and solving of the
country’s problems. The use of the concept of ‘peace’ is based on that assumption, in the
belief that the problems described above constitute structural violence, social injustice
and human insecurity. According to one teacher who participated in the study, these
problems are partly due to the absence of uMunthu, (see Chapter 3 for a detailed
definition), the essence that gives us our human identity. This calls for an understanding
that puts Malawi’s problems in an epistemological, historical and global context,
providing along view on injustice at both the local and global level, and its role in
leading Malawi and other formerly colonized sub-Saharan Afiican countries to where
they are today. This historical and global context forms the larger context in which I
place my work, for which I see this dissertation research as a stage in a long trajectory

going beyond the requirements of a philosophy doctorate in teacher education.

35

Outline of dissertation

This introductory chapter has served five purposes. First, it has situated my
purpose for the research by describing the setting for the autobiographical and life writing
context of the study. Second, it has outlined the peace, social justice and human security
goals that the study hoped to highlight in the context of educational research. The third
purpose has been a narration of my personal background and motivation in the
conceptualization of the study. The fourth purpose has provided a historical, political and
socio-economic context for the study. The last function of the chapter is now to provide
an overview of the rest of the dissertation.

Chapter two describes the methodology the study used, explaining the qualitative
and ethnographic nature of the research. Chapter three extends the contextualization of
the study by framing the project in the theories, concepts and scholarship traditions that
the study has positioned itself in. The chapter defines the concept of ‘peace’ as used in
the study, and discusses the literature on the concept of uMunthu in African
epistemologies; the literature in peace research, and the life history and autobiographical
writing that guided the framework. Chapter three therefore provides the four-part

thematic fi'arnework that interprets the data and also the literature review.

36

Chapter four examines the autobiographies produced by the teachers, and the in-
depth interviews I carried out with participants. It also outlines the themes that emerge
from these data sources. The chapter offers an analysis of the teachers’ autobiographies
as a study of conditions in lived experience, defining social justice and human security
from participants’ perspectives. The writing offers insights into the political and socio-
economic conditions that defined schooling for these teachers under dictatorship, as well
as gendered violence, and the psychological violence waged against teachers in Malawi.

Chapter five presents an analysis of classroom observations. The chapter
discusses how the participants defined what in their practice distinguished a peace lesson
from a generic lesson. It is worth keeping in mind here the observations by Gil Fell
(1988) and Ian Harris (1988) that although teaching for peace shares similar practices
with good teaching in general, characterizing specific practices as educating for peace is a
conscious decision aimed at mapping out action and connecting the personal and the
political.

Chapter six, the Conclusion, provides a discussion of the overall meaning of this
project, the interrelationships among autobiographical and life writing, pedagogy, praxis,
and possibilities for peace. In this concluding chapter I discuss some of the problems
encountered in the project, and offer recommendations for future research suggested by

the findings from this study.

37

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Chapter 2 Methodology

Umanena chatsitsa dzaye kuti njobvu ithyoke mnyanga—Chichewa proverb

The above Chichewa proverb tells the story of a group of hunters who happened
upon a dead elephant in the bush. They immediately noticed that the dead elephant was
lying under a passion fruit tree. They also noticed that one of the elephant’s tusks was
broken. One of them exclaimed that the elephant had been killed by a passion fruit falling
from the tree. Another one responded by saying it was necessary to ask what had caused
the passion fruit to fall from the tree and hit the elephant’s tusk. Upon examining the tree,
they saw a rodent resting on a branch up the tree. They concluded that it must have been
the rodent that caused the fruit to fall, and to hit the elephant’s tusk, killing the elephant.
Malawians use this proverb to indicate the importance of not being satisfied with easy,
obvious answers, but rather to probe and inquire further into root causes and contexts. In
a similar way, this study rested upon the assumption that in order to understand the
contexts of social injustice and human insecurity in Malawian contemporary life, it was
important to go beyond easy answers and probe deep into historical, political, social and
global contexts of Malawi’s problems. These contexts make the project complex and
difficult, not least due to the inherent risk to romanticize some historical and global
periods, and treat others superfluously. For these reasons, this study focuses mostly on
how such historical, political, social and global contexts are implicated in curriculum and
pedagogy, and their applications in the classroom and school.

This chapter starts by presenting the main research question that guided the study,

the supporting questions that contextualize the study, and the qualitative education

38

research methodology that framed the terms of reference for the study. The chapter
describes the three phases in which the study unfolded, providing an account of how
participants were selected, and the setting of the schools that made up the study sites. The
chapter also explains the continuous data analysis used to make sense of the study’s
findings and the issues raised in the interpretive commentary (Erickson, 1986) deployed.
The chapter ends by outlining the criteria for evaluating the study, and drawing attention
to the critical needs the study attempts to address.

The main question the study set out to investigate was what kinds of writing teachers
produce in order to open up connections between teaching on the one hand, and the
studying of structural violence in Malawi, namely social injustice, insecurity and
inequality, on the other. This question arose from the premise of three other questions:

0 What ideas about Malawi’s history and contemporary society in teachers writing
would be necessary for peace building, and for the addressing of problems of
social justice, insecurity and inequality in Malawi?

0 How does this kind of writing by teachers help us better understand teachers’
ideas about peace, human security and social justice?

0 How can we, educational researchers, policymakers, curriculum specialists and
educators and other stakeholders, better understand the educational needs of

Malawian people and the pursuit for peace, human security and social justice?

The research sought to make suggestions for practice on three points. First was

how Malawian teacher-writers could develop teaching and learning activities that used

39

 

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writing, broadly defined, to make teaching and learning relevant for peace and social
justice at the community level. The second point was the generation of data that would
make it possible to say some specific things about teachers, and how viewing their
autobiographical writing as knowledge production could help make schooling relevant
for community and national peace building. The third point was that approaching
cuniculurn and pedagogy with perspectives from uMunthu, peace and social justice could
be done using existing content, without having to produce a new curriculum and new
textbooks. New content material could be added as needed, but what would change
would be the strategies and methods for teaching and for deciding what issues were
worthy of educational attention.

There are two important areas that could have enriched and broadened the scope
of the study, but for purposes of narrowing down the study to a manageable topic, these
areas were not a part of the study. First, recent thinking in educational research in Malawi
and other countries has focused on the place and role of parents in envisioning new
educational ideas, and there is no doubt that this would have added great insights into this
study. Second, the languages of instruction has been a protracted debate in Malawi and in
many other formerly colonized countries. An examination of how language affects and
impacts the implementation of the framework being inesti gated here could have been
another important addition to the study. Due to the constraints referred to above, the

study did not investigate these issues.

40

Qualitative educational research

The study aimed to undertand the meaning of peace, and the relevance of peace
education, defined broadly, from the participants’ perspectives, the “emic ”, rather than
the researcher’s perspective, the “etic ” (Merriam, 1998, pp.6-7; italics in original). As a
researcher, I was the primary instrument for data collection. The knowledge that I was the
primary instrument for the data collection allowed me to pay closer attention to instances
when my passions might get in the way of the investigation and influence my
interpretations of phenomena. While I was aware of the potential for this to happen, my
concern was not so much on my data being skewered by my intervening influences, as on
when my findings would cease to emerge fiom the data and begin emerging from my
preconceived notions. I went into the field aware that my views were more or less formed
around questions of the role of colonial history and contemporary structural inequalities
in creating contexts in which Malawians grappled with problems of global identity. I saw
that problem as part of the construction of global, racialized, hierarchical identity
categories, lying at the bottom of the self-defeatism in which local and endogenous
knowledges are seen as having no place in modern Malawi, with far-reaching
implications for the types of solutions elite Malawians and politicians envisage for the
nation. What I was unaware of however was how the processes and experiences that have
shaped the views I hold would become an important, if not intriguing, part of the story I
would eventually tell about my findings. In the early stages of thinking about the form
and organization of the study, I benefited greatly from reading Malawian
autobiographies, in the form of books and articles. It immediately became clear to me

how as Malawians, the dictatorial imposition of official histories had deprived us of a

41

much richer and fuller heritage of how the Malawi nation, and Malawian identity, came
into being. Seeing how personal narratives combined individual insights with national
aspirations led me to see how powerfirl autobiographical narrative was as a
methodological tool. Realizing how this tool had not been well investigated in Malawian
education, I began to think of the challenges and opportunities posed by autobiography in
educational practice. Because most of the Malawian autobiographies published to date
have been preoccupied with the struggle against colonial dictatorship, and the irony of the
post-independence dictatorship Malawi turned into months after independence, the
effects of colonialism on contemporary Malawian identity and political system have been
an important context for my attempt to understand Malawi’s educational system and how
teachers experience that system. The study thus had part of its beginnings in what Smith
and Watson (2001) call a Fanonian critique “of the specularity of the colonial gaze,”
which they see as reconceptualizing “relations of domination and subordination in
formerly colonized regions,” linking colonialism to global racism (p. 134).

Since returning from the field in 2004, I have come across more and more
scholarship on the place of autobiography, autoethnography, and self-study, especially in
the social sciences and the humanities, and in education in particular. The analytical
categories employed in this study have benefited from developments in ethnography, the
study of personal narratives, life writing and autobiography that, according to Smith and
Watson (2001 ), have served “the purpose of valorizing the lives of ordinary, often
marginalized, subjects” (p. 161). Such developments have also highlighted the need to
promote the telling of stories of human rights abuses and social injustices, and the

importance of understanding the historical and global interconnectedness of human

42

suffering, as Smith and Schaeffer (2004) have shown in their study of the presence of
such issues in the United States, Australia, China, South Africa and Japan.

While the findings of this study focus mostly on the lives of the teachers who
wrote autobiographies, and on their attempts to construct a peace pedagogy in their
schools, the analytical categories used in understanding the findings have been made
more meaningful by the consciousness that this has also been, to a considerable extent,
my story. This turn of events has unfolded towards the more recent stages of the analysis,
edging the format and style of this study toward a genre that has come to be termed
“contingent autoethnography” (Ellis, 2004). Carolyn Ellis sees contingent
autoethnography as a form in which “an author writes about others, most likely not
planning to study anything about the self. Then in the process of research, the researcher
discovers his or her connection to the material and to the world studied” (p. 51). Unlike
Ellis’s autoethnography, which for her can embrace novelistic tendencies that extend to
fictionalized events aimed at showing rather merely telling, every detail reported in the
findings comes from the data collected from the field, and from real life participants.

The analysis of the data relies on fieldwork, the main reason why I needed to
spend time physically in the setting with the participants (Merriam, p. 8; Goodley et. al.,
2004, p. 56). The decision to spend the majority of the available time in the field stems
from an intellectual orientation that seeks new directions for knowledge production. To
effect change in policy and curriculum, the conventional route would be to work with the
upper echelons of the education system’s hierarchy in Malawi, such as department heads
at the Malawi Institute of Education, directors in the Ministry of Education, and

curriculum specialists. However the design for this research aimed to engage the group

43

 

perceived to be at the bottom of the hierarchy, classroom teachers, and their students. Part
of this decision was informed by a critical theory perspective aimed at critiquing
traditional methods of knowledge production which have, according to Marshall and
Grossman (1999), evolved within structures that privilege elitism, to the marginalization
of other forms of knowledge (p.4). In Malawi, as in many other formerly colonized
countries, the education systems currently in place did not evolve out of indigenous
structures of social life and aspirations, but rather, they were inherited from colonial
systems upon independence. Although governments made efforts to change the systems
to benefit more Africans, the changes were aimed at creating a small cadre of highly
trained individuals who would occupy bureaucratic government positions and be in
charge of the post-independence development effort. There was no intent to change the
system, rather to just change the people running the system. In Malawi, this meant
educating a few elites, with the majority of the people educated only for menial and
clerical jobs. The content and methods used in the education system remained those from
the colonial era, whose main aim had been to provide workers in supporting roles in the
running of the colonial government (Moumoni, n. d., referenced in Rodney, 1971). The
effect of this type of education was the perpetuation of the colonial mentality, a condition
expressed through the term ‘neocolonialism’.

The view of knowledge that prevailed in the school system was therefore one of
borrowed ways of knowing to be taught to Africans. Africa and Africans were not
assumed to have produced knowledge worth being considered school knowledge. “Thirty
years after the decolonization process,” writes Campbell (2000), “the curriculum in

Afiica is still designed to reproduce social inferiority, masculinity and ethnic identities”

44

 

(p.39). To this day, the dominant view of knowledge in the Malawi school system is still
one where knowledge is supposed to be borrowed from outside the country, and comes
from the top: from experts, from government, from the global North. While this dominant
view of knowledge from the top or from outside is not unique to Malawi, belief in the
inferiority of African knowledge systems plays a subtle but deep role to this day. Writing
about professional development programs aimed at orienting Malawian teachers to new
developments in the curriculum, Mchazime (2003) points out that courses are still
planned by experts, which teachers see as “externally motivated” (p. 92). He calls for
courses that are “requested by the teachers” and are based on the “teachers’ own internal
vision of good practice” (Mchazime, p. 92). But even if teachers request the courses, and
experts design courses based on teachers’ specifications, the arrangement still privileges a
top-down, hierarchical way of producing knowledge, which leaves the structures of
power and influence unchanged. In the process, local, African ways of knowing are still
systematically left out of the education system, thereby perpetuating inequality and
injustice.

A goal of this research was therefore to attempt to “view inquiry as leading to
radical change and emancipation from oppressive social structures” using both critique
and “direct advocacy and action taken by the researcher, often in collaboration with
participants in the study” (Marshall and Grossman, pp.4-5). The conversation resulting
from the process was aimed at giving teachers a voice, and beginning the process of
transforming the dominant paradigm from knowledge transmission to one in which
teachers also construct knowledge (Florio-Ruane, 2001).

Next I describe the three phases in which I collected data.

45

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First phase

In narrating the processes I went through to collect data, I use a reporting format
that employs three types of description, based on Frederick Erickson’s (1986)
categorizations: particular description, general description, and interpretive commentary
(p.149). Erickson identifies two aims for writing the report, the first being “to make clear
to the reader what is meant by the various assertions,” and the second being “to display
the evidentiary warrant for the assertions” (p. 149). The effect of the narrative is thus to
give the reader a concrete picture of events as they unfolded, and in so doing present an
analysis that generalizes the events as ‘typical’ (p. 150), as believable and not unusual.
The two types of description, particular and general, are followed by ‘interpretive
commentary,’ aimed at offering what meanings and interpretations I derive from the
vignettes. To achieve this, I start from the moment I set foot on Malawian soil, after an
absence of six years.

I left the United States on a cold wintry overcast Friday afternoon on February 6‘“,
2004. I arrived in Malawi on a warm, sunny Sunday afiemoon, February 8, 2004, at the
Lilongwe International Airport (it has since been renamed Kamuzu International Airport,
its original name until 1994). My parents and other family members were there to
welcome me. We drove to my parents’ home in Ntcheu, a three-hour drive south of
Lilongwe. There I spent a week catching up on sleep and soaking up the year-round
Malawian sun. On my second day I took a 10-minute stroll down to the only primary
school in the area. The school would later become one of my four research sites. On the
first day at the school I held informal discussions with the school’s head teacher

(principal). Later I talked with other teachers and students. I was invited to sit in on

46

 

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meetings with the teachers, the school committee, parents and a non-govemmental
organization working with the school on a feeding program.

Later in the week I visited the district education office, an hour’s drive away from
the school, where I talked with an assistant education manager. At the end of February I
went to the Malawi Institute of Education (MIE), where I held talks with researchers and
curriculum specialists. I also visited two more schools that were also to become research
sites, where I talked with the school heads and teachers. At MIE I met with individuals
and asked them about education projects they were working on. The aim for this was to
get familiar with recent developments in the education system, and to see if there were
possible parallels in thinking about peace and education. 1 was, in other words,

negotiating entry and feeling out the ethical issues to be aware of (Creswell, 1994, p.147).

Participants

The qualitative nature and design of this study rendered itself to a purposeful
sample, rather than a random sample. I started by selecting three schools where I was
assured of an opportunity to spend a considerable amount of time to get to know the
teachers. I talked with the teachers, and administered a questionnaire to them. I paid
attention to factors such as which classes they taught, which regions of Malawi they came
from, and what gender they were. Thus to some extent my selection of the schools and
teachers was purposeful. (See appendix C for the list of participants and schools.)

The study did not concern itself with causal factors, nor did it employ a
quantitative, experimental design to warrant generalizations over a general population

(Creswell, 1994, p. 117). As a study aimed at exploring how teachers write about their

47

lives and construct an awareness of peace, social justice and human security, a purposeful
sampling of participants allowed for the possibility of fixture research with larger studies
better suited to generalizations.

A key reason why a purely random sample would not have been suitable for this
study is that the research questions did not lend themselves to a randomly selected group.
The number of participants who turned up for the writing institute, 32 was not enough to
be representative of the teaching profession in Malawi, who number about 55,000, in
4,700 schools (PCAR, 2001), and therefore the findings of this study are not meant to be
generalized even across teachers in Malawi. A purposeful choice of participants allowed
me to carefully select a group of teachers who fit the criteria (Merriam, 1998, p. 61)
dictated by time resources and my mobility, as I explain below.

Because I mostly relied on public transport, and had to walk to places where there
was no public transport, mobility became an important criterion in the choice of schools.
Chigwale primary school, in the central region of Malawi, was within walking distance
from the house I was living in, as were Tsigado and Medosi primary schools in the
southern region. To get to Mbeka School, also in the central region, I used local
transportation, a three-hour journey by bus from my base in Tsigado.

Viewing oneself as a writer was another criterion, but I ended up dropping it as it
soon became apparent that finding teacher-writers would require more time and resources
than I had at my disposal. Thus only one teacher at Medosi reported on the survey
questionnaire being a writer of short stories and fiction, the rest, at all three schools, said
they would be interested if the opportunity presented itself. One teacher who accepted the

invitation came from a different school in the central region. He was an accomplished

48

 

HS

(I!

hi

(D

writer, actor, and teacher-researcher. He was actively involved in the curriculum reform
process I found underway, and had traveled extensively in southern, east and West Afiica
attending conferences and presenting his research findings.

In addition to the teachers, I also invited two guest speakers who came and gave
talks during the first workshop at MIE. The first speaker was Mrs. Kelela’z, a curriculum
specialist at MIE who has researched and written about gender-based violence in
Malawian schools. The second was Reverend Kanjira, a pastor who has written
extensively on African traditional values and their importance in enhancing spirituality

and wellbeing not only for Africans but also for the world in general.

Study sites

Schools in Malawi are classified as either rural or urban, mainly based on their
distance away fi'om or locus within the vicinity of Malawi’s three cities and one
municipality (See appendix B for a map of Malawi with nine major districts). Thus
schools within the vicinity of the capital city, Lilongwe, in the central region, Blantyre
City in the south, City of Mzuzu in the north, and the Municipality of Zomba in the south
are all classified as urban schools. All other schools falling outside the city and municipal
limits are classified as rural. Urban schools tend to have higher student populations than
rural schools, and this is reflected in the numbers of teachers, which tend to be higher in
urban schools than in rural schools. Most urban schools have electricity, running tap
water, telephone lines, and such other facilities, although years of disrepair and lack of
maintenance in some of these schools mean that the classrooms have neither water nor

electricity. There are a few schools which are located outside urban areas, yet are found

 

'2 Not their real names. 49

on the premises of larger institutions that have running water, electricity, leisure facilities
and other amenities normally found in urban areas. Some of these schools are found in
trading centers that have water and electricity, but are small enough not to be considered
urban areas. These schools are still considered to be rural schools.

Two of the four schools in this study, Tsigado and Medosi, were located outside
urban areas, but were located within institutions that had running water, electricity, and
facilities such as vehicles, TVs and VCRs, telephone lines, intemet access, copiers, etc.
Mbeka School was located within a busy trading center with electricity and running
water, but not big enough to be considered an urban area. The school was within half a
mile of a busy highway that runs the length of Malawi from north to south. As I walked
across the open, sprawling playground in front of the main office, I could see Mbeka
Mountain in the distance, with its tall, green bluegum trees.

Chi gwale School was also located near a trading center, but very small such that
there was neither electricity nor running tap water anywhere near. A highway passed
within half a mile of the school, going all the way to the northern region. However it was
not as busy the highway near Mbeka. Tsigado and Medosi were also located close to a
busy highway connecting the old colonial capital to the new post-independence capital
city, Lilongwe. A river separated the two schools, with tall pine trees creating a
panoramic landscape on the Medosi side of the river.

At the time of the study, Tsigado had a total of twenty-three teachers and 1,358
students. Medosi had twenty-one teachers and 660 students, while Mbeka had thirty-two
teachers and 1,335 students. The fourth school, Chigwale, had eleven teachers and 2,345

students. Twelve teachers at Tsigado were male, while evelen were female. At Medosi

50

seven teachers were male while fourteen were female. At Mbeka there was an equal
number of male and female teachers, sixteen each, while at Chigwale only three out of
the eleven teachers were female.

Of the four schools, Mbeka was the newest, having been built in the early 20005
as a model school with funding from the World Bank. Medosi was also recent, having
been built in the 19805 as a demonstration school in a teacher education institution.
Tsigado was one of the oldest, and like Medosi, is also associated with a teacher
education institution. Chigwale was built in the 19705 as part of a village self-help
project, and was the poorest and least well equipped school in terms of both facilities as
well as staffing.

The communities surrounding the four schools were different in that Tsigado and
Medosi were located in an area dominated by institutions of learning, where Mbeka was
located in the center of a small town whose largest institutions were a large government
hospital, two secondary schools, and government offices and departments. Chigwale was
located near a small trading center, next to a small government hospital and a village
market. These settings go to some extent in explaining the availability and lack of
availability of teaching and learning resources in the schools, the state of infrastructure,
and the support the differing degrees of support the schools get from the communities
they are located in. The settings also dictate the availability or lack of availability of
professional development opportunities for the teachers. The closer the school to other

government institutions and departments, the more the opportunities.

51

(IQ

Recruitment

In choosing teachers to invite to MIE from Tsigado and Medosi primary schools, I
aimed to have an equal number of male and female teachers. Malawi has a history of
gender inequality, with social, economic and political factors that impede women’s
participation in issues of leadership. From Tsigado and Medosi schools, I invited 10
women and 10 women. Most of them men attended the two-week writing institute, and
the weekly meetings that followed, with two or three being absent on a daily basis. For
the women, four showed up consistently during the writing institute, while three were
available for the weekly meetings. At Chi gwale I invited all the teachers in the school,
totaling eleven; eight males and three females. Six male teachers attended the workshops
frequently, while two of the female teachers were regulars. One female teacher
announced on the outset that she was not going to participate, giving her impending
retirement as her reason. She said she wanted to make room for the younger teachers,
even though the invitation was for all the teachers in the school.

Understanding the reasons why the participation of female teachers was not as
frequent as that of the male teachers would require an entire study of its own. Some of the
male teachers said it was typical of women not to take these matters of professional
development seriously. When some of the male teachers brought up the issue one
aftemoon, some of the female teachers present explained that their husbands expected
them to take care of domestic chores, including looking after children and harvesting
maize from the gardens. They said their husbands did not really care about domestic
chores, and that was why the male teachers could afford to come to the workshops

frequently. One female teacher who never showed up sent me an excuse through her

52

husband, saying that her mother had fallen ill, and she was going home to look after her.
A female curriculum specialist at MIE pointed out to me later that in Malawian culture,
the responsibility for looking after a sick mother, or indeed any sick family member,
always falls on the female members of the family and not on the males. Yet many men
failed to consider this and other ways in which cultural expectations weighed heavily on
women, hindering them from participating in professional activities.13 This is one of the
instances that show gender inequality to be one of the ‘generalizations within the corpus’
(Erickson, p. 151, italics in original) needing to be dealt with in defining peace, social
justice and human security. I elaborate this point later in Chapter Four.

As stated earlier, I also paid attention to where teachers originally come from,
their religion, and the class they taught, to ensure that the participants included
representative numbers of teachers from the six main ethnic groups of the country, and
from the three main religions, Christianity and Islam and Malawian Traditional Religion.
The government recruits and posts teachers randomly to any school in the country
regardless of where a teacher comes from. A lot of Malawians lament what in Malawi is
termed regionalism; the attitude held by some that their allegiance is to their region and
ethnic group first, and thus give people from their region and ethnic group preferential
treatment in employment, education, and other opportunities. There is also evidence
however that some Malawians mistake the mere existence of regions and ethnicities as
actual regionalism. Part of this is due to statements that Malawi’s first president, Dr.
Hastings Kamuzu Banda, used to make, urging Malawians not to think along ethnic and

regional lines. And yet, underneath the rhetoric was a sustained effort to strengthen the

 

'3 Evelyn Lemani, erstwhile assistant director for school and teacher development, Malawi Institute of
Education, personal conversation. 53

iii

ulfi I

dill

cultural values of his own ethnic group, the Chewa, and undermine those of the other
groups (Kamwendo, 2002; Kishindo, 1998). The problem of regionalism suffers from
lack of a sustained debate, since politicians exploit it for their purposes. In the process,
the cultural diversity of the nation is undermined in the belief that diversity breeds
divisions. This study was premised on the assumption that problems of injustice and
inequality are best dealt with when differences are brought out in the open and discussed,
and when diversity is celebrated and seen as a positive force, rather than a negative one.
Even though the research sites were restricted to the southern and central regions of the
country, participants included teachers from the northern region as well.14 Out of the 55
teachers who responded to the survey questionnaire, only one was a Moslem, the rest
being Christians from Roman Catholic, Seventh-Day Adventist, Presbyterian and
Evangelical churches. None indicated membership in Malawian Traditional Religions, a
point meriting a thorough study of how Malawian and Afiican endogenous systems are
under siege from pressure to modernize in the direction of the West. As far as
endogenous ways of worshipping, In Malawi the erosion is thorough and drastic.

In early April I went to the Southeast Division offices, under whose jurisdiction

district education offices function, to ask for written permission to conduct research in the

 

'4 Malawi is divided in three administrative regions: northern, central and southern regions. However for
purposes of educational decentralization, the country’s 29 administrative districts have been clustered into
6 education divisions as follows:

South West Division (Chikwawa, Blantyre Rural, Blantyre Urbameanza, Nsanje)
South East Division (Zomba Rural, Zomba Urban, Balaka, Mangochi, Machinga)
Shire Highlands Division (Mulanje, Chiradzulu, Thyolo, Phalombe)

Central West Division (Lilongwe Rural, Lilongwe Urban, Mchinji, Ntcheu, Dedza)
Central East Division (Kasungu, Dowa, Ntchisi, Salima, Nkhotakota)

North Division (Mzuzu, Mzirnba, Karonga, Chitipa, Nkhatabay, Rumphi)

Source: <http://www.sdnp.org.mw/~phindu/primary/primary.htm>
54

If.“

two southern region schools. Permission granted, I introduced my project to head
teachers, asking them to grant me an audience with teachers to give a talk about my
project. As part of my talk I also gave teachers a survey questionnaire to fill out (see
appendix). I then wrote letters of invitation to 32 teachers that I had selected to become
participants, asking them to indicate acceptance to participate in the research by signing

consent documents.

Second phase

I invited the teachers from Tsigado and Medosi primary schools to the Malawi
Institute of Education for a two-week workshop (the workshop at Chi gwale took place
afterwards when school had resumed). The workshop took place between Monday April
12 and Friday April 23, when all government schools in Malawi were on Easter vacation.
During those two weeks participants read, viewed and discussed readings and videos on
autobiographical writing, peace education, education for democracy, Malawi’s history
and politics, the Rwandan genocide, the South Afiican Truth and Reconciliation
Cormnission, and the debate on the contributions of African civilizations to world
civilization. The teachers got started on their autobiographies, selecting portions and
reading them aloud to the other participants. This allowed me to obtain a sample of the
participants’ own language (Marshall & Grossman, p.112). Spending eight hours a day
with the teachers for two weeks enabled me to begin to know the participants, a process
which continued with weekly meetings, classroom visits and interviews.

The two-week workshop was also used to brainstorm activities and plans to enact

peace approaches in their classrooms and schools. The teachers wrote a grant proposal

 

55

which they submitted to the Forum for Peace and Dialogue and a few other non-
governmental organizations and international cooperation agencies funding education
projects, for sponsorship to help them continue studying and teaching for peace, and to
introduce the concept to other teachers in the country. My idea for suggesting that they
write a proposal was for the group to have the experience of drafting a proposal, a skill
that would help the teachers think of other opportunities they could take advantage of and
initiate their own projects for professional development. In this way, the workshop used
what scholars of participatory action research (PAR) would call a “double objective”,
producing knowledge and action aimed at benefiting participants, as well as self-
empowerrnent using the participants’ own knowledge (Reason, 1994, p. 328).

For teachers at Chigwale primary school, some 150 miles away in the central
region, the second phase precluded the two-week workshop. Because of the distance, and
logistical problems such as communication, and timing, the second phase, the writing
workshop, took a different format for the teachers at Chigwale. Thus our sessions to read
and discuss materials took place in the afternoons, since school had resumed and was in
session, requiring the teachers to teach in the morning till early afternoon. Because there
was no electricity in and around Chigwale, unlike the Tsigado area, we could not use

videos.

Third phase
After the two-week writing institute at MIE, and the afternoon sessions at
Chigwale, we continued meeting once a week, Thursdays at Medosi primary school, and

Mondays at Chigwale. The main activities in phase three were planning sessions for

56

lessons, classroom observations and post-observation discussions, and in-depth semi-
structured interviews. During this phase I also interviewed three teachers who were not
part of the project. I chose them after recommendations from curriculum specialists who
had worked with these teachers in various projects, and had come to regard them as
national leaders in the ongoing teaching reforms in Malawi. This was evidenced by their
participation in the curriculum reform process. Two of these teachers came from and
taught in the northern region, while one came from and taught in the central region. Two
of these interviews took place at MIE, while the third interview took place in the

teachers’ school in the central region.

Continuous data analysis

The data generated from the research comprised multiple resources of data, from
which I glean the actual data (Erickson, 1986): workshop responses from the survey
questionnaire, autobiographical writing samples from participants, interview notes and
transcripts, video footage, audio recordings, field notes from classroom observations and
other discussions, and a personal reflection journal. The multiplicity of the data sources
allows for a “holistic description and analysis characteristic of a case study, mandate[ing]
both breadth and depth of data collection” (Merriam, 1998, p.134). The data analysis
process happened simultaneously as the data collection process (Merriam, p.162).

As the data chapters, four and five show, analysis has focused on two levels. The
autobiographical form of writing that emerged as the default genre for the participants
has been an important analytical category. Equally important has been the way in which

the concept of uMunthu arose in the course of the study, providing a definition of peace

57

and social justice from the contexts of the lived experiences of the teachers, and the
pedagogical imperatives emanating from viewing curriculum and pedagogy fi'om the
perspectives of peace and social justice.

The preceding description of the three phases in which the data collection
exercises happened, and of the participant recruitment process, offers what Erickson calls
an “analytic narrative vignette” (p. 152). As a vignette, it calls for an “interpretive
commentary” to bring out what stands out, and what "meaning-interpretations” the
researcher makes of them. The interpretive commentary I have provided is not meant to
be an exhaustive analysis, as that is reserved for the data chapters three and four. Rather,
it is an interpretation of the issues that stood out as the methodology for the research
unfolded. There are six such details that stand out, that I want to offer an interpretation
of. The first three deal with gender inequality, while the remaining three deal with the
place of Malawian traditional religions today, the autobiographical writing that the
teachers managed to produce, and the brainstorming sessions where teachers drew plans

to enact peace approaches in their schools.

Gender inequality

The gender inequality issue has three strands to it. First is the fact that out of the
51 teachers available for the research, women numbered only thirteen. Malawi has more
trained male teachers who make up 64 percent of the teacher corps, compared to female
teachers who represent 36 percent (Maluwa-Banda, 2003). The second strand is on the
differences in the way the male and female teachers understand the contexts of the

problems of gender inequality. Third are the gender differences in domestic expectations.

58

This third strand is exemplified in the difficulties women participants experienced in
attending the writing institute, which the men did not. The women split their time
between attending the workshop and taking care of domestic chores. Some women did
not even show up, due to various reasons including the sickness of family members. The
second strand in the gender inequality finding is that the male participants’ explanation
for the problem of gender inequality differed from the women’s account. The men felt
that it was typical of women not to take matters of their professional development as
teachers seriously, whereas the women felt that their husbands did not take their domestic
responsibilities seriously.

The problem of Malawian women’s participation in professional matters has
received attention in other studies, but here I will give one example. Anthony Nazombe
(1990) observes in his introduction to The Haunting Wind: New Poetry From Malawi that
of the forty-four poets represented in his anthology, only six are women. Nazombe
distinguishes the modern Malawian female from the traditional Malawian woman, who
“was at the center of society’s cultural life, playing leading roles in such activities as
storytelling and song competition. . .” (p. 3). Whereas Nazombe seeks an explanation for
this under-representation in what he terms “the Malawian lady’s general reluctance to
participate in matters of a literary nature,” there is also evidence of partriarchical social
structures that explain the problem (Liwewe, 2004). The men’s actions towards domestic
responsibility as explained by the women teachers, as well as the men’s own words in
explaining why women are seemingly ‘reluctant’ to participate in professional matters,

might offer evidence of the ‘patriarchal social structure’ that Liwewe talks about.

59

The role of religion

On the issue of religious representation as a criterion in the selection of
participants, none of the 51 teachers surveyed indicated membership in a Malawian
traditional religion”. All 51 of them indicated membership in a Christian denomination,
ranging from Roman Catholic to Presbyterian to Seventh-Day Adventist. It may very
well be that none of these teachers indeed subscribed to belief in traditional religions of
Malawi, but it is also well documented that the mental subjugation brought about by
colonization was, in certain situations, facilitated through a process of Christianization. A
Malawian radio play, Lord Have Mercy by Innocent Banda (1976) portrays an ‘educated’
African woman who loathes everything African, in preference for everything Western.
The whole play unfolds in the background of a preacher’s voice extolling Africans to
embrace Christianity and abandon everything heathen. Chinua Achebe’s 1960 novel No
Longer at Ease also deals with a similar theme. There are many other examples that can
be marshaled as evidence of the role colonization and Christianity played in consigning
Afiican systems and ways of being to oblivion, but suffice it to say that the consequences
can be seen in what some Afiican scholars have termed the crisis of Afiican values
(Sindima, 1995). Sindima writes:

An assault was launched on African thought and its foundational concepts of person and
community. The power of eradication of African thought consisted in disorienting the
African; making the African believe that anything African was inferior, including the
very framework of traditional expression, living, and understanding the world—culture.
The African system of thought was disregarded as illogical. The rupture of African
society was systematic, and number psychological and philosophical mechanisms were
employed to make it impossible for Africans to break out of social, economic, and
political bondage (p. 54)

While Christianity is viewed as having worked hand in hand with colonialism to

subjugate Afiicans, there were also circumstances when Christianity was used as a basis

60

for resistance to colonization. The most significant illustration of this was the 1915
uprising led by John Chilembwe. As a boy, Chilembwe joined the household of the
British missionary Joseph Booth, widely known as being respectful of Africans and
sympathetic to their cause, both in Afi'ica and North America. Booth took Chilembwe to
the United States in the late 18905, where he studied in an African American seminary,
becoming a Baptist reverend. When he returned to Malawi at the turn of the century,
Chilembwe built his own African Independent Church, and called it Providence Industrial
Mission (PIM). Chilembwe used his understanding of the gospel to reject the inferior
treatment Africans were subjected to under British colonialism. He wrote and preached
against the evils of colonialism and imperialism, including the expropriation of land from
Africans, and the recruitment of Africans into the First World War, a war he argued had
nothing to do with Africans. In 1915 he organized an uprising in which he and his
followers killed a handful of Europeans and set fire to buildings. He is believed to have
died as he fled across the border into Mocambique. Mtewa (1979) gives his date of death
as February 3,1915.

In the 19405 and 505 new attempts were made to liberate Malawi from colonial
rule, but the biggest momentum came at the end of the 505 and the beginning of the 605.
After independence, the church was largely seen as siding with the authorities, and
turning a blind eye to the repression and atrocities perpetrated by the one-party
government of Dr. Kamuzu Banda. When pressure on Banda to allow for multiparty
democracy in Malawi mounted in the early 905, it was the Christian churches, especially

the Catholic Church and the Presbyterian Church, that led the campaign. Joined by other

 

'5 The term Malawian Traditional Religion (MTR) is used by scholars of religious studies to refer to
indigenous religions. 61

churches, Christianity has continued to spearhead social change in Malawi, with a
specific focus on social justice and human rights. Christianity therefore has played, and

continues to, a complicated role in the historical and political arena in Malawi.

Participatory Action Research

The last two examples I will deal with in offering this interpretive commentary
are the workshop sessions which were held to brainstorm plans to enact peace approaches
in schools, and the autobiographies the participants wrote. In including activities for the
planning of school activities in the writing workshop, we enacted what has been called
participatory action research, or PAR (Reason, 1994). Reason (1994) sees two starting
points for PAR. First is an interrogation of power and how it creates powerlessness for
certain groups. Second is the lived knowledge and experience of people. These two
starting points create a double objective, that is, “to produce knowledge and action
directly useful to a group of people—through research, adult education, and sociopolitical
action” (p. 328). The participants in the research produced plans to change oppressive
rules in their schools, to introduce new clubs, to involve other teachers in the school, and
to look for funds to take peace education to other teachers in the country. Some of these
are overly ambitious, like the country-wide plan, but in writing their plans and the grant,
the participants were producing “knowledge and action directly useful” to them. The
autobiographies can also be understood in similar ways, in addition to the role
autobiographies are becomingly widely known for, as I elaborate below.

The autobiographies the teachers wrote are accounts of their life histories,

prompted by our reading and discussion of the first two chapters of Hero of the Nation:

62

The Autobiography of Henry Masauko Chipembere (2001). As life stories, the teachers’
writings construct a “narrative elaboration of [their] life experience as a whole”
(Chanfrault-Duchet, 2004, p.267). The narratives can also be seen as life history, when
they stress “chronological organization and thus turning points of an individual life path”
(Chanfrault-Duchet, 1987, cited in Chanfrault-Duchet, 2004). The overlap between life
story and life history, as well as the data analysis that characterizes the teachers’
autobiographies as narratives relies on other textual and literary analyses, which are
“outside the conscious awareness” of the teachers, as Chanfrault-Duchet states. The data
analysis process uses Chanfrault-Duchet’s method to look for ones in the narrative when
the teachers construct a subject for themselves, and when they define their identities
within the confines of an Althusserian ‘ideological state apparatus’ (1971).
Autobiography and other forms of life story and life history enable marginalized
groups of people to be heard in their own voices (Smith, 1994, p. 288; Weider, 2004, p.
23). In Malawi, these teachers wrote and spoke of being denied voice in Malawi’s
education system, as the chapter on the autobiographies produced by the teachers
elaborates. The use of life history and autobiographical writing, part of the theoretical
framework used in this research, brought out stories of a group of Malawians who had
been marginalized. Because the accounts of these teachers’ lives are told with the context
of Malawi’s culture, history and politics, they enable the uncovering of atrocities that
were carried out in the name of national security, exposing the hypocrisy of a government
which made pronouncements on state security while it inflicted terror on its citizens
(Vale, 2003). The country needs to deal with its recent history and political past, and

writing about how ordinary Malawians, especially teachers, experienced the dictatorship

63

is a way of dealing with the ‘orality’ of a dictatorship that has so far, 12 years after its
demise, not yet been made to account for its atrocities (Chimombo, 2001; Mapanje,
2002). The stories these teachers wrote about carve out a subjective space in which the
teachers turn the tables and write about a state that sought to write them out of its
narrative. This autobiographical writing serves as a form of resistance against injustice
(Greatly, 2003). Even more, it serves as a lesson for the future, with testimony that
informs Malawians of events that were hidden, testimony that has the possibility of
transformation.

Alan Weider (2003) sees the stories South Afiican teachers told him as testimony
that has the “possibility of educating and changing the world” (p. 1). Weider believes that
“[t]hrough people’s stories we can understand the horrors of man’s inhumanity to man,
and we can teach ‘never again.’ But we can also celebrate the beauty of the human spirit”
(pp. 12). Given the continuation of social injustice and human insecurity in Malawi,
even after the end of the dictatorship, these stories are a much needed release.

The narratives wield what Florio-Ruane (2001) calls a “moral or evaluative force”
because they not only “foreground learning and the negotiation of identity,” but they also
contribute to a process which presents the teachers in ways that they want others to know
them (p. 80). Being stories about people’s lives and how the people doing the writing
want to be known as, the problems of fact or fiction, attendant when people are using the
power of memory and subjectivity to narrate about their experiences, becomes irrelevant.

As Florio-Ruane observes:

it is unhelpful and distorting to impose on autobiography dualisms such as fact versus fiction or
personal versus social. Autobiography is a slippery genre for both literary theorists and social
scientists precisely because it resists neat categorizing and thereby opens the entire question of the
categorizeability of [. . .] genres (p.96).

64

Understanding autobiography in this way enables an analysis that identifies uses
of metaphors in the ways the teachers represent their subj ectivities and identities, to find
out how they carve out personal experience with professional obligation. The product of
the analysis might be useful in determining what experiences in teachers’ lives could be
used in teacher training and in professional development toward teaching for peace and
social justice.

As with the teachers in F lorio-Ruane’s (2001) study of autobiography book club
in teachers’ professional development, “[t]he opportunity to read challenging literature,
talk about it with colleagues, and craft (and hear) one another’s personal narratives
enhanced teachers’ sense of themselves not only as teachers, but as thoughtful
participants in society” (p. 131). Also, the life story context of this project makes it
possible for my own personal and political positions to be made explicit, opening up “key

theoretical, policy and practice considerations” (Goodley et al, 2004, p.167).

Criteria for evaluation of the research

This research was simultaneously inquiry and intervention, so content, the quality,
and the quantity of the writing produced by participants were some of the indicators of
the effectiveness of the research design. Of the 32 teachers invited to the writing institute,
the number of participants who accepted the invitation and participated to the very end
ranged between 12 and 17. Ten participants were able to draft and revise an
autobiography, which they turned in to me. I was able to observe a total of 25 lessons in
all three schools following the writing workshop. I was able to interview the teacher after

each of the 25 classroom observations, some teachers once, others more than once. I was

65

also able to interview three other teachers outside the group that participated in the
writing workshops. To the extent that up to 17 teachers participated in the writing
institute, ten of them producing autobiographies, and lessons I observed and interviews I
carried out, the study achieved part of its purpose.

Richness and depth of discussions was another criterion for evaluation. The
materials participants read, viewed and discussed presented a specific set of concepts and
key terms. A familiarity with these concepts and key terms provides a measure of how
relevant and practical the concepts were. We were able to read, view and discuss
materials on autobiography (Chipembere, 2001), teaching in a democratic dispensation
(McJessie-Mbewe, 1999), writing and telling stories in a post-dictatorship (Chimombo,
1999), critical pedagogy and problem-solving education (Freire, 1970). We also watched
videos on the Rwandan genocide, the South African Truth and Reconciliation
Commission, the suppressed history of Africa, narrated by Ali Mazrui, and the debate on
the influence of African ancient civilizations in world civilizations (Bemal, 1991).

An open-ended questionnaire was given to participants to rate the usefulness of
the writing institute and other components of the research. A discussion of their responses
is presented in the concluding chapter. Multiple avenues of data collection were used,
with the aim of capturing meanings from various perspectives. The data comprise
autobiographies written by participants, transcripts of classroom observations, transcripts
of interviews, audiotapes, and video footage. I kept a journal in which I wrote about my
impressions, my thinking, emerging questions, and my interpretations of events.

Part of the evaluation process also involves accounting for what was gained and

lost in the changes I ended up making to the design. Since I had originally intended to

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identify teachers who were also writers, but ended up with teachers who were not
necessarily writers, the scope of what writing could come out of the research was
restricted. The teacher writers I had imagined in the conceptualization could have
produced poetry, short stories, essays, and other forms of writing, genres that are not easy
for people who don’t consider themselves writers. Judging from the role that poetry has
played in Malawian politics, the richness of verse and consciousness that could have been
generated fiom the participants is thus a lost opportunity.

Yet this limitation opened up autobiography as a feasible genre. That these
teachers were able to write as much as they did speaks to the abundance of personal
stories and narratives that exist amongst these teachers, an abundance that has not been
taken advantage of in conventional teacher education and professional development in
Malawi. Since the participants were writing about their lives, the quantity of their writing
serves as an indicator of the potential for substantive development of writing ability
covering a broader perspective of one’s personal and professional life. This revelation
should serve as a strong basis for recommending autobiographical approaches in teacher
education and professional development in Malawian education.

The other problem deals with time. I had six and a half months at my disposal in
Malawi, and I was with these teachers for four of those months. Because of the time
limitations, we did not read everything I had planned, nor could we watch all the films I
had brought with me. This meant that certain ideas in the body of the material I had
planned remained untouched. Examples of this include another autobiography that I had
included on the list, and a talk by Mrs. Catherine Chipembere, widow of the late

Masauko Chipembere whose autobiography the teachers read parts of, and were inspired

67

by to write their own autobiographies.

The time factor also made it impossible for the investigation of connections
between the autobiographical writing and pedagogical approaches. It thus remains
unexplored as to how much awareness of social injustice and human insecurity, if any,
the writing opened up in the teachers, and how that awareness facilitates teaching for
peace.

Perhaps even more important, the time factor made it impossible for me to read
the autobiographies the teachers produced while in the field, and pursue new questions
emanating from my reading of the autobiographies, before I left Malawi. I have had to
read them away from the field, with limited opportunity to follow up on leads and
questions. The autobiographies were written with the intention of covering as much
ground as possible, which meant mentioning in passing certain issues which I would have
wanted to learn more about. For example, one teacher wrote about his father being
detained on political grounds when he was young. The father is never mentioned again in
the narrative, leaving unanswered questions about what happened to him, why he was
detained, and other questions. These are all issues that could have broadened the scope
and reach of the data.

The last criterion for evaluating the research is the extent to which the
participating teachers can sustain and continue practices and ideas for teaching for peace.
One participant whom I have continued being in touch with, at a personal level and not in
the research context, reported that after my departure in August, the teachers continued
meeting once a week. The Chigwale teachers have since sent me a write up of lesson

plans and activities they have continued with since my departure.

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Critical needs
Research in teacher education and peace building in Malawi

There have been a number of studies on teacher education in Malawi in recent
years (Kunje, Lewin & Stuart, 2003; Kunje & Chimombo, 1999). There has also been a
focus on the teaching of life skills and citizenship (Mhlanga, 2004; Malawi Education
and Water Foundation, 2001). However there has not been much focus on studying the
use of life history and autobiographical writing in teacher education, nor on the use of
peace perspectives in the study of teachers’ lives, teacher education, curriculum, and
pedagogy. This study puts problems of peace, social justice and human security, using
life history and autobiographical methodology, at the center of teaching in Malawi. In
writing about their lived experience as students and as teachers in the historical, social,
economic and political context of the country, these teachers have began to define peace,
social justice and human security from their own perspectives. They have also sought
connections between their lives and their teaching. They have forged new directions for
examining their teaching and for making schooling relevant to the lives of their students
and their communities.

The teachers have considered other ways of understanding the curriculum, and of
redefining school knowledge and the life history and autobiographical perspectives that
shape schooling. This study will hopefully encourage more Malawian teachers to draw on
local examples, folklore, life history and autobiography, to facilitate truth and
reconciliation (Chimombo, 1999), and thereby promote peace, social justice and human

security. A broadened View of the curriculum and school knowledge could lead to more

69

efforts by teachers to look at school knowledge as constructed in social, historical and
political contexts, and to investigate these contexts and their implications in the lives of
students, the teachers themselves, and the society at large.

The research complements the expectations of the Primary Curriculum and
Assessment Reform (PCAR), the current educational reform in Malawi, that learners be
able to “demonstrate an understanding of personal identity in terms of location and
historical background through inquiry into origins, cultural beliefs and practices” and “to
demonstrate an understanding of the position of Malawi within its regional and global
contexts through an investigation of historical, geographical, social and environmental
aspects” (PCAR Draft Document, 2003, p. 13). This research is also relevant to and puts
into practice Life Skills, a new learning area in the Malawian curriculum whose elements
include: environmental skills, health skills, family life skills, peace skills, job creation

skills (Chimwenje, 2001).

Scholarly understanding about peace education, autobiography, African epistemologies
and educational research

In addition to teacher education and peace building in the Malawian curriculum
and in pedagogical practice, this research also contributes to collective understanding
about peace education, and the use of autobiography in teacher professional development.
There are four major disciplinary components in the design of this study, and connections
to a few other sub fields: peace research, life history and autobiography, Afiican
epistemologies, and educational research. Most of these fields carry on without much
effort to work together and interact, and have attracted a substantive amount of

scholarship in their separate fields. So far little attention has been paid to a trans-

70

disciplinary research approach that utilizes the connections amongst all four areas, and
uses them in the service of making education relevant to community needs. This study
attempts to use a methodological approach adapted from all four disciplines to enable
educational research emphasize praxis and redefine “both the ‘what’ and the ‘how of

3”

teaching (Spence and Makuwira, 2005), thereby contributing towards the pursuit of
what has become known as a culture of peace.

This chapter has presented the four research questions that guided the study, and
the qualitative education research methodology that framed the terms of reference for the
study. The chapter described the three phases in which the study unfolded, an account of
how participants were selected, and the setting of the schools that made up the study
sites. The chapter also explained the continuous data analysis used to make sense of the
study’s findings and the issues raised in the interpretive commentary used in the analysis.
The chapter has closed with an outline of the criteria for evaluating the study, and the
critical needs the study attempted to address. The next chapter offers the four themes that
make up the theoretical framework of the study. The chapter concerns itself with the use
of the concepts of uMunthu, peace and social justice, and how these concepts are part of a

theoretical framework for the role of teaching and learning in addressing problems of

injustice, insecurity and inequality in Malawians.

71

Chapter 3

Defining peace-uMunthu: theoretical framework
and literature review

We are the miracles that God made
To taste the bitter fruit of Time
We are precious.
And one day our suffering
Will turn into the wonders of the earth
Ben Okri, ‘An African Elegy,’ 1998

The achievement of peace in any society is an elusive ideal, and equally elusive is
a widely agreed-upon definition and meaning of peace. The term ‘peace’ is and can be
understood and used in ways that might make it look too diffuse and amorphous to be
practical (Harris, 2002). Part of the problem in defining the term ‘peace’ stems from the
meanings and absences attached to the word, in various languages. While some languages
may have a clear, precise meaning for the word ‘peace,’ there are languages that do not
have such a straightforward sense of the concept. As a result, the word ‘peace’ is
sometimes defined based on and in opposition to other words, such as violence, conflict,
and war. Thus it is not uncommon to see peace defined as the absence of violence,
conflict or war. In Chichewa, the national language of Malawi, the term peace,
‘mtendere,’ refers to ‘calm,’ but still with an underlying sense of something else, such as
violence or chaos, not going on. On the other hand, there is no single word that expresses
‘violence’ in Chichewa (Kaphagawani, 2000). Chichewa is one of several southern
African languages that, according to Kaphagawani, “are capable of enlisting acts of

violence without necessarily providing a general term for what is known as ‘violence’ in

72

English, for example” (p. 1). The imprecise meaning of the term ‘peace’ and other terms
related to it leads to various usages and understandings in various human interactions, not
only in Malawi but in other parts of the world as well.

This chapter is concerned with the use of the concepts of ‘peace’and uMunthu,
constructing a theoretical framework to guide teaching and learning in Malawi, and to
address the problems of injustice, insecurity and inequality that Malawians deal with.
This theoretical framework has four themes to it, generated by the literature review
process and the data collected from the field, more specifically, the teacher
autobiographies, and classroom lessons observed during the course of the study. So the
definition of peace outlined here contains both etic and emic elements. The framework
allows for a discussion of the relevant literature in peace research, African
epistemologies, autobiography and life writing, and educational research. The framework
therefore aims to comment on the autobiographical narratives produced by the
participating teachers, and the classroom lessons observed during the course of the study.

In this chapter, the four-part theoretical framework, derived from the multiple
data sources for the dissertation, will be used as a lens to read some of the major pieces of
literature and scholarship on peace. An elaboration of the parts that make up the four
themes of the framework follows. The lived experience that participants wrote about in
their autobiographies, and the classroom efforts they engaged in to teach for peace, are
given minimum attention here because they are discussed in Chapters Four and Five
respectively.

Effecting change, in the form of peace and social justice, at the classroom as well

as systemic levels in the hierarchy of the Malawian education system requires a deeper,

73

contextual understanding of Malawi’s history, politics, economic and social structure,
projecting Malawi’s place in Africa and the world. Using ‘peace-uMunthu’ as a
framework allows for the necessary depth for this undertaking. This framework opens up
a four-point theoretical organization that captures the themes emerging from the data
collected for this study. The themes overlap, and are intertwined at several levels. They
share literature review sources, patterns from the stories the participants told and wrote
about themselves, and the classroom approaches in the teachers’ efforts to teach for
peace. The themes illuminate one another in no particular hierarchical sequence. If they
appear linear here, it is due to the dictates of the page arrangement. Here below I briefly
outline these themes, before elaborating on them later in the chapter.

The first theme is peace as uMunthu, or ‘humanness,’ formed and defined by the
community of human beings. Peace, distinguished conceptually, though not detached
from peace studies and research, is in and of itself a concept lying at the center of the
aspirations of human beings, with deep attachment to the concept of humanness and
community. Humanness and community define who a human being is in most sub-
Saharan Afiican Bantu-speaking societies (Ramose, 1996; Sindima, 1994). This theme is
supported by scholarship in African theology and philosophy (Musopole, 1994; Sindima,
1995, 1998; Tutu, 1998). In my first language Chichewa this humanness is referred to as
‘uMunthu,’ and in other sub-Saharan African languages it is referred to as ‘uBuntu,’ for
example in the Zulu language, or ‘uMotho’ in languages such as Sepedi, Tswana and
Southern Sotho (Ramose, 1996, p. 224).

The second theme is curriculum, derived from topical issues in global and local

contexts. In order to teach for peace, it is necessary to recognize the problems that cause

74

conflict and violence in all its physical, psychological and structural forms. This entails
recognizing issues such as poverty, elite exploitation, inequality, environmental
degradation, HIV/AIDS, bullying in school, political violence, gender inequity, Third
World debt, nuclear proliferation, and many other such problems, as constituting a lack of
peace. Scholars whose work can be viewed from this perspective include Ian Harris
(1988); Betty Reardon, (1988); and Johan Galtung (1996), Barash and Webel (2000),
among others. The Nobel Peace Prize, the Carter Center, The Compton Peace Foundation
and several other peace organizations also define peace in terms that categorize concerns
into thematic topics that include several of these issues: environmental activism,
democratic governance, population control and Nuclear disarmament. Many of the ideas
found in the works of scholars and organizations named above contain elements that fall
across the range, rather than into narrow straightj ackets.

The third theme is pedagogy, which sees peace in pedagogical contexts. From this
perspective, education plays a central role in envisioning what UNESCO calls a culture
of peace (UNESCO, 1995). Peace education is the enactment of social justice and
democratic processes in the classroom, embracing various educational topics and
contexts. Documents on UNESCO’s ‘Culture of Peace’ project, the works of Paulo Freire
(1970), Fel (1996), Adams, Bell and Griffin (1997), and McJessie-Mbewe (1999), among
others contribute to this theme.

The fourth theme in the theoretical organization defines peace as the enactment of
praxis, action with reflection, in Freirean language, for peace, human security, and social
justice. The most important aspect of this theme is that peace is the active pursuit of

efforts for social justice and human security. Peace researchers and social justice

75

educators and activists such as Harris (1988), Ihejirika (1996), Shor (1999), Allen (1999),
Peterson (1999), Nieto (1999), Ardizzone (2001) are some of the scholars for whom the
promotion of peace is an important education pursuit, merging theory and practice.
According to Spence and Makuwira (2005), the “emphasis on praxis has redefined both
the ‘what’ and the ‘how’ of teaching” (p. 19).

The use of the terms uMunthu, peace, social justice and human security form the
framework for this study, and should therefore be understood from an interdisciplinary
perspective, informed by ideas and scholarship from several disciplines including, but not
limited to, peace research, educational research and its fields (comparative education,
teacher education, curriculum theory, etc), theology, philosophy, literary theory, history,

critical security studies, and the study of African epistemologies.

An African concept of peace and social justice: uMunthu and the human community

On Saturday April 17, 2004, I attended the ordination of a new bishop for Zomba
Diocese. The ceremony, splendid with the checkered dark green cloth chosen to be the
uniform for everyone involved in the program to wear, was held on the grounds of
Zomba Catholic Secondary School, one of Malawi’s oldest and most prestigious
secondary schools. The huge crowd that came sat down on the dry grass of the football
ground, facing the western end of Zomba mountain, with backs turned to the smaller
Ntonya hill to the south. Choirs sang beautifully, dancing to beats from church music and
Malawian traditional songs with lyrics turned into spirituals. Invited clergy, who included
a papal nuncio from Zambia, and priests who taught me at Nankhunda seminary, sat on

the platform specially made for the occasion, directly in front of the grounds. To the left

76

end of the grounds was another platform, where the then president Dr. Bakili Muluzi and
his entourage of politicians from his then ruling party, the United Democratic Front, sat.
Among the president’s entourage was Dr. Bingu wa Mutharika, then presidential
candidate for the UDF. The presidential and parliamentary elections were due on May 20,
2004. Dr. Mutharika won, and is now serving as Malawi’s third president.

The new bishop being ordained on this day, the Rt. Rev. Fr. Thomas Msusa,
finished his Form Four and left Nankhunda Seminary the year my class arrived in 1985 to
start Form One. In his ordination speech, the newly ordained Bishop Msusa spoke of the
problems Malawi was facing, and how we needed to “become as one,” his guiding
biblical verse from his seminary days, he said. “The Afiican worldview is about living as
one family, belonging to God,” he said, before continuing: “We say ‘I am because we
are’, or in Chichewa, kali kokha nkanyama, tili awiri ntiwanthu.” The raw, literal
translation is “what exists on its own, without community, is an animal. Where there are
two, those are human beings.”

Bishop Msusa’s definition of a human being sent my mind into a rigorous mental
inquiry to understand what he meant when he invoked the Chichewa proverb as part of
the pursuit toward understanding Malawi’s problems. His use of the concept reminded
me of Nobel laureate, retired South Afiican Archbishop Desmond Tutu who has
described this definition of humanness, called uBuntu in some South Afiican languages,
as lying at the center of the framework for South Afiica’s Truth and Reconciliation
Commission. Together with Archbishop Tutu, Bishop Msusa’s reference to the Chichewa
definition of humanness forms part of what I soon discovered, whilst still in Malawi, to

be a growing body of scholarship on Afiican epistemologies centered on the community

77

aspect of personhood. I remembered having listened to Jason Carter, grandson of the
former US president J immy Carter, talking about uBuntu upon his return to the United
States alter spending two years in South Afiica as a peace corps volunteer in the late 905.
Jason Carter told the National Public Radio in the summer of 2002 that the Afiican
worldview of uBuntu was an important philosophy he had learned whilst in South Afiica,
and that Americans could do well to learn.

It occurred to me, as I walked to church on the morning of the Sunday following
Bishop Msusa’s ordination, to begin considering the possibility of uMunthu perspectives
as incorporating the several aspects that constitute peace education, namely, education for
democracy, human rights, global citizenship, and a culture of peace, among others
(Ardizzone, 2001). In personal communication with Dr. Augustine Musopole and
Professor Harvey Sindima, two Malawian scholars who have researched and published
on uMunthu, I have come to learn more about the sustained inquiry that has been going
on in African epistemologies. Whilst in Malawi in 2004 I also noticed a weekly
newspaper column in the Weekend Nation titled uMunthu, and a number of op-ed articles
in the daily papers using and discussing the term uMunthu. As I describe in the chapter
on the teachers’ autobiographies, one teacher singled out uMunthu as an important value
that needs to be emphasized both at home and in the classroom. Outside the scholarly
discourse on uMunthu, the concept is common to ordinary Malawians and most speakers
of Bantu languages in sub-Saharan Africa, giving it the distinctive ability to speak and
relate to audiences across class, religious, ethnic, political and ideological divides.

In this study, I rely on especially four Malawian studies done on the concept of

uMunthu, three of them in theology, one of them in political science. The first study is a

78

doctoral dissertation by Augustine Musopole, published as a book in 1994. Titled Being
Human in Africa: Toward an African Christian Anthropology, Musopole’s study pursues
the question of“ how does African Christianity define and understand Afiican peoples in
a way that is humanizing, and, how can that view influence the shaping [of] a humane life
for the African people in the totality of their existence?” (p.1). In answering that question,
Musopole’s study analyzes the theological and philosophical work of John Mbiti, who, in
Musopole’s words, uses a dynamic view of Afiican humanity that “takes into account the
changes that have affected and continue to affect African humanity as a result of western
Christianity, imperialism, colonialism, modernity and capitalism” (p. 12). While
Musopole finds “serious flaws” and inadequacies with Mbiti’s concept of time in African
thought (p. 14), he sees Mbiti’s dictum “I am because we are, and since we are, therefore,
I am” as “an excellent summary of what it means to be human in Afiica” (p. 13).

The second work this study uses is Harvey Sindima’s 1995 work, Africa ’5
Agenda: The Legacy of Liberalism and Colonialism in the Crisis of Afi'ican Values
which, in Sindima’s words, “examines the impact of liberalism on African thought and
values which resulted in a serious identity crisis” for Africans (p. xiv). Sindima’s
argument is that an agenda for Africa’s recovery lies in the “recapture of traditional
values” and the opening of “possibilities for a deeper understanding of self and society”
(p. xiv).

The third work on uMunthu used in the framework for this study is Gerard
Chigona’s master’s thesis, titled uMunthu Theology: Path of Integral Human Liberation
Rooted in Jesus of Nazareth, published as a book in 2002. Chigona aims to provide a

local context for a theological interpretation of Jesus Christ, observing that “any neglect

79

and sidelining of the African cultural heritage in doing theology is a neglect and negation
of oneself in history” 0). 14). Chi gona presents a model of Malawian life based on
uMunthu, embedded within it an “inbuilt critical analysis at both [the] individual and
social level” in which individuals and communities can measure themselves (p. 76).

The fourth piece of scholarship informing the uMunthu part of the framework is a
study done by Tambulasi and Kayuni (2005). In their article titled ‘Can Afiican Feet
Divorce Western Shoes? The Case of ‘Ubuntu” and Democratic Good Governance in
Malawi’, published in the Nordic Journal of Afi'ican Studies, Tambulasi and Kayuni use
the concept of uMunthu to evaluate Malawi’s first two governments since independence
in 1964. They analyze the thirty-year dictatorship under Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda,
and the multiparty government led by Dr. Bakili Muluzi from 1994 to 2004. Tambulasi
and Kayuni conclude that based on the common understanding of what uMunthu entails,
the thirty years of dictatorship failed to live up to the ideals of uMunthu, while the ten
years under Bakili Muluzi and the United Democratic Front did start out as governance
with uMunthu ideals but soon deviated by doing away with principles of good
governance and democracy. While this may raise the question of whether uMunthu is
incompatible with democratic forms of governance, it is necessary to point out that
President Bakili Muluzi and United Democratic Front (UDF) did not overtly present
uMunthu as their governing philosophy. Muluzi and the UDF went into government
based on their promises to reverse the repression of one-party rule, thus the attribution of
uMunthu to Muluzi and the UDF can in fact be seen as a stretch. Traditional African
systems of governance do value democratic principles, argues Chidammodzi (1999), as

evidenced in how chiefs and kings never make unilateral decisions, always consulting

80

committees, who themselves are expected to consult the people. Botswana is given as a
successfirl example of endogenous government systems that have been made to work
alongside borrowed forms of government, according to Ayittey (2005). In most countries
however, indigenous systems were replaced with borrowed ones, as a legacy of colonial
rule, with little attempt to retain and modernize traditional ways of governance after
independence.

There have been other studies and discussions on how to use uMunthu to
understand contemporary conditions in Malawi and in Sub-Saharan Africa, but the ones
discussed above are pertinent to Malawi. The three theological studies by Musopole,
Sindima and Chigona interrogate liberal Christianity and its dehumanizing effect on
Afiicans. Interestingly, Tambulasi and Kayuni make no mention of any of the other
Malawians studying the concept. In being able to use the concept of uMunthu in
discussing theology, colonialism, history and politics, the four works make a remarkable
contribution that marks a turning point in locating intellectual sources for Malawian
scholarship in Afiican epistemology”. Although none of the studies use the Malawi
education system as their central context, Musopole’s study addresses the individualism
of modern education, brought to Malawi as missionary education, as being responsible
for the move away from uMunthu as the basis for educating young people. Musopole
makes mention of an autobiographical motivation for the origins of his inquiry, starting

when he was made principal of Robert Laws Secondary School. Musopole’s experiences

 

’6 The idea that there is such a thing as African epistemologies has been debated as part of a larger debate
as to whether there is such a thing as African philosophy (see Wiredu, 1980; Mudimbe, 1984, 1988;
Appiah, 1992; Masolo,l994; Kaphagawani, 1998; among others). While Mudimbe (1988) suggests
‘African gnosis’ rather an ‘epistemology,’ Mbiti’s (1969) defines a human being as deriving from the
statement ‘you are, and therefore I am’ rather than the Cartesian ‘I think, therefore I am.’ This definition
represents a worldview that posits a different, collectivist and wholistic way of understanding individuality

81

as principal caused him to reflect on how the influence of the British school system
remained unchanged even after Malawi’s independence, with no effort to “radically
indigenize the educational philosophy” (p. 2). Musopole wondered what divorcing

Malawian education from Malawian values was leaving out in the education system:

As I reflected upon the aim of traditional Malawian education, I realized again that
traditional education was centered around the concept of humanness. Humanness is that
essential character defined by our culture as the sum of what makes a person essentially
human. I also realized that the western type of education, as received and practiced in
Malawi at least, placed less emphasis on humanness in its curricular content and focussed
on intellectual knowledge for its own sake. The wholistic character of the initiation
ceremonies, which constitute a major part of the educational program in the Afiican
traditions and crucial to the humanization process, cannot be understood unless the idea
of humanness is recognized as both the foundation and goal, not only of the rites of
passage, but also of human growth and development.

It further occurred to me that without this traditional emphasis our very sense of
political, economic and social development as a people and a nation would be greatly
undermined through corrrprorrrise and distortion (pp. 2-3).

Musopole goes on to describe the atrocities committed by the dictatorial regime as part of

the context in which the values of humanness are not considered as part of daily life.

A fimdamental alienation was taking place, foreshadowing the loss of humanness in daily
human interaction. The political repression through fear and intimidation, the suffering
inflicted on those who fall victim to the detention act ad judicial system, are a few
examples of the lack of humanness in our values (p. 3).

From the four Malawian studies on uMunthu described above, we see that Afiican
conceptions of the human being locate personhood in a community of other persons
(Musopole, 1994; Sindima, 1995; Tutu, 1999; Chigona, 2002; Tambulasi and Kayuni,
2005). According to John Mbiti (1969), recasting the Cartesian dictum “I think therefore
I am” into an Afiican context turns personhood from an individualist gaze into a
communal one, becoming “I am because we are, and since we are, therefore I am” (Mbiti,
quoted in Musopole, 1994, p. 10; see also Kaphagawani & Melherbe, 1998, Tutu 1999,

and Chigona, 2002). In this configuration, one is human in relation to other human

 

and its knowledge-making paradigm. It is in this sense that the ontological definition of uMunthu
constitutes an epistemology. 82

beings. The restoration of the humanness of our existence is therefore a fundamental step
in envisioning a world peace that encompasses, according to M. B. Ramose (1996), “the
human being’s relationship with nature, with other human beings as well as even with the
individual human being himself/herself” (p. 225).

For Sindima (1995), uMunthu derives its life source from moyo, meaning life in
Chichewa. Sindima conceptualizes moyo as the “foundation for everything there is” (p.
212), encompassing the cosmological, the biological, the material and the spiritual basis
of existence. The transcendental purpose for moyo and uMunthu is to create community
and societal structures that make it feasible for people to realize their full uMunthu.

Seen in this broad perspective, conceptualizing ‘peace’ as uMunthu is a concept
that enables a reflection that guides action for social justice and human security,
embedded in our humanness, and becoming part of the continuous process of analysis. In
understanding the indigenous concept of ‘peace’ and the historical events that have
robbed Africans of their peace, Afiican scholarship on the study of peace joins the body
of work done by other peace scholars and researchers in other parts of the world.

From an Afiican theological perspective, the identity of humanness and
community are given by God, the creator (Musopole, 1994). It is an identity endowed
with dignity and life. Part of the problems contemporary Afiicans are having to deal with
are a result of a lost dignity and identity, brought about by social circumstances human
beings find themselves in, including the historical encounter between Afiica and Europe.
Europe brought to Afiica a theology that claimed to be based on equality, yet in practice
dehumanized Africans. Musopole argues that “It is false theology to claim that all people

are made in the image of God and then live to oppress a whole people just because they

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were created black or women or because they did not discover and manufacture both
guns and gunpowder in time to conquer and dominate” (p.175).

Musopole’s and Sindima’s respective conceptualizations of the spiritual
rootedness of human identity offer a basis for reclaiming this lost dignity. It is a
rootedness that also offers a vision of peace on the continent. Musopole points out that
reclaiming the lost dignity is a reconciliation process: “In order to recapture our human
dignity, integrity and wisdom, we do not primarily need an education; rather we need a
reconciliation to our essential humanity. This reconciliation to our essential humanness is
a process through which we get reconciled to the total universe” (p.178-9). Musopole is
not necessarily dismissing the importance of education as it is understood in the modern
sense, rather he is concerned with how educational constructs construe people as
deficient, and as lacking in dignity, integrity and wisdom. Musopole is therefore
suggesting that as human beings, we are endowed with dignity, integrity and wisdom,
qualities that supersede education in the sense that everyone has these qualities and is
therefore not considered as deficient, as modern education tends to do. We lose these
qualities when we begin dealing with social forces in the world around us. Musopole’s
view is supported by the Chichewa proverb Lungalunga m ’pobadwa, kuipa kuchita
kudza, meaning that on the day we are born, we come with an innocence that we lose as
we grow older.

Sindima (1995) views uMunthu in a similar way, extolling Afiican intellectuals to
“explore their world and capture the meaning of life and persons” (p. 125). Sindima sees
two reasons why this recapturing or reclaiming is important. First is the stopping or

slowing down of the “erosion of loss of meaning of life now present in Afiican society.”

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Second is the integration of “Afiican values within the contemporary African socio-
political situation” (p.125).

Sindima adds an ecological dimension to the concept of humanness. He points out
that because the African universe is based on the totality of life, the meaning of life
cannot be seen apart from nature. “Nature plays an important role in the process of
human growth by providing all that is necessary, food, air, sunlight, and other things.
This means that nature and persons are one, woven by creation into one texture or fabric
of life” (p.126).

Sindima’s ecological dimension to humanness echoes the work of
environmentalists, who have recently gained recognition as part of the push for world
peace. The most significant recognition so far has come fiom the Norwegian Nobel
Committee in awarding the Nobel Peace Prize, for the first time in the history of the
award, to an environmentalist, the Kenyan activist Wangari Maathai. In her acceptance
speech upon receiving the prize, Dr. Mathaai stressed the connection between the

environment and peace, when she said:

The Norwegian Nobel Committee has challenged the world to broaden the understanding
of peace: there can be no peace without equitable development; and there can be no
development without sustainable management of the environment in a democratic and
peaceful space. This shift is an idea whose time has come (Maathai, 2004).

The above views of humanness and community serve to situate peace in a context that
allows for the recognition of the disruptions that have occurred in Africa, and how the
pursuit for peace lies in recognizing the consequences of those disruptions.

An Africa-centered concept of ‘peace’ therefore allows for a historically-rooted

inquiry into the contexts of contemporary problems Malawians and many other sub-

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Saharan Afiicans face. Problems of poverty, violent conflict, exploitation, and HIV/AIDS
have been complicated by the alienation of the majority of Afiicans in the running of
their societies and their day to day lives, a situation brought about by the perpetuation of
governance structures put in place during colonial times, and maintained by a neo-liberal
paradigm (Nyarnnjoh, 2003; Prah, 1996; Sindima, 1995; Musopole, 1994). The period of
colonization and imperialism especially in Africa changed the endogenous dynamics of
defining ‘progress’ and ‘modemity,’ so that most African societies are now, according to
Hizkias Assefa (1996) “caught in a tragic situation—they have given up much of what
they were, but are unable to attain what they aspire to. No doubt this frustration will be a
constant source of disruption, conflict and disillusionment at both the individual and

societal levels” (p. 65).

Human security and social justice as peace praxis

That problems confronting contemporary Africa be viewed as structural violence
is one of the key points in this study. Structural violence is not easy to identify because it
is woven into the structure of daily existence, becoming, as Barash and Webel (2002)
say, “more indirect and insidious than observable physical violence” (p.7). Barash and
Webel point out that the insidiousness of structural violence is “built into the very
structure of social, cultural and economic institutions,” creating the absence of peace.
Positive peace “refers to a condition in which exploitation is minimized or eliminated,
and in which there is neither overt violence nor the more subtle phenomenon of
underlying structural violence” (p.6, italics in original). Barash and Webel frame their

work as peace and conflict studies, hence bringing problems of social justice and human

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security under that framework. It is necessary to reproduce a long paragraph from Barash
and Webel that articulates structural violence:

Structural violence usually has the effect of denying people important rights, such as
economic well-being; social, political and sexual equality; a sense of personal fulfillment
self-worth; and so on. When people starve to death, or even go hungry, a kind of violence
is taking place. Similarly, when humans suffer from diseases that are preventable, when
they are denied decent education, affordable housing, opportunities to work, play, raise a
family, and freedom of expression and peaceful assembly, a kind of violence is occurring,
even if no bullets are shot or clubs wielded. A society commits violence against its
members when it forcibly stunts their development and undermines their well-being,
whether because of religion, ethnicity, gender, age, sexual preference, or some other
social reason. Structural violence is a serious form of social injustice. And it is regrettably
widespread and often unacknowledged (p.7)

Seen in the light of the attributes that constitute a human being as defined in
Afiican epistemology, Barash and Webel’s View of structural violence is built on the
same understanding of the contexts that dehumanize people and rob them of their
uMunthu. Social injustice and human insecurity have been common features of this type
of structural violence. In Malawi and other southem African states, in the period after
achieving political independence, the preoccupation of states to afford national security
was often at the expense of human security, necessitating the question “Security for
whom?” (Vale, 2002, p.9), and from what. In the example of the apartheid South Africa,
according to Peter Vale, the government felt insecure, and its forays into other countries
in the region to track down anti-apartheid activists created insecurity in the region”.
Compounding the situation have been economic structural adjustment programs
mandated by institutions such as the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank.

Vale argues that the nee-liberal economic philosophies dictated to developing

countries, including those in southern Africa, have resulted in state budget cuts, with the

 

’7 The government of Malawi, under Kamuzu Banda, maintained a close relationship with the apartheid
South African government, to the consternation of many African leaders. Thus Malawi was spared some of
the destabilization occurring in countries that hosted exiled black South African political activists.

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consequences that the state has been unable to adequately cater to the needs of its
individual citizens. Human security is therefore used in this study in a sense that
highlights the plight of ordinary human beings who are not always the beneficiaries of the
ideology of state security (Bajpai, 2000; Wohlgemuth et. a1, 1999; United Nations, 2004).
In Malawi, the dictatorship of Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda claimed to be
protecting Malawians from foreign invasions, and dissidents from within, and in the
process turned against the very Malawians the government claimed it was protecting,
arresting them in honific numbers, and killing some of them. The insecurity and injustice
that Malawians endured under Dr. Kamuzu Banda, the country’s first president, was in
many ways a continuation of old historical trends that came with colonialism. To some
scholars, Banda’s rule merely perpetuated the old colonialism, this time, under African
leadership. Ngugi wa Thiong’o (1986) has used the term ‘neocolonialism’ to explain
circumstances such as were experienced in Malawi, in his own country Kenya, and in
other countries. For Malawians, structural violence, both physical and psychological, was
as old as colonial times, as can be seen in autobiographical accounts by nationalist
leaders who pioneered to struggle for independence, including Chipembere (2001),
Chibambo, (1999), and Chiume (1983). Combining both political violence and
psychological violence, it was perpetrated alongside a racist ideology that saw Africans
as inferior. Structural violence and the denial of human dignity have continued to the
present, as seen in the autobiographical accounts written by the teachers who participated
in this study. The concept of praxis as used in this study therefore includes these
reflective life-writing accounts, and their continuing inquiry for social change in the

classroom, the community, the nation and the world.

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Pedagogy as peace praxis

A major goal of the research was to connect the concept of peace to life writing,
teaching and learning. The goal for seeking connections amongst lived experience,
pedagogy and peace in classrooms was to identify strategies that make education relevant
to learners’ lives and their communities, and thereby contribute to peace. The classroom
itself needs to demonstrate social justice ideals (Roberts, 2005; Allen, 2002; Peterson,
1999; Nieto, 2009), in the form of democratic conduct that models and promotes
participatory learning, decision-making, and emancipatory practices. By democratic
conduct, this study does not refer to processes imported from the West and transplanted
into Malawi, with their connotations of individualism, neo-liberalism and capitalist free
enterprise. Rather, the study views democratic conduct as practices emerging from local
Malawian communities informed by “values and cultural norms” that move from the
bottom level of social structures going up (Kaunda and Kendall, 2001). The study is
however cognizant of the repressive atmosphere that existed in Malawi for the first three
decades following independence, distorting endogenous concepts of democratic conduct,
and robbing Malawians of peace and social justice. It is in this context that the promotion
of democratic conduct in Malawian classrooms forms part of the framework for teaching
for peace and social justice.

In Malawi, classroom conduct for a long time reflected the dictatorial and.
authoritative nature of Dr. Banda’s government between 1964 and 1994 (MacJessie-
Mbewe, 1999). Teachers used power and students were not expected to offer their views,
nor to be consulted on matters of how to run classroom and school affairs. MacJessie-

Mbewe writes: “The political atmosphere of the country instilled in people fear of those

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in authority and encouraged the power-holders to dictate to their subordinates. This type
of leadership in schools and other organizations penetrated throughout Malawian society”
(p.19). MacJessie-Mbewe points out that when the country opened up to multiparty
politics and the freedoms accorded under a plural dispensation, schools had no
background knowledge to fall back on and usher in the new freedoms. As a result,
tensions between teachers and pupils rose, with teachers unable to accept the rights and
freedoms of pupils, and pupils unable to exercise those rights and freedoms responsibly.
“Students boycotted classes, went on strike and conducted demonstrations which had not
previously been tolerated” (p.20).

