I’ve always wanted to learn pottery. As a child I had no fewer than two very crappy toy potter’s wheels that did nothing but frustrate me. I don’t think my high school had a pottery class. My college certainly did not. And after that, well, I never seemed to have the time, money, or opportunity–all at the same time!–to learn pottery.
So when we found out about a lovely lodge on Lake Malawi where you can stay, swim, eat, and learn to make pottery, I knew we had to try it. It’s in Nkhotakota, where David Livingstone facilitated the agreements ending the slave trade in Malawi. And it is simply gorgeous. At certain moments, and from certain angles, you may as well have been transported 5,000 years into the past:
That is the view from the porch of the little cottage where we stayed. I only saw this one herd of cattle, though. There was a friendly half-blind dog who kept coming around to make sure we were okay, though. All the dogs and cats at the lodge were the fattest of their kind that I’ve yet seen in Malawi. It’s because they get lots of kitchen scraps.
I thought I would be most interested in learning to use the wheel, which is a mesmerizing and lovely tool. (Cue embarrassing scene from Ghost. Wait, not really.)
Even the children had a chance to make some things, especially the older one:So as I was saying, I thought I’d be most enamored of the wheel, but was surprised at how much I loved making traditional pots by hand. I loved it. I can’t wait to do it again. They’re made out of the clay of termite mounds, so, essentially, they’re made out of termite poo. And all the shaping is done by hand, with the help of things like a piece of bamboo, a shell, and a rock. Yet another thing that might as well be 5,000 years old. (As in fact it is–but older.)
There is so much that I love about pottery: how the elements involved are undeniably simple: earth, water, fire, but how pots are decidedly of culture, not nature and must be shaped by human ingenuity. I love how ancient the craft is and how even the simplest pot always has some touch that is gratuitously, needlessly lovely. I love the transformation involved in the making and firing.
And I love that when we got tired of making pots, we could go jump in the lake. Literally.
Graeme doesn’t love taking showers–all they had at the lake–but he fits nicely in a bucket:
And the puppy wanted to be sure we got the memo about not leaving her behind next time: