When I first spotted a jiko stove while making my way through the outdoor markets of Zomba, I was struck by how simple it was. It’s intuitive design allowed for anyone, even a foreigner, to easily figure out where to place the charcoal and pot to achieve the desired end goal, whether that was to cook a goat stew or simply boil some hot water. Little did I know that lighting it would not be quite so easy.


After our charcoal trials, we decided to use the pot and three separate types of fuel to test the efficiency of our product. In other words, we wanted to prove that bamboo charcoal burned just as hot and just as long as wood charcoal. And while that process is outlined in our findings report  and still being explored via tests in the lab, I wanted to talk a little about the process of lighting a jiko stove.

The first time we tried to use the stove, Kyson and I struggled to light the charcoal. We initially used dried leaves as a starter and wrapped it around the charcoal pieces. However, the leaves were too thin and quickly burnt out without affecting any of the charcoal inside the stove. We then graduated to kindling but the flames created were still not large enough to affect the charcoal. Lastly, we reluctantly graduated to pieces of paper from our notebooks but even that did not help us achieve the desired effect.

It was at this point that Roda, our host family’s cook and a local Malawian, came out to help us. She had been watching us struggle through the window and likely could not handle our bumbling attempts to achieve something her grandchildren could do in a heartbeat.  After politely listening to us explain what we were trying to do, Rota brought a plastic bag, wrapped it around the charcoal, and then lit the plastic on fire. It burned slowly and gave the charcoal the heat it needed to eventually light up. The thought to use plastic to solve this problem would have never occurred to me. While I was impressed by her and other Malawians’ ingenuity, I was concerned with the daily health risks of lighting a plastic bag in and around their home.

Burning plastics can release carbon monoxide, dioxins and furans into the air and studies have linked dioxins and furans to cancer and a multitude of respiratory diseases. Even during the few trials we ran, the smell of burning plastic made my stomach churn and I could feel the toxins running through my body.  Bamboo Lota’s hope is to get people not only off wood charcoal but off plastic as a source of kindling as well. It’s our hope that as our project progresses and more communities have greater economic stability, families can move towards cleaner forms of energy.

Happy New Year! It has been a whirlwind closing out 2013, and the Bamboo Lota team is ready to see what 2014 has in store. We wanted to update you all on what we have been working on these last few months, and to give you a glimpse into our plans!

Towards the middle of last year, we started collaborating with two engineers from MIT who have generously agreed to test the bamboo charcoal samples we brought back from Malawi. Tests are still ongoing and the results will be shared soon.

Here is what is in store for Bamboo Lota in 2014:

1.      Bamboo Lota is exploring other bamboo-based products that can have a positive impact on the environment and the communities we work with.

2.      We’re continuing our partnership with Emmanuel International; EI has been a tremendous help in the last few years and we’ve been blessed beyond words for their help. We'll be working closely with EI to continue piloting bamboo charcoal production in the field and disseminating research to stakeholders across the country.

After our trip to Malawi last June, we compiled the "Bamboo Lota Findings Report" that conclude our trip findings and our pilot test results. You can check it out below.

Stay tuned for more updates in the next few weeks!

Love,
Joanna, Kyson, Stephanie

Today was a very sobering day.

Back in 2010 when Stephanie and Kyson were last in Malawi, they spent some time at an orphan care center in Govala, playing with the children and teaching them English through songs. Stephanie wanted to go back to check up on the kids and also to deliver some books, toys, and treats we brought for them. Thankfully we were able to tag along and hitch a ride from some missionaries in town and visit the kids today.

It was my first time in a rural community and at first glance, it was the typical depiction of an African village – something you would see in National Geographic. The 30 children or so were crowded in a small cement room with a thatched roof and no windows. They sat on a tattered, brittle mat on the hard concrete floor and flashed their exuberant faces at the foreigners who came to sing them songs and take their picture. I felt very conflicted visiting because I wasn’t actually doing anything to help the kids and I was simply a spectator, watching them, not with pity, but with a regretfulness at how unfair life can be. 

However, the children gave me hope. There was so much potential and so many bright futures ahead of these kids. I started playing catch with one little girl and when other children crowded around us to get in on the game as well, she instinctively picked up on my hand motions and started organizing the children in a circle and directing them on how to toss the ball so that everyone got a chance to play. She did all that at the ripe old age of 4.

Children grow up fast here and there were two year olds walking home alone from the orphan care center. Thankfully the village is safe enough where there is little risk of harm besides the fact that they may forget the way home. It’s a little scary though because bikes and cars do traverse the same dusty roads the children use and it would take little more than a smudged rear view mirror to result in a horrific accident. But all in all, the children were happy, healthy (from what I could see externally), and full of energy.

What really broke my heart today was the dogs. 

I saw two dogs in Govala today and both dogs made me tear up. I came across the first one as I was walking through the market. It was so malnourished that I could count all of its bones and it barely had enough energy to stand. The edges of its ears were torn and bleeding and flies languished upon the open sores. I wanted to run to it and pet it and feed it something hearty but all I could do was stand there and stare as tears filled my eyes. No one seemed to care that a dying dog was in their midst and in that moment, the world seemed so cruel. 