For McJessie-Mbewe, Malawian classrooms can develop a democratic culture
through five means with which teachers can manage their teaching while maintaining an
atmosphere that promotes learning for their students. McJessie-Mbewe lists the five
means of achieving this as distinguishing between authority and power; recognizing
rights and responsibilities; providing space for teacher-student negotiations; allowing
student participation in decision making; and revising school rules and regulations to
reflect the democratic culture the country has embraced.

A democratic classroom in the new Malawi ought to start with the recognition of
the difference between authority and power, according to MacJessie. “In the new Malawi,
teachers have to be authoritative (the authority of knowledge) rather than authoritarian
(the power of status) to discharge their duties without facing discipline problems with
their students” (p.21). This necessitates, on the part of teachers, letting students know
what their aims and objectives are, and even allowing students to participate in the

formulation of these aims and objectives, so they can appreciate their importance.

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Whereas teachers did not recognize pupils’ rights and responsibilities in the old
practices, the democratic atmosphere obtaining now requires teachers to understand that
students have their own freedoms, and requires students to recognize their responsibility
in exercising their freedoms without infringing on the rights of teachers (p.24). On
student-teacher negotiations, MacJessie-Mbewe points out the need for teachers to listen
to what students have to say, which will teach students the importance of listening to

others.

If schools portray an image which does not reflect the values and culture of society they

serve, their graduates have problems fitting into that society. Since Malawi’s society has
embraced democratic values, these have to be reflected in its schools, which are societies
in miniature (p. 26).

MacJessie-Mbewe points out that many teachers do not trust students as mature
enough to participate in decision making, a situation that leads to teachers imposing
decisions on pupils. “If students do not participate in decision making, it is very difficult
for them to understand the importance of the decision” (p. 26). He therefore urges
Malawian teachers to involve students in decisions that affect the students’ welfare in the
classroom and school. This will give students a sense of belonging in a community in
which their ideas are valued.

Noting that many current school rules were inherited from Malawi’s authoritarian
past, MacJessie-Mbewe observes that many of these rules are out of step with a
democratic Malawi. “As a result, conflicts arise between teachers and students, teachers
and school administrators, and students and school administrators, leading to low morale
for all participants in educational activities, hence lowering the quality of education” (p.

28). Claiming that undemocratic school rules were inherited from Malawi’s authoritarian

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past raises the question of what education existed before colonialism in Malawi. Such a
question would need a separate study of its own, but it need not hold to ransom the
observation that colonialism and dictatorship provided an atmosphere in which school
rules were undemocratic. Precolonial Malawi had traditions and cultures that were
dynamic and changing all the time, in a geographic area that encompassed a broader
region beyond the boundaries created by Europe in the late 19th century. These traditions
and cultures came into contact with other cultures and traditions from far and near all the
time, that to expect them to have remained stagnant is to view culture and tradition as
fixed and unchanging. This view of change and dynamism can also be applied to the
issue of ‘conscientization’ that I discuss next. The important thing to note here is that as
an ever-changing and dynamic epistemology, the endogenous concept of uMunthu shares
the same practical concerns found in the quest for education that is relevant to the needs
of a society.

Making education relevant to learners’ lives and their communities, and
promoting a democratic pedagogy is a goal that has also been described as the ‘problem-
posing method’ by Paulo F reire (1970). For F reire, the problem-posing method proceeds
from an assumption that sees students as situated within their communities and their

world, making it necessary for their education to reflect that world.

Students, as they are increasingly posed with problems relating to themselves in the
world and with the world, will feel increasingly challenged and obliged to respond to that
challenge. Because they apprehend the challenge as interrelated to other problems within
a total context, not as a theoretical question, the resulting comprehension tends to be
increasingly critical and thus constantly less alienated. Their response to the challenge
evokes new challenges, followed by new understandings, and gradually the students
come to regard themselves as committed (p. 81).

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Instead of a problem-posing model of education, Freire says conventional
methods of education use the ‘banking’ model. In this model, the teacher “talks about
reality as if it were motionless, static, compartmentalized, and predictable. Or else he
expounds on a topic completely alien to the existential experience of the students” (p.
71). Freire’s work has attracted significant attention especially in communities where
social injustice and human insecurity create inequalities that breed serious social
problems. Peace educators have thus embraced F reire’s emancipative project, captured in
the term “conscientization” as a way of mobilizing education for the solving of social
problems (Ardizzone, 2001). Freire (1985) describes conscientization as a dialectical
process that propels social transformation by raising the consciousness of a society to
achieve an awareness of the processes that impinge on and marginalize less-privileged
groups and societies. Ardizzone points out that pedagogy arising out of this
conscientization works with the assumption that because “few opportunities are in place
both domestically and internationally that allow the oppressed to see the true nature of
their existence, many feel powerless to change their situation, accepting the day-to-day
hardship and violence that surrounds them” (p.2).

For the teachers in this project, the implication of F reire’s exhortation was that
teaching for peace involves a deliberate effort on the teacher’s part to connect specific
lessons with real issues and problems existing in the classroom, school, community,
country and even in the world. The challenge was therefore to approach their teaching in
a way that sought these connections. This meant examining the curriculum, and planning
lessons with peace education as a central concern. In Freirean terms, ordinary lessons use

the banking method, “in which the scope of action allowed to the students extends only as

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far as receiving, filing, and storing the deposits” (p.72). On the other hand, a ‘peace’
lesson is approached from what F reire calls a “problem-posing education, which breaks
with the vertical patterns characteristic of banking education . . .” (p.80).

As already discussed in Chapter One, although teaching for peace might sound
isolated and distanced from other kinds of teaching or educating, it should be seen as a
part of the broad definition of teaching and educating. Gil Fell’s (1988) observation that
“[m]uch of what education for peace proposes is an integral part of the ‘good education’
practised by many teachers for years” (p.76) is therefore shared by other scholars as well.
As Ian Harris (1996) has argued, it is not unique to see a classroom whose atmosphere
facilitates peacefirl co-existence, without the teacher seeing him or herself as a peace
educator. “Some methods of teaching are clearly more empowering than others, and
peace education has to rely on those methods that provide examples of how individuals
can peacefiilly coexist on this planet” (p. 124). Harris goes on to define a peacefirl
classroom as one that “is an open environment where each student has an equal chance to
learn, and the welfare of each individual is given attention” (p.125). Thus peace
education complements and benefits fiom other traditions of democratic and
collaborative education. Harris lists five principles that guide peace pedagogy. The
building of a democratic community, the teaching of cooperation, the development of a
moral sensitivity, the promotion of critical thinking, and the enhancing of self-esteem
(p.127). In viewing peace as pedagogy, peace scholars and social justice educators
therefore see the classroom as a place where a curriculum committed to peace and social

justice can be enacted.

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Curricular issues as peace praxis

The process of singling out topics that fall under peace studies and peace
education starts with the ways in which peace is viewed and defined. Scholars in peace
studies identify two definitions of the term, negative peace and positive peace (Barash &
Webe12002;Galtung, 1996; Reardon, 1988; Harris, 1988). Negative peace is
characterized by the absence of war or violent conflict, while positive peace is
characterized by the active pursuit for solutions to problems of violence, injustice and
inequality. This distinction is also made in the UNESCO Declaration on a Culture of

Peace (1998), where peace

is not simply the absence of conflict, but a positive, dynamic, participatory process linked
intrinsically to democratic principles and development for all, by which differences are
respected, dialogue encouraged and conflicts constantly transformed by non-violent
means into new understanding and co-operation. (p.3)

For peace scholars and social justice educators, positive peace holds better
promise than negative peace because of preoccupation of positive peace is with
understanding contexts of violence, injustice and inequality, and the active presence of
efforts to prevent and resolve what is known as ‘direct’ and ‘structural’ violence. The
distinction between ‘direct’ and ‘structural’ violence will be clarified in the following
discussion. What constitutes root causes differs from scholar to scholar and from context
to context, but lying at the bottom of many symptoms are historical, political, economic,
global, religious and cultural contexts, which augment some of the problems dealt with in
peace research. For Johan Galtung (1996), “[m]ost causes and effects are made invisible
as ‘extemalities’, outside mainstream theory and practice,” in a context where violence

itself is “frozen into structures” and into “the culture that legitimizes violence” (p.viii).

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This calls for the peace researcher, in the words of Galtung, to “look for causes,
conditions and contexts in various spaces—Nature, Human, Social, World, Time,
Culture” (p. 1). As part of the four-themed theoretical fi'amework, the recognition of
issues that constitute problems of peace, social justice and human insecurity is an
important step in the process of restoring human dignity to dehumanized people,
constructing a pedagogy that engages young people, and implementing a praxis that
promotes inquiry for a peacefirl world.

Peace scholars and social justice educators share a vision of what topics are
important and need to be included in a peace education curriculum. Harris (1988) has
provided a clearly defined list of these topics. The first topic is existing security policies
and how they operate at the global, national, regional, local and individual level. Security
policies range from nuclear threats down to community violence and human security. For
Harris, peace education needs to engage with questions about the role of government in
providing security for its citizens, the rights of citizens to determine security policies at
the national and local levels, the role of citizens in making their world secure, causes of
insecurity and how insecurity fosters violence, and alternatives to existing security
arrangements (p.61).

The second topic is the quest for international order, in which structural violence
is understood as tied to global problems through pressure on the ecosystem, totalitarian
governments, wastage of human and natural resources. The third topic is creative conflict
resolution, informed by the understanding that conflict “is a necessary and creative
dynamic in most relationships that should be confronted to help two people or a group of

people make good decisions and grow closer” (p.64). In confronting conflict, Harris calls

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for the avoidance of power confrontations so that nobody imposes their will upon others.
Rather, peace education uses compromise and negotiation. Harris goes on to distinguish
between conflict resolution and conflict management, observing that some people’s
preference for conflict management is due to the recognition that because some ill
feelings might still linger, a conflict may not necessarily be resolved. However from the
perspective of reaching an agreement a conflict may have been managed.

The fourth topic that Harris identifies is understanding violent behaviour, in
which educators need to investigate the causes of violence and why some people use
force over others. Harris divides explanations for causes of violence into three theories,
which can be listed as biological, psychological, and social conditioning. The biological
determinism explanation holds that human beings are violent by nature, and the Y
chromosome and high levels of testosterone make males particularly predisposed to
violent behaviour. The psychological explanation sees violence as expressing deep urges
from within the human psyche, requiring constructive re-channeling such as through
sport. Harris discusses arguments by the Italian psychologist Franco Fomari who
suggests that “war and violent behavior come from deep-seated frustrations” (p.67). For
proponents of the social conditioning theory, we acquire violent behavior from the social
sphere, through observing family members, friends, images, and influential others.
According to Harris, peace educators can model nonviolent behavior and create
classrooms where competition and openings for some to dominate others are not
encouraged. Forms and adaptations of peace education are carried out in many other
countries, under different names. In South Africa and Sierra Leone, peace education is

offered in settings both inside and outside schools (Ardizzone, 2001).

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The recent the introduction of a learning area known as Life Skills in Malawi
shares a lot of similarities with the goals and objectives of peace education and peace
studies, engaging students in concepts such as non-violent conflict resolution,
environmental conservation, and discussions on the prevention of HIV/AIDS.

In New Zealand, apart from nuclear disarmament, the other concern has been that
schools are violent places, according to James Collinge (1993) where “until recently
corporal punishment was practiced, particularly in boys secondary schools . . .and school
military cadets activities were a compulsory part of their schooling” (p.12). Collinge
writes of a report of a National Peace Studies Survey (1990) in New Zealand that found
that many teachers and their schools were engaged in activities that make up the
objectives of peace studies, including self esteem, conflict resolution, cooperation,
communication skills, environmental awareness, cross-cultural awareness and global
awareness. Even though the term peace education was not used, still a “considerable
number of teachers were [sic] integrating the aims and objectives of peace studies into
existing programmes of study or into their ways of teaching” (p.16).

For Northern Ireland the drive for peace education was the segregation that
divided protestants from Catholics, and led to violence on the street. Peace education
therefore needed to be anchored in the context of the sectarianism that socialized young
children into distrust of the “other” (Duffy, 1993). “It is difficult to start from tabula rasa,
so to speak, and it is impossible, and probably (in any case) disadvantageous to conceive
of a peace education which would be divorced from its society. Peace education needs to

confront Northern Ireland’s sectarian problems ‘head on’” (Duffy, 1993, p. 21).

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In Japan, the horrors of the Second World War, and Japan’s aggression against
other Asian nations provided much of the context for peace education at the university
level (Fujita & Ito, 1993). Textbooks for primary and secondary school education were
subject to government censorship and control, resulting in one-sided views of Japan’s
involvement in war and violence. A competitive school system and prioritization of
economic development “distorted young people’s consciousness of social justice and
their sense of belonging to a wider world community” (Fujita & Ito, 1993, p. 43).

Efforts to promote peace at the global level through education have been an
important concern for the United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organization
(UNESCO). In 1998 UNESCO issued a document that stipulates a program of
implementation for a worldwide culture of peace, titled Consolidated Report to the
United Nations on a Culture of Peace. The 54-page draft document provides a definition
of a culture of peace, a draft program of action, and a consolidated report on a culture of

peace. The UNESCO documents defines a culture of peace as consisting of

values, attitudes and behaviours that reflect and inspire social interaction and sharing,
based on the principles of freedom, justice and democracy, all human rights, tolerance
and solidarity that reject violence, endeavour to prevent conflicts by tackling their root
causes to solve problems through dialogue and negotiation and that guarantee the full
exercise of all rights and the means to participate fully in the development process of
their society (p. l)

The UNESCO document Towards a Culture of Peace fits the four-part theoretical
framework of this dissertation in a number of areas. The concept behind the Culture of
Peace project is rooted in the ideas that “reaffinn faith in fundamental human rights, in
the dignity and worth of the human person, in the equal rights of men and women and of
nations large and small” (p. 3). In this way, it can be said to recognize the centrality of

uMunthu as the beginning point for building peace. The document is topical and issue-

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driven when it observes that addressing roots of violence is “more humane and efficient”
in helping prevent violence, as opposed to “intervening in violent conflicts after they
have erupted and then engaging in post-conflict peace-building” (p.1). Towards a Culture
of Peace recognizes the role of pedagogy in the peace project, by calling for a
“systematic revision of educational curriculum, including textbook, according to the
recommendations of the 1995 Declaration and Integrated Framework of Action on
education for Peace, Human Rights and Democracy and extending it to include the
learning or culture of peace behaviours through practical activities” (p. 23).

The document authors enact peace praxis in understanding the breadth and reach
of the challenges in promoting peace, and believing that the only way to deal with the
challenges is to make a culture of peace a priority of the entire United Nations system.
The UN system sees an ethical responsibility to make a culture of peace a central concern
for the future of humanity, providing “firture generations with values that can help them
to shape their destiny and actively participate in constructing a more just, humane, free
and prosperous society and a more peacefirl world.” To that end, the UN General

Assembly designated the year 2000 as the International Year for the Culture of Peace.

Autobiography as peace praxis

An important motivation for me to bring autobiographical perspectives into this
study came from reading autobiographies by two Malawians who were at the center of
the struggle for Malawi’s independence from British colonialism. Henry Masauko
Chipembere’s 2001 autobiography Hero of the Nation: The Autobiography of Henry

Masauko Chipembere, published posthumously, and Kanyama Chiume’s The

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Autobiography of Kanyama Chiume (1982) filled me with a strong desire to learn more
about how life writing perspectives merge with peace and justice, curriculum and
pedagogy in educational contexts. Both Chipembere and Chiume foreground their
educational experiences in different parts of southern and eastern African, demonstrating
how their education opened up in them the awareness of the evils of colonialism for
Africans. They both obtained university degrees in South Africa and Uganda
respectively, in the mid-19505, and returned to Malawi where they became actively
involved in the efforts to secure independence for Malawi. Of particular interest to me
was how their education equipped them to join the struggle for freedom and justice for
their people, a characteristic conspicuously absent in Malawian education today.

It was for this reason that I put the two autobiographies on the list of readings for
the writing institute phase of the study. All eight teacher-autobiographies written by the
participants, analyzed in the next chapter, were influenced, to some extent, by reading
excerpts from the two autobiographies. That influence can be seen in how the teachers in
the study also foreground their educational experiences, with some of the teachers, not
all, tying the experiences to the political atmosphere of the time they went to school.

Although they have not themselves published their own autobiographies, Jack
Mapanje and Steve Chimombo, two of Malawi’s most prominent writers and literary
scholars have spoken of the need for more Malawians to come forward with narratives of
their experiences during the dictatorship. In numerous speeches and articles, Mapanje has
pointed out he was able to survive his political detention and come out alive after three
and a half years, owing to the power of storytelling. He has talked of how he and fellow

prisoners kept hope alive by sharing stories and folktales (Chimombo, 1999), and, for

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him, by keeping in mind that upon his release, he would turn his harrowing experiences
into poetry and publish them. Arguing that other Malawians have their own experiences
to tell, Mapanje (2002) has urged for the “orality of justice,” the telling of stories by
ordinary Malawians to counter those constructed by the dictatorial regime.

Adding to Mapanje’s call, Chimombo (1999) has pointed out how words such as
truth, reconciliation, forgiveness and healing will remain empty for as long as no attempts
are made by artists to recount their experiences with repression going back to
colonialism, continuing to the Banda dictatorship, to Muluzi’s era in which the 1968
Censorship and Entertainment Act, responsible for the repression against writers,
remained unrepealed. Chimombo refers to his own personal experiences, saying “being a
writer myself, I have been a victim too, in some form or other, of similar circumstances,”
adding that in his case the suffering has been more psychological than physical,
compared to other writers and artists he lists as having suffered both physical as well as
psychological violence during the Banda dictatorship (p. 85).

Chimombo observes that Malawian artists “have never been called upon to take
stock of what they lost in their own career,” a statement that rings true even outside the
arts. There are only a handful of autobiographical accounts by Malawians, leaving the life
writing terrain in Malawi acutely underrepresented. An informative account of Malawi’s
thirty years under dictatorship has come from a memoir by Fr. Padraig O’Maille (1999),
an Irish Catholic priest who worked in parishes and taught in the University of Malawi
from 1970 until his deportation by the Banda regime in 1992. Titled Living Dangerously:
A Memoir of Political Change in Malawi, O’Maille’s account of Malawi is a moving

narrative offering a personal perspective on what went on inside Malawi as Malawi’s

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intelligentsia got arrested one by one, and how ordinary Malawians both colluded with
the system and sabotaged it. I read Living Dangerously after I had already started writing
up this study, but its account merged well with those of Chipembere and Chiume, writing
much earlier. A few more autobiographies and memoirs are reported to be on their way,
including one by Felix Mnthali, a professor of English who spent a year in political
detention soon after O’Maille’s arrival in the University of Malawi. Mapanje, Chimombo
and Catherine Chipembere, widow of Henry Masauko Chipembere, have also talked of
their own forthcoming autobiographical accounts.

Two studies based on oral history techniques and focusing on lived experiences
offer more insights into this project. Just before I left for Malawi in February 2004 I saw
a book review of Voices from Cape Town Classroom: Oral Histories of Teachers Who
Fought Apartheid. Written by Alan Weider (2003), Voices from Cape Town Classrooms
portrays the lives of twenty South Afiican teachers who were interviewed by Weider on
their teaching and activism against apartheid. They were teachers who “were committed
to their students both pedagogically and politically,” and whose teaching “promoted non-
racialism, democracy, and the end of the apartheid system” (p. 6).

The other study, also an oral history project with teachers, is titled Black Teachers
on Teaching, and was written by Michelle Foster (1997). Similar to Voices from Cape
Town Classroom, Black Teachers on Teaching is also based on interviews with twenty
teachers, whose real voices are presented verbatim, allowing “the narrators to speak in
their own words” (p. xx). The teachers in Foster’s project ranged from elderly teachers
now retired, to middle-aged teachers still teaching, to younger teachers just entering the

teaching profession. Their experiences thus cover a whole of historical and contemporary

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circumstances, including school desegregation and contemporary issues such as the
standardized testing.

While the studies described above use life narrative and teaching, Kay Schaffer
and Sidonie Smith’s (2004) study, Human Rights and Narrated Lives: The Ethics of
Recognition, looks at life narrative in contexts of injustice, violence, inequality and
human rights abuse. The project by Schaffer and Smith uses five case studies, namely,
South Afiica, Australia, Japan, China and the United States to highlight the
transformative role of life narratives in bringing to light human rights abuses in these
countries. The study “explores how narratives that bear witness to suffering and impact
differently upon dominant and marginalized, subaltem and outgroup communities,
emerge in local settings that are inflected by and inflect the global,” effecting a range of
practices and contradictions from enabling and constraining “subjects of narration” to the
conditions under which “calls for recognition, response, and redress are mediated by the
formal and informal structures of governments, politics, and culture” (p. 7).

The existing literature on the meanings and practices of uMunthu, peace, justice,
life narrative and classroom teaching contribute to the four—part framework being
presented in this dissertation. From the above discussion, the existing literature on peace
scholarship, life narrative, African epistemologies, curriculum and pedagogy, and the
UNESCO project on a Culture of Peace all work towards an ideal that seeks social
change as a transformation of existing conditions of inequality, injustice and structural
violence. The four themes of the framework add to this ideal by emphasizing uMunthu,
curriculum, pedagogy, and praxis as the key themes in the focus of this study. It is in this

emphasis that the four-part framework contributes to the prevailing views on peace,

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taking the scholarship on peace to another level where it becomes of a practical relevance
to people in need of a new peace paradigm.

The next chapter goes into the writings and stories of the teachers who
participated in the study. The chapter demonstrates the ways in which the lived
experiences of these teachers confirm the centrality of the concept of uMunthu, the need
to identify curricular issues and translate them into a practical pedagogy, and the
continuing inquiry, action, and reflection in pursuit of peace, social justice and human

security in Malawian education.

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Chapter 4

Social justice, human security and
autobiography: teachers’ lived experiences

When the tall windows were opened to let in the cool dry wind of April, the sound
of the Domasi River could clearly be heard coursing down its way to Lake Chirwa. If one
stood up and looked outside through the tall windows, one could see the tall blue gum
trees standing erect along the grassy banks of the fresh water river. A group made up of
curriculum specialists, teacher educators, education administrators and one primary
classroom teacher was meeting in the Humanities Laboratory of the National Curriculum
Center. They sat around tables that had been rearranged to form a large, square-shaped
working area.

Since 2001, Malawi has embarked on a new educational reform program, known
as the Primary Curriculum and Assessment Reform program, (PCAR). The program has
gone through several stages, including a national conference to lay out the process, an
extensive needs analysis process which involved consulting Malawian stakeholders and a
literature review of the primary school curricula of countries in the Southern African
Development Commission (SADC) region. In March 2004 the program entered a new
phase, the development of a national curriculum and assessment framework. Following
from that phase was the conceptualization of the new curriculum, which included
designing the cuniculum and assessment framework, called scope and sequence. During

the scope and sequence development process, held at the Malawi Institute of Education,

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one of the curriculum writers, Nduluzi, a primary school teacher, was assigned to one of
the newly renamed learning areas, Literacy and Learning.

The group was now working on the scope and sequence for a unit on literacy
around the home. The group decided to use fictional stories that conveyed messages
about health and nutrition, as a way of integrating various disciplines into language and
literacy. On one particular story, the consensus was that Malawian students needed to
learn about the three dietary groups of food needed for a balanced nutrition. Nduluzi
raised his hand and said he had an observation to make. He had recently read in a science
journal that nutritionists were now suggesting that rather than the conventional
understanding that there were three dietary groups of food, there were in fact six. He
went ahead to list them. There was a silence in the room, before one of the members in
the group raised an objection to Nduluzi’s suggestion. Nduluzi was asked to provide a
credible source for his information, and he named the journal in which he had read the
new research. Before very long everyone else in the group refused to accommodate
Nduluzi’s suggestion. They said they were not aware of these changes in the scientific
community, and therefore they did not trust the suggestion. Someone pointed out that
Nduluzi was a “mere” primary school teacher, how could he know such details? Another
one wondered, slyly, when Nduluzi was going to get the chance to go to university and
study for a first degree. “He is uneducated, yet he wants to dominate,” said another.

In his narratives written for this study, Nduluzi has explained how he has had to
put up with such put-downs and demeaning attitudes by some of his superiors in the
education system. In most cases he has been the only primary school teacher in a group

of experts mostly boasting university degrees and high offices. The attitude by many of

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these experts has been that they deserve to be there by virtue of their higher education,
and that people like Nduluzi, mere primary school teachers without any university
degrees, do not know much, and therefore do not deserve to be included in such

important activities. Nduluzi writes in one of his narratives:

In Malawi, especially those that assume a reality of responsibility because of position or
education, more often assume that those not in similar position are chaff. It is usually
very difficult in certain circumstances to be believed or be taken seriously. If you, the less
educated, are placed to have access to latest information for public consumption and
benefit, you are gagged not because what you are saying is not true but simply, “who is
he or who is trying to be?”

Nduluzi writes about having had to persevere against an onslaught of ridicule and
disdain, but his narratives also celebrate the encouragement and positive attitudes of
some of his superiors, who have recognized his hard work, and have promoted his
endeavors. This chapter examines the narratives produced by the teachers in the study,
from autobiographies written by the participating teachers, and from interviews I carried
out with three of the teachers. In that sense, this is an emic analysis of the
autobiographical data. Ten teachers wrote autobiographies. I interviewed nearly all the
twenty-one teachers before and after observing them teach a lesson. In addition to the
teachers I observed teaching, I also interviewed three teachers whom I did not observe
teach, but who were recommended to me because of their participation in the Primary
Curriculum and Assessment Reform program. Two of these teachers also wrote
autobiographies.

In exploring the ways in which the data sources of the study address the four
research questions that guided the study, this chapter highlights perceptions and
definitions of uMunthu, peace and social justice, based on the teachers’ perspectives, as

expressed in their autobiographies, and life history interviews. The questions centered

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around determining the kinds of writing teachers produce, ideas and assumptions about
Malawi’s history and contemporary society, teacher narratives as ways of understanding
injustice and inequality in Malawi, and a better understanding of Malawi’s educational
needs. Particularly, this chapter examines the patterns that emerge from the narratives in
the autobiographies and in the interviews with Likhaya, Mwalawo, Sakina, Mwandida,
Mfuwo, Wembayi, Katchikolo, and Nduluzi, and from three separate interviews with
Mwandida, Pinde and Nduluzi”. Studying these teachers’ lives through their
autobiographies allows for an analysis that contextualizes social justice and human
security concerns, as defined in the peace framework in Chapter Three. First is a
discussion of how the definitions and understandings of social justice and human
security, as presented in Chapter Three, allow for interpreting the life writing of the
participating teachers from a peace and social justice perspective. The peace and social
justice themes from which the autobiographies and interviews are being analyzed open up
a broader epistemic view which for some of the teachers offers an explanation for how to
understand the challenges presented in the autobiographies and in the interviews. In
viewing the weakening of uMunthu as lying at the heart of the current social ills plaguing
Malawians, the teachers are supported by the scholarship in African epistemologies as
expounded by Malawian and Afi'ican theologians and philosophers (See Chigona, 2002;
Tutu, 1999; Sindima, 1995, 1998; Musopole, 1994).

Following this discussion is an analysis of the five patterns emerging from the
teachers’ autobiographies and interviews. The first of these patterns is the political

context under which the teachers in the sample went to school during the dictatorship of

 

‘8 All names have been changed to protect the identities of the participants.
1 09

life president Dr. Kamuzu Banda. The second pattern is the violence, from peers, which
these teachers were exposed to, while growing up, at home and at school. Third is the
socio-economic context of schooling during the times the participating teachers grew up
in, followed by gender problems of violence in the schooling lives of the female teachers
when they were students in secondary school. The fifih pattern is the psychological and
structural violence the teachers report struggling against in their lives as adults, and as
teachers. These patterns are anchored by attempts to define social justice and human
security from the perspectives of the teachers’ lives, as presented in their autobiographies
and the interviews I conducted with them. Together, the injustices and insecurities
experienced in the teachers’ lives constitute an absence of individual and collective
peace, which they view as requiring a promotion of the values of uMunthu, as it has been
defined and explained in Chapter three. The chapter closes with an exploration of how
the patterns identified in the data sources, i.e., the autobiographies and interviews, inform

the four-part thematic framework described in Chapter three.

Peace, social justice and human security perspectives

The teachers’ narratives and interviews reveal lived experiences that create a
social justice and human security perspective not because they are peculiar to Malawi,
but rather because they create what has been described as a “peace problematic” in the
African scholarship on peace (Hansen, 1988, p. 2). In fact they are the same problems
encountered by teachers in other parts of the world: political control and repression,
socio-economic deprivation, injustice, psychological violence, low socio-economic

status, being sidelined in policy discussions, and others (Ninnes and Mehta, 2004;

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Chanfrault-Duchet, 2004; Norris, 2002; Foster, 1997; Casey, 1992). In a study on
progressive women activist teachers who leave the profession, Casey (1992) quotes an
American teacher who says she would neither encourage her child to become a teacher,

nor would she do it again herself:

There are so many negative things. The harder you work, the less you are appreciated by some
people. There is nothing to be proud of. I don’t tell people I’m a teacher. Maybe society has a lot
to do with it. And too much politics. I don’t dislike kids. Even the worst ones. I dislike the system

(p. 192)

In her study utilizing life story methods in France Chaunfrault-Duchet (2004) found that
teachers suffered an “identity crisis” when the French ministry of education instituted
changes “without taking into account the disciplinary identity of teachers, their personal
investments and their own aspirations in education” (p. 278). The said changes included a
move toward an academic approach to teacher education in France, the turning of
teaching into a rationalized and professionalized practice, and a departure from a
literature and humanities focus in the teaching of French, toward a linguistic knowledge
focus, redefining French as a school discipline, and in the process adding new content,
methods and exercises. In Canada, a secondary school teacher left the teaching profession
“partly in protest over the regulatory nature of contemporary education reforms in the
province of Ontario” (p. 146) and partly because she could not continue faking progress
in the face of new regulations that affected the teaching profession across countries in
which she had studied the problem, which included Australia, England, Scotland, New
Zealand and the United States (Larsen, 2004).

The fact that these problems are known to be experienced by teachers elsewhere

does not diminish the importance of the need to address them. Social injustice and human

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insecurity are known to occur all over the world, including in countries considered
‘developed’ and ‘industrialized.’ Social injustice and human insecurity therefore need to
be addressed in Malawi as well as in other societies where they are known to occur.
Seeing teachers’ lived experiences from this perspective provides a practical significance
and rationale for the project.

When the participants were invited to take part in the study, the key terms that
were used in introducing the project to them were teaching, writing and peace education.
Even then, it was not clear in my own mind how to scaffold a writing process with a
focus on peace issues, for teachers who did not see themselves as writers. I was guided by
my intuition that writing has been an important motivation in my own intellectual
orientation and, and that the problems I wanted the project to focus on were related to
peace. The invitation to the teachers to write about their lives was made under the
assumption that some of the problems that they encountered in their lives could be
interpreted from a peace and social justice perspective, given our definition of structural
violence and human insecurity. To make the connection between peace and social justice,
there was a need to investigate the contexts of the problems we were talking about. This
was done in a presentation I made on the first day of the writing workshop, where I
introduced the definitions of violence, taken from Barash and Webel’s (2002), as

discussed in Chapter Two. That evening I wrote in my reflection journal:

A good number of the participants included hardship in their life stories, and it soon
occurred to me that this was the content I was looking for. There were several cases of
social injustices committed against them as children, as teachers, as church members, and
we were all spellbound by the poignancy of some of them. I wrote in my notebook about
the possibility of removing some items from the program to create room for the autobios.
The question that shaped up in my mind was how to write the stories in such a way that
they can be connected to classroom teaching about issues of social injustice and peace, or
human security.

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The teachers’ shared stories of injustices provided a connection between narrative
and peace and social justice. The definition of structural violence by Barash and Webel
(2002), provided a practical rationale for the need for peace education in Malawi, as one
teacher explained on the first day of the workshop, April 12, 2004. The teacher was
responding to another teacher’s question as to whether Malawi really needed peace
education, given that most of the African countries adopting peace education, as was
reported in an article I quoted and which we subsequently read (Ardizzone, 2001), were
recovering from direct violent conflict to the extent of civil war. Despite the fact that
Malawi had never experienced anything close to civil war, issues of social injustice,
exploitation and human insecurity were prevalent enough to constitute structural
violence, explained the teacher offering the response. This understanding of the meaning
of social injustice and human insecurity underscores the need for a pro-active sense of
peace: “creating material conditions which provide for the mass of the people a certain
minimum condition of security, economic welfare, economic efficacy, and psychic well-
being” (Hansen, 1988). This proactive sense of peace merges with cultural concepts of

who a human being is, leading another practical significance and rationale for the project.

Restoring uMunthu for peace, social justice and human security

A second practical significance and rationale for this research can be found in the
cultural concept of ‘uMunthu,’ the humanness and dignity of a person. A more detailed
definition of uMunthu has been provided in Chapter Two. As some of the teachers
explained in the interviews, the problems of exploitation and injustice that teachers were

working against in Malawi could best be addressed through the promotion of the concept

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of ‘uMunthu.’ One particular teacher observed that ‘uMunthu’ was something that both
the home and the school needed to emphasize in order to prepare young people for a
future in which problems of exploitation and injustice would be effectively prevented or
decisively dealt with. The scholarship on uMunthu has been pioneered by theologians and
religious philosophers, some of whom, like Harvey Sindima (1998), see uMunthu as
standing for “basic values of human life, or that which gives human life meaning”
(p.173). The dynamism of uMunthu is grounded in the moral agency characteristic of
being a fill] human, giving people the recognition that “they can be agents of change
when given a chance or when recognized as persons. To be recognized as a person is to
have self-respect, or to realize self-determination” (p. 173).

As a philosophy of the essence of humanness, uMunthu sets itself apart from other
definitions of humanness in that it sees the wholeness of human beings, rather than
making distinctions between secularity and spirituality. Its core belief is that a human
being derives human identity from the community. Rather than the Cartesian individualist
view of “I think, therefore I am,” uMunthu posits that “I am, because you are,” as
Desmond Tutu (1999) observes in his memoir of his role in South Afi'ica’s Truth and
Reconciliation Commission, No Future Without Forgiveness. UMunthu therefore
presents a framework devoid of the binaries and individualism found in other definitions
of humanness. It has a breadth that subsumes under it the ideals of peace, social justice
and human security. uMunthu does not purport to provide an answer to every known and
unknown complexity of human life, however it provides a basis on which actions and
decisions can be taken. While it may appear to enforce conformity and to frown upon

individuality, it should be noted that uMunthu does recognize the individuality of human

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beings. uMunthu is thus based on the recognition of one’s individuality as it relates to that
of others. In that case, individuals are free to pursue their individual interests and
preferences, as long as they are mindful of the interests of others at the communal level.
The preceding discussion is an attempt to offer insights into how to utilize
perspectives in uMunthu, peace and social justice to interpret the patterns emerging from
the teachers’ autobiographies and interviews. The intention is to take a closer look at how
the patterns constitute a social justice and human security concern, derived from these
teachers’ lives. It must be stressed at this point that the terms social justice and human
security are being used for the specific purposes of providing a broader framework in
which to contextualize the social problems that the participants in the study wrote and
spoke about. The terms are being used to highlight the need to privilege the stories and
experiences of ordinary people, over the conventional usage of these terms in mainstream
scholarship where they are reserved for state bureaucracies, international relations and
military security (Vale, 2003; Bajpai, 2000; Hansen, 1988). The patterns discussed below
emerge from autobiographies submitted by Likhaya, Mwalawo, Sakina, Mwandida,
Mfuwo, Wembayi, Katchikolo, and Nduluzi, and from three separate interviews with

Mwandida, Pinde and Nduluzi.19

Brief profiles of participants who wrote autobiographies
From my interviews with the participants, and from their autobiographies, I
learned some details about each of them. For purposes of confidentiality and to protect

their identities, I leave some of the details vague. For ease of description, I start with

 

’9 All names have been changed to protect the identities of the participants.

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teachers from Chigwale School. Four teachers wrote autobiographies from this school,
the biggest number of teachers who did so from any one school. They all participated in
the writing workshop, which we carried out by meeting twice a week for three hours alter
school. At the time of writing, Mfuwo was in her late twenties. She was a Standard Five
teacher, and came from the central region. She was one of three female teachers at
Chigwale. Likhaya, a male teacher in his mid-30$, was teaching Standard Three at
Chigwale. He went to school in the city of Blantyre, in the southern region, starting in
1974, and finished secondary school in 1989. He taught as a temporary teacher for a few
years, and became a qualified teacher in 1992. Mwalawo, also in his mid-30$, was a
Standard Seven teacher. Also from the central region, he started school in the southern
region, before moving to the central region. He also taught as a temporary teacher first,
before going to teachers’ college in the early 1990s. Katchikolo was in his late twenties,
and had just passed his teacher certificate examination when he became a participant in
the study. Also from the central region, he was teaching Standard Eight at the time of the
study.

Four teachers became participants in the study through the recommendation of
curriculum specialists who had worked with these teachers in their schools, and had come
to consider them to be national leaders. They did not participate in the writing workshop,
as I only got to know them after the MIE workshop had ended. Two of them came from
and taught in the northern region. The third of these came from and taught in the central
region, while the fourth came from the south but was teaching in the central region.
Sakina was forty-seven years at the time of the study. She came from the northern region,

where she had gone to school, and where she had taught for twenty-three years. Sakina

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did not participate in the writing workshop, so she did not read or view any of the
materials used in the workshop. I learned about her from a national curriculum workshop
where she was invited as one of the exceptional teachers in the country. Another
exceptional teacher, Pinde, taught in a school in the central region, but had grown up in
the south. Born in 1976, she was one of the younger teachers in the study. She was
considered a national leader by curriculum specialists. She had attended several
professional development workshops, and was actively involved in the curriculum reform
project. Mwandida, the third teacher in this category, came from the north, and was at the
time teaching there as well. She did her teacher training in the mid-70s, and at the time of
the study she had taught for twenty-eight years. Nduluzi, the last teacher in this category,
was in his mid-30$, and at the time of the study had taught for exactly ten years. Born in
the southern region, he did his teacher training in the central region, where he was now a
Standard Four teacher. Nduluzi participated in the writing workshop, after I learned of his
participation in the national curriculum review process. Wembayi, the ninth teacher to
write an autobiography, grew up in the southern region. Aged forty-seven at the time of
the study, he was a teacher at Medosi School, where he held a senior administrative
position. He participated in the writing workshop, and read and viewed most of the
materials used there.

Most of the participants mentioned some of these autobiographical details in their
autobiographies, which shed some light on their views about uMunthu, peace and social
justice in Malawian education. The discussion that follows below, and closes the chapter,
brings the patterns emerging from the autobiographies and the four-part thematic

framework together. In the process the themes and the framework present the bigger story

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of perseverance, the politicization of teaching, the counterculture of marginalized voice,

and a social critique of the teaching profession, that these teachers tell.

The implications of schooling under a dictatorship

All the participating teachers who wrote autobiographies in the study were young
and in school when Dr. Hasting Kamuzu Banda was life president of Malawi. Dr. Banda
ruled Malawi from 1964 to 1994. There is a considerable amount of disagreement about
Dr. Banda’s rule, with many Malawians holding him as the visionary father and founder
of the Malawi nation who built a strong foundation for the country. There are as many
Malawians who argue that Dr. Banda’s dictatorial rule suppressed freedoms that were
necessary for the development of the country, and therefore Dr. Banda’s rule did not
prepare Malawi for the benefit of the majority of the population. For these teachers, going
to school during the dictatorship meant having to deal with a specific set of challenges,
some of them peculiar to the dictatorship, others peculiar to Malawi’s status as a newly
independent, third world country caught in the geopolitics of the cold war (Mapanje,
2002; Schoffeleers, 1999; Mhone, 1992).

