Caring for Visitors

The work of the General Secretary was extremely demanding in the sense that it was by no means confined to the office. My father had the added responsibility of looking after hoardes of visitors that frequently came to Nkhoma for a whole range of reasons. Nkhoma mission did not have a decent public lodging place or a guest house at that time, and therefore, many of the visotors coming on Synod related business had to lodge at the General Secretary's residence.

The irregular visitors would comprise those that came from all corners of the Synod to purchase some stock, things like altar wine or church stationery, and those that came to the hospital. The more regular ones came to attend departmental meetings or committee meetings such as the General Administration Committee (GAC).

While many visitors arrived during the day, it was not unusual to receive some way after sunset. Whatever the case was, Rev Chienda had to ensure adequate care for them in terms of food, bedding and other lodging needs. Some of the regular ones like Rev Chikapa, Rev Kachaje and Rev Mlenga always demanded to be served with nice, hot tea. They made it clear that they wanted the tea served from the gigantic teapot, which was part of the crockery set in the home.

Rev AWW Mlenga used to be very particular about taking a bath. Whenever possible, he would give advance notice about his coming, with the special instruction that the boiler should be heated adequately so that on his arrival he would take a nice, hot bath. The houes was not equipped with an electric geyser at that time, so the water had to be heated in a specially provided boiler using firewood.

My father employed a local man called Mizilemu, from Mtenje village just outside Nkhoma mission to help with house chores. It was his duty to always make sure that there was enough firewood for the boiler and that a fire was kindled in the boiler every evening. These efforts were to be doubled each time the likes of Rev Mlenga were coming home.

Mizilemu harboured the ambition to one day go to South Africa to work in the mines. He consequently gave himself the special task of learning Fan Kalo, the language of the mines, as a way of preparing himself for his eventual trekking down to the south one day. He got into the habit of trying out his broken Fan Kalo on unsuspecting individuals like ourselves. Each time he learnt about the instruction from Rev Mlenga regarding the boiler, he would say in a mixture of Chichewa and his version of Fan Kalo, "Obusa omenewa ngotchaya phambele eti (I think this minister of God is highly ambitious)."

My father, in his usual joking mood, relayed Mizilemu's remarks to the visiting team of ministers, and they all rolled into bouts of laughter. One Rev Katundu gave Mizilemu the nickname "Phambele". Each time he came home, he would enquire about the whereabouts of his special "friend" Phambele.

To help with supply of meat, my parents reared some chickens. One day Mizilemu picked one white chicken and placed it under his armpit as he walked to his home. My sister, Mercy, saw him from a distance and, without knowing what he was carrying, she called out "a Mizilemu!" (Mr Mizilemu!). Startled, he replied, "N' chipepalatu ichi!" (It is a white sheet of paper that I am carrying!").