The other dog I saw was underneath a truck. It was also a walking skeleton and it had taken refuge underneath the wheel of a truck yet when the truck needed to leave for another city, it refused to come out from under the wheel. The situation generated a crowd of spectators as the locals found the stubborn dog hilarious as it refused to leave the side of the tire – as if that tire were its mother. For a while I thought people were just watching the truck struggle as it moved back and forth, trying to get a grip on the road and I wasn’t entirely sure what was quite so funny until a man pointed out the dog underneath the truck to me as his eyes crinkled with glee. Rather than laugh, I gasped, as I saw the poor dog struggle under the truck to stay underneath the covering of the body and I watched fearfully as the truck moved back and forth, trying to get the dog out from under it. At times the truck would run over a part of the dog and it would yelp in pain. I looked for something I could use as a noose to catch the dog by the neck and pull it out from under but I couldn’t find anything and the crowd had blocked the way to the truck so that I couldn’t get through. After a few minutes of watching this I had to walk away because I couldn’t bear to see the dog get run over. It made me sad because I knew that this wasn’t a battle I should fight and I felt so helpless knowing that anything I did would be like putting a bandaid on a broken leg. 

Eventually the truck left and I ran back looking for what I thought would be the remains of the dog. I didn’t see them though so I signed to a woman, indicating that I was looking for the dog. She replied in broken English that the dog had gone. Apparently it wasn’t run over and as soon as the truck left, it followed, hobbling along until it no doubt ceased to exist.

After the orphanage visit I ate lunch with Stephanie, three missionaries who worked with the children at the orphan care center, and Pezo, a local Malawian and Reverend of a local church. We ordered a typical meal of rice, goat, and beans each and had an extra plate of seema so that Stephanie and I could try the more typical fare. It was too much food for us and I asked Pezo if I could feed the leftovers to the dog. He seemed confused at my question and said that they would feed the leftovers to the kids. When I repeated my question he assured me that the food would not go to waste and that they would distribute any leftovers to the children. When I protested that the dogs were so skinny, someone else remarked at how the children were also so skinny and often only had one meal a day.

The exchange made me feel like I was ten again when I told my mom that I wanted to become a veternarian and she responded telling me that for that many years of schooling I should just become a doctor. When I protested saying that I wanted to be an animal doctor and not a human doctor, I received a very stern lecture on how people were more important than animals and how I needed to reprioritize my feelings.  It’s a speech that I get often, even today, usually from a well meaning adult. 

To me, it’s not I think humans are less important than animals. Rather, it’s because I feel like animals have too few people to speak for them while humans have billions of advocates merely in the fact that we are all of the same species. I’ve always rooted for the underdog and in this case, it literally was an under (the truck) dog. Also, my animals have created such joy and happiness in my life and it’s hard to see harm come across something you care about, even if it’s not your own.

Some people have questioned my line of work and asked why, if I love animals so much, why I don’t simply work for a wildlife organization or the Humane Society and work with animals. And the answer to that is because I believe in long term win-win solutions. I believe that I can significantly positively impact a population (human and animal) by implementing sustainable economic practices and raising the standard of living for all. Once people are not starving and have excess food to spare, animals will stop starving. That is the far reaching type of impact I aim to reach with every project that I work on – starting with Bamboo Lota, the Nonhuman Rights Project, Girls 20 Summit, and hopefully many more.

For the time being, I’m doing what I can and trying to learn new skills as quickly as possible so I can turn all of this into a reality. I also take my small wins as they come as long term plans take much patience and planning. 

After lunch I snuck a piece of seema and goat meat that had fallen on the floor and peeled off from the rest of the group to try and find the first dog. Once I found it, I dropped the food at its head, trying to attract as little attention as possible. The dog appeared to be blind and deaf as it’s ears hardly twitched when I called to it. I finally nudged the food with my shoe until it was right underneath its nose. It was heartbreaking to see the dog lie there, with no strength to even put the food in its mouth. Thankfully, after a few minutes, it realized that the food was there and slowly started to eat. I teared up as I watched it eat, sorry that I hadn’t grabbed more food, but more sorry that I couldn’t do more to help that one dog and all the other dogs that were undoubtedly in the same situation. It was a sobering view of the reality of living in Africa – one I had been shielded from experiencing firsthand until today. And as painful as today was, I’m thankful for the experience because it further hardens my resolve to truly make a difference. It sounds so idealistic and childish when I say it out loud but I do feel like there are a lot of people and animals counting on me (and people like me) to make a difference and I refuse to let them down.

In the beginning, Kyson and I were struck by stark similarities between our project expectations and the humble realities of Malawi. Our project focuses on cutting back on deforestation, but we didn’t expect to see charcoal to be so engrained ineverybody’s lives. We sure didn’t expect charcoal traders pushing bicycles toppling with maize bags full of charcoal to be the first thing we see; neither did we expect to be again and again engulfed in smoke from burning trees and forests on the streets by storefronts, by our house in the mountains.