The political nature of schooling under Dr. Banda’s dictatorship and its effects on
social justice and human security is illustrated in the narrative provided by Wembayi, a
teacher in his late forties. In the year 1972, eight years after Malawi’s independence and
one year after Dr. Banda was declared state president for life, Wembayi was expelled
from school, and banned from attending any school in the country. He was a standard 8
pupil at the time. What happened was that his seat in the class was directly below the

portrait of the president, Dr. Kamuzu Banda. One morning the classroom opened to the

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discovery that somebody had desecrated the portrait by painting it and adorning it with
sunglasses. “All the blame came to me and because I was young I was not arrested. . .”
However the teachers were not prepared to close the case without somebody being
punished, regardless of the absence of evidence. Wembayi writes that he was “suspended
from school for good.” He stayed home for two years, and then an idea came to him. He
changed all his names and re-enrolled in a school some 15 miles away where no one
knew him. He did well and was selected to attend a respected national secondary school.

Another illustration of the political nature of schooling under the dictatorship and
its implications for social justice and human security can be seen in how attendance in
school was mediated through the organs of the one and only political party in the country,
the Malawi Congress Party, led by Dr. Banda. Likhaya, a teacher in his mid-thirties, saw
this close at hand in his days as a primary school student.

Likhaya noticed the ‘youth leaguers’ in his very first grade. The youth leaguers
were the youth branch of the ruling party. They came to sell party membership cards in
the school. Everyone, starting with 4 year old children in stande 1 up to the teachers
was supposed to buy the annual party membership card, and have it in their possession at
all times. School children who didn’t have money to buy the cards ‘Vvere forced to go
back home . . . classes and lessons were disturbed.” The party chairperson in the said area
would visit the school during assembly time before classes began, and order that any
child or teacher who did not have the card leave the premises, and be allowed to return
only afier buying the card. Mwalawo recalls being sent home from school because he

didn’t have money for the party card.

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The idea behind the party membership cards had originally been to raise funds for
the party and use the money for development projects, but party leaders soon began using
it as a means to assert control and instill fear of the party in the local population. Access
to markets was based on possession of a current card, as was access to transportation such
as public buses, and even to public hospitals. Students who lived in towns and cities
where the president had one of his several state houses had more school interruptions
than students in other areas. Likhaya lived in a township at the foot of the hill where the
main presidential palace, Sanjika, was built, and school had to be interrupted every time
the president was leaving or returning to the palace, which was fi'equent. School children
lined up along the street to wave at him as he passed by. Children, Likhaya writes in his
narrative, “had to stand along the road the whole day with stick flags cheering the
president.”

Likhaya felt the repercussions of the dictatorship in another, more personal way.
His father “stopped working and was arrested on political grounds.” This forced his
mother to leave the city and go to her home village, where they faced another set of
problems. Because of the absence of his father, life was tougher. The village school was
not as well equipped as the city school, a trend that continues in Malawi to this day
(Susuwele-Banda, 2005). Although Likhaya does not provide details about his father’s
arrest, political detentions were common during the dictatorship, and many people were
taken to jail and never charged with any crime. Some would just disappear into police
custody and never be heard from again.

Even school rules were draconian, taking their cue from the political culture.

Likhaya writes that “when one failed to report for school in good time, he/she was likely

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to be punished severely. . . anybody who had no school uniform was sent back home;
those who were not doing well in class were told to remain after classes and be punished,
if a pupil was found making noise he/she was likely to be punished.” Mwalawo writes
about having his hair pulled and his head knuckled by his standard one teacher for not
paying attention in class. In standard five he was whipped with a hoe handle or a heavy
stick for scoring less than fifty percent.

The examples above appeared ordinary and inconsequential as a pattern
established through a dictatorial system that bred injustice and insecurity. On the surface,
nobody ever questioned why even classrooms needed to hang the portrait of the
president. While the idea in itself gave students an opportunity to see how their president
looked like, in places where newspapers were not sold, the fear that accompanied the
presence of the picture in the room could only occur in a context in which people needed
measures to keep them under political control. Whoever decided to distort the portrait by
adorning it with sunglasses and crayons knew they could not afford to be seen doing it.
They obviously knew what offense they were perpetrating. It is unlikely the president
ever came to hear about the incident, but the teachers and school administrators could not
take chances. They knew that they had no option but to suspend someone, even when
there was no proof that they committed the crime. Failure to be seen taking action could
have been interpreted as condoning treasonous or seditious behavior.

The youth leaguers and their political leaders were known to be unsympathetic to
anyone who did not enforce loyalty to the Life President. And loyalty to the president
came in various forms, including buying the party membership card even for unborn

children, and lining up along the streets to bid the president farewell as he left his palace,

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and to welcome him as he returned. Again, this included the youngest children in school.
Thus the harsh punishments meted out to students for doing poorly in class were part of
the same pattern in which corporal punishment was meted out as a prerogative of the
government, of which teachers, at one level, were a part.

Taken together, the effect was a feeling of being personally beholden to the
president, who in Malawi was called a “Messiah,” as politicians referred to him at
political rallies. Punishment was meted out in his name even for matters that did not
constitute any criminality. Failure to act in accordance with these expectations would
land one in trouble, in an oppressive system that thrived on fear. It is in this context that
the above incidents, presented in the teachers’ autobiographies, are being understood as

constituting social injustice and human insecurity.

Peer violence

Four male teachers in the participating group write about herding cattle or goats
after school, a preoccupation known in Malawi both for the qualities of perseverance and
resourcefulness it teaches, and also the physical violence associated with it. Wembayi
writes that he herded goats and cattle before he entered school: “Before I started school I
was engaged in feeding goats and cattle until 1964 when I started school. . .” For
Mwalawo, he would come home from school and proceed to herd goats without lunch.
He writes: “At home sometimes I couldn’t get food. Therefore I walked straight to the
goats’ khola where 1 opened them to the nearby dambo for grazing. This happened most
of the times. While there with friends [. . .] we used to eat fruits. . .” Katchikolo’s account

of life herding goats includes physical fights:

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I used to go Dambo grazing my grandmother’s cattle with my friends after school hours. I
enjoyed the life. It was the home of fighting, obscene language and stealing. People used
to fight for no proper reasons and sometimes after in-charge of herd boys commanded.
There was hardship life to those who were not clever and didn’t like fighting. Regardless
of these things there were good things also like drinking milk, cattle riding and we were
learning perseverance.

It can be argued that all young people are exposed to fights on the playground and
in various places and contexts as they are growing up. The peculiar thing about herding
goats and cattle in this context is that boys are forced to engage in a fight to determine
who is stronger than the other, and the fight only comes to an end when the loser can not
fight any more. There is nobody to separate the two, and sometimes the loser surrenders
after suffering great injury. It is not easy to draw out any detailed analysis of the effects
of these fights on the young people, except to point out that they led lives that exposed
them to gratuitous violence early in their liveszo. Katchikolo writes about challenging
schoolmates to fights whenever he felt belittled, and being viewed as a belligerent student
by his teacher. He writes: “At school I had many friends but I was easily getting angry
and would fight whenever I collided with a friend, I didn’t want to look silly.”

Peer violence also occurred in school. Nearly all the teachers in the sample write
about being bullied; being physically and mentally assaulted whilst in secondary school.
Until a few years ago, the majority of secondary schools in Malawi provided full
boarding facilities. Students would pack their suitcases, leave home, take a bus to
secondary school and not return until the school term was over. While promoting
studious habits and concentration, this arrangement also promoted the practice of

bullying, known to occur in many parts of the world. Commonly referred to as ‘teasing’

 

2° There is nothing indigenous about young people’s fights during play, or in school, which are known to
occur in many cultures in different parts of the world. In the US extreme examples of such violence include
the Columbine massacre, on April 20, 1999.

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in Malawi, this assault is mostly reserved for Form 1 students (freshmen), or transfer
students. It is experienced probably in all secondary schools in Malawi, including mission
schools. Because it is widespread throughout the country, it is accepted as a normal rite
of passage into secondary school, and school administrators do not do much to stop it. It
therefore does not attract the kind of debate it ought to. There are known cases where a
form one student has been severally injured as a result, sometimes becoming a criminal
case.

Likhaya writes: “The Form Two students used to beat me when I met them
without proper reasons. It was not only me; even the whole form one class was beaten by
the form twos in a form of tease. The teachers were also cruel in the sense that they used
to tell the form twos to tease us.” In form two he and his fellow classmates decided that
they would avenge themselves on the incoming form one class. So it was that one day
Likhaya met a form one boy, and immediately started beating him up. Other form one
students saw what happened and went to report to the head teacher. Likhaya was called to
the office, and suspended from school. It took parental intervention for the suspension to
be lifted for him to be allowed back in school.

For Wembayi, teasing started as soon as he disembarked from the bus carrying
him to his new school. He was forced to carry three heavy suitcases, including his own,
from the bus station to the school. He doesn’t say how long the distance was, but it is
known to be more than a mile, going up a mountain road. On the school premises he was
made to fetch tap water from a distance of 20 yards filled with “obstacles”. It took him
half an hour to cover that distance. “During our time teasing took only one week after

that no teasing. . .”

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As we will see later in Mfuwo’s case, she was also teased, becoming an object of
ridicule amongst other students because she carried her clothes in a bamboo basket rather
than a conventional suitcase. Fellow students made remarks about her family’s poverty,
regardless of the fact, which they probably weren’t aware of, that her father was actually
a wealthy man who was being manipulated by a jealous wife who was Mfuwo’s
stepmother. Mfuwo writes that even her friends coming from the same village with her,
and therefore probably aware of her father’s affluence, joined in the verbal assault. They
immediately gave her a demeaning nickname, and at the end of the school term took the
basket away and burned it. Mwalawo writes about being teased as a transferring F orm 3
student, but does not go into details.

To enroll in school required paying school fees. It was not an exorbitant amount,
but with the majority of Malawians earning their livelihood from cash crops and unable
to afford mechanized farm tools to increase crop production, there were many households
which were unable to send their children to school. As we saw with Wembayi, his parents
could not afford the amount for tuition fees, until the last minute when his father
suddenly found employment.

The above incidents of physical and verbal violence, and economic deprivation
are not unique to these teachers, let alone to Malawians, or even poor countries only.
These incidents happen all over the world. Seeing them in a context of injustice and
violence enables us an analysis that places them in the bigger picture of the breakdown of
peace and uMunthu. They were allowed to happen because the general atmosphere
obtaining in Malawi at this time encouraged gratuitous violence justified for purposes of

political control. While teaching young boys perseverance and a work ethic, the fights

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that broke out during cattle and goat grazing for these young Malawians exposed them to
physical and psychological violence from their more powerful peers, where physical
fitness was valued more than the respect and dignity due to a human being, however
young. While bullying in secondary school can be said to teach respect for age and
authority, it is still violence, as it creates in students feelings of fear and vengeance.
Likhaya writes in his autobiography that teachers in his school actually encouraged the
practice, a situation that constitutes social injustice and human insecurity due to the

power and authority implications involved.

Socio-economic contexts of schooling

To become teachers, these participants overcame access obstacles in a country
whose age-appropriate cohort transition rate from primary school to secondary school is
18 percent, and from secondary to tertiary is 0.3 percent (Ministry of Education and
Human Resources, 2004). The odds they overcame included hardship in finding school
fees and upkeep money while in school, as we already saw with Wembayi. This made it
hard to concentrate on studies, and poor conditions in the schools made it difficult to
create an atmosphere in which one participated fully and took advantage of the
educational opportunities available.

In Wembayi’s case, selection to a prestigious secondary school was one thing,
finding the money to pay for tuition was another. He writes: “My parents did not have
enough money for school fees. My father tried to find money from all sides in our
neighbourhood but failed.” He says there were relatives with money, but they did not

desire to see him go to secondary school and become successful. “. . . My brother was

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also studying at [another] secondary and if I proceeded to secondary school our family
would have been of higher standard.”

His opportunity came one day when Wembayi’s father found employment with a
surveyor who arrived in the area to repair the road leading from a nearby military
aerodrome to a lake. The money the father earned from the job was enough to send
Wembayi to secondary school. Wembayi knew his family’s poverty and decided that he
would not ask them for upkeep money while in secondary school. He took his own
initiative and looked for piecework from teachers in the school. He split firewood, and he
slashed lawn grass. “1 made my life simplermmoreover it was a boys’ secondary school
where I didn’t care about anybody—I could stay without bath[ing] for five days—
moreover Dedza is very cold.”

For Likhaya, there were days when there was no money for soap, nor for school
uniform. That meant being absent from school on some days. He walked long distances
to school, and in the afternoon had to herd goats. There wasn’t enough time to study and
do homework. Poor preparation in the primary school meant reduced chances of being
selected to a good national secondary school. For many young Malawians, this was the
end of their educational career. Others persevered enough and went to what were then
known as Malawi College of Distance Education (MCDE) centers.

Due to the fact that MCDEs were not anybody’s first choice, students went there
only after failing to secure selection to a proper government secondary school. MCDEs
were under government supervision like most other schools, but they were left to their
own devices in terms of funding and admissions process. The teachers there were trained

as primary teachers rather than secondary teachers, and were sent there to supplement the

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shortage of teachers. Thus performance was always below that of proper secondary
schools. However they were the only available alternative for a secondary education for
the majority of young Malawians of secondary school age since national secondary
schools up to the mid 90$ accommodated only 11 percent of eligible students finishing
Standard 8 (Hauya, 1996, quoting Ministry of Education figures). Without the MCDEs,
the only alternative was dropping out of school altogether. Because of the sheer numbers
of the students who were not accommodated in secondary schools, the MCDEs did attract
some students who were bright and hardworking, who had been left out of secondary
school merely because of the small number of secondary school places available.
Otherwise, some of these students in MCDEs were as good as their counterparts in
secondary schools. But four years in a system with untrained teachers and virtually no
government support did a lot to deny a better education for most of the young people who

went there.

Gender and life in school

For the female teachers some of the challenges they met in their schooling were
related to gender issues. Ms. Sakina, a teacher from the northern region and in her late
forties, writes that she saw more boys than girls finishing secondary school, a situation
that threatened marriages, as many women were not as educated as the men. Sakina
managed to finish secondary school due to her “assertiveness but also God’s plan.” As a
secondary school student, Sakina escaped attempts to rape her on the school premises, on
two occasions. On both occasions she screamed, and somebody came to her rescue. The

first time this happened a young man she estimates to be 20 years or so at the time heard

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her screams and when he appeared on the scene, the would-be-rapist ran away. The man
advised her not to report the incident to teachers for fear that the teachers would
disbelieve her story and suspend her from school. In the second attempt a reverend came
to her rescue after her friend, another girl, ran away. The boy who attempted the rape was
suspended for two weeks, and was later transferred to another secondary school. She
writes that he did well there, and was selected to the university, a result she attributes to
him having learned his lesson. Surprisingly, her friend who ran from the scene was
herself was given a week—long punishment by the school for abandoning her friend
instead of coming to her aid.

In Mfuwo’s case, a female teacher in the central region of Malawi, gender-related
problems had an effect on her welfare as a student. Mfuwo’s narrative discusses family
problems between her father and mother, which eventually led to her father leaving her
mother. This created problems for her as she needed both her parents’ support in
secondary school. Her description of how this happened deserves recounting, as it offers
vivid examples of gender inequities and human insecurity, contexts that surrounded her
as she grew up, went to school and eventually became a teacher.

One day Mfuwo’s mother heard a knock on the door and opened it to find a
woman carrying a suitcase. She was a new teacher at Chi gwale school and she needed
help in locating the school. Mfuwo’s mother helped her. The two women became good
friends. Mfuwo’s mother learned the woman was running away from a cruel husband in a
neighboring district and had been transferred to Chigwale school. She came with all her
five children. Unknown to Mfuwo’s mother, something else was going on. “Little by

little this lady [fell] in love with my father but my mother [knew] nothing.” One day

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Mfuwo’s mother went to a hospital to deliver a new baby and when she returned home
she found her husband had moved in with the lady teacher. “He told my mother to go
straight to her parents.” When she got there her brother, Mfuwo’s uncle, returned her, and
told Mfuwo’s father to first construct a house for her at her parents’ place before he could
send her there, as per custom. Mfuwo’s father insisted that he was through with his wife
and he was going to marry another woman. He refused to construct a house for her at her
parents’ place. A physical fight ensued between her father and mother, which attracted
the attention of neighbors. The party chairperson of the area came and separated them.
Mfuwo and her mother and the other children (she has not stated how many) left for the
village. Later the father followed them to the village to build a small one-room house.

Mfuwo writes that her father was wealthy, owning a maize mill, two estates (very
large commercial farms), a grocery store, a rest house (motel), and heads of cattle
numbering 151. In contrast with her mother’s place, there were days when they went to
bed on an empty stomach because there was not enough food. One afiemoon Mfuwo
went to play with two fiiends. They dug up roots, which they took to be potatoes. They
ate them. Before that day ended Mfuwo’s two fi'iends both lay dead. Mfuwo had vomited,
and survived. They had not known that the roots they ate were deadly poison.

A few years went before Mfuwo’s father visited her uncle and announced that he
wanted to take the children with him. Her mother assented, and the children went to live
with their father. Here Mfuwo met a new challenge. “My stepmother was cruel.
[Whenever] my father [went] away to Zomba my stepmother treated us badly.” Ms.
Mfuwo received this kind of treatment specifically because of her gender as a female

child. On the day she started secondary school, her stepmother persuaded her father not to

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buy her a proper suitcase for her clothes, so she went to school with a bamboo basket.
She became an object of ridicule amongst other students. “It means your parents are poor
[sic]? Why have you carried a bamboo basket?” Even her friends who came from the
same village with her joined in the ridicule. “My friend Zione said her parents are very
rich, they can’t fail to buy her a luggage [sic].” Other friends said you couldn’t carry a
basket bamboo to a secondary school, therefore they were going to burn it. Some said her
parents were probably witches, and they gave her a nickname, “wasungwiyo”—the one
with the bamboo. And they carried out their threat: “When we were about to close that
term my friends [took] away my basket and [burned] it.” School closed and she went
home. Her stepmother asked her about the bamboo basket and she told her what had
happened to it. Her school report came, and her father went to buy her a proper suitcase.
Her stepmother’s attitude toward her improved a little bit. “She roasted ground nuts,
maize and meat for me to carry to school.”

In her second year in secondary school her father married another woman. “This
woman was [more] cruel than the first stepmother.” The new stepmother convinced
Mfuwo’s father that Mfiiwo would never take care of him in his old age, therefore it was
useless for him to pay her school fees. Still Mfuwo went to school, but her father would
not give her money for transportation. Instead, he would ask one of his employees, a
watchman, to accompany her on foot all the way to the trading centre near the school.
This was probably a journey of no less than 30 miles walking on foot. One day she
queried her stepmother about why she gave her only one tablet of soap to last the whole
school term. “Your father said if you don’t want school [just drop out of] it. In future you

are not going to assist him,” was her stepmother’s response. In school there was a female

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teacher who took pity upon her and offered her some support. Mfuwo also came up with
a plan that helped her solve the problem of insufficient laundry soap. She invited her
schoolmates to give her their clothes for her to wash. They gave her soap, and she was

able to wash her own clothes as well.

In her fourth year her father did not pay her school fees at all. The boarding
mistress was kind enough to let her stay in school and used her influence to allow the
cooks to give her food. On the days that the boarding mistress was not around, she had no
food. A close fi‘iend of hers would bring her food to the hostel and share it with Mfuwo.
It is not clear whether she was able to sit for the secondary school leaving examination as
her father refused to pay for the examination fees because “my step mother did want me
to write MSCE (Malawi School Certificate Examination).” When she went to her father’s
place at the end of the school year “my father chased me away [saying I should go back]

to my mother.” She went to her mother’s home.

The importance of the stories by Sakina and Mfuwo does not lie in the mere fact
of their being female participants in the study. While their stories can be located in a
specific gender milieu in which Malawian girls, and many girls around the world for that
matter, experience schooling, they need to be understood in the context of political
economy and the choices this forces on individual families. In many countries, including
those in the global North, the local media is full of stories of schoolgirls coming under
threats and risks of sexual assault. Students bully and tease each other all the time, with
boys exhibiting aggressive behaviors especially towards girls. Parents get divorced all the

time, sometimes exposing their children to social and emotional problems. Poisoning

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accidents happen all the time. However the fact that these threats and risks are
commonplace does not preclude a gender analysis that views them as problems of social
injustice and human insecurity. Addressing them, whether in Malawi or elsewhere in the
world, increases the opportunities for girls to learn in an atmosphere more conducive to

learning and future success.

In the case of Sakina above, a male student who rescued her from a rape attempt
advised her not to report the issue, fearing that the school administrators “would not
believe [me] and [would] suspend me in the end. Indeed I did not report.” The fear of
having her story discredited was not only real, it also speaks of an atmosphere of male
dominance, injustice and insecurity. For Mfuwo, she saw the way her father treated her
mother, and how a jealous step mother convinced his father not to provide for her
schooling needs, on the belief that as a girl child, her education would not bear her father
any future benefits. This is a common belief not only in Malawi, as a report by the British
Govemment’s Department for International Development, DfID (2005), titled Girls’
education: towards a better future for all, states: “Investing in sons, rather than
daughters, is perceived as bringing higher financial returns for families as boys are more
likely to find work and be paid a higher salary” (p. 16). In addition to the lack of support
for her schooling, Mfuwo also found herself hungry and without food at times, as she
now lived with her mother who had no means of supporting the family. The insecurity of
her position is highlighted in the story she tells of how she and two of her friends one day
went into the bush and ate wild roots. Her friends died, and she survived only after

vomiting the poisonous roots.

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An important part of the analysis in stories such as these includes highlighting
examples in which families overcome socioeconomic barriers and invest in their female
children. There are many Malawian families that invest equally in both male and female
children. A Malawi proverb that guides many parents’ choices says “wabala mwana
wamwamuna wasauka; wabala mwana wamkazi walemera. ” In English, this translates as
“whoever bears a male child, is laying a foundation for poverty; whoever bears a female
child is laying a foundation for wealth.” For whatever reason, Mfuwo’s two stepmothers

chose not to follow the advice in the proverb.

The “torturing profession”: Life as teachers

In their current lived experience, working and succeeding as a teacher involves
overcoming perceptions of contempt, disdain and belittlement, and denial of
opportunities, from those in positions of power and influence. We have already noted that
these problems are not peculiar to Malawian teachers; teachers and educators in other
parts of the world also discuss similar problems besetting teachers (Norris, 2002; Allen,
1999; Foster, 1997). We have also noted that the fact these problems are commonplace is
no reason to ignore them, or view them as not constituting a peace, social justice and
human security concern. While many of these problems can be better understood from
the perspective of the political economy of Malawi and other Afi‘ican countries, they can
also be seen as part of a wider spectrum of structural violence and social injustice due to
the larger global economic forces that dictate to less powerful countries. This point is

developed further toward the end of this chapter.

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Several of the teachers wrote and talked of being treated with disregard and
disrespect by superiors in the schools, community and in the government. They wrote
about being denied deserved promotions, being denied good housing, being exploited,
and not being consulted on important decisions affecting their lives. They also talked of
being denied opportunities for further education, and of being passed over for foreign
study tours that usually go with attractive allowances paid for by the government. The
teachers’ descriptions of these issues are vivid and detailed. The teachers felt very
strongly and passionate about these issues.

According to one teacher, Pinde, the teaching service commission of Malawi
stipulates that if a teacher has gone for eight years without undergoing an interview for
promotion, they should be awarded one. Sakina wrote of how it took 14 years before she
could receive her first promotion, and another seven before the second promotion came.
“Such things in my life have been very painful,” she writes. She adds: “The profession
which indeed is teaching became a torture,” alluding to a saying common amongst
Malawian teachers that the teaching profession should really be renamed the “torturing
profession.”

Mwalawo, another teacher, wrote about the four years he worked as a temporary
teacher being taken off his record when he moved to another school. He wrote: “. . . my
question up to now is where [have] the days I worked as a temporary teacher gone?
Because I haven’t received anything showing that I was on temporary.” It is not obvious
what he was supposed to receive as a temporary teacher, other than a salary, so it is
possible that he was either unpaid for the 4 years he worked as a temporary teacher, or

that those years should have counted in determining his new salary but they were not.

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One month, the headteacher of his school withheld teachers’ salaries for three
days. In rural parts of Malawi where there are no banking facilities, teachers’ salaries are
brought to a central position, where head teachers from surrounding school go and collect
salaries for all their teachers. They then distribute the salaries to each teacher in the
school. When the teachers at Mwalawo’s school discovered that the head teacher had
withheld their salaries, Mwalawo writes that the teachers “attacked” the headteacher.
Mwalawo does not specify what kind of attack this was, although he mentions two
teachers who physically fought in the head teacher’s office as a result of the issue.
Mwalawo’s narrative explains that the head teacher and his deputy were pocketing the
salary of a ‘ghost’ teacher; a teacher whose name showed on the payroll when in fact
there was no such teacher at the school. One teacher wrote a letter to the Anti-Corruption
Bureau, but by the time the Bureau responded, the complainant was dead. No explanation
is offered for the cause of his death. This head teacher was later accused of making
unilateral decisions without consulting his colleagues, as when he passed over Mwalawo
for a house that was due to him. Instead, the headteacher offered the house to a female
teacher who was posted to the school to follow her husband who was going to teach at a
nearby secondary school. When Mwalawo complained about this, he was transferred to
another school, and was told to use his personal money as moving expenses, contrary to
regulations. This was contrary to regulations because when a teacher is transferred to
another school, the policy is that the district office will provide a vehicle to transport the
teacher, his or her family and their belongings. “Why did the government not provide the
transport? Anyway I only obeyed because the words were coming from the boss,” he

writes. At the new school, Chigwale, Mwalawo writes that he was given a warm

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welcome. However before long he started discovering that this school too had its own
tensions. “The headteacher most of the time he was commanding he did not want to hear
junior ideas [sic]. Most of the times he was quarrelling with Mrs. [Nyezi] . . .” and with
the other teachers too.

Another teacher was about to come and join the teaching staff at Chigwale school.
Mwalawo noticed that the new teacher was being given a better house than the one he
had been allocated, yet he had come earlier. He went to see the school committee
chairperson, “who authorized me to get into the house before the new teacher [arrived].”
The head teacher reported the matter to the primary education adviser, who summoned
Mwalawo and accused him of indiscipline. Mwalawo explained himself, and the issue
was resolved.

Another teacher, Katchikolo, writes about going for several months without pay:
“My life as a teacher became unbearable and we worked for five solid months [without]
pay.” He developed a network of friends, which eased the problems for him, he writes.
Because Katchikolo came to Chigwale as an untrained teacher, he faced another problem.
The community did not hold him in high regar . “. . .we were being teased by qualified
teachers as well as pupils even parents.” They were ridiculed as ‘aphunzitsi a poverty’ or
‘aphunzitsi a ganyu,’ in reference to the poverty alleviation program that the new
multiparty government introduced. The belittling names they were called translate into
“impoverished teachers,” a double entendre on the poverty alleviation program that
recruited them, and their untrained status and suspect skills in the classroom. The
government introduced free primary education as soon as it won the elections in 1994,

and recruited 18,000 untrained teachers to match the increased enrohnent.

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For teachers like Katchikolo these demeaning accolades were unwarranted. The
headteacher at Chigwale, as well other teachers in the area and individuals in the area
held him up as an exceptional teacher. As soon as I arrived in the area and talked to one
retired teacher and the head teacher about my project, separately, they both offered his
name as the most suited to what I was talking about. I was thus able to establish what a
highly regarded teacher he is both in the school and in the community. At the end of the
school year in 2004, Katchikolo was transferred to teach at a nearby day secondary
school. In Malawi such a transfer indicates an official recognition of one’s efforts, and is
regarded as a promotion. What this development tells us is that despite many teachers
feeling demoralized and angry with the system, many teachers still work hard, and a few
teachers do get noticed and rewarded. But there are still many teachers for whom that
recognition takes years to come, and many others for whom it never comes. Each of the
18 teachers who actively participated in the study by granting me interviews, writing
autobiographies, or participating in the discussions talked more about hardships than
about rewards and recognition.

The problem Mfuwo writes about encountering on the job was ostracization. In
1997 she became a primary school teacher, after putting behind her the problems she
encountered in secondary school and from her two consecutive stepmothers and their
corrupting influence on her father. She reported at her new school and found that the
teachers were not interested in having her enter their classrooms. “When I reached the
school, teachers didn’t want [me] to be their partner in class, for how I was looking.” She
would go to the school everyday and spend the whole day in the headteacher’s office. She

does not explain what it was about “how I was looking” that made the other teachers

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refuse to let her into their classrooms as a partner. It is possible that she is referring to her
young age, or perhaps to her not-well-groomed looks due to lack of support from her
father and stepmother. The headteacher convened a meeting and warned the other
teachers that he would send her back to the district office and report to the district
education manager. This would mean the school losing a much-needed teacher on their
staff. A standard 4 teacher volunteered to have her in her class. This teacher became her
mentor and taught her how to teach, supervising her teaching and offering her feedback.

A more comprehensive and thorough account of problems teachers face on the
job, all of them having to do with the conduct and attitudes of superiors in the
administration hierarchy, comes from Pinde, a female teacher from the central region. I
interviewed Pinde in her school. It was a warm sunny late morning, and the teachers were
preparing for a staff meeting. The headteacher gave her permission to miss the staff
meeting. It was the last week of the second term, and there were no classes being held
that week. We entered a classroom and through the windows I could see the full view of
Dedza Mountain and its green, tall, leafy blue gum trees in the distance.

At the time of the interview Pinde was a 28 year-old teacher. A curriculum
specialist who had worked with her recommended her to me as one of the finest teachers
in the country. This opinion is supported by the frequency with which she is invited to the
numerous workshops where the new primary curriculum is being planned and developed.
I attended one such two-week workshop and saw her address an audience of about 130
people. The audience comprised directors of departments in the Ministry of Education, in
the Malawi Institute of Education and the Malawi National Examinations Board, senior

education officials in the country’s six educational divisions, international resource

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persons from Kenya, Zambia, South Africa, Germany and the United Kingdom, and
fellow classroom teachers. I talked to her and a group of other teachers invited to another
workshop at MIE about my project, and explained to them the autobiography part of the
study. Afier two weeks she confessed that she did not have the time to write an
autobiography, but could find time to grant me an interview. I traveled to the central
region, obtained permission to interview her from the district education manager’s office,
and interviewed her for three hours on Thursday, July 22, 2004.

Pinde divided problems that teachers face in Malawi into three categories: poor
teacher education, poverty, and injustice. Because most primary school teachers in
Malawi are poorly educated, they generally have to work extra hard to attract respect
from their superiors. The lack of opportunities for professional advancement means poor
remuneration, which demotivates many teachers. The overall impression created out of
these experiences is injustice and psychological violence on teachers. The problem she
saw with teacher education was that the majority of Malawian teachers are poorly trained.
She had an example for me. That week her school had received visitors from Canada, and
one of them was training to become a teacher. She observed that there was a huge
difference in the amount of time it took to train a teacher in Canada and in Malawi. The
short amount of time it takes to train a teacher in Malawi was contributing to problems

that teachers were facing, she said.

Most teachers are not adequately educated. If they trained well . . . for example the
current program . . . it’s very difficult to build a teacher. There was a group of North
Americans here; one of them is training to become a teacher. They came from Canada.
They just left, we said farewell to them yesterday. They were right here. The teacher
candidate is in her fourth year. To become a teacher in Canada, it takes six years. While
here at home, our teacher training is very hurried, forgetting that this person who is going
to teach, is being relied upon to handle the lives of over a hundred children. In our class
we have 111. The way I have been trained, to handle 111 lives, is unhelpful. It means all
those 111 lives are damaged. And it only takes one year. How about next year? How

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about by the time I clock 25 years, how many lives have I damaged? Calculate . . . 25
multiplied by 110. They don’t think about this, that these people we are training will
handle lives. Many lives, more than in the hospital. And by the time on retires. . .

The poor training results in teachers who fail to do their job, who are unable to improvise

and adapt the teachers’ guides to suit their style and the needs of the students.

The teachers’ guide is written by human beings. Sometimes you notice things that are not
helpful for these particular children. Sometimes you see that the level of the textbook and
the level where my children are, are not compatible. But it requires your own intelligence
to understand that. Otherwise you will just go with the book. Which is better, covering
the textbook and the syllabus, when a child has not understood a thing, or leaving the
textbook unfinished, even if you only go as far as page 15, but the children have
understood? I am asking you. Which is better?

Pinde suggested that teachers be educated in a more comprehensive way. She
pointed out that teachers should be taught how to interpret the teachers’ guide. “I went to
teachers’ college for one year. But as far as learning how to handle the teachers’ guide, I
should not lie, I have learned this after I retruned from college. People used to laugh
when I told them I had never seen a syllabus before.” She observed that the work of
teachers would greatly improve if teachers were taught how to carry out research on their
teaching:

small scale, not the research you know, but still being able to investigate something on
his/her own, things would be well. But we don’t even know. If I have been able to carry
out investigations it is when I was part of the continuous assessment project. That’s when
I investigated children’s behaviors. But previously, if I did it, I didn’t even know it. I
don’t recall that I ever did anything resembling research. So a teacher ought to be taught
to research things on his/her own, it can help him/her. Because right now we rely solely
on the guide. Without the guide, that theme won’t be taught. Why? Because teachers’
education is inadequate. Even if you gave the guide to an untrained teacher, do you think
he/she can deal with it? I don’t think so.

The next problem teachers face on the job that Ms. Pinde identified was poverty. “There
are several types of poverty,” she said, identifying material poverty as the one that
affected teachers the most. She described material poverty as lacking “things necessary in

life,” saying that this kind of poverty “brings another kind of poverty.” She said one was

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always worried about the first poverty. But some people can work very well. Imagine I
come to school in the morning. I am well prepared to teach, but once here my thoughts
turn to home. What will my children have for lunch? We are failing to even afford the
basics, like bathing soap. If the money was enough to enable one buy food enough for
everyday of the month, I would still be worrying of course, but not too much. What
happens is that the salary is not enough even for food alone for the month.

There were ways in which poverty affected teaching and eventually society, creating a
context for what in this study constitutes social injustice human insecurity. Ms. Pinde
said:

The quality of teaching suffers. Sometimes you just give them notes instead of engaging
them. That contributes to poor performance, and affects their future. Eventually the
children end up failing in life. Once they fail to continue with school, that’s it. If they are
boys they marry after standard 8. And they marry women who themselves didn’t go to
school. The children born in such a family are themselves disadvantaged from the start.
The child may be bright, but the home conditions may affect his/her school performance.

The third problem that Ms. Pinde pointed to was injustice. She observed that
teachers were being oppressed, and they were losing their interest in the process. “Interest
goes away, and you lose direction. You don’t see where you are headed in the profession.
What I mean is that there are teachers who have worked for several years. They have
never received a promotion. Do you think that teacher can work with motivation? Twelve
years?” Ms. Pinde defines injustice in similar ways to Ms. Sakina. Both of them cited
denial of promotions and opportunities for advancement. “I think there’s someone up
there who just likes to oppress others. Because the stipulations are that after eight years
one ought to be promoted, if there have been no interviews in between. But here we go
up to twelve years; even fifteen.”

She saw the injustice visited upon Malawian teachers as stemming from the lack
of appreciation for the humanity of other human beings. When one is able to appreciate
and respect others, one is said to have uMunthu, a concept that is used quite commonly in

Malawian discourse, and which carries with it a tradition of philosophical and theological

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scholarship, as we saw in chapter two, pursued by a number of Malawian and southern
Afiican intellectuals, theologians, religious leaders and public figures. Pinde spent a
considerable amount of time giving examples of what uMunthu was, and pointed out that
it needed a combination of cultural upbringing and educational opportunity for one to
develop uMunthu. Many of the education officials at the district, division and ministry
levels were better educated than most teachers, but there were those in their midst that
had not developed uMunthu, and therefore did not regard teachers as people worthy of
dignity and deserving of opportunities:

Ethical responsibility is not the responsibility of the school alone. ‘umunthu’ starts at
home. Umunthu is when you can do things that make other people say you are a human
being; you have certain characteristics that make you a human being; to listen to what
other people say; to associate with other people, elements like those are what make a
human being. And there are times when ‘umunthu’ disappears. And somebody becomes a
thug. And these forces can have nothing to do with education. A person can be highly
educated, but have no ‘umunthu.’ I have heard of what goes on at Chancellor College.
Those people are educated; the conditions for them to be educated are there. But they
have no umunthu. So this umunthu, as a teacher you can do your best, but the
environment at home can cause umunthu to disappear. Those students at chancellor
college, when they go home, they are good kids. Once they leave home and go to school
the environment in the schools makes it easy for their umunthu to take leave of them, and
they are like wild animals. Education is one thing, umunthu is another. Intelligence is one
thing, umunthu another. Some bosses are very bright. When they make a decision,
everyone admires their capability. But tell them there’s a death at home, they tell you
‘you can’t go.’ That’s about umunthu. They have the intelligence, but not umunthu.
Because with umunthu, I can’t tell my boss I have been bereaved, and the boss denies my
request to take leave and go. You ask for an office vehicle to help in the funeral
proceedings, and they say no, the vehicle is being used for other purposes. That’s lacking
umunthu. So intelligence and umunthu are different. Some people are very intelligent but
their umunthu is nothing.

She went on to provide an example of the exploitation she was talking about, concerning

a foreign trip she went on, alongside a few other teachers and senior education officials.

We had this trip to Zambia with Nduluzi and others. We had never been on such a trip
before so we had no idea what preparations were needed. But we had heard that there are
top up allowances. The MANEB (Malawi National Examinations Board) and UNIMA
(University of Malawi) representatives received their top up allowances. When we went
to ask about ours, we heard there were no allowances for us from the ministry of
education, because they said there were too many of us. But the rumor was that some
people went ahead and got their allowances. Do you know how much? MK96,000 (about
$1,000 at the time; equivalent to 2 years’ salary for an average teacher). But they went

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and got their money, and when we asked about this, they brushed it aside, vehemently,
preventing the issue from becoming public. Mwandida (a colleague) persisted and
followed up the issue, and went up to [an MIE official]. The official explained that had it
been an MIE trip, MIE would have given those allowances. But what she could do would
be to ask for the list of names of those that were on the trip and exarrrine what allowances
they were given. So she went to a ministry official, who told her that somebody took the
list to photocopy, and never returned it. What happened, the way it looks, is that all the
top ministry people got their allowances. Except for us teachers. Why did they leave us
out, not giving us our money?

The same exploitation extends to the denial of opportunities for further education,
which she believes are there but are offered on the basis of relationships, nepotism and
other non-merit connections. She talks about a time when she and another teacher were
asked to provide their CVs, details and documents, as preparations to send them to school
for further studies. Pinde and another teacher, Nduluzi, had addressed an international
audience that included the minister of education, in 2001. Impressed by their performance
before an international audience, the minister declared in his speech that the two teachers
be offered scholarships for university training abroad. Since then, no official has ever
brought the issue up. “Whomever you ask there’s silence. Until somebody honest enough
told us that had it been the people responsible for scholarships knew us personally, being
relatives etc, we would have gone for higher education a long time ago.”

But Pinde has not let these developments disorient or demoralize her. “So
sometimes I sit and wonder and imagine that if I had no self-motivation, I would just stop
and sit down. But Nduluzi still continues with what he does. I also continue doing my
stuff. We continue because we have in-bom interest. It won’t help us looking up to these
people. Do you understand me well?” Such acts of injustice are also known at other

levels, in the district office down to the school level.

There are times when opportunities come at the DEM’s office (District Education
Manager), asking for maybe four teachers. When that request comes down to the school
level, it’s the headteacher, the deputy and section heads that go. You see that? Sometimes
they ask for a Standard 1 teacher, it’s a standard 7 teacher that goes. The one in good

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books with the head. Sometimes they even suggest names, please send us teacher so and
so. So imagine how this teacher who has been robbed of this opportunity feels. It pains.
In the end the teaching suffers. The children suffer. Suffering brought about by issues
they have nothing to do with. They say when elephants fight, it’s the grass that suffers.
So it’s the children who suffer. Yet they have no idea what the adults are fighting about.
So we teachers, this suffering . . . it is said when you see us, those of you who are not
teachers . . . I don’t mean you personally. . .it is said they take a teacher to be ignorant,
ill-informed. Somebody who knows nothing. Uneducated, dumb. All these things
teachers know.

Although Pinde expresses deep frustration over superiors in the system, she joins
two other teachers in the study in acknowledging some level of self-blame as well.
Sakina and Mwandida both expressed this frustration, but also said there was a part
where teachers themselves were to blame. Mwandida put it this way: “Sometimes it is
also because we teachers are not interested in finding out. If we had an interest in finding
out about what we deserve, we could have a basis on which to argue.” According to
Sakina, teachers should “also learn to point fingers at ourselves [other] than others”.
Pinde is more elaborate:

So this problem is deep-rooted. Teachers have no say. What can they say? Nothing. How
can we help them? No way. Maybe teachers should have some knowledge about how
these things work. It’s only recently that I got to know that when a PEA (primary
education adviser) comes to a school, before he/she enters your classroom, he/she is
supposed to ask for your permission. They can’t just enter. I just learned that. So if
teachers knew these things maybe things can improve. There are times when we come up
with good ideas in staff meetings, but we don’t know where to go with those ideas.
Where do we take these ideas? And then we just decide to sit on our laurels and do
nothing.

Another teacher who also had elaborate comments on uMunthu was Nduluzi.
Nduluzi’s comments on uMunthu address specific abuses direct at him by his superiors,
especially during his participation in curriculum development workshops. He writes
about his views being subjected to scrutiny and ridicule with specific reference to his not
possessing a university degree. Like Pinde, Nduluzi’s views about uMunthu are derived

from knowledge that is expressed by ordinary Malawians:

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uMunthu is an act of doing something for anybody as you would want anybody to DO
the same for you. Usually the uMunthu act has self-giving and a total equalization of
somebody’s being, by way of valuing and looking at somebody as a human being. It does
not emphasize who is this person is , who is this, kodi akuchita ngati ndani....Akufuna
akhale ngati ndani ameneyi....Kodi kamwana kameneka [who do does he think he is. . .
this little child]

Umunthu is self-realized in very few people. Many do not have Umunthu
qualities. Usually those practicing this mentality do not themselves realize that when
somebody’s being is realized and valued, that particular person reaches his or her full
potential.

The majority of people do not realize that every person has the potential. The
duty of the so called superior, or those in the know, should be to construct meaning by
not deliberately ignoring the obvious potential. My recent reference has been
“Osaphunzira ameneyu, akufuna kungochita dominate . . . [this one is uneducated . . . he
just wants to dominate. . .] Surely, do statements like these give a taste of uMunthu by the
executor? Usually if it is my contribution or my submission it is viewed as an act of
dominance by an uneducated person who wants to impress.

In education , the uMunthu way of teaching is noticed when equal opportunities
are provided for all learners regardless of their abilities in class. It becomes the teaching
of valuing learners’ potential with efforts directed towards the letting of the learners to
advance their thinking while the teacher constructs this through meaningful deliberations.

In Malawi, especially those that assume a reality of responsibility because of
position or education, more often assume that those not in similar positions are chuff. It is
usually very difficult in certain circumstances to be believed or be taken seriously. If you,
the less educated, are placed to have access to latest information for public consumption
and benefit, you are gagged not because what you are saying is not true but simply, “who
is he?” The uMunthu way is to be able to take issues and information as it comes.

Nduluzi goes on to list names of his superiors who have been an exception, and have

been respectful to him, acknowledging his contributions, and treating him as an equal.

All these, at one time or many times, provided me opportunities to participate in high
level science gatherings both in Malawi and a broad. In such meetings instead of being
treated pathetically, I was treated equally just like anybody else and I was referred to as a
primary school science teacher. This reference gave me an opportunity to participate and
contribute as “an expert” within my my scope of knowledge regardless of the level ,
status and where I operate. I have even managed to publish in science journals and
participated in high level research work internationally. Remember there is no such a
title as a primary school science teacher in Malawi. But I guess this was an emphasis
done towards the validation of my ability. In my own work place I hardly get this
reference. In fact it is usually the “focus” that drives me to forge ahead and not get
obsessed with what I face. The environment is hostile and, coupled with my frequent
visits abroad, some people think this comes on silver platter; but it is not the case.

There are challenges to overcome and my now greatest motivation has been to
be referred to as OSAPHUNZIRA [uneducated]. This has been a driving force of late. It
is important to realize that Umunthu takes many forms in beings but its outcome is the
same.

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Trimphs, challenges, and possibilities

The above stories portray a picture in which we see the lives of the teachers in
various contexts, dealing with issues of social injustice and human insecurity. The
teachers portray their lives in contexts that are personal, political, economic, historical,
and even global. Two examples illustrate the global dimension of how these teachers
identify themselves. In discussing the length of time she spent in teachers’ college, Pinde
observed that her one-year teacher education program was in sharp contract to the six
years it takes for to train as a teacher in Canada. Another example comes from a
comment one teacher made during the two-week workshop in the first phase of the study.
The teacher was responding to a question from one guest speaker, Reverend Kanjira, who
asked the teachers to discuss whether Malawi was a poor country or not. This is how the

teacher responded:

In my case I’m saying Malawi is a poor country just because when we compare teachers
of Malawi [with teachers in other countries], for exanrple in my case, I don’t qualify to be
considered rich. Say some one is rich, he needs—he must have the following items. So
those items to me, I think I don’t qualify—there’s nothing that I have. Now myself being
a Malawian teacher working in the government, I’m saying Malawi is poor just because
of that. When I happen to compare myself with another teacher in another country, say
teachers who have visited us, say from the UK, if you compare you find that there’s
nothing that I have to show that I’m working. I have lots of problems . . . Financially I’m
poon

In the sense that the teachers talked and wrote about their lives, the teachers’
stories constitute a life history (Goodson, 1991). In presenting these stories alongside
developments in the social, political and economic arena, we understand these stories as
not depoliticized and cut off from the wider social context, but rather as constructing a
counter-culture in which teachers voices, themselves a “historically marginalized” group,

can be heard (p. 15). The larger story these narratives tell conveys simultaneous

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complicity with and subversion against an oppressive system. The theme of perseverance
is mentioned several times by some of the teachers. The contextualization of these
teachers’ lives shows a political awareness of their surroundings, as it constructs a
“counter-culture” against a system that silences teachers’ voices (p. 10). The teachers
voices amount to an indictment against the oppressive and dehumanizing elements of
their profession, with one teacher calling it “torture” as we saw earlier. The word ‘torture’
needs to be understood not in a literal sense, but rather in as a combination of hyperbole
and wordplay aimed at drawing attention to a problem, also and a real sense of
aggravation.

It is fair to point out that given the high unemployment rate in the country and the
difficulties of viable self-employment, teachers are more fortunate than the majority of
Malawians. Teachers’ problems therefore become a part of the political economy of the

country, and the broader contexts of global and historical injustice.

Complicity and subversion

The stories portray instances when Malawians are being complicit with an unjust
system, and times when they are also being subversive against the system. We see them
at times as helpless victims of political repression, yet we also see them coming up with
initiatives to survive the injustice. In Wembayi’s story, there is no one standing up for
truth and justice when he is expelled from school and banned from attending any school
in Malawi. The teachers in Wembayi’s school serve as tools of the ideological state
apparatus (Althusser, 1971; Chaunfi'ault-Duchet, 2004), punishing a student on behalf of

the state, in the absence of evidence linking him to a crime one could argue did not

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deserve such harsh punishment. Yet we see Wembayi subverting the oppressive system
by changing his name and re-entering the system to rise to the position of deputy
headteacher (principal) of an important school. It was very easy for Wembayi to simply
quit school altogether and forfeit the opportunities an education affords one in Malawi.
We see how ordinary Malawians became agents of state injustice also in the way organs
of the single ruling party, especially local chairpersons and members of the youth league,
terrorized school children and teachers for not possessing the party card. We saw how
some students laughed at one another for being impoverished, and how they inflicted

physical and psychological violence on each other as a rite of passage.

Perseverance

The accounts by all of the teachers who wrote autobiographies and granted
interviews have a strong perseverance theme in them. We see perseverance in the story of
Mfuwo, who could have easily given up on schooling, given the pressure from her two
consecutive stepmothers, the neglect from her father, and the abuse from fellow students.
We see teachers who came to the rescue of students in desperate need of help, such as the
boarding mistress who allowed Mfuwo to receive food provided by the school, despite
her not having paid the boarding fees. We also see a friend who shared her food with
Mfuwo when the boarding mistress was not around. Wembayi persisted in the face of
state-sponsored banishment, making it to secondary school, and becoming a deputy
school principal. Mwandida wrote about enrolling in a correspondence course and
obtaining a diploma in education. When she approached the ministry to upgrade her

records and award a promotion, she was told that the college she obtained the diploma

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from was not recognized officially. “I got so shocked and gave up studying but now I
regret and I have learnt that it’s good to persevere no matter what problems you face”
(emphasis in original). Sakina expresses similar sentiments, writing: “I have learned to

grow up and never give up on problems. They can always end.”

Autobiography and the potential for professional development

We see these teachers reaching back to the recesses of their childhood memories
to construct a life story narrative that recalls important events in their lives growing up.
For people who never considered themselves writers, their ability to produce a personal
narrative that includes the history and socio-economic context of the society in which
they grew up points to the potential for auto/biographical approaches to professional
development for teachers (Florio-Ruane, 2001; Chanfrault-Duchet, 2004).

These narratives not only fit the pattern of what constitutes social injustice and
human insecurity, known to occur in other parts of the world, they also broaden current
understandings of these concepts. Seen in the larger picture of other problems Malawi,
and many other countries in the global south face, these narratives shed more light on the
historical, political and economic contexts, at a global level, of injustices and insecurities

experienced by billions of people around the world.

Social injustice as local and global

The teacher narratives discussed in this chapter are intricately woven into current
discourses of global justice, epitomized by the theme of the Live 8 concert at Hyde Park
in London on July 9th 2995: ‘The Long Walk to Justice,’ an adaptation of the title of

Nelson Mandela’s (1994) autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom. The beaming of this

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message live to a world audience of 2 billion people via MTV and the Internet creates
parallels between social justice at the level of the individual teachers discussed here and
the social justice at the global level, suddenly seeming to be getting mainstream attention.
As in the struggle to bring out the stories about the injustices these teachers and ordinary
Malawians have experienced, the struggle to bring out the stories about the historical
injustices done to the continent of Africa has also been going on for a long time, and has
also largely been suppressed.

Early in this chapter we observed that the stories these teachers wrote about
highlight events in particular social, economic, political, global and historical contexts in
which Malawi found itself at the time. Dr. Banda’s dictatorial leadership occurred within
these contexts, drawing a legacy from the colonial administration he took over from. This
is an important observation that enables us to place Malawi in larger contexts in which
some of the experiences the teachers wrote and talked about are also shared by other
teachers in other countries. To that effect, we have observed that some of the injustices
highlighted in the teachers’ narratives also occur in other parts of the world. Many
analyses of the contexts of Malawi’s and Afiica’s socio-economic and political problems
offer discussions that narrowly view Malawi and Africa as isolated from historical and
global forces, curtailing the potential for broader understandings of problems of injustice
and insecurity. By adopting a global social justice theme, the Live 8 concert, despite its
sidelining of artists from the continent, added support to calls to understand Afiica’s
problems in a broader context. The concert therefore managed to bring to the fore issues

of Afiica and global justice that have been taboo to the mainstream media.

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The broader historical and global contexts that broaden our understanding of the
injustice problems that are a central subject of this study were succinctly captured by the
British journalist John Pilger (2005), who provided a stark picture of the problem in a

June 23rd edition of The New Statesman:

At present, for every 1 dollar of “aid” to Africa, 3 dollars are taken out by western banks,
institutions and governments, and that does not account for the repatriated profit of
transnational corporations. Take the Congo. Thirty-two corporations, all of them based in
G8 countries, dominate the exploitation of this deeply irrrpoverished, minerals-rich
country, where millions have died in the “cause” of 200 years of imperialism. In the Cote
d'Ivoire, three G8 companies control 95 per cent of the processing and export of cocoa:
the main resource. The profits of Unilever, a British company long in Africa, are a third
larger than Mozambique's GDP. One American company, Monsanto - of genetic
engineering notoriety - controls 52 per cent of the maize seed in South Africa, that
country's staple food.

These injustices are centuries old, necessitating the question, posed by the Nigerian
Nobel literature laureate, Wole Soyinka (2000): “How far into the past should memory

reach?” (p. 21). Forgetting is not an option, cautions Soyinka:

We cannot take refuge in amnesia. And we can do worse than explore the effects—both
obscured and current—of that ancient but yet unexpiated wrong, as entry points into any
evident malaise within societies, into an understanding of the eruptions that confound
even our grossest projections of the capacity of humanity for unconscionable acts of
violation against its own kind. Such a proceeding, and an objective assessment of the
roles and responsibilities of the participants—both violators and victims—may enable us
to anticipate or identify warning signs of impending repetitions of such collective
derelictions in our own time (p. 22)

Soyinka’s call for keeping alive the memory of injustice, however ancient,
provides a rationale for a concerted program of education. This program fits in with the
4-part theoretical framework, as outlined in Chapter Three. A project for memory, truth
and healing, the theme for Soyinka’s call, starts with the recognition that the humanness
of people has been violated, hence the statement about humanity’s “unconscionable acts
of violation against its own kind” (p. 22). The patterns that emerge from the

autobiographies written by the teachers who participated in the study provide an opening

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for issues-driven cuniculum topics that must be approached in the classroom from a
peace perspective, providing pedagogical action and reflection, hence the praxis in the
framework. In this way, the patterns go in the direction of addressing the issue of
determining the kinds of writing teachers produce, ideas and assumptions about Malawi’s
history and contemporary society, teacher narratives as contexts of understanding
injustice and inequality in Malawi, and a better understanding of Malawi’s educational
needs. The last two points, teacher narratives as ways of understanding injustice and
inequality, and of understanding Malawi’s educational needs, are addressed in further
detail in the concluding parts of the concluding chapter.

As evidenced from the range of experiences these teachers wrote about, being
human is complex. Talking and writing about their lives, a specific genre produced by the
participants, can be read as part of the process to reassert their human dignity and
identity, uMunthu. The life writing is at once an exploration of their world and a
capturing of the meaning of their lives (Sindima, 1995), as well as a revelation of the
“erosion of loss of meaning of life now present in African society” (p. 125). The
autobiographical writing also sheds light on the reflective process these teachers engage
in about their teaching lives, leading to questioning who they are, and how to become
better teachers. An example of this is Sakina. The narrative that comes out of Sakina’s
autobiography is full of introspection about her schooling and her teaching. She writes:
“What other people should know about me is that I am unique,” adding that she should

therefore be treated as such“. She turns the gaze onto herself and says: “Likewise I

 

2’ Sakina’s statement here sounds antithetical to uMunthu, but as pointed out earlier, uMunthu does not
negate the existence of the individual. She hastens to add that she treats her students as unique, which
makes her statement more of a pedagogical issue rather than an ontological one.

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should treat other people including children under my charge as unique. I should treat
them as some persons special. I can learn from them and therefore I should not take them
for granted.” The story Sakina goes on to tell about a girl child she once tried to assist, in
keeping with her philosophy, connects her understanding of her humanness and that of
her students. In so doing, she takes us into her pedagogical beliefs, which share a lot with
how peace educators view the world, and work for social change.

Sakina knew an 11 year-old Standard 3 girl who lost her mother, whom she calls
an orphan (in Malawi orphanage results from loss of the mother, not necessarily the
father). She was living with her father. She was having trouble with schoolwork and
could not read. She was “naughty and absented herself from school,” opting to play
instead. Sakina wondered if she could approach the girl’s father and ask him to take
custody of this girl, and provide her with clothing, food and school needs. Maybe the girl
could change and develop interest in school work. Sakina’s husband agreed with her
decision, and the girl came to stay with them. “She was under my care. She was looking
neat and healthy. She was full time in class and could read some words. She passed and
was in standard 4. I did not forget to pray for her.” And then one day Sakina came home
and found the girl gone. She had returned to her father’s place. Sakina continued seeing
the girl come to school in her uniform, but she stayed outside class. Rather than give up
on the girl, Sakina saw this setback as part of the difficult process of working with
students, and working to become a better teacher herself. In her own way, Sakina is
constructing a definition of praxis for herself, one that weaves into the fabric of her
identity as a human being as well as a teacher. Her praxis informs her pedagogy, as

evidenced when she says: “I am teaching children not only to pass examinations, but to

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prepare them for future roles.” Sakina writes that there is a relationship between the way

teachers handle pupils and the lessons pupils learn from the teachers.

Teachers who bring up the children begin to hate what the children are. Teachers forget
children copy their examples. They talk carelessly like their teachers. They become lazy
like their teachers. They just keep knowledge unapplied like their teachers. We produce
what we sow.

Though the teachers’ life writing cuniculum issues in teaching for peace and
social justice also become apparent. Gender is one of these topics. Like in the
autobiographies by the other women in the study, Sakina is also aware of how her gender
has shaped some of her life experience. Marriage has been one source of her problems,
saying she married at the young age of nineteen, and has regretted it ever since. “I found
no husband who was ready to solve our domestic problems. However I thank them for
their company and financial support.” Her current husband insisted on her leaving a high
post in the district office to revert to a primary school teaching position, a post she rose to
after long years of hard work. Her autobiography, like those of the other women Pinde,
Mwandida and Mfuwo highlights issues girls and women face in Malawi, including
school-related gender-based violence (Lemani & Kadzamira, 2003; Safe Schools
Program, 2004) issues that need to be a part of a curriculum that promotes peace and
social justice.

A curriculum that promotes peace and social justice would also involve teachers,
students and communities in studying how issues of social justice and self-determination
were at the center of the struggle for Malawi’s independence, as autobiographical
accounts by Malawians such as Chipembere (2001), Chibambo (1999), and Chiume

(1983), among others, show. The teachers’ own life writing has brought up stories from

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the post-independence period that for many Malawians have not been told to this day.
Studying both the struggle for independence and the post-independence dictatorship
opens up broader issues of global injustice and insecurity, including historical conflict,
environmental damage, third world debt, slave reparations, among many others.

This chapter has presented a discussion of how the definitions and understandings
of social justice and human security, as presented in Chapter Three, allow for interpreting
the life writing of the participating teachers from a perspective informed by uMunthu
ideals, peace and social justice. The study’s theoretical framework offers an analysis of
the autobiographies and interviews that broadens the epistemic view which for some of
the teachers offers an explanation for how to understand the challenges presented in the
autobiographies and in the interviews. The chapters has explored five patterns emerging
from the narratives, namely, political context, peer violence, the socio-economic, gender
problems of violence in the schooling lives of the female teachers, and the psychological
and structural violence the teachers report struggling against in their lives as adults, and
as teachers. These are the patterns that define social justice and human security from the
perspectives of the teachers’ lives, as presented in their autobiographies and the
interviews. Next, in chapter five, the issue of classroom practices, the pedagogy and

praxis parts of the framework, are taken up.

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Chapter 5

Lessons of peace: problem-solving and social
justice approaches to pedagogy

I entered the Standard Five classroom at Tsigado Primary School as the children
rose from their desks to greet me. “Hello, sir,” they chorused in English. I had not
expected the greeting, so I kept my response short. “Hello everybody; thank you very
much, you may sit down.” The teacher gestured me to a wooden desk by the wall on the
left. I sat on the desk, fourth from the front. There was one other desk behind me, which
was right by the door. I saw other children seating in twos and threes on similar desks. I
counted up to 70 pupils, although I was told, after the lesson, that there were a total of
120 pupils in this Standard Five class.

The walls of the classroom had a straight line engraved into the old paint where
the wall met the edges of the browned wood of the desks. There was a lot of graffiti on
the walls, mostly names of people. One sentence read: “Phillip Phillips was here last
night.” The aluminum roof was quite high, and the wall space, painted white, was
assigned different subject areas for posters and other hangings. The English section had a
couple of newspaper cuttings pasted on a cardboard. “Dowa beast was lion, hyena, wild
pig,” said one news heading, in reference to a wild beast which had terrorized people in
Dowa district in central Malawi two or three years prior. Another news heading read

“Prioritize irrigation.”

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This was the first lesson for me to observe at Tsigado. It came after the writing
institute in which we had began a discussion on what constituted a peace lesson, but had
been unable to come up with a specific definition and format. We wondered if observing
any lessons would help us with ideas to begin answering the question of what constituted
a peace lesson; what differentiated it from day-to-day pedagogical practices as per
teachers’ training and experience.

This chapter is based on themes emerging from an analysis of the classroom
observations that, in the case of Medosi and Tsigado schools, followed the two-week
writing institute. For Chi gwale School, the classroom visits were made simultaneously
with the weekly meetings that constituted the writing institute. Teachers from Medosi and
Tsigado were able to participate in the two-week writing institute because they were on a
two-week break, whereas teachers at Chigwale, who could not join the writing institute
during the break, had their turn for the writing institute after the school semester resumed.
We met in the afiemoon, twice a week, so as to enable the teachers to teach uninterrupted
in the morning and early afternoon, and come to the workshop after school.

In the previous chapter we explored the ways in which the study addressed the
four research questions guiding the study, by examining the patterns emerging from the
narratives in the autobiographies written by eight of the participating teachers, and
interviews carried out with each of the twenty one teachers. The central assrunption in the
chapter was that studying the autobiographical narratives of the teachers’ lives allowed
for an analysis that contextualized social justice and human security, as defined in the
peace fiamework in Chapter Three. An important consideration emerging out of the

analysis was that the autobiographical act the teachers engaged in was a first step in

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reaffirming the teachers’ uMunthu. This analysis opened up inquiry for new concepts that
might inform the peace curriculum and its pedagogy, enacting the praxis of continuing
inquiry for reflective theory and practice.

The purpose of this chapter is to continue in the direction of addressing the four
research questions, by examining the extent to which the four-part theoretical framework
of uMunthu, cuniculum, pedagogy and praxis enables ways of conceptualizing and
enacting classroom practices that promote peace and social justice. The goal for seeking
connections between pedagogy and peace education in classrooms is to identify strategies
that make education relevant to learners’ lives and their communities (Hauya, 1996;
McJessie-Mbewe, 1999; Chimwenje, 2003; Makuwira, 2005). During the one-party era,
classroom pedagogy in Malawi followed closely the dictatorial style of the political
system, as has argued McJessie-Mbewe (1999). It is worth repeating McJessie-Mbewe’s
words to describe what went on: “The political atmosphere of the country instilled in
people fear of those in authority and encouraged the power-holders to dictate to their
subordinates. This type of leadership in schools and other organizations penetrated
throughout Malawian society” (p.19). According to Tambulasi and Kayuni (2005),
“political leaders in the democratic era regarded governance in the autocratic Banda
regime as the very opposite of [uMunthu], upon which Malawian culture is based” (p.
151)

Since then, a number of attempts have been made to align pedagogy to the
democratic ideals the country opted for in the 1992 referendum which led to the 1994
multiparty elections, the first such elections since 1964. However this does not mean that

uMunthu has become an important of the new thinking, as the emphasis has been on

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borrowing from what are considered to be Western ideals of democracy (Kaunda and
Kendall, 2001), with little regard to what is endogenous. Several problems have persisted
in the system, making it difficult for a democratic pedagogy to take root in Malawian
classrooms. These have included inadequate teacher education and overcrowding of
classrooms (Susuwele-Banda, 2005), low levels of educational financing resulting in lack
of materials and supplies, low salaries and low teacher morale (Kadzamira, Nthara and
Kholowa, 2004), among others. In particular, efforts to democratize the educational
process have run into problems stemming from what Kaunda and Kendall (2001) call a
“globalized, mainstream donor and government definition of democracy in the 21St
century” which has restricted the understanding of democracy to “processes” rather than
“outcomes” (p. 6). The result has been an “elitist stance” that emphasizes “the ‘triumph’
of liberal democratic models” that has ignored local knowledge and values, and the
participation of the masses at grass-root levels (p. 7).

Making pedagogy more democratic in Malawian classrooms shares practical and
theoretical considerations with uMunthu epistemology, peace curricula and critical
pedagogies, creating a type of praxis similar to that associated with the ‘problem-posing
method’ propagated by Paulo Freire (1970), and adopted for social justice education
(Allen, 1999; Peterson, 1994, 1999; Adams, Bell and Griffin, 1997). For Freire, teachers
who see their students as situated within their communities and their world adopt the
problem-posing method proceeds, thereby making it possible their students’ education to
reflect their world.

As we saw in Chapter Three, Freire describes teaching in which the teacher “talks

about reality as if it were motionless, static, compartmentalized, and predictable” as

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‘banking’ pedagogy. This teaching introduces students to topics that are alien to their
“existential experience” (p. 71), drawing no connection between schooling and lived
experience. We also saw in Chapter three that F reire’s work has provided a social justice
perspective to education for educators whose communities suffer from social injustice
and human insecurity through inequalities that breed serious social problems. It was in
this context that the F reiran term “conscientization” entered our vocabulary, a way of
mobilizing education for the solving of social problems (Freire, 1982).

While the focus of the previous chapter, teacher autobiographies, pertained more
to the uMunthu part of the framework of this study, the focus of this chapter, classroom
lessons and observations, contributes more to the curriculum, pedagogy and praxis parts.
This chapter takes up the question of how the teachers in the study went about teaching
what in the context of the study were termed “peace lessons”. The chapter approaches
this question through an examination of data from ten lessons observed during the study,
and from interviews and discussions with teachers following the lesson observations. Of
the ten lessons selected for analysis, two were for social studies, and another two for
general studies. I observed one lesson for agriculture, one for English, and four lessons
for mathematics. Following the lesson descriptions are nine challenges that stand out in
the examination of the extent to which the lessons observed went toward incorporating

peace and social justice perspectives. The challenges are as follows:

Teacher beliefs and expectations on children’s capabilities
Overcrowding

Teacher centered pedagogy

Gender perspectives in peace and social justice education

Relevance of classroom practices to local, national and world contexts
Teaching methods and strategies

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0 Curriculum and textbook shortfalls viz. advances in African scholarship
o uMunthu, peace and social justice perspectives in the educational system
0 The demands of praxis

The descriptions of the lessons observed are presented first, followed by an account of
the problematic dynamics in the lessons, and a reconceptualization on the basis of peace
and justice ideals. Next I present a broader discussion of the challenges encountered in
the process of implementing uMunthu, peace and social justice perspectives in the
classroom pedagogy. The lesson and classroom observations exercise was preceded by

discussions, during the writing institute, on how to define what a peace lesson was.

Defining a ‘peace’ lesson

The two-week writing institute had allowed us to notice the difficulty of bringing
peace perspectives to lesson planning and delivery. A lot of the available literature on
peace education is detailed with the rationale for peace education, and the issues that
ought to constitute a peace curriculum. While there is some research on how to teach for
social justice, there is not much on how to develop a lesson plan and teach that lesson
with an emphasis on uMunthu, peace curriculum and pedagogy, and praxis, in an African
context. Thus participants in the study found themselves having to explore uncharted
territory and make decisions on an on-going basis. We began this process by dedicating
an afternoon workshop session to a discussion of what would constitute a peace lesson. It
was hard to use the format provided in the existing teachers’ guides for peace and social
justice pedagogy. Two important questions emerged: What was a peace lesson? What

distinguished a peace lesson from an ordinary lesson?

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To answer these two questions, we needed to familiarize ourselves with what an
ordinary lesson looked like. I observed the teachers teach a number of lessons. When we
met later to draw up criteria that constituted a peace lesson, we came up with a list that
included several features of what is considered good teaching in the generic sense. The

list also included features that had a specific peace approach:

Pre-planning
0 Use of resource persons
Connection to understanding and solving a problem in the class, school,
community, country or world
Projects and research, whether individual, group, whole class or whole school
Use of writing to research, analyze and report findings
Pupil-centered, not teacher-centered
Real discussion, not extended question and answer
Relevance to conserving the environment
Story-telling with peace themes
Open-ended questions, not chorus answers
Attempts to understand root causes of problems

Whereas most of the points on this list are what good teachers consider as
important aspects of good teaching, the challenges that many Malawian teachers face
restrict their options. Few teachers in Malawi are able to use these and other innovative
ideas in their teaching; many teachers teach without attempting to involve themselves and
their students beyond the bare minimum of what is considered good teaching. In Malawi,
the reasons for this situation include lack of resources, leading to underfunding of
education, overcrowding of classrooms, inadequate teacher education, low teacher
morale, among others (Susuwele, 2005; Kadzarnira, Nthara and Kholowa, 2004). These
problems are however not peculiar to Malawi as other teachers in other parts of the world

also report facing similar issues (Ayers, 2004; Allen, 1999).

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The following descriptions of the ten lessons observed illustrate these problems
and their contexts, and how they posed challenges toward the enactment of a pedagogical
praxis for uMunthu, peace and social justice. For every lesson, I provide a description
first, followed by an analysis, after which I offer a reconceptualization of the lesson from
a peace and social justice perspective. The descriptions are of unequal lengths, owing to
the differing amounts of time each lesson took. Some lessons were very brief, running no
more than ten minutes, while others went well beyond the designated 50 minutes. The
same happened to the post-observation discussions, some of them being brief, others

running up to two three hours.

Lesson One: Choosing leaders (Standard 5, 120 students)

The teacher started the lesson by reviewing the previous lesson in the Unit, which
he said had been on types of leaders in the school. Much of the lesson was characterized
by the teacher asking questions that called on pupils to either repeat after him, or to give
one-word responses. “Today, we are going to learn about choosing leaders. Choosing
who?” And the pupils would chorus back “Leaders.” The teacher’s sense of wait period
lasted for up to 30 seconds after posing a question. He used Chichewa to rephrase a
question if he sensed lack of comprehension from the pupils. The pupils remained mostly
quiet and seated throughout the period. I saw no pupil get up to go out of the room, nor to
move from one place to another. There were no pupils talking out of turn, nor holding
side conversations while the teacher talked. All eyes were on him nearly all of the period.

The teacher made the students go through an actual voting process by making

them vote for a class monitoress. He told them they already had a monitor, a boy, but the

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girls also needed their leader. He first asked them to nominate three names, which he
wrote on the board. One student nominated somebody by pointing to the nominee, and
the teacher had to ask, “What's her name?” “There she is,” said the pupil, pointing to the
one she was nominating, as other pupils supplied the name. That was the longest sentence
I heard a pupil utter during the 38 minutes the lesson lasted.

The teacher then told the pupils to tear out a piece of paper on which to write a
name. They became excited as they turned to their notebooks, quickly flipping through
them looking for blank pages. He gave them rules for how to vote: not to reveal the name
of their candidate to another person, and not to write two names on the same piece of
paper. Such ballots were known as “null and void,” he told them. After writing down the
name of their candidate, they should fold their piece of paper. He went round collecting
the ballot papers and took them to his desk in the left comer in front of the classroom. He
invited two boys and two girls to come over and count the votes. The first two candidates
polled 10 and 17 respectively, while the third polled 40. There was jubilant hand clapping
for the winner that began as soon as the reader read out the 18th vote. To end the lesson,
the teacher asked the pupils to restate the key points of the lesson, ways of choosing
candidates. He beckoned to me to indicate the lesson was over, and we left the room.

To start the post-observation discussion, I was looking for a way for us to talk
about the lesson and the way he taught it, without appearing too eager to do this, as I felt
he was anxious about receiving unkind criticism. He opened the way by asking me to
give him my impressions of how he had performed. “In terms of the banking model,
pupils’ participation, etc,” he said. I told him I would start by running through my notes,

for him to get a sense of what had gone on. I told him I skipped several things because

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the lesson moved quite fast. I opened my notebook and read out to him my notes. I spoke
in both English and Chichewa. When I finished, I invited him to react by explaining some
of his steps and why, providing an assessment of his own performance. He began by
saying he thought starting the lesson by reviewing the previous lesson worked well.
When he went to the development of the lesson he knew that the pupils already knew
some of the ways of choosing leaders, but not all of them were suggested in the lesson.
He said he used Chichewa in some cases because he felt not all of them understood
English. He said it was important that the pupils actually participated in a voting exercise
to elect a class monitoress, which gave them some involvement in the lesson. “I can say
perhaps the lesson ran into trouble when I asked them about ways of choosing leaders,
appointment and inheritance. It appeared as if they didn’t have any knowledge at all. So I
had to come in to tell them the two terms—appointment and inheritance.”

I then asked him to clarify his earlier question about whether he used the banking
technique. “I asked that because is it Ardizzone. . .?” “Freire” “Yes, Freire.” Kadaluka
went on to talk about how he understood Freire’s point about teacher-centered teaching,

and how he felt he had not measured up to the expectation:

[Freire] said it is not as if the children have absolutely nothing in their heads. They do
have some knowledge that they can contribute. Therefore a lesson should not be teacher-
centered. One needs to involve the pupils so they can contribute what thoughts they have.
So I wanted to know how you observed the lesson, since it appears as if the lesson was
teacher-centered. I involved only myself, without involving the children so as to hear
their opinions

This awareness of Ardizzone and Freire, and of the ideas they were conveying in their
Writing, was one indication of how this teacher made a connection between the workshop
and his teaching. The teacher continued by saying he felt that there were things he could

have done toward achieving a more participatory lesson. “We could have come to

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practice, to practice voting. The pupils were excited with it. Instead of just asking them
questions, which could have bored some of them because they didn’t know the answers,
they were all excited.” I wondered how many pupils were in the class, and he said more
than a hundred. He settled for about 110. I then pointed out that going by areas could
have perhaps involved about 6 pupils; 6 out of 110. Weren’t there other ways that could
ensure participation by as many pupils as possible?

“Then I could tell them to go into groups. Use group discussions. They would go
into those groups, and if the points in one group are similar, they record only one. If there
are different points, they list them all, then report. And another group. . .” How many
pupils per group? “Between 7 and 10. Some groups go up to 12.” I asked whether the
desks could be arranged in a way that promoted group work and interaction amongst
them, and he said it would take time to do that every time you needed group work.

Were there other places in the lesson where group work could have been used?
What was the percentage of teacher-centeredness, in a rough estimate? He said he
dominated about 62 percent. When I probed him on what he saw as 38 percent pupil
participation, I pointed out that many of the responses from pupils were really one word
answers, many of them repeating after him, or answering questions that he posed, some
of them of the yes/no type. How about the percentage of pupils who raised their hands
and were called upon to provide an answer? He said about 14.

Here I pointed out that from my observations, most of the class was attentive, and
many pupils raised their hands to contribute answers. That showed they paid attention to
most of what he said, and they wanted to be involved. I pointed out that it was also a

good idea that they actually voted and produced a result. Now there was a class

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monitoress. Even the girl who was voted for, she would not easily forget the lesson. It
was also good that he wrote words on the board, so they could see how they were spelt,
and pronounced. Although he used Chichewa here and there, I noted that their general
level of English comprehension was quite high, I said.

In as far as peace and social justice ideas were concerned, the teacher and students
in the lesson faced a number of problems. One of these problems was overcrowding. I
counted 70 students sitting in three and fours per desk, but the room was clearly
overcrowded. The wooden desks were heavy, and the narrow aisles between the rows left
no room to move the desks around. Ensuring that as many of the students as possible
participated in and benefited from the lesson was therefore not easy. As I later learned
from the teacher, up to 50 pupils were absent on this particular day, meaning that the full
class was about 120 students. If 70 students had difficulty fitting into the room I could
not imagine how 120 students could. When I asked what could explain 50 students being
absent, the teacher attributed it to “mere laziness”. He went on to say it could have also
been the weather as it had been showering during the morning time when pupils normally
started walking to school.

To the extent that the teachers had discussed more, deliberate involvement of
students in orienting their pedagogy to peace and social justice, the teacher was
somewhat successful. Given the difficulties posed by the overcrowding, and the
classroom management problems that could have caused, making students participate in a
voting process, and getting the students to pay attention through much of the lesson was
an achievement by the teacher. The content was designed with little attention to peace

and social justice concerns, making it even more difficult for a teacher not trained in a

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peace and justice tradition. This raises the need for uMunthu, peace and social justice
approaches to be initiated as early as possible in the curriculum reform process, and at the
pre-service (teacher education) and in-service (professional development) levels. With
such a focus, it would be easier for teachers to stress the connection between the choosing

of leaders, as was the topic of this lesson, and peace ideals.

Lesson Two: Activities in land preparation for groundnuts or beans

At Chi gwale Primary School I observed a Standard 7 agriculture lesson with the
topic “Activities in land preparation for groundnuts or beans”. It was a very short lesson,
and lasted about ten minutes. It seemed as if the teacher used the lesson to fill up time left
from the previous lesson, or he had planned it to be a short lesson for some reason. He
might also have been reviewing a previously taught lesson. The teacher started by
reviewing the previous lesson in the Unit, which had been on conditions necessary for the
cultivation of groundnuts or beans. For the present lesson, the teacher asked what a
farmer should do to prepare land for groundnuts or beans. Four items were offered as
answers: clear the land, till the land, make ridges, and make box ridges. The teacher
wrote on the board in bold letters: “Importance of box ridges”. In small letters he wrote:
“Box ridges are important because they hold water.” To end the short lesson he
announced: “We have completed the topic of land preparation. Next time we are going to
meet we will talk about seed selection.”

The lesson described above, on activities in land preparation for groundnuts and
beans, is one example of lessons that were taught with little attempt to put them in local,

national and global contexts. There are several farming areas and activities surrounding

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the school, but the lesson made no connection to any of these. Going out of the classroom
to the fields could have added a ‘problem-solving’ aspect to the lesson. Agriculture is
said to be the backbone of the Malawian economy, and over 80 percent of the population
is said to live on subsistence farming (Nankhuni, 2004). Every few years tens of
thousands of Malawians face food crises, the last two of which have closely followed
each other in 2001/2002 and 2005/2006. In 2004 the country was still reeling from the
2001/2002 drought. The school itself was being provided with food supplies through a
World Food Program school feeding project. The lesson I observed at Chigwale made no
attempt to bring any of these connections into discussion and engage the students in
problem solving. Regardless of whether the lesson was a review, or time filler, important
connections to local and national relevance were missed. Connecting the lesson to these
contexts, as illustrated above, would have moved the lesson towards peace and social

justice ideals.

Lesson Three: Storytelling/Accidents involving water

I entered this standard 3 classroom and found the teacher leading a folk-tale
telling lesson. In one folk tale, a female student told of a grandmother who was sick. In
the story the grandmother gave specific instructions for her funeral. Upon her death, the
instructions were ignored. The storyteller led the class into a song in which the listeners
participated. The teacher then asked the class what lessons the folktale gave. There was
silence for about half a minute. The teacher wondered if the students were listening. Two
pupils offered responses, both about the need to follow directions. The teacher added that

forgetfulness was always a result of lack of respect, of rudeness.