Through our talks with district commissioners, a professor and head of the Department of Forestry, bamboo enthusiasts, charcoal producers, traders and consumers, anti-charcoal law enforcers, farmers, USAID/Emmanuel International employees, small business owners, church congregations, consultants, chiefs of villages, agroforestry groups, and, most importantly, communities, Bamboo Lota has received an overwhelming welcome in Malawi. We are everlastingly thankful for Helen and Paul of Emmanuel International, who has not only let us stay in their home, but allowed us access to their most important resources—to be able to see village projects and to have EI’s credibility of promoting good work behind us.

Our journey to Malawi has brought new insights and further desire to instigate change. You have seen through my camera’s lens, my typed words, a significantly small percentage of what is actually going on in this country. There are many, many more pressing needs than I have presented. Food is scarce—oftentimes, our leftovers are collected, cooked again and fed to those who are less fortunate; some children eat an average of two meals a week; and droughts and flooding ruin many agricultural harvests. Daily nutritional necessities are even categorized as six food groups—things cooked with oil being one. Main agricultural exports include tobacco and tea; neither of which are particularly booming. Other agricultural staples are maize and wheat—not any of these productions are sufficient to feed the 14 million people living in Malawi.

The need for a recycling program is duly noted for plastics and compost—but much of what people buy is reused over, and over and over and over, in a way that would put Americans to utter shame. A child once came up to me and asked, “Can I have your plastic?” and smiled delightedly when I handed my bottle to him. Where a bottle would otherwise be tossed, helping create that awful Texas-sized plastic island in the Pacific Ocean, here it is used for Tippy Taps or refilled over again.Plastic is not waste to the impoverished. Even our food at home was wrapped in their bowls by reusable shower caps that were probably tens of years old.

Helaine, Pezo and the Govala community taught us about the importance of education, which has always been the first priority in my life, my family’s, my friends and neighbors. It is through education that poverty can be alleviated,yet the programs in Malawi are so unorganized and unenforced that the future of Malawi is further compromised.  It is not necessary for children to go to school—some children have never stepped in school at ages 9 or 10, because there is no pressure insisting the importance of education in the big picture. There is a shortage of teachers—classes of 4-year-olds in public primary schools have sizes up to 200 students. Just imagine the outrage if this occurred in ANY other country!

I’ve talked about the state of water sanitation in the country for Blog Action Day, and facts about how the predicted spike in population growth combined with declining resources will lead to increased strife. @font-face { font-family: “Cambria”; }@font-face { font-family: “Georgia”; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: “Times New Roman”; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }Kyson and I are sure to return back to the States with changed perceptions of waste and consumption. Americans are about 4% of the entire world’s population, but consume about 40% of the earth’s resources. If you can personally decrease your water and carbon footprints, be conscious of what you consume, encourage others to do the same, you can move the Earth.

Electricity is rare, most nights are spent in complete darkness as blackouts are more common than not. Blackouts during the day are much like when there is poop in the kiddie pool where I worked as a lifeguard—you cheer and get to take the day off; how unproductive is that? Inefficiency is frustrating even to patient individuals like Kyson and myself—we are used to America’s pressure to multitask efficiently. Here, one cooks one pot at a time, spends eight hours on a project that could be done in an hour. It is entirely different, but slow is the way of life out here.

As we watched Aunt Mary’s wedding video from the 90s, she pointed out at various moments family members or friends who have passed; what struck me the most was that it seemed like most of her relatives and friends (who were all so young, even children who would have been my age at that time) were gone. Malaria and sexually transmitted diseases plague the lives of many, and many do not even see the ripe age of 20.

All in all, Malawians are tied together through their united faith in God. There are differences between churches, yes, there are Catholics, Muslims, Presbytarians, Baptists, etc. But diversity ends there—the smiling faces clearly dictate that life, to them, is by their standards manageable. Albeit living in tattered rags, unemployed and sitting on dirt streets picking through trash, there is chitter-chatter and laughter to be heard everywhere. No where else in the world have I ever encountered such bright smiles from people biking, the “Muli bwanje”s and “Zikomo”s are abundant, their praises for the little they have humble me to my knees. So there is hope, faith that God provides well for the poor in Heaven. And there is, at least, the reassurance that Malawi is, for now, still the “Warm Heart of Africa.” But what can we do to prevent it from a future heart attack, a failure in existing systems, the complete deterioration of a country?

Kyson, Joanna and I have been working hard to process all of our information regarding Malawian culture to best see where we should lead Bamboo Lota in the near future. There are extreme needs that need to be attacked, and we want to face this head on. Westernization is spinning into Malawi slowly, with an increase of cars and pop culture, yet no aid to jump the price gap. The circle of life is such—deforestation leads to drying rivers, soil erosion, increased pollution, climate change, and the consumption of wood charcoal leads also to respiratory illnesses, decreased participation in schooling for children,thus spiraling Malawians further into the poverty trap, increasing the gap between the rich and the poor.

Bamboo Lota is continuing on this project. If you are in any way moved by what we are doing, please help us spread the word on what you have learned about Malawi from our project. You can add us on Facebook, donate to us, connect us to grant donors or any other compassionate friends.

Thank you for coming along with us for our adventure :) We thoroughly enjoyed talking to all of you about our experience in Malawi, and we welcome any more questions!