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The teacher then went to the chalkboard and wrote “General studies.” She broke
into a song about a man who complained about life. The song talks about a man who eats
food when hungry, and drinks water when thirsty.

A Phirz' samalira moyo

Samalira mayo

Sima adyera njala
Samalira moyo

Madzi amwera ludzu
Samalira moyo

A Phiri samalira moyo
Samalira moyo

“The song talks about the importance of water,” said the teacher to the pupils. “What are
the uses of water,” she asked. Pupils gave several suggestions: drinking, washing,
bathing, cooking, etc. “Where can water he found”? After two minutes of pupils’
responses she asked: “How can we take care of water?” She then wrote on the board in
Chichewa: ‘Accidents involving water.’ Pupils provided examples such as landslides,
flooding, drowning, and being caught by crocodiles. She then asked the pupils about how
to help survivors of the said accidents. One pupil offered an elaborate explanation for
how in case of a crocodile capturing a human being, you could use a sharp reed and stab
the crocodile for it to release the human being from its jaws. The teacher offered further
elaborations on the technique, adding that the reed needed to be slipped into the
crocodile’s mouth to make it swallow water. The moments it starts swallowing water, it

will let go of the person.

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The teacher then repeated the main points of the lesson, breaking into the same
song she had opened the lesson with. She then announced it was time for porridge. When
we sat down to review the lesson, she immediately asked me about my assessment of the
lesson. What did the students learn from the lesson, she asked. Since I was mostly
interested in her own assessment of the lesson, I steered the discussion towards her views
of the lesson. I asked the teacher about the methods she had used in the lesson. She
mentioned singing, discussion, explanation and demonstration. The teacher stated that
she could have also used dramatization, another good method, but that it involved only a
few students. “The rest of the pupils do not show interest; only those involved.” I asked
her how many pupils she thought had been actively involved in the lesson, and she said
40-50 out of 86. I asked her about the source of the technique she had told the students
about how to make a crocodile swallow water so it can let go a human being, and she said
it was from her personal experience living near a lake and listening to fisherrnen’s stories.

Although the storytelling lesson was at its end when I entered this classroom, the
little that I saw reaffirmed the potential that storytelling is known to have in Malawian
society, and in other educational settings (Florio-Ruane, 2001; Bruner, 1994).
Storytelling allows for a more participatory pedagogy, and is a method that has stood the
test of time in endogenous teaching methods in Malawian society. Storytelling makes a
productive fit with the ideals of uMunthu when it promotes the vitality of individual
students to give them space to share their knowledge and experiences with others.
Storytelling adds to peace and social justice by its democratic and participatory

principles, and by its characteristics that deal with social issues.

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The lesson on accidents involving water sought to involve students by soliciting
their knowledge and experience, and by its relevance to particular issues of human safety
and security. The lesson also drew from endogenous knowledge. A more deliberate and
planned focus on uMunthu, peace and social justice would have stressed the importance
of local knowledge, and the responsibility of everyone for the safety and security of

others.

Lesson Four: Factors for the decline of Greek civilization

Next was a Standard 8 social studies lesson. The lesson was taught by Katchikolo,
at Chigwale Primary School. The lesson was on the Greek civilization, and the teacher
started by reviewing with the students the previous lesson in which they had looked at
factors that led Greek civilization. The Spartans were physically fit, and Athens produced
great thinkers. They were taught music, art, and mathematics. Examples of great thinkers
were given as Plato, Aristotle and Socrates. The teacher stated that the Greek states were
independent of each other, but they had some things in common. “What were these
things?” The teacher wrote on the chalkboard answers that the students gave: language—
they all spoke Greek; religion—they believed they were controlled by gods. The teacher
asked students to name some of the influential gods the Greeks believed in. He repeated
the question three times before the first student volunteered an answer: “Socrates.” The
teacher responded and pointed out that “Socrates was one of the great thinkers, not a god.
Okay?” He went ahead to write on the chalkboard.
i. Zeus—he was king of gods and lord of weather
ii. Athena—she was god of wisdom and civilization

iii. Apollo—he was god of sun, music and prophecy
iv. Aphrodite—(pupil’s contribution) god of love and beauty.

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Next the lesson moved to reasons for the decline of Greek civilization. The
teacher asked the pupils to get into groups of five and discuss the question. One group
came up with the answer that there was “lack of unity among city states.” The teacher
wrote on the board: “With the passage of time the Greek city states became
individualistic and they no longer organized themselves as a united country.” The teacher
told the students the second factor, that Athens and Sparta fought each other, before
asking them which of the states defeated the other. One student mentioned Sparta, and the
teacher asked why. “Because it was organized as a military city state. Athens was
defeated,” responded the student.

The third factor was that foreigners invaded and defeated them, examples being
Persians and Macedonians. The teacher used a Chichewa saying to illustrate the point,
translating into something like “When you quarrel amongst yourselves, outsiders come in
and take control.” The teacher retraced his steps and announced that they had forgotten
one other thing that the Greek city states had in common: games. “Every 4 years, they
met at Mt Olympus for different games. Football, Netball, Gymnastics.” The bell went at
10:13, twenty nine minutes into the lesson. The teacher asked the pupils if they had any
questions on the factors that led to Greek civilization. There being no question, he asked
the students to pick up their notebooks and copy down notes fiom the board. He ended
the lesson by announcing that next week the topic would be “Contributions of the Greeks
to the modern world,” adding in Chichewa “things that they did, that we do today.”

After the lesson we sat down to discuss the teacher’s views on how it went.

“Fairly good,” said the teacher. “They were able to answer questions because they had

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read the book.” He observed that there were no teaching and learning aids, which
sometimes aroused interest. I asked what kinds of teaching and learning aids would be
suitable for this lesson, and he said these were not easy for a lesson like this one. “Maybe
pictures showing some of the Greek gods.” He went on to add: “In most cases, pupils like
listening to a teacher rather than participating. They think what they can say is not
important or worthy, so they like listening to the teacher.” He also said some students had
a poor background, that they did not pass the Standard 7 examination but still went into
Standard 8 only because their parents complained to the headteacher about their age.

The content and approach of this lesson combine to raise the issue of shortfalls in
curriculum and in the textbooks in light of advances in African scholarship. The
curriculum and textbooks do not appear to make adequate connections between ancient
civilizations in other parts of the world, and ancient civilizations that the forebearers of
present day Malawians were part of. The recent scholarship on the geographical and
historical reach, Afiican identity and heritage cover much of Sub-Saharan Africa, with
massive migrations in and out of the region. The textbooks and the Malawian school
curriculum in general have not taken advantage of these advances made by African
historians, confirming Zeleza’s (1997) observation that the school curriculum in Africa
does not make us of the advances in knowledge made by scholars in Africa and in other
parts of the world. This state of affairs creates the impression that there are significant
gaps and omissions in the ideas and assumptions about Malawi’s history and
contemporary society that teachers work with. As we already observed earlier in this
chapter, this state of affairs does not occur in Africa only. Teachers and scholars in other

parts of the world have also expressed concerns about similar problems in the school

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cuniculum, some citing inadequate teacher training (Allen, 1999), and others mentioning
ideological and political biases (McCarthy, 1998; Willinsky, 1998; Nieto, 1999; Harding,
1992; Apple, 2000).

An illustration of the observation by Zeleza is the Standard Eight lesson on the
decline of the Greek civilization. I was curious to find out from the teacher’s schemes of
work, the weekly schedule of topics, what the sequence of the topics was. I wondered if
there was a place for the debates surrounding works such as Cheikh Anta Diop (1974),
George G. J arnes (1954), Molefi Asante (1998), Martin Bemal (1987; 1991), and others,
about the Afiican influences on Greek civilization. In other words, I was checking for the
extent to which Zeleza’s (1997) view about the gap between African scholarship and the
school curriculum held true. The teachers’ schemes of work, drawn from the official
teaching syllabus, made no reference to the debates. The reference list at the end of the
official teaching syllabus contains thirteen references, none of which refer to the debates
about the influences of Afi'ican civilizations on the Greek civilization. Of the thirteen
references, three are history books, and none of these appear to make any specific
reference to the debates.

Missing from the discussion of the rise and fall civilization is the scholarship on
the debates about the influence that ancient African civilizations are believed by some
scholars to have had on Greek civilizations, and how several African groups were in and
out of ancient Egypt at various periods (Bemal, 2001; Asante, 1998; 1996; Diop, 1974;

J arnes, 1954). There are also scholars that refute these claims (Leflcowitz, 1996; Walker,
2001), creating a debate that raises important questions about the political, ideological

and sociological contexts that shape what becomes accepted as school knowledge.

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Part of this debate in its Malawi context involves the 19th century Scottish
missionary explorer David Livingstone. Livingstone is said to have recorded what the
Akafiila, an ethnic group with diminutive features who are believed to be now extinct,
told him about their ancestry (Ransford, 1966). They sang songs in praise of Pharaoh,
who ruled Egypt two to four thousand years earlier. Yet the Akafula were people who
inherited no written record of their history. Another intriguing connection between
present day Malawi, and ancient Egypt that needs further investigation are rock paintings
found in Mphunzi Hills, in Dedza district, in Malawi’s central region. An artist examined
the painting and wrote in a 1956 issue of The Nyasaland Journal that the paintings
resembled the Egyptian hieroglyphics (Metcalfe, 1956). Other scholars have also
suggested that at various periods during its peak as a world civilization, ancient Egypt
was populated by people fiom different parts of Africa, including East and central Africa,
of which present day Malawi is a part (Bemal, 2001). Martin Bemal believes that
“ancient Egypt was both civilized and Afiican and, Men that its population included
some men and women of what we now think of as Central Afiican appearance in
politically and culturally important positions” (p.24).

The connections between ancient Egypt and Sub-Saharan Africa that Bernal
discusses have been the subject of Africa-centered scholarship in the last several hundred
years, although they date back to Greek history and scholarship, conventionally offered
as the genesis of modern civilization. The central concern has been to restore histories
and knowledges, and fill gaps in which the place of Afiica in world civilization has been
removed, leading to a view of an African identity in which the African, according to

Cheikh Anta Diop (1996) “lacks self-confidence and does not believe in his own

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capabilities, a situation that is fatal for a task as positive as the struggle for national
freedom” (p.50).

None of the debates reflected in this scholarship find a place in the Malawian
curriculum. The colonial system and its type of education is one important cause of these

problems, argues Diop (ibid.). As a result, teachers and students are:

ignorant of the facts of history either because they have been carefully hidden from or deformed
before being taught to [them], and [they] have ended up accepting those views that colonial
education wanted [them] to imbibe in order to perpetuate [their] docility, namely that [they do not]
have a history or culture comparable to that of Europe, that [they are] therefore made to obey and
not to organise or to assume responsibilities (p.50).

Diop’s point raises broader issues of historical and global injustice being perpetuated
through the failure of the education system in Malawi and in other countries in Afiica and
the rest of the world to place uMunthu, peace and social justice at the center of the

curriculum and pedagogical practice.

Lesson Five: Decimals

On Wednesday May 26 I observed a short mathematics lesson at Chigwale, taught
by Mr. Mwalawo. I walked into the Standard 7 classroom at 8.15am, and found students
working on arithmetic problems. The classroom walls were bare and had no hangings.
There was some graffiti on them. One comer of the classroom was set aside as a
storeroom, with a short wall jutting out and making it look like a closet. The tiny
storeroom was full of green brushes bundled together into brooms. The teacher had
temporarily gone out. One girl showed me a list of 25 problems they were supposed to go
through. Another girl pointed to a different list and said the 25 problems were homework

from the previous day.

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The teacher walked in at 8.25 and showed me the problems for that day. He
announced to the students that they would now work on some examples. He called up one
girl in front to demonstrate. At 8.39 one boy came and knocked on the door, apparently
seeking permission to come in. “You are late,” said the teacher. “Go back home.” After a
pause, the teacher changed his mind: “One period is already gone. Tomorrow don’t be so
late.” He gestured to the student to enter. A few more students were called up front to
practice working out decimal fractions. Some had problems, and appeared to need more
time. The lesson ended at 8.47.

In the post-observation interview with Mwalawo, the teacher of this Standard 7
class, we focused on the dynamics of classroom management and connections to
uMunthu, peace and social justice. In discussing the issue of late-coming, Mwalawo said
he would normally send pupil back home if they came late. After our discussions of the
readings, especially McJessie-Mbewe’s article on a democratic classroom, Mwalawo felt
that sending students back home for being tardy deprived the students of an opportunity
to learn. In the lesson discussed above, Mwalawo initially told the student who had come
late to go back home. He then changed his mind and allowed the pupil to enter the
classroom. Mwalawo alluded to this incident in his autobiography also, where he wrote:
“We meet and discuss lessons of peace education. This has made most of the teachers’
attitudes of beating a child, giving strong punishments, etc, to phase out. This time
teachers of Chigwale are able to discuss and hear the problems of a child in a fiiendly
manner.” It is in small examples like this that the emphasis of this study on teacher
autobiographical narrative provides an avenue for teacher praxis (Freire, 1970, 1982;

Spence and Makuwira, 2005); a space for action and reflection, theory and practice, in an

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ongoing inquiry to make classroom pedagogy and schooling relevant to the educational

needs of Malawians.

Lesson Six: Writing numbers 6, 7, 8 and 9

There were two Standard 1 classes at Chigwale Primary School, each with a
different teacher, but this day one of the teachers was ill. So the other teacher combined
the two classes (A rough count showed there almost 200 children, but the official
enrolled figure was 469 in both Standard 1 classes combined). The lesson was held under
a tree, and the children sat directly on the dusty ground. There were red bricks lined up
on the edges to demarcate the classroom space. The lesson started at 8.35am with the
teacher, Mrs. Nyezi, leading the children in song: Belu lalila, ngo ngo ngo, ana tonse
tikhale chete (The bell has gone, ngo ngo ngo, all of us children must keep quiet). The
teacher wrote the date on the blackboard, and then asked the children to count from 6 to
9. Several hands went up, with the children shouting “Teacher! Teacher!” asking the
teacher to call on them. “No, don’t make noise. Just raise your hand,” said the teacher.

One child counted accurately, and the teacher asked the class to clap hands for the
child. “Let’s all count together,” she said and the children did so. “I want you to write 6-8
on the board,” she announced.” Again the children shouted “Teacher! Teacher!” Again
the teacher admonished: “No, I don’t want teacher-teacher.” One pupil wrote 6 correctly,
and the teacher invited another pupil to come and do the same. The second kid wrote the
number 9. The teacher asked the class if that was the number 6, and the class shouted
“Nooo.” The teacher pointed out that she did not mean the first child was wrong, she just

wanted the second child to write like the first child. Another girl came and wrote the

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number 9 too. “Did you see? She says that’s 6. I reject that answer.”

The teacher invited the children to come and write the number 7. One child came
and wrote the number 5. The teacher asked him to read out the number, and the child said
5. “Clap hands for him,” said the teacher. Then the teacher showed the children how to
trace the letter in the air. “Rise, fall,” her voice went following the movement of the
finger in the air. The letter 8 was next. One girl counted 8 by asking 8 pupils to stand up.
Then the children wrote the number in the sand. The teacher broke into song, and the
children picked it up. “Mwana ali kumudzi sangadziwe 5 .” (“The child who stays at home
can’t know the number 5.”)

One child reported another child provoking him. The teacher responded: “You are
new here. You are not from Chigwale. Children from Chigwale don’t do that.” The
procedure continued to 9, tracing the number in the air, in the sand, and children
attempting it on their own. Then the teacher asked the children to take out their notebooks
and write the numbers. I went around looking at their efforts. The teacher asked me to
help her mark the children’s work. I was surrounded by a crowd of children all shoving
their notebooks at me. Most children wrote 9 successfirlly, but some did not. The teacher
ended the lesson before we could mark all the children’s work. It had taken from 8: 35 to
9: 23, a total of 48 minutes.

In May the weather starts getting cool, and at one point it felt chilly under the tree.
A few children coughed persistently. I stayed on for two more lessons, which were all the
teacher could cover for the day. After the second lesson the children took a break, and as
they returned from the break it was time for their porridge. The porridge took about 30

minutes, and after that there was time for one lesson only. At some point the teacher

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asked one boy to stand up and come to the front. He looked a bit older than most of the
class. “Do you see this boy?” she asked the children. She went ahead to tell the class that
at his age, this boy did not belong in Standard One, and that he was there only for the
porridge. She told the children about how he showed up for class just before the break so
he could have porridge. She explained that the porridge was not for children in the
village; it was for children who wanted to be in school and learn. She ordered the boy to
spend the rest of the lesson standing.

The above description points to a number of problems that the teacher and the
students are encountering. Having to learn under a tree, in the dirt, exposes both the
teacher and the students to harsh weather. Several students were coughing persistently.
The students’ attention was divided between things happening around the school, which
they could see by simply turning their heads, and the lesson. Because of the large number
of children, and the open air space, the teacher had to shout very loudly to be heard by all
the students. She told me after the lesson that she always went home feeling pain in her
ribs and throat from the shouting.

The teacher made the effort to keep the class orderly and maintain the students’
attention, by breaking into song once in a while. The song had the effect of drawing the
students’ attention to the class. The teacher used several strategies aimed at helping as
many students as possible to practice writing the numbers, in the air, in the sand, and in
their notebooks. She tried to mark notebooks for nearly all the students, which
encouraged the children to write in their notebooks. Probably because of the sheer
numbers of the students, or, perhaps, out of habit, the teacher used direct instruction.

Regardless of the reason, group work would be inconceivable. The directness of her

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approach extended to her manner of disciplining the children. When a child gave the
wrong answer in one instance, her reaction was direct: “Did you see? She says that’s 6. I
reject that answer.” And when one student was told on for bothering another, she outed
him by saying he was an outsider, he did not come from the area. She meted out similar
treatment to the boy she alleged only came to school just in time for the porridge, in, front
of the whole class.

The teacher, Mrs. Nyezi, was not a participant in the research project. She had
been invited, but had declined, saying as an older teacher approaching retirement, she
should give room to the younger teachers. The conditions in which she taught on this
particular day, and on other days, made it difficult for a ‘problem-solving’ approach. As
already observed, Standard One had the highest enrolment for any class in the school.
Mrs. Nyezi was thus dealing with more than 250 students on this day. The class met
under a tree, because the room they had previously been using had been converted into a
storage room for the school feeding project. The day was cold and overcast, and
contributed to the discomfort of the little children. Being outside under a tree also meant
that Mrs. Nyezi had to compete with noises in the vicinity, which forced her to shout in
order for the children to hear her. She told me everyday she went home with pain in her
ribs from the shouting.

However, as with the other teachers, there were aspects of her lessons that
embraced problem-solving and peace education ideals. Her goal for every child in the
class to participate in the drawing of numbers, and the songs she used to draw children’s
attention and at the same time to convey a message, were examples of this. As with the

other teachers, Mrs. Nyezi did not explicitly work with a peace and social justice

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perspective. This can be explained by the absence of peace perspectives in the official

teaching syllabus, the teachers’ guides and the pupils’ books.

Lesson Seven: Spelling

This lesson was on English, on Thursday June 3, in Kadaluka’s Standard 5 class
at Tsigado. The teacher and I had pre-planned the lesson I observed on this day. The pre-
planning session had focused on how to connect the lesson to real issues in the pupils’
lives or communities. That was how we defined parameters of a peace lesson. I entered as
the teacher worked with the pupils on a chart in the pupils’ book. The chart was on
rainfall amounts in two different districts of Malawi. The teacher was drilling the students
on how to create sentences based on data gleaned fi'om the chart. After some five or so
minutes the teacher shifted focus to another activity. “Let’s go to the pupils’ book. We’ll
read ‘Yusuf the Houseboy’. I want somebody who can help their friends.” The teacher
called out names of four children to work in pairs. He assigned them characters in the
drama script. In the first pair, one pupil was able to read without problems, and the other
had difficulty. “Call your mum,” shouted the boy who read without problems. The class
burst out laughing. The teacher called out to the second pair and had them take up the
characters and read the script. One student read without problems, the other had
problems. The one who had no problems came to his fiiend’s aid by offering the proper
enunciations and pronouncement. His tone was gentle and kind. “Have you seen the two
pairs?” asked the teacher. “Here we had Poya and Dela. We want you to read as friends.
Don’t shout at your fiiend if he or she fails to read. He stressed his point in Chichewa:

Don’t shout at one another.” He then asked them to go into groups, three desks forming

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one group. He instructed them to read in pairs and to remember to be gentle and kind
when helping out those who had trouble reading. After five minutes they went back to
their seats. The teacher then posed comprehension questions. “Where did Mrs. J uma go
to have her hairdo?” Pupil: “Mrs J uma go to the saloon.” The teacher corrected: “It

3”

should be Mrs Juma went . . . the past tense of ‘go’ is ‘went. He went on correcting
their grammar mistakes until they finished the exercise. The comprehension questions
over, the teacher told the class they would play a spelling game next. It was called
‘Stepping stone,”’ he told them. The teacher drew a river on the board and explained the
instructions. Each stepping-stone across the breadth of the river represented a letter in a
word. When the letter was wrong, the speller fell into the river. The lesson ended, and the
teacher announced that they would go to another English lesson. “We will start with
spelling again,” he announced. They spent three minutes with the spelling game, before
moving to the next activity.

“We are going to practice requesting and giving permission.” He called to one
student and asked him: “Charlie, can you give me your pen?” The student replied “Yes,”
and the teacher corrected him: “Yes, Sir.” He repeated the demonstration with a girl,
before inviting two other students to demonstrate. Then he asked the rest of the class to
repeat the activity in pairs in their desks. Next the lesson moved to requesting and
refusing permission, and the teacher led the class in the same steps as the previous
activity. When they finished this the teacher asked the students to go to page 58 and do
exercise ‘C.’ The exercise asked students to create opposites of given words: polite;

moral; practical; passable; and mature.

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The teacher explained the meanings of the words in Chichewa. He then
announced to the students: “Now I want you to demonstrate an action that shows the
meaning of the word.” The teacher asked the class to imagine what action would
demonstrate the meaning of the word ‘polite.’ One pupil explained in Chichewa saying
somebody could go up and deliver a book to the teacher. Kneeling before the teacher
would demonstrate the meaning of the word, said the student. The teacher then assigned
each of the words to a particular group. The groups spent a few minutes working out the
assignment and coming up with a demonstration. For ‘mature,’ an older boy offered
advice on respecting parents. It was not clear what the demonstration for ‘moral’ was. For
‘practical,’ one boy went up to the front and demonstrated how to make a paper plane.
The demonstration for ‘passable’ was not obvious. The teacher asked if that was all they
had planned. He asked if another group could help this group. Two pupils offered
suggestions and they made another attempt. They demonstrated a vehicle driving through
obstacles to show an ‘impassable’ road, the opposite of ‘passable.’

After the lesson I asked the teacher about his views on how the two lessons went.
“The lesson was not successful. There were areas where I felt the pupils failed to
perform.” He listed five areas of problems. First, the children were slow learners. They
mixed up giving permission and refusing permission. Second, some of them failed to read
the dialogue in ‘Yusuf the Houseboy.’ Third, they had problems coming up with the right
demonstration for the meanings of the words and their opposites. The forth problem, he
pointed out, was that the activities took longer than the planned time. The main cause of

this was that the pupils had problems, he said. The fifth problem was that

Even I myself I’m not satisfied with the way I have presented the lesson. I feel my
preparations were not enough. I was mostly using situations we have in class. Had it been

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that I prepared thoroughly I could have used examples right from their homes. Would
you let me go to play. . .watch the TV. . .listen to music. . . sometimes it helps to take the
child back to their home. They take it as a real situation. They shouldn’t be confined to
the classroom situation only. When they go home they fail to replicate. . .

I asked him to remind me what the objectives had been, and he said one was to
“demonstrate their understanding of a play they have read by answering questions on it,”
and the second was to “compare things or people.” He said their pronunciations were also
a problem. He needed to visit most of them in their pairs. It would also be necessary to
mix those who were quick to understand with those who were slow. I asked him what
percentage he thought was quick and he said 35. I asked what contributed to the slow
learners and he said lack of confidence, shyness, and fear of being laughed at.

I noted that Kadaluka had brought new ideas to the lesson on top of what we had
planned. For example in our planning we did not talk using two pairs to demonstrate an
unfiiendly way of helping others, and a friendly way of doing so. I observed that there
was not much wait time given, which easily gave the impression that the pupils were
failing to perform. The entire lesson was fast paced, which also kept it lively. When
wrong, pupils were not given a chance to think of where they were wrong and correct
their mistakes. The teacher was quick to offer explanations even in cases where pupils
could be given a chance to explain what they did. An example was during the activities
demonstrating meanings and opposites of words. The teacher would go ahead to explain
to the class what had just been demonstrated, something the children could have done
themselves. It was as if the teacher was not sure that the students could explain their own

actions. The groups were too big to handle. I counted fifteen pupils crowding around one

group.

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Prior to the lesson, Kadaluka had stated that he had not prepared for this lesson
well enough. “Of course, as far as reading the teachers’ guide, I did that. But I didn’t go
as far as writing a lesson plan, planning for it well enough. Normally you look at the
syllabus, you know how you will move from one lesson to another. That I did. But to sit
down and prepare, look for more information, things like those, that I didn’t do.” In the
post-observation discussion, I asked him how the lesson would have looked like had he
sat down to carefully prepare for it in detail. “On my part there isn’t a lot I could have
done. See, materials like these, teachers’ guides, etc, I looked at them. Perhaps I made
other mistakes. For example, ways of choosing a leader, are they only three? Perhaps
there are others that I wasn’t able to include because I didn’t look elsewhere.” I then
asked about his statement about the lesson being teacher-centered; had he had enough
time, how would he have moved the lesson from teacher-centered to pupil-centered? “I
think what I can say is that I could have asked the pupils to ask at home how they choose
leaders. Chiefs, other elected leaders. How are they chosen? I should have involved them
in that way.” Would that have meant asking the children the previous day before the
actual lesson to ask at home” He said yes. How would he have handled their responses

from home? I asked.

I think the discussion would have gone at length. The children appeared not to have had
any knowledge about the way leaders are chosen. Had it been I gave them a chance to go
and find out, perhaps we would have heard what each of them would have been told—
when we choose leaders this is how we do it. Maybe what would have been difficult
would have been [the term] “appointment” but there are pupils whose parents are
working, they could have contributed. Those whose parents work in offices and their
supervisors are appointed; those from the villages would have mentioned how chiefs
inherit the position from their uncle, etc.

I clarified my question by saying I was more interested in the actual arrangement in the

classroom, an arrangement for them to participate in the lesson. Say methodology, what

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would he have done? “I could have chosen one by one, a couple of them, to hear what
this one found out, that one found out. We could have asked a few individuals to tell us
what they were told.” After that? I prompted.

“From there we could have confirmed the ways, the acceptable ways, we could
have listed them down.” How could the lesson have ended? Or were there other things he
could have done before ending the lesson? The activities in the teachers’ guide and pupils
book did not follow in logical order. Pupils moved from examining a data chart on
rainfall amounts to a dialogue about a houseboy who played loud music when his
employer was away, to spelling. The spelling words were taken from the play, so at least
there was a connection here. Armed with the awareness of these problems, Woleme,
Standard 8 teacher whom I observed next, planned his lesson with a mind to not only
bring a problem-solving approach and connect the content to students’ lives, but also to
bring a broader national and regional context to a mathematics lesson.

In this Standard Five classroom at Tsigado School, heavy wooden desks lined up
from the front to the back. The paths in between the rows were narrow, creating space
problems that posed challenges for the kind of lesson the teacher had planned for. Even
with an absentee rate estimated at 33 percent, the classroom was still overcrowded,
making it difficult for the teacher to plan for highly collaborative lessons. These issues
highlight the necessity of infrastructure, resources and materials that facilitate a peace-
oriented pedagogy. In the Malawian context, these requirements lack even for basic,
ordinary teaching and learning.

The teacher made an effort to adapt the content of the lesson towards the ideals of

uMunthu, peace and social justice. He involved the students in demonstrating friendly,

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humane ways of helping one another in class. He also involved the students in activities
that went beyond the rote memorization for learning spelling. A sustained peace focus
could work towards more discussion of the class assumptions found in the sketch on
Yusuf, in which a boy works as a servant for a well-to-do woman, and in which the boy is
portrayed as irresponsible. The plot presents an opportunity for students to express their
views on the economic situation that leads some students to quit school and work as
servants in rich people’s homes, and the kind of treatment such servants receive at the

hands of their employers.

Lesson Eight: Filling in a bank withdrawal slip

This Standard 8 mathematics lesson was taught on Friday June 4, 2004, at
Tsigado Primary School. “Today we have yet another lesson on bank services,”
announced the teacher to get the lesson started. “Our lesson is based on the withdrawal
form. You don’t just go and withdraw money [from a bank]. You use the form.” The
teacher then asked the pupils to name some of the banks in Malawi. National Bank,
IndeBank, New Building Society, came the names. The teacher drew the form on the
chalkboard and then invited students to come up front and fill it out. One student went
and filled out the name of the branch. Another one went and filled out the date. Another
one went up and filled out a 9-digit account number. For the exercise, the students were
asked by the teacher to open their pupils’ book to a specified page and draw the check in
the book in their notebooks. After the exercise the teacher announced that next they
would discuss some issues concerning banks in Malawi. The teacher started by observing

that the bank on the withdrawal from in their textbook had changed names since the book

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was published. “What is the new name for that bank?” A girl provided the answer:
“Stanbic”. “Why are these banks important?” Another student responded and said for
keeping money, upon which the teacher followed by asking why it was necessary to save
money in a bank. He then asked if there were any disadvantages to keeping money in a
bank. There were no responses from the students. The teacher then announced to the
students that he would invited the guest, me, to join in on the discussion.

In our pre-planning we had intended for the lesson to connect a simple exercise in
filling out a bank withdrawal slip to larger issues involving this particular bank in the
Malawian economy. We had decided that we should have a real discussion beyond the
question and answer format that some teachers took to mean discussion. So I started by
asking that we move the plastic desks and chairs and form a round table format where
everyone was able to see everyone else. I then moved to establish how many students in
the class knew anything about this particular bank. Did any of the students have parents
who saved money with this bank? Had anyone noticed that the bank had changed names
in the last five years? What happened for the bank to change its name? Most of the
questions did not solicit responses from the students, and it was not clear whether they
knew about the bank, or whether they were not sure what I asking about. I also wondered
if some might not have felt brave enough to volunteer answers. With the teacher’s
prompting the students started volunteering answers and we soon moved to the central
question about why the bank had changed names. The teacher and I explained that a
Malawian company had previously owned the bank, and that it had now been sold to a
foreign bank. Did the students know why that happened? What consequences had been

created? What larger trend was going on in Malawi’s economy?

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Through these questions, the discussed highlighted how Malawian newspapers
and radio stations were reporting about several corporations previously owned by
Malawians and the Malawi government, which were now being privatized. The
explanations given were that selling the companies to foreign buyers would bring more
money into the country, and would create efficiency in the workings of the corporations.
This was supposed to improve the country’s economy. Was there evidence that the
economy of Malawi was improving? The students did not think so. The teacher pointed
out that some Malawians had lost their jobs through the privatization of these
corporations. Some students added that jobs had become more difficult to find in Malawi,
and some of them reported having older relatives at home who had lost jobs in the last
five years.

The teacher went on to explain that even the gigantic Zomba mountain, whose
eastern tail end could be seen from the premises of the school, was being offered to
foreigners to manage. As a keen environmentalist, the teacher belonged to the Wildlife
and Environmental Society of Malawi, and followed these developments with
amazement, he told the students. The students wondered where these new ideas to
privatize the country’s assets were coming from. We wondered how many of the students
had heard of the International Monetary Fund, and the World Bank, but not many of them
were familiar with these institutions. We urged them to read newspapers and listen to the
radio to learn more about these developments.

Some students wanted to know what the government could do to stop the
privatization of the country’s assets. We put the question before the class and one student

suggested banning all foreigners from the country. Another student, a girl, observed that

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there were Malawians in different parts of the world, who would also be chased out of the
countries they were living in. Banning foreigners from Malawi was therefore not a good
solution, she suggested. The lesson ended with the teacher urging the students to find out
more about issues that were affecting the country, and think of ways of solving the
country’s problems. I added that they could make their learning more meaningful and
relevant by thinking of ways that their classroom lessons could be connected to the
understanding of problems they were facing in the school, in their homes, in their
communities, and in the country.

We sat down with the teacher to review the lesson, and he said this was the first
time he had approached the topic from this angle. “1 have taught this topic for several
years, and we always take it for granted.” The planning we had done the previous had
paid off, but it was not easy to get the students to begin expressing their views freely. In
putting the simple act of filling out a bank withdrawal slip in the larger socioeconomic
and political context of the country, the lesson sought to demonstrate how what the
students were learning in class had a bearing on real life. The lesson increased students’
awareness of the real effects that privatization of Malawian companies was having on
ordinary Malawians. This was one of the most successful lessons I observed and
participated in during the entire study. In spending time to discuss and plan the lesson
before hand, we became more aware of the difficulty involved in taking the peace
framework to the curricular and pedagogical praxis stage where the lesson connected
content to students’ lives. We also became more aware of the importance of having a
classroom arrangement that encouraged discussion and participation. This template

helped in another lesson taught by another Standard 8 teacher at Chigwale.

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Lesson Nine: Ratio

We used a similar approach and focus on another Standard 8 mathematics lesson,
at Chigwale. This was on Tuesday June 8, and the teacher was Katchikolo. The topic for
this lesson was ratio. The teacher announced to the students that he had sent for the
Standard One teacher to come and give them the enrollment for her class. As they were
waiting, could they define the term “ratio?” he asked. “Quantity of equality,” one student
responded. The Standard One teacher walked in and Katchikolo motioned her to address
the class. “Two hundred thirty two girls (232), two hundred thirty seven boys (237),” the
Standard One teacher announced. For Standard Two the figures were 167 girls and 126
boys. Katchikolo thanked the Standard One teacher and engaged his students in
calculations to find out the differences in enrollment between boys and girls. Although
boys outnumbered girls by only five in Standard One, the two infant classes combined
showed more girls than boys. There were 399 girls to 363 boys, a difference of 36. The
teacher then explained to the class that there was a feeding program at the school, which
brought food to pupils. It was ran by the World Food Program, he said. “I want to hear
the reason why only girls are given food to take home,” he continued. One boy rose and
explained that the WFP had looked around the world and found that there were more
educated men than women. “So they want to encourage girls [to finish school],” he said.
The teacher asked if there was another reason. There being silence, the teacher drew the
students’ attention to the gender ration in their Standard 8 class. He counted them, and
announced that there were eleven girls, and 22 boys, a ration of 1 to 2. “Now let’s look at
the reasons why the ratio between girls and boys changes.”

“Girls are not finishing school because they are getting married young,” said one

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girl. “When parents die girls lack support,” added another. “Parents are the ones who
urge girls to drop out of school for unconvincing reasons,” yet another girl spoke. Other
responses included parents telling girls they would not pay for their school expenses in
their higher classes, and what one student called “bad thinking.” Said the student: “They
themselves have never been to school, so they taunt us: where will school take you?” The
teacher added: “Because they are not educated they do not appreciate the importance of
education.” One male pupil said when one parent dies children are asked to stay at home
and help the remaining parent with domestic chores. Another girl mentioned drugs as
another reason why girls were not finishing school. The teacher brought the lesson back
to ratio: “What does the concept of ratio help us in our day to day life?” A boy answered:
“It helps us calculate how many people are educated and how many are uneducated.”
The teacher went on to give an example on the board. A boy and a girl put their
money together so they could purchase merchandize and sell it for profit. The girl
contributed K50”, and the boy contributed K30. After selling their merchandize they
realized K160. How could they split the money between themselves equitably? Some
students suggested that they could divide the amount equally into two, but the teacher
pointed out that they should not each go away with the same amount because their inputs
were different. He provided a formula on the board for solving the problem and coming
up with an equitable distribution. He explained that the concept of ratio was helpful in
such an example. The teacher went onto explain that the concept of ratio was also useful
in helping the community understand why the school-feeding program used a preferential

system for girls. While all the boys were given porridge in the school every morning, all

 

‘2 Kwacha is the Malawian currency, sometimes written as K, or MK. Currently it is trades at MK126 to

US$1. 195

the girls were also given beans, maize flour, milk and other nutritious foods to take home
with them. Only boys who were double orphans, having lost both parents, were included
in the extended program. The teacher said it was easy for the rest of the boys to feel they
were being discriminated against for being boys, but using the concept of ration to
demonstrate what was happening to girls and the challenges they met in their schooling
life, one could see why special measures needed to be taken to address the problems.

The teacher went on to ask the students for their views on how the effects of girls
not having equal access to school completion were being felt in their community. Afier
some prompting, the students pointed out that in the parliamentary and presidential
elections that had just ended, all the politicians who ran for office were male. Ten people
were on the ballot for Member of Parliament for the constituency, and all of them were
male. The discussion turned to why this was so. Some students pointed out that due to
fewer women getting the chance to go far with school, it was easy to conclude that
women were naturally unsuited for politics and other leadership responsibilities.
However there were women who if given a chance, could represent their constituency
much better than the incumbent. The discussion went on for some time, until it deviated
to other issues outside ratio and girls’ access to education.

“Any questions?” asked the teacher after some time. One boy raised his hand and
said he had a question. “Suppose that I go to secondary school, do well and go to
university. My parents have no money. How can I pay tuition fees?” The teacher
answered by saying one could apply for loans. A few more questions followed on
affording money for university fees, about what happened if you could not pay back the

loan because you were arrested, you quit your job, you died, or you left the country. The

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teacher tried to answer all questions, before announcing that they had exhausted
questions on ratio. Because we had pre-planned this lesson to connect it to real issues and
problems the children were facing, thereby relate it to peace and social justice issues, my
first question to the teacher during our post-observation discussion was whether
objectives had been achieved. The teacher answered in the affirmative, saying the
students had actively participated, and that the lesson had addressed root causes of
reasons why the ratio between girls and boys changed drastically between the infant
section and Standard 8.

What had made it a successful lesson, I asked the teacher. “We asked them to be
free. We gave them an opportunity. They had an interest in the examples. We used
discussions.” Asked what else had been different about this lesson, the teacher said
usually he explained concepts and gave examples. He did not use discussion, and the
classroom seating arrangement was always the teacher facing the students, unlike this
lesson when students formed a round-table and faced one another. Bringing in another
teacher was also new; it gave the students added interest. He added that in college they
were taught about inter-teaching, teachers leaving their room to teach another teacher’s
class. Lastly, the lesson connected to other issues in the school, in their areas, and in the
country.

In addition to the lesson on filling out a bank withdrawal slip and the economic
context in which banks were operating in Malawi, the lesson on ratio and girls’ access to
education was another highly successful lesson insofar as peace and social justice ideals
were concerned. The lesson used local problems that students were familiar with in their

classroom, school and community, and connected those problems to mathematical

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content. The content drew students’ attention to a gender issues in the wider community,
and invited them to express their views and experiences on the matter. The arrangement
of the classroom was different in that rather than the uniform rows all facing the teacher
upfiont, the desk were rearranged to create a round table. More students participated in
the discussion, as the teacher observed after the lesson. While the lesson did promote the
ideals of peace and social justice at both the curricular and the pedagogical level, it also
exposed some of the problems that further reflection and action would need to address.
Some of the students expressed the view that some parents failed to encourage their
children to take their education seriously, since the parents themselves had no education.
The teacher supported the idea and added his own views to it. From the perspectives of
uMunthu, peace and social justice, such observations arise fiom the denigration that local,
indigenous knowledges have been subjected to by a version of modem education.
According to Musopole (1994), modern education fails to promote humanness, and
instead focuses on knowledge for its own sake, rather than for the good of humanity. In
so doing, children are alienated from their heritage and values, causing them to disregard
and dismiss knowledge produced in local contexts. This problem is widespread in
Malawi and in other formerly colonized countries, as has'been adequately discussed by
Musopole (1994), Sindima (1995), Emeagwali (2002), and Ndura (2006), among other

scholars.

Lesson Ten: Common accidents in the home, school and on the road
I observed this Standard One lesson at Medosi Primary School and the topic was

accidents in the school, at home and on the road. During the planning session, we stayed

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within the objectives offered by the textbook: state common accidents in the home,
school and on the road; state causes of common accidents; describe measures to prevent
common accidents. We also stayed within the lesson development suggested by the
textbook, beginning by explaining to students that the focus for the lesson was accidents
in the home, school and on the road. The rest of the steps were asking children to name:
accidents, causes, dangers and how to prevent them. When faced with the question of
connecting the lesson to problem-solving and peace, we decided to let the students
suggest accidents they saw, or were involved in, in the school. We decided that the
children would be asked to offer suggestions for preventing the accidents they would list.
During the lesson, children listed the following common accidents: home—falling
from a tree, being hit by a bicycle, being scalded by hot water. For school accidents,
somebody suggested falling. When the teacher queried as to why children fell, one
student said they chase each other on the school premises. For road accidents they
mentioned bicycles and vehicles. The teacher put up a chart on the wall showing different
accidents. On preventive measures, the teacher said the problem of children colliding and
falling needed to be addressed starting right away. The students had observed that most
accidents happened as children moved from their morning sweeping chores to line up for
assembly, where morning prayers were said, the national anthem sang, and
announcements made. The teacher took the class outside to their sweeping area for them
to practice safe and orderly ways of moving to the assembly. The demonstration was
orderly, and the children assembled without accidents. Back in the classroom the teacher
repeated the main points of the lesson, and referred to the chart. School was over for that

day, and they dismissed row by row.

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In this lesson as described above, on common accidents in the home, school and
on the road, the teacher dominated the lesson, and although the children were able to state
some of the accidents in the school, the teacher largely suggested the solutions. The
students did not spend time working on problems or offering solutions. The teacher had
pointed out during planning that aged between 4 and 7, the children were incapable of
carrying out group work. The excuse that children were incapable of doing this or that
was one of the major obstacles that this entire study faced in getting teachers to come up
with pedagogical strategies that involved students in problem-solving. The observation
that the children would in fact be incapable precisely because of the teachers’ beliefs and
expectations in the children’s incapability did little to change the teachers’ opinions.

However not all teachers subscribed to this belief, as was evident in the other lessons.

In the remaining sections of the chapter, I present more generalized perspectives
on the broader challenges that based on the issues emerging from this study, call for
specific attention in the effort to implement a peace and social justice framework in
Malawian education. The preceding sections of the chapter have highlighted the
challenges presented by teachers’ beliefs and expectations on children’s capabilities,
overcrowding, and other infrastructural concerns. The sections below address teacher
centered pedagogical practices, gender perspectives in peace and social justice education,
relevance of classroom practices to local, national and world contexts, teaching methods
and strategies, cuniculum and textbook shortfalls in light of advances in African
scholarship, and uMunthu, peace and social justice perspectives in the educational

system. The chapter closes with a discussion on the demands of praxis as I experienced

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them when I attempted to use the peace and social justice education framework in two

classes that I taught at Chigwale.

Teacher-centered pedagogy

Even with deliberate emphasis on student-centered during our lesson planning
sessions, not all the teachers were able to allow more student participation and activity.
For the lessons we did not plan before hand, the methodologies did not vary, usually
employing question and answer, and teacher’s explanation. The teacher talked most of
the time. An example of was the Standard Five lesson on choosing leaders. The teacher
used the question and answer method to elicit from the pupils types of leaders in the
community and in the district. He used the same method to ask pupils to state ways of
choosing leaders-- voting, appointment and inheritance. He helped them arrive at voting,
but no amount of the teacher’s prompting could help them come up with the terms
‘appointment’ and ‘inheritance’, even in the national/local language. On voting, he
referred to the forthcoming Tuesday May 20“1 presidential and parliamentary elections
nationwide, but did not involve the students in any substantive discussion on how the
country-wide election could be understood from their classroom perspective.
From a Freirean perspective, this lesson deployed aspects common to ‘banking,’ while
also embracing ‘problem-solving’. The ubiquitous question and answer and lecture
method dominated, but the teacher added a component that connected the lesson to an
issue in the classroom, the election of a class monitoress. However the lesson did not take
full advantage of the forthcoming elections to engage students in a discussion of the

problems of conflict and violence that had accompanied the campaign period.

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Gender perspectives in peace and social justice education

The election of a class monitoress in the same lesson also calls for analysis from a
gender perspective, an important component of peace and social justice education
(Reardon, 1988; UNESCO, 1998). The teacher noted that the class already had a leader,
and that they now needed to elect a leader for the girls: “Let us elect a monitoress for the
girls”. I noted that the whole class, including the boys, participated in voting for the
monitoress who would be for the girls only. Because this was the second term of the year,
it is likely that the class monitor, a boy, had been elected or appointed in the first term. It
is also safe to assume that the male monitor had been elected or appointed as a leader for
the whole class, not just for the boys. If these assumptions are accurate, there is an
underlying notion of males being leaders for the whole class, and females being leaders
for the female students only. This could be seen as a perpetuation of the secondary roles
women are relegated to in a male-dominated society, entrenched through school practices
(Mbano, 2003; Kadzarnira and Lemani, 2003). Practices such as these contribute to
structural violence (Barash and Webel, 2002), and lack democratic conduct (McJessie-
Mbewe, 1999). As a social injustice, practices such as these create the need for a peace
and social justice framework in education, informed by uMunthu perspectives in which
women, as human beings, take control of their destiny and realize their full moyo

(Sindima, 1995).

Teaching methods and strategies
Many of the teachers in the study viewed what was essentially a question and

answer method, or chalk and talk, as ‘discussion.’ The tendency was for the teacher to

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ask a question eliciting a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ response, with the teacher offering most of the
explanations and repeating students’ answers. The teachers apparently did not expect
students to speak for extended moments, nor to explaining a point of View and
demonstrate their thinking process. The expectation was that short one-word responses,
or very brief phrases, would suffice. The consequence here was that students did not
engage with a topic to make connections with their lives, and relate it to the
understanding of problems. The problem-solving element was therefore missing. I
observed this in the Standard Five lesson on choosing leaders, in the Standard One lesson
on common accidents, a Standard Six lesson on leaders in the district, and the Standard
Eight lesson on the decline of the Greek civilization. One possible reason for this is the
use of English as the language of instruction. Many teachers are not comfortable
conversing in English; what more with students. Another possible explanation goes back
to the first challenge above, the teachers’ beliefs and expectations about the students’
capabilities. These observations call into question the extent to which textbooks make use

of the advances in knowledge made by African scholars (Zeleza, 1997).

uMunthu, peace and social justice perspectives in the educational system

The problem of a disconnect between the school curriculum and advances in
knowledge on Afiica is related to the last challenge discussed in this section of the
chapter, namely, the absence of comprehensive uMunthu, peace and social justice
perspectives at the policy level, in the curriculum reform process, at the teacher education
and in-service professional development levels. Scholars of uMunthu epistemology in

Malawi (Musopole, 1994; Sindima, 1995, 1998; Chigona, 2002; Tambulasi and Kayuni,

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2005) acknowledge the consequences of the failure to promote the ideals of uMunthu in
Malawian and African public life, but they pursue their inquiry in their various
disciplines of philosophy, religion, theology, political and public administration. There
has been no connection of this inquiry to the elementary school curriculum and teacher
education. In examining this scholarship in the context of the educational system in
Malawi, this study hopes to address the critical educational needs identified in Chapter
Two, and the challenges facing teachers and schools as identified in this section of this

chapter.

The demands of praxis: practicing what you preach

While the autobiographical accounts by the teachers in the study are useful in
promoting the understanding of praxis and educational change, the autobiographical
accounts do not in themselves offer adequate support for the claim that thanks to the
project, teachers began changing their practices, as advanced by Mwalawo above. Time
constraints made it impossible for the study to examine the claims on the basis of actual
practices in the school, and to subject the teachers’ autobiographies to further discussion
and shared understandings with the other teachers. Toward the end of the study, I did get
an opportunity, though to experience for myself what it took to put into practice the ideals
we had been reading and discussing in the project. I saw this opportunity as a moment to
further reflect on the connection between theory and practice, action and reflection
(Freire, 1970, 1985; Bell, 1997; Adams, 1997; Edelsky, 1999).

This did not, however, entail a dichotomized view of theory on the one hand, and

practice on the other. Rather, I saw it as what Bell (1997) calls “articulating the

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theoretical sources of our approach to social justice education,” a function which for Bell
serves three purposes. Bell points out that first, this type of praxis, which she terms a
theory of oppression, “enables us to think clearly about our intentions and the means we
use to actualize them in the classroom. It provides a fiamework for making choices about
what we do and how, and for distinguishing among different approaches” (p. 4). The
second function that praxis serves is to allow for “a framework for questioning and
challenging our practices and creating new approaches as we encounter inevitable
problems of cooperation, resistance, insufficient knowledge, and changing social
conditions” (ibid.). The third function that this theory of oppression as praxis fulfils is the
“potential to help us stay conscious of our position as historical subjects, able to learn
from the past as we try to meet current conditions in more effective and imaginative
ways” (ibid.). The notion of praxis thus served as a motivating factor for me to volunteer
to help out in the school by teaching the classes on days when the class teachers were
unavailable. As I describe below, I entered those classrooms with a mind to explore
theory and practice, action and reflection, in the sense that Freire (1985) sees people as
“human beings because they are historically constituted as beings of praxis, and in the
process they have become capable of transforming the world—of giving it meaning” (p.
155).

The final lessons discussed in this chapter therefore come from my attempt to
practice what I had so far been preaching. One morning I arrived at Chilegwa School
aiming to observe the Standard Five teacher. The head teacher soon informed me that the
teacher, Mfuwo, had gone to attend the funeral of her stepbrother. The head teacher

explained that he was asking other teachers to shunt between their own classrooms and

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Mfuwo’s class. I asked the head teacher if I could volunteer to help out with Mfuwo’s
class, and he granted me permission. I taught two lessons, a revision of a math exercise,
and a Chichewa reading lesson.

The students took turns reading aloud a story from the textbook. A villager went
to the village chief to complain about people stealing from his garden. He asked the chief
to warn everyone that he had put a magic spell in the garden, and anyone who dared step
foot in it would be met with misfortune. A brother and sister who heard the warning
believed that the warning was just a bluff. They went into the garden, and were greeted
by mysterious slaps and blows that followed them all the way home. They ended up
going to the chief to ask for his help in pleading with the garden owner to remove the
spell. Having to take turns and read the story aloud gave the pupils an opportunity to
practice reading before an audience, but it also consumed time as pupils’ books needed to
be passed from one reader to another. There were only seven copies of the book
available, against fifty-five children.

After the reading I asked some comprehension questions to help those who had
not followed the story. After asking repeatedly if there were any comprehension
problems, and being assured that there were none, I asked the children to recall similar
stories they had heard or read elsewhere. 1 gave them time to think and prompts to use,
asking a few volunteers to share a story they thought was similar to the one we had read.
Then I gave them time to write. All of the female students immediately got busy writing,
while none of the boys, seating in the back of the classroom, wrote. I went over and asked
why they weren’t writing, and they said they did not know what to write about. I worked

with two students, probing them to recall stories, and they came up with stories. The rest

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of the boys did not write a thing. One by one the girls and the two boys read their stories
aloud. Their themes did not deviate from the story we had read. They mostly revolved
around somebody stealing goats, getting caught, being taken to the chief, and being fined
or sent to prison.

When I went home in the evening I told my parents about the lesson. My mother,
who had just retired from the same school in the previous term, expressed surprise that
none of the students wrote about an incident that occurred two weeks prior. She said a
man suspected of breaking into people’s houses and terrorizing the village was beaten to
death at a beer party close to the market square. It was a case of mob justice, in which
nobody came to the rescue because he was a notorious thief, and the general feeling
around the area was one of good riddance. My mother wondered why none of the
children wrote about that story, which she was sure they all knew about. I revisited the
class the next day to ask why nobody had written about the murder case. They all said
they had forgotten the incident ever happened.

Later that day the head teacher told me that many pupils at the school actually
saw the dead body of the suspect, which stayed out in the open for twenty-four hours
before the police came to take it for a post-mortem. The headteacher suggested that the
students might have suspected me of being a police detective, as several men had already
been taken into police custody in connection with the murder. The class teacher
suggested that the students were probably scared of writing about a topic that directly
involved three of their classmates. She said the one the female students in the class was a
sister to the deceased suspect, while two other girls were the daughters of two of the

suspected killers. She furtively pointed to each of the students for me to see them. The

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teacher’s revelations opened up a dilemma I had not expected: sensitivity surrounding
discussion of community stories in class.

In the Standard 6 lesson, we read a story about a chief in whose village three
young men were suffering from a mysterious malady. Their symptoms ranged from
extended bellies, to falling hair. The chief sent the three young men to the nearest
government clinic, along with a letter addressed to the medical personnel there. The
medical personnel examined the young men and found that they were suffering from
malnutrition. The medical officer in charge wrote a letter back to the chief explaining that
it did not matter that one was eating enough food, if it was the same type of food
repeatedly, some relevant dietary foods would be missing, leading to one type of
malnutrition or another.

After the reading, I asked the pupils to share similar stories they were aware of. I
was hoping that I would hear stories dealing with the 2001/2002 nation-wide food crisis
that made world news headlines, including a lead feature in the Sunday New York Times
Magazine of July 13, 2003. I did not hear anybody bring up the topic, so I asked them to
write down any stories of malnutrition and starvation they could think. Afterwards I
asked them to read what they had written. Still the topic did not come up. I was not able
to follow up with the other teachers about this lesson. It is possible that being young, they
had already forgotten about it. It is also possible that this particular area was not severely
affected by the drought, although the presence of a World Food Program school-feeding
project makes this unlikely. I cannot help but wonder, as one last possibility, the extent to
which the students may have felt that they could not discuss the drought in a lesson
primarily dealing with reading.

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Connections to uMunthu, curriculum, pedagogical and praxis

The four themes of the study’s theoretical framework work toward a better
understanding of the educational needs of Malawians in the pursuit for peace and social
justice, the last of the four research questions. In the lessons I observed, and in the few I
taught, a number of opportunities emerge for connecting to the four-part theoretical
framework of this study, as detailed in this concluding part of the chapter. In the Standard
One lesson at Medosi on common accidents, the teacher took the students out to the
playground to demonstrate the proper way of moving to the assembly, thereby providing
them an opportunity to practice what they had learned. The proper way of moving to the
assembly called on the students to be mindfirl of their safety and the safety of others. The
lesson can be said to have reinforced the notion of a community of beings, in which they
were responsible for not only their own well being, but that of others as well. This is an
important tenet in uMunthu, as pointed out by Musopole (1994), Sindima (1995), Tutu
(1999), Chigona (2002), Tambulasi and Kayuni (2005), among others.

Another opportunity for a pedagogy that embraces uMunthu, peace and social
justice can be found in the storytelling session observed in the Standard Three lesson at
Chigwale School. Storytelling is an established educational method in endogenous
education, imparting to learners values and contexts of a society, and challenging them to
envision their own transformational roles in society (Wane, 2000; Wright, 2000).

Although the lesson on preparing land for groundnuts and beans was taught inside
the classroom with no excursion to the actual land and crops being cultivated in the farms

surrounding the school, the topic itself has enormous relevance for the lives of the

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students and teachers (Freire, 1970). The land gives nurturance to the people, and a
healthy coexistence between human beings and nature ensures an ecological balance for
the mutual benefit of both (Sindima, 1995). The majority of Malawians rely on
subsistence farming and other resources nature provides, and students are well served by
a curriculum that focuses on that reality.

The curriculum has the possibility of enact a peace pedagogy with topics on how
leaders are chosen, storytelling, the safe use of water, and the prevention of accidents in
the home, school and on the road, as several of the observed lessons showed. However a
focus on peace and social justice was not easy to bring into the lessons without deliberate,
sustained effort and careful lesson planning. For the mathematics lesson on how to fill
out a bank withdrawal slip, a peace and social justice focus was brought in by broadening
the understanding of how banks operate in the national and global economy, and how
global economic trends are having dire consequences on the populations of poor
countries such as Malawi. A peace and social justice focus also made it possible for the
lesson on ratio to bring out issues of gender disparities in opportunities for schooling, and
the role schools and other agencies can play in addressing the problems. The two lessons
show how a peace and social justice focus in the curriculum enables pedagogical
possibilities for social change toward what Freire (1970, 1985), Bell, Adams and Griffin
(1997) and Glass (2001) see as the central component of praxis.

This chapter has examined the extent to which the four-part theoretical framework
of uMunthu, curricultnn, pedagogy and praxis was manifested in the classroom practices
and lessons observed in the study. Focusing more on the cuniculum, pedagogy and praxis

parts, the question of how the teachers in the study went about teaching “peace lessons”

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has been explored through an examination of data from ten lessons that were observed
during the study, and from post-observation interviews and discussions done with the
teachers. The lesson descriptions have been contextualized in nine challenges that
provided both constraints and opportunities for realizing the core parts of the fiamework,
viz, uMunthu, curriculum, pedagogy and praxis. The next chapter discusses the overall
meaning of this study, the interrelationships among autobiographical and life writing,
pedagogy, praxis, and possibilities for peace. The chapter also details some of the
problems encountered during the course of the study, and offers recommendations for

future research suggested by the findings from this study.

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Chapter 6

‘ Here now is an adequate revolution for me to
espouse . . . ’
On my last day of work at the Malawi Institute of Education in August 1998, as I

was preparing to leave Malawi and come to graduate school here in the United States, I
bumped into a colleague who said he had something important to tell me. He worked in
the central administration office, and had helped process my papers granting me
permission to leave the country and come to school. He took me to the side of the main
road that runs through the MIE campus, and turned up his face to give me a stern, serious
look. From where we stood, we could see the Domasi River below, and the little market
on the other side. Kindawa raised his right hand and half-pointed at me, speaking in low
tones. “This is a chance of a life time, Steve. You know very well what is happening to
this country. If you ever come back to Malawi, you are stupid.” I do not quite recall what
I told him in response, but that sentiment has been repeated to me several times over the
years. Upon learning about the birth of my first child in 2000, a former classmate of
mine, who had just returned to Malawi from a graduate program here in the US,
exclaimed that I now had the rare opportunity of applying for US citizenship, since my
child was automatically a US citizen. Some two or three years ago, a friend of my wife’s
wondered what kind of job I would look for after finishing my Ph.D. When my wife
explained that we would probably return to Malawi, the friend expressed shock. “Tell

Steve he will be making the biggest mistake of his life if he goes back to Malawi after

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obtaining a PhD. He has the chance to find a very good job here in the US, much better
than he can find in Malawi.”

I have heard these sentiments again and again, from close friends studying here in
the United States, and in other parts of the world, and even those still living in Malawi. I
perfectly understand what all these well-wishing friends and colleagues mean, and why
they believe that it is best for me, and for any Malawian who gets the opportunity, to
leave Malawi for good and settle here in the United States, or in some other developed
country in the global North. When one young Malawian who returned from the US with a
degree from Harvard got arrested for leading an anti-govemment demonstration around
2001 or 2002, a huge outcry erupted both amongst Malawians in the Diaspora, and
amongst the Harvard alumni community. One US-based Malawian angrily wrote on the
Malawi listserv, Nyasanet, and pointed out what a shame it was to arrest this particular
Malawian, who had returned to Malawi when he in fact “did not even need to.” With a
degree from Harvard, he could have chosen to stay in the US and get a very good job,
said the angry netter. Two years after the incident, in 2004, the Malawian in question
announced in his column in The Chronicle, a Malawian newspaper, that he was leaving
Malawi for good. He began his article by explaining how until returning to Malawi in
2000, he had lived outside'Malawi for most of his life, and upon returning, had found a
motherland that shattered all the myths about Afiica he had acquired while abroad. He
wrote:

I have seen first-hand that Malawians couldn’t care less about the welfare of anyone not
in their extended family or ethnic group. Malawians possess a primordial set of cultural
values informed by belief in the occult, petty jealousy, and a deep-seated determinism
that borders on the fatalistic. In short, a belief system that translates very badly to the
demands of the modern world.

The sad thing is it is not just the African footpath (c.f. the urbanised Arab street) that
21 3

thinks this way. The African middle classes behave like uneducated villagers: believing
that women, and children are second-class citizens.

The ruling elite is even worse, characterised not just by an astonishing lack of the
noblesse oblige of their western counterparts, but a criminal level of self-interest. They

have no sense of social justice, compassion, or love for one’s fellow man, essential
underpinnings of the urban societies that development demands.

The last part of his column was even more telling about how his views on race relations

in the US led him to make up his mind about having to leave Malawi:

In America there is an often heated sociological debate about the failure of the black
underclass to achieve the American dream, that revolves around nature versus nurture.
Black people who “think and act white” are called Oreos. If that means wanting to live in
a society that respects human rights and freedoms, and promises a better life for its
children, then I gladly plead guilty as charged. I thank my education for freeing me from
the deterministic torpor that is the Afiican condition.

I’m off to nurture my white inner self in South Africa, that most civilized of African
countries.

The above episodes are just a few examples of how a considerable number of
Malawians have come to view their country as having no hope and no future. These
Malawians are amongst those that view Malawi in very unfavorable terms; a dangerous
country, to paraphrase another US-based Malawian, where one survives only by the grace
of God. The number of Malawians who are leaving the country and going to settle in
countries in the global North or countries in Afiica with stronger economies and better
conditions of life is growing each day. This is how the US-based Malawian mentioned
above put it, in a March 15, 2005 posting on Nyasanet, in response to another Malawian,
with a Canadian email address, who had asked the US—based Malawian to be thankful he

was born in Malawi and not in, say, Rwanda:

I don’t feel lucky to have been born in Malawi. I survived that country only by the grace
of God and love of my family. Malawi is a very dangerous little country to live in. Infant
mortality rate is extraordinarily high. Thousands of children between the ages of 1 month
and 5 years die every year from malaria and malnutrion. It has one of the highest car
accidents rates in the world, and the highest death rates from infectious diseases such as
TB and HIV/AIDS. Poverty is deep and rampant. Politics reek of tribal and regional
jealousies, maliciousness, and vindictiveness on a daily basis. You expect me to be

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grateful for this?! I’m glad I left Malawi early, or else I’d never have attained the
education and job skills I have. And I’m not the only one who feels this way about
Malawi. Many people on Nyasanet living abroad are not hurrying to settle in Malawi,
despite their professed love of the country. And judging from your e-mail address, you’re
living in Canada, where you are obviously enjoying Western amenities of life. If Malawi
is so good, why are you not there now? (N yasanet, March 15, 2005)

Many of the facts being presented in these views are quite accurate and undeniable. There
are many times when my own views betray an anger and fi'ustration about Malawi quite
similar to those expressed in the above examples. What I would perhaps wish to add to
the conversation would be what I see as the need to go beyond the anger and frustration,
and to offer analytical and contextual insights into why things are this way, and what we
can do about them other than abandoning the country like mice being smoked out of a
hole in the dry Malawian summer. The views form part of a larger perspective on ideas
and assumptions about Malawi’s history and contemporary society held by many
Malawians who include teachers, students, and the communities they live in. Thus
addressing the contexts and functions of these views is pertinent to exploring the second,
third and last research questions posed in the study. One important thing these views
point to is the failure of uMunthu perspectives to be promoted and incorporated into
contemporary perspectives on Malawi. The school curriculum has been an important part
of that suppression (Musopole, 1994), and of other endogenous Afiican thought systems
(Ndura, 2006; Sindima, 1995)

One of the guest speakers who came and addressed the participants during the
two-week workshop presented another perspective on the way Malawians view
themselves, different fi'om the pessimism and hopelessness of the ones quoted above.

Reverend Kanjira spoke of spiritual and social wealth, forms of wealth which he said

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were in competition with economic and material wealth as espoused by cultures and
societies of the global North. Reverend Kanjira pointed out that Malawians and other
Africans were a wealthy people, inasfar as their traditions of social cohesion and
collective responsibility for one another. He mentioned peace, social wealth, ethical
wealth and emotional wealth. He said just that morning he had read about a study that
revealed that 50 percent of British children did not believe that Hitler was a real person.
An even greater percentage did not know who Moses was. This, he said, was an
indication of how much of their own history and heritage British children had lost. He
said most Malawians were highly intelligent, but this was not recognized as a result of the
loss of self-confidence in Malawian and Afiican traditions. “Malawians are high quality
people.” He said when he taught at Malosa Secondary School in the 19608, many
students came from a background that didn’t provide them with the comforts of modern

civilization. Said the reverend:

Many of them without shoes, many of them came without having heard an English
speaker speak. Many of them came without having had a book of their own. And they
were plunged into secondary school. A completely alien culture. Essentially, a British
secondary school. They had to learn a new way of life, they had to learn the language,
they had to adjust in many many different ways. And they had to learn in the language
they couldn’t understand. And at the end of that, they got better results than the students
at St Andrews Secondary School. White students there, entirely white students. So with
all the disadvantages that students came into secondary school, they had never seen
television—they had never learned anything outside the classroom in terms of western
knowledge, western schooling. They knew a great deal—a lot of knowledge of how to
live in Malawi.

The reverend went to say he wrote a book on how God loves Africans to be African, “to
persuade Malawians that they know better, that we can do it.” He said Malawi’s social
and cultural wealth was more important that the material wealth of the west, for example

the United States, where one in ten teenagers attempted suicide, and where one in every

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two marriages ended in divorce. “That represents social poverty, or emotional poverty. If
one out every ten tries to commit suicide, because they are so unhappy, then something is
very very wrong with the society.” His statements on the importance of self-worth and its

relation to being teachers of peace needs extensive quoting:

Where we started was why I wrote the book. I wrote the book because [ . . .] I think that
most of Malawi’s problems exist because Malawians do not have the self-confidence to
say ‘we can do it’ or ‘we know.’ I have lived through so many many projects that were in
the brains of people from outside, imposed on Malawians. And then fail. And I know in
many of those projects Malawians knew they were going to fail but didn’t have the
confidence to say this is wrong. And so the book is designed to try to persuade
Malawians that they know better than the azungu—in general—in many many things.
And that that lack of self confidence, the lack of confidence to say ‘yes we know—our
ancestors knew—what the azungu are saying is bodza—and a lot of what the azungu are
saying in Malawi today is bodza” [not audible] because partly it doesn’t fit the situation
in Malawi, partly because the Azungu have forgotten everything they knew about [not
audible] are really like.

The book is trying to get you to understand your own worth. Because if you don’t, then
you are not yourself at peace. You are at war with yourself unless you can accept that you ——
are not inferior. [ . . .] if you are going to promote peace, if you are going to build an

educational system that produces peace, or shalom, or whatever, you must yourself be

ready to not deny the stuff that comes to you from your homes, from your genes, from

your localness, your Malawianness. So long as you deny that, or regard it as bad, then

you cannot be at peace with yourself. And if you are not at peace with yourself, then you

cannot promote peace in others.

 

The issue of how many Malawians views themselves and conclude that they are
inadequate in their identity is a complex one, one which I have had to deal with myself, at
a personal level. Having had the opportunity to come to graduate school in the United
States, for which I can never be thanka enough, not only has my status in the eyes of
fellow Malawians risen, although for reasons I do not entirely share, but I have also been
able to devote time and resources to attempting to understand Malawi’s problems of
structural violence, and to reflecting on the historical and global contexts that bring them
about, their impact on the lives of Malawians, and how to understand them in terms of

praxis and transformation at the intersection of uMunthu, peace, curriculum and

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pedagogy. It is at this intersection where the study I undertook begins to address the
research questions I set out to probe when I began conceptualizing the study toward the
end of 2002. In the remainder of this concluding chapter, I address the ways in which the
framework and methodology of the study sought to answer the four research questions. I
point out how the turn toward life narratives in the attempt to understand Malawi and its
history is already underway, and how the cuniculum needs to take this development into
consideration. Next I discuss the global and historical dimensions of uMunthu, peace and
social justice in the cuniculum, arguing for broader perspectives in understanding
Malawi’s problems and the obstacles that make change difficult.

I use this part of the chapter to explain how the theoretical framework holds the
various parts of the study together and points to new formulations for undertaking this
kind of inquiry. I then address some of the limitations and shortfalls of the study, before

concluding with the implications of the study for future research and policy directions.

So, what really broke the elephant’s task?

I set out, first, to investigate the kinds of writing Malawian teachers produce to
connect teaching and learning to problems of social justice, insecurity and inequality in
Malawi. Second, I wanted to find out what ideas and assumptions about Malawi’s history
and contemporary society teachers bring up in their writing and use in their teaching to
make schooling relevant to the building of peace through the addressing of community
problems of social justice, insecurity and inequality in Malawi. Third, I was interested in
learning how studying teachers’ writing helps us better understand teachers’ and

communities’ ideas about peace, hmnan security and social justice, in a society with

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historical tensions surrounding politics and inequality. Lastly, I set out to find out how
educational researchers, policymakers, curriculum specialists and educators and other
stakeholders can better understand the educational needs of Malawian people, through the
pursuit for peace, human security and social justice, drawing on teachers’ narratives.

To answer these research questions, the study has relied on data sources derived
from three sources: the existing scholarship on African epistemologies, peace studies, life
writing; from eight autobiographical narratives produced by participants in the study; and
from classrooms lessons taught by the twenty one teachers participating in the study. In
the process of searching for answers to my questions, I have come across significant
lessons that have taught me a few important things, as presented in the preceding
chapters, which I now attempt to synthesize.

The search for the kinds of writing Malawian teachers produce to connect
teaching and learning to community problems of social justice, insecurity and inequality
in Malawi led to one of the most important findings in the study. The search opened up a
space in which the teachers in the study unburdened themselves through life narrative.
The teachers spoke and wrote about their lives in a manner suggesting the significance
for such opportunities when teachers can open up and let out stories about who they are
and what they aspire for. The teachers’ proclivity to talk and write about political
repression and how it has impacted their lives spells out a need for a form of truth and
reconciliation commission to enable Malawians deal with a dictatorial past so the nation
can move forward (Chimombo, 1999; Mapanje, 2002; Schaffer and Smith, 2004). The
teachers’ stories about continuing repression and injustices from their superiors were

made even more complicated by similar stories of repression and injustice by other

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officers in positions higher than teachers, indicating a hierarchical chain of the abuse of
power and privilege going up to the highest levels of the system. Rather than serving to
relativize the teachers’ suffering by arguing that this is how things are for everyone else
in the system, this awareness serves to highlight the system-wide structural problems that
need to be sorted out in a holistic fashion, at all levels. This confirms Galtung’s (1988)
observation that violence is often “frozen into structures” in which organizational
practices reproduce “the culture that legitimizes violence” (p.viii). It is worthwhile for
policymakers, teacher educators, teachers and other stakeholders to heed the message
expressed in the Chichewa proverb about a person who rides on the back of an elephant,
and is unaware that the grass on the ground is wet. It is not always easy for people at one
level of a hierarchical structure to be aware of, let alone appreciate, the problems being
faced by people at another level, especially those at the bottom.

For the education system to improve how it caters to the needs of Malawians,
there is need to address Malawi’s problems from broader perspectives, including but not
limited to peace and social justice; autobiographical accounts of people’s lived
experiences; and uMunthu and its wider applications in African epistemology, curriculum
reform, teacher education, and teacher professional development. In privileging the lived
experiences of Malawian teachers, students and their communities, autobiographical
narrative is going to allow voices of people whose humanity and dignity have been
denied through the various forms of social injustices and human insecurities they have
suffered. The acknowledgement that organically comes from the telling of one’s life story

plays an important role in restoring the uMunthu, one’s htunanity and dignity.

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Life narratives and the curriculum

There have already been several efforts at promoting the telling of lived narratives
(Mapanje, 1995; Chimombo, 1999; O’Maille, 1999), but they have not been incorporated
into the school cuniculum where they could provide the impetus for more such
opportunities. The point by Zeleza (1997) that the school curriculum is not in tune with
achievements made in African studies is instructive in answering the question as to the
ideas and assumptions about Malawi’s history and contemporary society teachers bring
up in their writing and use in their teaching to make schooling relevant to community
problems of social justice, insecurity and inequality in Malawi. This is a gap that needs to
be taken seriously by policymakers, curriculum specialists, and teacher educators. Sorely
lacking in the cuniculum are in-depth treatments of Africa’s contributions to the world,
whose absence results in the perpetuation of biocentric views of people (Wynter, 2005),
in which Africans are viewed as not only an inferior race, but also as being outside the
norm of civilization. As the examples I have described at the beginning of this chapter
show, these views are held by some of the most highly schooled Africans, not to speak of
Westerners. The question of peace and justice therefore needs to take into account the
necessity to address not only cuniculum and pedagogy at the primary school and teacher
education level, but also the global and historical dimensions of injustice going back
several centuries, and covering Afiica’s interconnectedness with the rest of the world
(Soyinka, 2001; Galtung, 2004). At the moment, this type of comprehensive analysis of
Africa’s problems is sorely lacking, leading to the despondency expressed in the views of

the Malawians I have discussed above and the teachers who participated in the study.

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Global and historical dimensions of peace and justice in the curriculum

Focusing on global and historical dimensions of injustice across centuries and
continents is hard to do, especially due to the differences in material wealth between
much of Afiica and much of the global North. As a result of these disparities, the views
on both Africa and the global North tend to depict the two places in terms of a
teleological hierarchy in which Afiica, a negation of the global North, is always playing
catch up with the developed world. The Malawian quoted above as saying “I thank my
education for freeing me from the deterministic torpor that is the African condition” is an
example of this lack of global and historical dimensions in analyzing Africa’s problems.
In this depiction, Malawi is condemned to perpetual backwardness, while the global
North is blessed with progressive perfection. Two episodes that I describe below
illustrate this point.

As we walked to lunch fiom a workshop session one afternoon, I overheard one
participant marvel at the collection of videotapes and video editing equipment in the
audiovisual section of the library at the curriculum center where we convened for the
workshop. I asked the teacher if he had ever brought his students to the library to look at
the materials kept there, or to learn about video editing. “You know the problem with us
black people,” he began. “We don’t want to think of fellow blacks as deserving of
respect. If I asked for a visit with my students, I would not be taken seriously. In the end I
ask myself ‘why bother?’”

A few weeks later, I encountered an interesting comment made by a curriculum
specialist. Although the remark has nothing to do with teachers or teaching, it contained

assumptions about race and the global North/ South dichotomy similar to those in the

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earlier comment by the teacher in the preceding example. The curriculum specialist was
intervening in a verbal exchange between two of her officemates who were discussing the
forthcoming vote. One of them said he saw no reason why he should vote, while the other
pointed out that deciding not to vote bordered on ignorance of one’s rights. The
cuniculum specialist intervened in the heated discussion and said: “Black people’s
politics is like that. Leaders are elected to enrich themselves. White people use political
office to develop their countries. That’s the difference between black people and white
people.”

The school curriculum needs to find a way of balancing the necessary self-
criticism that Malawians are always exercising, with global and historical perspectives
that critical African scholarship has engaged in. This requires going beyond the usual
harsh perspectives leveled against Malawi by Malawians and others, and the usual
laudatory and admiring views in which the global North is ahistorically and apolitically
held. My own experience in writing about and discussing Malawi with Malawians and
non-Malawians provides an illustration of the views on Afiica and the West commonly
held by both Africans and non-Africans.

Until about two years after I joined Nyasanet, the oldest Malawi Internet
discussion listserv, my view on Malawi were similar to those of the Malawians I have
discussed above. I felt that Malawi was one of the worst places one could ever live in,
and I was actively looking for a way to leave and never go back. My writings on
Malawian politics, economy, education and the larger social milieu were equally critical.
In this, Malawians and non-Malawians alike, who agreed with the harsh indictments I

issued on my country, almost universally supported me. Towards the end of my masters’

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degree, after beginning to read the works of Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Chinua Achebe, Karl
Marx, Walter Rodney, and a host of other thinkers, it did not appear to make any more
sense to me to view Malawi as isolated from global and historical contexts in which
Malawi and other Afiican countries find themselves having to negotiate against difficult
odds. It was at this point that my views started attracting opposition from both Malawians
and non-Malawians alike. The reactions to my attempts to contextualize Malawi’s and
Africa’s problems did not vary much, falling back on the tendency to blame Malawians
and Africans for bringing upon themselves the problems they face. This message
repeatedly appears in the Malawian media, in newspaper editorials and columns, as we
have seen in the examples above. In the specific example of the Malawian columnist who
announced his relocating to South Africa in 2004, he even accused educated Malawians
of having no sense of “social justice,” placing his indictment in the ahistorical and
apolitical context devoid of the same social justice he decried.

This problem of ahistoricism and apoliticism is made more complicated because it
is precisely in the positive context of the glowing and uncritical praise for the global
North and its institutions that the efforts to end the dictatorship and bring peace and
social justice to Malawi were made. Accounts by Lwanda (1993), Mapanje (1995; 2001),
O’Maille (1999) Schofeleers (2001), among others, show the extent to which Malawians
placed their trust in the power of the international community to intervene in their affairs
and save them from the dictatorship. These accounts are ahnost oblivious of the
complicity of the international community in supporting the dictatorship, continually
counting it on the side of the neo-liberal capitalist order against the socialism and

communism of the other side of the Cold War. Recent scholarship on this era provide

224

new ways of understanding the context in which the dictatorship was propped up by Cold

War geopolitics, as observed by Meinhardt and Patel (2003):

As a reliable friend of the Western world and because of his strict anticommunist stance,
Banda was generously supported with Western aid during the cold war. Malawi was the
only African state which maintained full and cordial diplomatic relations with the
apartheid government of South Afiica (p. 5).

More efforts in reconstructing the stories and contexts of Malawi’s difficult past
are coming from literary and autobiographical output (Chiume, 1982; Mapanje, 1995;
Chimombo, 1999; O’Maille, 1999; Chipembere, 2001), moving the narratives away fiom
the sanitized versions sanctioned by officialdom toward lived accounts of people’s lives.
In Chipembere’s (2001) autobiography, which he left unfinished when he died in 1975 at
the age of 45, we get a historical insight into both the personal perspectives as well as the
educational exegesis that informed not only Chipembere but the wider body of Malawian
nationalists in their struggle for political freedom. Chiume’s (1982) autobiography places
the struggle for Malawi’s independence also in his personal context, as well as in the
broader Pan-Africanist aspirations of much of the continent. Both Chiume and
Chipembere write about the role schooling played in the raising of their consciousnesses,
and of the awareness of the racial context in which the suffering of Afiicans under
colonialism was being perpetrated. As foreign minister in the first Malawian post-
independence government, Chiume’s contacts with leaders in southern, East, West,
Central and North Africa demonstrated the understanding African leaders had for a
continent-wide approach to ending colonialism. Thus as Ghana’s first president Kwame
Nkrurnah (195 7) stated, Ghana’s independence meant little if it was not tied to the

independence of all of Afiica. The interconnections went beyond Afiica, as was

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evidenced by events in North America and Europe as well.

At the global level, the independence movement in Africa happened at a time
when the Civil Rights movement was also becoming an important part of the struggle
against racism in the United States. In both the United States and Europe, there was
growing awareness of the injustices committed against people in weaker parts of the
world, triggering popular reactions against US aggression in Vietnam, colonial and
imperialist atrocities in Algeria, Kenya, Iran, Latin America, and several parts of Asia.
Autobiographical narratives by WEB Du Bois (1963) Grace Lee Boggs (1998), and
Nkrumah (1957) highlight the global and historical context of the struggle for peace and
social justice around the world. These are important aspects in a peace curriculum, which
have been conspicuously absent in educational reform projects.

That Malawi’s struggles for peace and social justice have always been tied to
global movements and influences is not reflected in the anti-colonial struggle alone.
When dissent was heavily censored and punished in Malawi, in many cases by detention
without trial and even death, Malawians and others kept the fight for freedom alive
through networks outside Malawi. Fr. Padraig O’Maille (1999), an Irish Catholic priest
who arrived in Malawi in the late 19605, writes in his memoir about how he and his
Malawian friends at the University of Malawi collaborated with each other to send news
of abuses and atrocities to international news outlets such as the British Broadcasting
Corporation, and to human rights activist organizations such as Amnesty International.
Jack Mapanje (1995) has written about postcards he received whilst in prison, urging him
not to give up hope, and reminding him that the world had not forgotten him. Thus

agitation for the release of political prisoners and improvement in Malawi’s human rights

226

record came from outside Malawi at a moment when very few Malawians could speak
out inside Malawi.

While some activity had been going on underground and amongst Malawian
exiles and others concerned, the most significant development came fi'om the Pastoral
letter of March 8, 1992, issued by the Catholics bishops of Malawi’s seven dioceses. The
letter, read in all Catholic churches across the country, in the major local languages,
described the ills and atrocities Malawians had been subjected to. The bishops described
the role of scripture in speaking out against suffering, and in calling on people of faith to
live their faith, a message captured in the title of the pastoral letter Living Our Faith. The
message of the pastoral letter underscores the sense in which the Malawian understanding
of uMunthu provides a peace and social justice perspective that gives the church in
Malawi the imperative to address both the spiritual as well the social needs of Malawians,

needs created by the depravation of the dictatorship.

Tentativeness and incompleteness

Given the breadth and scope of meanings and understandings of what uMunthu,
peace and social justice are, there are potential problems with the use of ‘peace’ as a
framework. The framework laid out here, derived fi'om the data sources, and from the
inter-disciplinary literature, can be seen as tentative and incomplete. This is because of
the extensive nature of the data sources collected for the entire research, of which the
autobiographies, and the classroom observations, are a small, albeit central, part. To
streamline the data and make it manageable, this dissertation has focused on those parts

of the analysis that directly answer the main research question, because they deal with the

227

issue of uMunthu, peace and social justice in curricular and pedagogical settings. In
addition, the analysis has been restricted to the teachers who participated in the study, and
whose experiences are not representative of Malawian teachers in general. It is for these
two reasons that the framework derived from the data sources can be seen as tentative
and incomplete. However it is also important to keep in mind that this study did not set
out to generalize any of its findings as representative of Malawian teachers. Thus
however restricted and contextual the findings, they are relevant and true in the specific
setting and moment of the issues being studied.

This remaining part of the chapter provides an elaboration of how the four-part
thematic framework, the autobiographical narratives, and the classroom data sources all
fit together. The chapter concludes by outlining the risks, potential problems, and
limitations of the study, and opportunities presented by the theoretical framework as a set
of guidelines for an education system built around uMunthu and lived experience, peace
and social justice.
uMunthu, curriculum, pedagogy and praxis: a peace and social justice education
framework

The four-thematic framework contributes to the addressing of the research
questions in a number of ways. The first theme of peace as uMunthu, the humarmess and
dignity of a person, formed and defined by the community of human beings,
characterizes the ideals that the teachers in the study aspire to, and whose absence
represents the contexts of the problems the teachers reported encountering. An analysis of
the problems opens up patterns consistent with a desire for the promotion of the

humanness and dignity of a person, to address the prevalence of structural violence,

228

namely, social injustice and human insecurity. The narratives produced by the teachers
come out of this analysis, and ground the ideas about Malawi’s history and contemporary
society held not only by Malawians in general, but by teachers as well. This analysis
exposes the need to contextualize Malawi’s problems of structural violence in a peace
and justice context, understanding them through the autobiographical writings and the
classroom experiences of the participating teachers. This contextualization leads to the
second theme in the framework, issue-driven curricular topics about peace and social
justice, and addresses the last two research questions, a better understanding of narratives
of social injustice and inequality, and of the educational needs of Malawians. Coming
from the teachers’ own lived experiences, and from their classroom experiences, the
cunicular topics present a pedagogical imperative, the third theme in the framework. At
the pedagogical level, the framework becomes a guide to action and reflection for social
transformation, by teachers and other educators, towards peace. This action and reflection

makes up the praxis that is the fourth theme of the framework.

Risks, problems and limitations of study

The risks, problems and limitations discussed below do pertain to the general
framework of this study, but the specific examples I have used come from the broader
considerations of problems in peace education, social justice and human security efforts.
The first limitation of the study lies in the risk posed by the problem of little research
done on the intersection of uMunthu, peace, teachers’ life writing, and education in
Afiica. It is easy for peace scholarship from the global North to dominate the analysis and

discussion on peace, life writing and education in Africa, thereby marginalizing African

229

scholarship and epistemologies in the process. An example of this can be seen in the way
that some scholars frame human rights education (see Holland, 2003). In justifying the
need for human rights education in Angola to reverse the atrocities and dehumanization
of a 30 year-old civil war, Tracy Holland (2003) writes that “the attempt to teach and to
learn about human rights in a culture notably lacking in human rights is like trying to
learn how to read in an environment in which there are no printed materials, no signs, and
no writing utensils” (p. 122). While it is undeniable that the Angolan civil war brought
untold suffering to ordinary Angolans, a situation in which human rights were not
respected, it is questionable to claim that Angola is a “culture where human rights
effectively do not exist. . .” (p. 123). The issue here is the essentialist impression thus
created to the effect that the absence of notions of human rights in Angola is innate. It
would be a different matter if the statement included the understanding that human rights
were erased, or destroyed, as part of the context of protracted violence and civil conflict
that consumed Angola for decades.

What this type of claim appears to intimate is the absence of a Westemized
understanding of what human rights are and how they operate. The impression thus
created is that Angolan culture has no concept of human dignity and respect, and that
these must be imported from outside. This claim cannot be proven in the absence of a
thorough examination of the history and culture of Angola, and the colonial history and
Cold War politics that created the conditions in which the civil war erupted and was
perpetuated (Anderson, 2000). The danger is that in instituting a human rights education
that assumes no prior existence of indigenous understandings of human dignity and

respect, the ‘banking’ model that follows might alienate ordinary, non-elite Angolans and

230

sideline them in the peace building process. The solution to this limitation lies in
strengthening research and deliberation on African epistemologies, building on the
momentum that has already been initiated by several of the scholars discussed in this
study.

A second limitation deals with the concern with the focus on social justice and
human security. Because these terms have recently gained currency and are being used in
several disciplines, there is a danger of narrowing the analysis to contemporary problems,
leading to the neglect of the long view of global and historical processes that have used
racialism over several centuries to remove Afiica from the discourse of world history,
and construct an inferior identity for the continent and its inhabitants. An example of this
danger can be seen in the way the issue of Third World debt has been represented,
especially with the 2005 G8 summit in Scotland, and the frenzy surrounding the
‘forgiveness’ of debt for the world’s 18 poorest countries. The rhetoric coming from the
announcement of the decision to forgive debt, and the language contained in the
Commission for Afiica Report (2005), locate the cause of Africa’s problems on corrupt
leadership. What is not mentioned in the report, nor in many of the news reports, are the
historical patterns of corrupt African leaders being supported by rich nations in the
interest of Cold War alliances, nor the desire for multi-national corporations from the
global North to have unimpeded access to raw materials and minerals from the continent
of Africa. This is the point made by the journalist George Monbiot in the June 14, 2005

issue of The Guardian (London):

The G8 governments claim they want to help poor countries develop and compete
successfully. But they have a powerful commercial incentive to ensure that they
compete unsuccessfully, and that our companies can grab their public services and
obtain their commodities at rock-bottom prices. The conditionalities we impose on
the poor nations keep them on a short leash.

231

His observations were echoed a week later by another journalist, John Pilger (2005), in
the June 23rd issue of The New Statesman, who identified the self-interested specific

language contained in the debt forgiveness announcement:

The G8 communique announcing the "victory for millions" is unequivocal. Under a
section headed "G8 proposals for HIPC debt cancellation", it says that debt relief to poor
countries will be granted only if they are shown "adjusting their gross assistance flows by
the amount given": in other words, their aid will be reduced by the same amount as the
debt relief. So they gain nothing. Paragraph Two states that "it is essential" that poor
countries "boost private sector development" and ensure "the elimination of impediments
to private investment, both domestic and foreign".

While no one doubted the importance of efforts to alleviate the suffering of the
world’s poor, many of them in Afiica, the focus on justice, a theme labeled boldly and
clearly on stage during the July 2, 2005 ‘Live 8’ Concert in ten cities around the world,
was not being pronounced with the historical and political processes that were part of the
poverty thus created in the first place. The problem does not lie with the use of the terms
‘social justice’ or ‘human security’ per se, but rather with the reluctance to bring out the
historical and political contexts within which the injustice of the debt and the insecurity
thus engendered occur. The future of a just and more peaceful world lies in the increasing
efforts to challenge ahistorical perspectives on the contexts of global injustice. The
attention and debates evoked by the G8 summit in the year 2005 made a giant, positive
step in this direction. Teacher education curricula and professional development
programs need to take cognizance of such developments and make them part of the

training and development of teachers in Malawi and in other parts of the world.

A third limitation with the ‘peace’ fiamework is the superficiality of conventional

definitions of the concept. In viewing peace as the absence of violence of conflict,

232

governments emphasize the maintenance of law and order, using its organs such as the
police and the army to enforce peace. Kamuzu Banda’s thirty-year rule in Malawi was
characterized by the dictum “Peace and Calm, Law and Order.”23

According to Hizkias Assefa (1996), the use of such armed organs of
governments with their legalized power requires the use of force, which may include a
form of physical violence, in order to enforce peace. In the process, the government may
“condone or perpetuate another kind of more covert violence that has come to be called
structural violence” (p. 43). Assefa paraphrases Galtung’s (1969) definition of structural
violence as “social and personal violence arising from unjust, repressive and oppressive
national and international political and social structures.” Assefa mentions the subtlety
with which structural violence can also result in consequences similar to physical
violence:

According to this view, a system that generates repression, abject poverty, malnutrition
and starvation for some members of a society while other members enjoy opulence and
unbridled power inflicts covert violence with the ability to destroy life as much as overt
violence, except that it does it in more subtle ways (p. 43)

A concerted effort to involve civil society and other social justice activists in reclaiming
the definitions of the concepts and ideals of peace can create an awareness of this
problem, and prepare educators and others in seeking broader avenues for peace and
social justice education.

A fourth limitation with ‘peace’ as a concept lies with the different terms and

contexts that can easily fit under the umbrella of ‘peace.’ In envisioning democratic

 

23 The Poem ‘A Love Poem for My Country’ by Frank Chipasula portrays irony of the dictum in these
lines:

You wriggle with agony as the terrible twins, law and order
Call out the tune through the thick tunnel of barbed wire

233

 

classrooms in the new Malawi, few Malawian scholars, with the exception of Musopole
(1994) use uMunthu, peace and social justice as viable concepts. Yet the connection
between democracy and peace is not far fetched, whether in the African sense, or in the
Western sense that locates peace and democracy in the geographical rather than the
ontological realm.

Peace is therefore a concept that can sometimes be too flexible and too diffused as
to be impractical, too loose to be usefully coherent. Yet in that same flexibility it can be
applied to not only situations in which overt, physical violence has flared, such as in
armed conflict, but also in situations in which people are suffering from problems
embedded in the social fabric. Assefa argues that ‘peace’ is both a philosophy and a
paradigm “with its own values and precepts, which provide a framework within which to
discern, understand, analyse and regulate all human relationships in order to create an
integrated, holistic and humane social order” (p.44). Assefa sees four values and
principles that guide this philosophy and paradigm. These values and principles are
identifying and dealing with root causes of conflict; attention to justice and fairness of the
process as well as to the outcome of the settlement; the search for common deeper needs,
interests and objectives; and a restructuring of relationships to remove hierarchies and
instead instill equality, participation, respect, mutual enrichment, and growth.

A fifth limitation of this study and its peace framework is that it opens up the risk
of portraying Malawi in particular and Africa in general as an unusual, aberrant,
grotesque place where the rule of law is absent, and the people powerless. Such
characterizations of Malawi and Africa are in fact commonplace, as the examples

highlighted at the beginning of this chapter have illustrated. Missing from such

234

characterizations is the awareness that Malawi was caught up in a system whose
historical context included colonialism and neo-liberalism, and that Dr. Banda, in his
European cultural outlook, used the global system to his advantage by creating a state of
fear, and perpetuating a feeling of inferiority amongst Malawians. The knowledge that
there were Malawians and non-Malawians alike who worked hard, often underground, to
expose the abuses of the system, and eventually succeeded in the endeavour, despite the
long time it took for this to happen, is enough cause to encourage firture generations not
to give up. This is the one place where teachers are strategically positioned for a long-
terrn process to lay the foundation for such abuses and atrocities les likely in the future.
This study sees itself as part of the beginnings of that long-term strategy.

A number of books, book chapters and articles have appeared since the early
19905, cataloging and describing the social injustice and human insecurity that
Malawians have had, and continue to endure. Dr. John Lwanda (1993) analyzed the
question of why former president Dr. Banda was able to rule Malawi and inflict the
abuses he did with little dissent (1993). Dr. Lwanda has also analyzed some of the abuses
that have continued even after the transformation of the early 90s (1996). Fr. Patrick
O’Malley (1999) has provided a personal account of he saw the abuses, and collaborated
with a few courageous Malawians, and concerned individuals and organizations outside
Malawi to mobilize action against the abuses. Fr. Matthew Schoffeleers (1999) has
produced a detailed account of the role of the church in raising people’s consciences to
the need for change. Steve Chimombo (1999) and Jack Mapanje (2002) have called on
Malawian writers and ordinary Malawian writers to come forward and tell their own

stories about their experiences with social injustice in Malawi. There are several other

235

accounts that have made their contributions on the topic.

The one observable thing about the above list is that the writers are all academics
and intellectuals, Malawian and expatriate, using available platforms to offer their
accounts. There are a number of questions that attend efforts to promote peace in Malawi
by addressing issues of social injustice and human insecurity. For one thing, there are not
many platforms available for ordinary Malawians to tell their stories about social
injustice and human insecurity in Malawi. A second problem deals with the presence of
some of the individuals who used their power to perpetrate the abuses, who got away
with it and are back in positions of power today. It will be difficult to cultivate a healthy,
peaceful dialogue about the said injustices, given that some of the perpetrators have even
been acquitted, by a court of law, of suspected involvement, not because they are
innocent, but because of the culture of orality in which abuses were carried out, leaving
no trace of evidence. It is therefore not easy to imagine how there can be peace when the
machinery of abuse used, and still does, ordinary people in the police force, in the
education system, and in every day undertakings, to commit injustices against other
ordinary people.

These are problems that this dissertation cannot adequately and exhaustively
answer. What the dissertation can attempt, however, is to offer guidelines for an effort
toward education for uMunthu, peace and social justice in Malawi. The guidelines are to
be found in the four themes of the theoretical fiamework, where the uMunthu of every
Malawian should be recognized, and where peace and social justice should be central in
the cunicular and pedagogical approaches enacted in the classroom, school and

community.

236

 

Implications for future research and policy directions

The research described in this study focused mostly on twenty-one Malawian
teachers in four Malawian schools. The research methodology involved classroom
observations, interviews, and a writing workshop. I went into the field aiming to find out
what genres of writing were best suited to teaching for peace and social justice, what
ideas and assumptions about Malawi’s history and contemporary society would
contribute to that objective, and how teachers’ narratives contributed a better
understanding of social injustice and inequality, and a better understanding of the
educational needs of Malawians. The teachers I worked with had endless stories to tell
about their lives growing up and going to school in Malawi under a dictatorship, and their
lives now as teachers. Autobiography and life writing therefore turned out to be important
genres of writing for these specific teachers in developing a peace and social justice
framework for their teaching. I worked with the teachers to plan lessons that would
address Malawian problems fi'om a peace and social justice perspective. In order for
teachers to plan lessons and teach them from a peace and social justice perspective, it was
necessary for them to define peace and social justice from their own perspectives, and
also from how other peace educators defined these concepts.

The data sources from the study have comprised teachers’ autobiographies,
interview transcripts, notes from classroom observations, and a field journal I kept
throughout my stay in the field. The research contributes new perspectives on teacher
education, curriculum and pedagogy, and uMunthu peace building approaches in Malawi,

by bringing teachers’ life writing to the fore and demonstrating the importance of Afiican

237

epistemologies on lived experience and in education (Assefa and Wachira, 1996; Prah,
1996; Ramose, 1996). This study has raised new questions that need further research

along three categories: design-procedural, population groups conceptual, and policy.

Desi gn-procedural

While participants wrote their draft autobiographies during and for the dissertation
project, the design of the study did not allow for the amount of time needed for a follow
up consultation process with the participants to clarify ideas and revise their narratives.
Nor did the design allow for a process in which the participants would begin exploring
the relationship between their autobiographical life writing, and their pedagogical
practices in the classroom, school and community. For firture research, it would be
important to follow up on this consultation process with participants to see their
narratives to a satisfactory end, with revisions, editing, and even some form of
publication. This would entail working with the teachers to revise and edit their
autobiographies, and to explore the relationships between their narratives and their

teaching for peace and social justice.

Broader studies

Due to the small number of participants, the study is incapable of making
generalizable conclusions. There is therefore a need for a broader, longitudinal and
representative study in which typical teachers would have a chance of being selected for
the study. The participants in this study were drawn from primary schools; a future study
would need to include secondary school teachers as well. There would also be need to

conduct a similar study among other education populations other than practicing teachers.

238

 

These would include students, student teachers, and educators such as primary education
advisers, district and division level education administrators, and administrators at the
ministry headquarters level. Such studies would help provide a better understanding of
the hierarchical nature of the social injustices at different levels, and the perceptions of
social injustice by individuals at those levels.

It is widely acknowledged in Malawi and around the world that the HIV /AIDS
pandemic is fast weakening social structures that provide safety nets for the human
security of societies and individuals. In Malawi both students and teachers are falling
victims to the disease, and education has been singled out as one important tool if the
country is going to deal with the problem and reverse the adverse effects. Autobiography
and life writing provide a new framework and methodology for the investigation of new
directions and knowledges in the struggle against HIV /AIDS.

Studies of this type, focusing on other groups in the educationist community,
would have as their aim the integration of uMunthu, peace and social justice in the
curriculum and in pedagogical practices. The observation by Musopole (1994) that the
education system emphasizes “intellectual knowledge for its own sake” (pp. 2-3) and in
the process devalues the uMunthu of learners, leading to what Sindima (1995) calls the
“crisis of people’s identity and rupture of society” (p. 196) needs to be taken seriously in
reconceptualizing curricular content. This calls for more studies that merge the various
understandings of what constitutes uMunthu and how it can provide a framework for the
revitalization of society in its various spheres, including education, politics, economics,
the judicial system, and religious life. At the conceptual-content level, it is also worth

paying attention to Zeleza’s (1997) call for the school curriculum to be aligned with

239

 

advances made in the study of Africa, and Malawi in this particular case. This would
mean more evidence in the curriculum of the inclusion of the scholarship on uMunthu by
the likes of Musopole (1994), Sindima (1995, 1998), Chigona (2002) and others. It would
also mean deliberate efforts to promote the writing and publishing of autobiographies, to
build on the tradition established by Chipembere (2001), Chiume (1982), O’Maille
(1999), Chipembere (forthcoming), Chimombo (forthcoming), and Mapanje
(forthcoming). The political and historical contexts of these works would enhance and
support other scholarly projects on Malawi’s recent colonial and post-independent past
(Englund, 2002), Schofeleers (1999) (Tambulasi and Kayuni, 2005), and many others.

At the policy level, there is need for discussion on and examination of the teacher
education curriculum at the pre-service and in-service professional development levels.
The disussion on what constitutes policy will need to demystify the top-down notion of
decision-making, to recognize how daily teaching and learning practice and local
knowledge are an important part of policy formulation. This will entail a healthy balance
between learning fiom other parts of the world and learning from the suppressed
knowledges of endogenous Malawian and African values and experiences.

When I set out to begin conceptualizing this project, little did I know that I would
be inducting myself into several disciplines that have seemingly nothing in common
amongst each other. In the process, I have learned how to utilize a trans-disciplinary
framework that puts uMunthu, peace and social justice, and the life narratives these
generate, at the center of educational practice. A noticeable change in my intellectual
outlook has been the awareness of the growing significance and limitations of viewing

social phenomena through lenses that foreground uMunthu, peace and social justice.

240

 

Coming full circle, paving new roads

There is an important legacy that my earlier, teenage desire to become a priest has
left me with. It is the power of passion. The story I have presented in these pages has
been a culmination of passion, drive, hope and aspiration, captured in Chinua Achebe’s
(1975) prescient words in which the wish to “help my society regain belief in itself and
put away the complexes of the years of denigration and self-abasement” is deeply held.
“And it is essentially a question of education, in the best sense of that word,” where “my
aims and the deepest aspirations of my society meet (p. 44).

Achebe’s bold, mission—like sentiments serve as an antidote against the tide of
hopelessness and bitter critique that easily engulfs many Malawians and non-Malawians
alike. In taking our inquiry beyond the observation that the elephant appears to have been
killed by the dzaye fruit, towards questioning what may have caused the dzaye fruit to fall
in the first place, this study offers a perspective that promises new insights into the
complex conditions of contemporary Malawi and the role education can play in the
understanding of those conditions. Using life narrative perspectives that promote
uMunthu, peace and social justice helps us see the global and historical dimensions of
this inquiry and its praxis, including its limitations and complications. But the peace
perspective also presents a framework for overcoming the limitations and complications
by offering guidelines for new research and policy initiatives that will inform new
designs for ftuther inquiry. For me, this further inquiry includes three things. First, I
would like to work with the teachers in the project to revise, edit and publish their

autobiographies, and to continue this kind of study with more teachers, and with people

241

 

fi'om other walks of life, from across the country and the region. Second, I would like to
continue investigating uMunthu as a framework for peace and social justice in education.
Most importantly, perhaps, I look forward to being able to return to writing poetry,

fiction and children’s books, and pick from where I stopped almost a decade ago.

242

 

APPENDICES

243

APPENDIX A: Map of Africa—Malawi inset

 

 

 

 

 

Map of Malawi in southeast Africa

244

APPENDIX B: Map of Malawi—districts represented by teachers in study

   
 
 
  
  
   
   
  

l KARONGA

Mzuzu City2

Key:

1—6: Each of the participating
teachers came from one of these 6
districts

1—3: Researcher did not physically
Visit these schools

476: Researcher physically visited
each of these schools

245

APPENDIX C: List of Participants by school

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chi gwale School
Name Gender Grade District
1 Mfirwo F 5 Ntcheu
2 Kwetizi F 4 Ntcheu
3 Mwalawo M 7 Ntcheu
4 Katchikolo M 8 Ntcheu
5 Likhaya M 3 Ntcheu
6 Nyezi F 1 Ntcheu
7 Bwato M 2 Ntcheu
Tsigado School
Name Gender Grade District
8 Kadaluka M 5 Zomba
9 Khutcha M 8 Zomba
10 Mlumbe M 6 Zomba
1 1 M’badwo F 4 Zomba
Medosi School
Name Gender Grade District
12 Wembayi M 7 Zomba
l3 Fika F 5 Zomba
l4 Chekela F 1 Zomba
1 5 Sibwe F 2 Zomba
16 Bile M 8 Zomba
Other teachers (Schools not visited)
Name Gender Grade District
1 7 Nduluzi M 4 Kasungu
18 Sakina F 3 Karon ga
19 Mwandida F 8 Mzuzu
20 Pinde F 7 Dedza

 

 

246

 

APPENDIX D: The structure of the school system in Malawi

 

Structure of the school system in Malawi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Level Number of years Terminology
Primary school Eight Standard 1 to 8
Secondary school Four ‘ Form 1 to Form 4
Tertiary (vocational and Four for university; variable for Year 1 to Year 4
university) tertiary

 

Note:

Kindergarten is available in very few places, especially urban areas, largely on a private
basis. The Ministry of Education is responsible for primary, secondary and tertiary
education, while the Ministry of Gender, Child Welfare and Community Services is
responsible for early childhood education.

247

 

APPENDIX E: Letters and forms of consent

LETTER OF CONSENT FOR PARTICIPATION IN A RESEARCH STUDY

Steve L. Sharra

Malawi Institute of Education
PO. Box 50,

Domasi

Malawi

Phone: 01 536 300 or 09 287 661
Email: sharrast@msu.edu

 

March 17, 2004

Dear Sir/Madam,

You are being invited to participate in a research project for a PhD dissertation.
The research is being conducted between the months of March and August 2004. You
have the right to accept to participate in the research, or not to.

The aim of the research is to find out how teachers’ writing, focusing on
community stories of peace building, can enrich the curriculum and make schooling
relevant for students and the communities they come fiom.

The design of the research is based on a teachers-teaching-teachers principle,
using the writers' workshop as a forum for reading, viewing, discussing and responding,
using various genres of writing, to specifically selected audiovisual, print and hyper texts.
You will be asked to read some materials and write your responses, and then to meet
regularly with other participants for a workshop. I will then visit you in your schools to
observe you teach, and to interview you. I will destroy all the tapes and transcripts two
years after completion and defense of the dissertation.

You and other participants will share strategies for the teaching of writing as a
vehicle for with peace building through the examination of community problems of
conflict, poverty and socio-economic development in the classroom.

The writing that you and other participants will produce in the study will be
collected. You and other participants will also be interviewed, on audiotape and video,
and the notes from the interviews will be transcribed for analysis. You will also be
observed teaching in your classroom, from which observational and field notes will be
taken, also for analysis. You will respond to pre- and post- survey questions, responding
to questions about what you consider to be relevant issues for the improvement of
teaching and writing, and peace building in Malawi.

Eligibility and criteria
You are being invited to participate in this study because you fit some of the
248

following criteria:

0 A teacher in a Malawian school
0 A proven record of or willingness for active reading and/or creative writing
0 A proven record of or willingness for community participation

Your participation is voluntary, and you may withdraw from the research anytime
you wish, without providing reasons for doing so if you so wish, and with no penalty for
withdrawing.

How your privacy will be protected

All the data collected from the study will be confidential, to the maximum extent
allowable by law. It will be kept in a safe place, under lock and key. To assure
confidentiality of your participation in the research, you will be asked to choose your
own pseudonym. All names, including those of the school and place where you come
from, will be changed in the dissertation write-up and any subsequent publications.
Because the video taping of your teaching will mean your students appearing on the tape
as well, permission will be sought from the students and parents whose students will be in
the classes you will teach while you are participating in this research.

Risks and benefits

Part of the research will involve whole group discussions in reaction to carefully
selected readings. Some of the discussions may be critical of educational practices in
Malawi. The privacy and confidentiality measures being taken by the researchers are
aimed at protecting you from possible consequences as a result of your views.

The research is actually designed to benefit you as a participant, by giving you a
chance to discuss pedagogical strategies in the teaching profession, and learn other
strategies from colleagues. That’s why the model is one of teachers teaching teachers. As
a participant, you will learn about other resources for teaching through the print and
audio-visual materials to be read and viewed, and through collaboration with other
professionals.

You have the opportunity to ask questions and express concerns to the researchers
about your participation in the research, as an ongoing process. You will be provided
with a statement of any significant new findings developed during the course of the
research that may relate to your willingness to continue participation. You will be given
a copy of your signed consent form.

There might be occasions when you might need to consult me, my dissertation
director, or the chair of the University Committee on Research Involving Human
Subjects (UCRIHS) at Michigan State University, USA. Such occasions might be when
you are concerned about the confidential nature of your participation in the research,
when a school or district official has questions concerning your participation in the study,
or you are concerned about how your participation will be represented or interpreted in
the writing of the dissertation.

For these and other questions, and for any further information, please do not
hesitate to contact me or one of the following people:

249

Lynn Fendler, PhD

1161 Erickson Hall

Department of Teacher Education
College of Education

Michigan State University

East Lansing, MI 48824

Phone: 517.355.5047

Fax: 517.432.2795

Email: fendler@msu.edu
Or

Dr. Peter Vasilenko, Chair
202 Olds Hall

East Lansing, MI 48824-1046
Phone: (517) 355-2180

Fax: (517-432-4503

Email: ucrihs@msu.edu

Website: http://www.humanresearch.msu.edu

Please put your signature in the spaces provided below to indicate your acceptance to
participate in the research, and to grant permission to the researcher to interview you and
collect your writing samples. The absence of a signature indicates your decision not to be
interviewed, audio or video taped.

 

My signature below indicates my voluntarily participation in this study:

Name & Signature:

 

My signature below indicates my voluntarily consent to be audio-taped in this study:

Name & Signature:

 

 

My signature below indicates my voluntarily consent to be video-taped in this study:

Name & Signature:

 

250

LETTER OF CONSENT FOR PARENTS AND STUDENTS

Steve L. Sharra

Malawi Institute of Education
PO. Box 50,

Domasi

Malawi

Phone: 265.536.300
Email: sharrast@msu.edu

March 17, 2004

Dear Parent/Guardian,

Your child’s teacher has been invited to participate in a research project for a PhD
dissertation. The research is being conducted between the months of November 2003 and
May 2004, at the premises of the Malawi Institute of Education, Domasi, and in your
child’s school and classroom.

The aim of the research is to find out how teachers’ writing, focusing on
community stories of peace building, can enrich the curriculum and make schooling
relevant for students and the communities they come from. To facilitate the collection of
data for the research, we need to record on both videotape and on audiotape some
classroom sessions. The taping may include your child.

Your child’s participation in this study will not be assessed or graded in any way,
and so will not be part of your child’s school record. Also, in the research write up, your
child will be provided with a pseudonym, and any identifying information (e. g. name of
school or district) will be deleted or protected with pseudonyms. However, because the
materials will include video clips of the classroom, and your child’s teacher may choose
to participate in publications and presentations related to this project, we cannot
guarantee absolute anonymity of your child. However we can ensure that your child’s full
name will never be revealed and your child’s privacy will be protected to the maximum
extent allowable by law.

You have the opportunity to ask questions and express concerns to the researchers
about your child’s participation in the research, as an ongoing process. You will be
provided with a statement of any significant new findings developed during the course of
the research that may relate to your and your child’s willingness to continue participation.
You will be given a copy of your signed consent form.

There might be occasions when you might need to consult me, my dissertation
director, or the chair of the University Committee on Research Involving Human
Subjects (UCRIHS) at Michigan State University. Such occasions might be when you are
concerned about the confidential nature of your child’s participation in the research.

For these and other questions, and for any further information, please do not
hesitate to contact me or one of the following people:

251

Lynn F endler, PhD

1161 Erickson Hall

Department of Teacher Education
College of Education

Michigan State University

East Lansing, MI 48824

Phone: 517.355.5047

Fax: 517.432.2795

Email: fendler@msu.edu

Or

Dr. Peter Vasilenko, Chair
202 Olds Hall

East Lansing, MI 48824-1046
Phone: (517) 355-2180

Fax: (517-432—4503

Email: ucrihs@msu.edu

Website: http://www.humanresearch.msu.edu

In signing below, you grant permission for your child’s written work, along with
the video and audio taped classes, to be included in the research. Your child’s
participation in the study is completely voluntary. You reserve the right to refuse
participation in this project. If you give consent now, you still reserve the right to
discontinue your child’s participation in the study at any time, without giving reasons.
Please contact me directly if you have any concerns or questions.

Sincerely,

Steve L Sharra
Malawi Institute of Education

(Teacher’s name):

(School address and phone if available):

252

Video and audio taping Consent form for Parents/Guardians and Students
My child and I voluntarily consent for him/her to be video-taped and audio-taped in this

research. I will receive a copy of this page for my records, and the researchers will keep
the original form.

Child’s name:

 

Child’s signature:

 

Parent’s signature:

 

Date:

 

253

KALATA KWA MAKOLO KUVOMEREZA MWANA MKAFUKUFUKU

Steve L. Sharra

Malawi Institute of Education
PO. Box 50,

Domasi

Malawi

Telefoni: 265.536.300
Email: sharrast@msu.edu

March 17, 2004

Okondeka Makolo,

Aphunzitsi a mwana wanu ayitanidwa kuti apange nawo kafukufuku wokhudza
maphunziro a ukatakwe (PhD). Kafukufukuyu achitika pakati pa miyezi ya Novembala
2003 ndi Meyi 2004, ku Malawi Institute of Education, Domasi, ndinso mkalasi mwa
mwana wanu.

Cholinga cha kafukufuku ameneyu ndikufufuza m’mene aphunzitsi amagwiritsira ntchito
luso la zolembalemba mkaphunzitsidwe kawo, ndi mavuto a m’dera lanu okhudzana ndi
kumanga mtendere pakati pa anthu. Kuti kafukufukuyu ayende bwino, pakufunika kuti

tij ambule aphunzitsi ndi ana ali mkalasi, pa kanema, ndinso pa kaseti.

Mwana wanu sayesedwa mayeso ochokera mu kafukufirkuyu, ndipo za mkafukufukuyu
sizilowa m’mabuku aaphunzitsi. Polemba zotsatira za kafukufukuyu, dzina la mwana
wanu lidzasinthidwa, kupewa kutulutsa kunja kwa sukulu zokhudza mwana wanu
(mwachitsanzo, dzina la sukulu kapena dela). Komabe chifukwa choti pakhala zithunzi
za kanema, ndinso kuti aphunzitsi a (dzina 1a mphunzitsi) angafune kulemba ndi
kusindikiza zotsatira za kafukufukuyu, nkotheka kuti mwana wanu angawoneke
mkanemayu. Komabe ife tiyesetsa kuti dzina la mwana wanu lisatulukire ku gulu ndipo
asadziwike kuti wachita nawo kafukufukuyu, kutsatira ndi malamulo a boma.

Muli ndi ufulu wofunsa mafunso kapena kupereka madandaulo kwa ochita kafukufukuyu
zokhudza mwana wanu. Mudziwitsidwa zotsatira zili zonse zomwe zingapangitse kuti
mwina musinthe maganizo kuti mwana wanu apitirise mkafukufukuyu kapena iyayi.
Mupatidwa kope la chikalata cha chilolezo chanu.

Pakhoza kukhala nthawi zina zoti mukhoza kufuna kukumana nane, wondilangiza pa
kafukufuku ameneyu, kapenanso mkulu wa bungwe la zamchitidwe wa kafukufuku ku
Michigan State University. Mwachitsanzo, zokhudza chitetezo cha mwana wanu pa
kafukufukuyu.

Ngati pali mafunso otere, ndinso pa zina zonse, chonde mukhoza kulankhula ndi anthu ali
254

m’musiwa:

Lynn Fendler, PhD

1161 Erickson Hall

Department of Teacher Education
College of Education

Michigan State University

East Lansing, MI 48824

Telefoni: 517.355.5047

Fakisi: 517.432.2795

Lamya: fendler@msu.edu

Kapena:

Dr. Peter Vasilenko, Wapampando

202 Olds Hall

East Lansing, MI 48824-1046

Telefoni: (517) 355-2180

Fakisi: 517-432-4503

Kalata ya lamya: ucrihs@msu.edu

Lamya: http://www.humanresearch.msu.edu

Posayina pansipa, mukupeleka chilolezo kuti zolemba za mwana wanu, ndinso zithunzi
za kanema ndi mawu a pakaseti akhale nawo pa kafukufuku ameneyu. Mwana wanu ali
m’kafukufukuyu mwa kufuna kwanu, mosakakamizidwa. Muli ndi ufirlu wokana.
Ngakhale mutavomela pano, inu ndi mwana wanu nonse mulinso ndi ufirlu wosintha
maganizo nthawi ina ili yonse.

Mukhoza kundipeza nkundifunsa ngati mufuna kudziwa zambiri.
Zikomo,

Steve L Sharra
Malawi Institute of Education

(Dzina la aphunzitsi):
255

(Dzina la sukulu ndi telefoni ngati ilipo):
Chilolezo cha makolo ndi ophunzira
Ine monga kholo ndi mwana wanga tikupeleka chilolezo mwaufulu wathu kuti mwanayo

aj arnbulidwe pa kanema ndi pa kaseti mu kafukufuku ameneyu. Ine ndipatsidwa kope la
chilolezo chimenechi, ndipo ochita kafukufukuyu asunga chilolezo chenichenicho.

Dzina la mwana:

 

Siginetcha/chilolezo ya mwana:

 

Siginetcha/chilolezo cha kholo:

 

Tsiku:

 

256

 

 

 

APPENDIX E: Interview questions

Pre—workshop

What kinds of things do you read?

Do you read anything for pleasure? What examples can you provide?

Are you required to read anything for your work as a teacher?

Can you name one book or piece of writing you have read that you remember very well?
How long ago did you read it?

Do you teach writing to your students?

What do you think helps students to write?

In the last 5 years, what has happened in Malawi that has influenced your teaching?
What have you read concerning these issues that has influenced your teaching?

In the last 5 years, what has happened in Malawi that has influenced your writing? (If
yes, why have you written about the issue? If none, why haven’t you written about the
issue?)

What kinds of writing have you done surrounding the issue?

Can you give examples of events that have happened in this local community in the last 5
years that have influenced your teaching?

Can you give examples of events that have happened in the country in the last 5 years
that have influenced your teaching?

Do you students write about these issues?

Is there something right now that you would like to read?

What do you think education ministers, other officials and teachers should be reading?
How old you think students should be before they are asked to write?

257

What do you think young Malawians should be reading?

What do you think young Malawians should be writing about?
What do you wish you had read in your teacher training?

What do you see as some of the main causes of poverty in Malawi?
What do you see as some of the main causes of crime in Malawi?
What do you see as some of the main causes of conflict in Malawi?

What efforts have you done to address issues of community problems, eg, poverty, crime,
conflict, in your teaching?

How have you used writing to address issues of community problems in your teaching?
What resources would you require to address these issues better?

What other general comments would you like to make about education, teaching, writing
and community problems?

Post-workshop

If you had to pick one thing we read in the workshop for education officials and other
teachers to read, watch or listen to, what would you pick?

Have you read anything for pleasure since the workshop?

Have you written things since the workshop?

Have you taught writing to your students since the workshop?

What topics, assistance, circumstances and atmosphere have you found helpful for
students to write?

Is there something right now that you would like to read next?

Having gone through the workshop:
0 how old you think students should be before they are asked to write?
0 what do you think young Malawians should be reading?

258

what do you think young Malawians should be writing about?
what do you wish you had read in your teacher training?

what do you see as some of the main causes of poverty in Malawi?

what do you see as some of the main causes of crime in Malawi?

what do you see as some of the main causes of conflict in Malawi?

what efforts have you done to address issues of community problems, eg, poverty,
crime, conflict, in your teaching?

 

r-
wow have you used writing to address issues of community problems in your

teaching?

what resources would you require to address these issues better?

what other general comments would you like to make about education, teaching,

writing and community problems? ; —__-

 

 

 

259

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