The Hayton House

Yesterday a white lorry, with a bent front bumper, pulled into the driveway of Residence number Nine, a rural mission home, in the “warm heart of Africa”. Near the sleepy town of Makwasa, “Residence number Nine” was the official name for our home of nine years, a name which only showed up on Escom bills and mission grounds mapping. It was, more affectionately for the last nine years, “The Hayton House”, our home, where 3-year-old Benson and almost 1 year old Hudson arrived in 2010 with weary parents to a new life.

Residence number nine in 2010

2010 Living room before our container arrived from the USA

The 2010 kitchen, full of cockroaches!

The first of many renovation projects our family made to the mission home

2011 - our household goods arriving from the USA... 

It was the home where we fought a kitchen full of cockroaches, rats the size of squirrels, snakes of all shapes, sizes and toxicity, driver ant invasions which could only be stopped by “Blue Death” (a white anti ant powder), hedgehogs captured and kept alive in the middle of the night by one of our dogs and proudly displayed at the front door by morning, and the occasional monitor lizard who harmlessly strolled through the garden, provoking the dogs and the villagers next door into riot.

Titch sitting beside the captured monitor lizard (read blog "When Cultures Collide" for the full story.)

 It was the home where we watched baby chameleon eggs hatch and wondered with marvel at the little reptiles as they hunted within minutes of their birth. For one year, a monkey named “Bready” swung from the vines and let himself in the house windows to eat the freshly baked bread, and tortured the children with his playful, cheeky antics. The walled in garden housed five tortoises and a successful birth of tortoise babies, until the afore mentioned driver ants came and ate some of them alive. 

Ours was a backyard swooping with a variety of African birds, which were all eagerly watched through Ryan’s binoculars between the waking hours of 5-6:30am. When the papayas began ripening the prehistoric silvery cheeked hornbills flew with great loud flapping,  past our kondi and onto the fruit, with such noise that the first time I heard one, I raced to protect the monkey, thinking perhaps he was their prey. Bright red sun birds were a favorite of Ryan’s and he planted hibiscus and all sorts of flowering shrubs to attract them closer to the kondi and closer to his binocular watch. And when a squirrel tried to rob a Turacao nest, and two babies fell to the ground, the walled in garden became a refuge for the fledglings, whose parents found them instantly and came to feed and guard them until their wings were strong enough to carry them out into the big wide world

Chameleon eggs in our lower garden and hatch day!

walking around the garden with Benson (3), Hudson (11 months) and Bready the naughty but oh so cute vervet monkey!

Bready thought I was a good substitute mommy when he lost his real mother to a human kill.

Ryan multi tasking in the early morning hours, answering emails, eating breakfast and then...bird watching (note his bird book and binoculars at the table corner...)

On weekends, all the Hayton boys sat on the kondi at breakfast and watched the birds...

Mommy Turacao in our walled in garden watching her fledgling day and night...

Tim Gobble's amazing photo of the silvery cheeked hornbill 

The Tortoise named "Rita" 

It was the home where we assembled a dog pack. Nala, our first dog, a Bouvier X Labrador who could catch a frisbee mid-air, run as my companion dog for miles in the tea fields, and sneak food off the counter (and almost get away with it, if it wasn’t for the crumbs lingering in her beard). She developed unbelievable fence scaling skills which earned her the title, “Nala the Impala,” and which she, unfortunately, passed to some of her offspring from her litter of nine puppies born under our master bedroom window.

Someone told us that every yard in Africa needs a well-bred Jack Russell terrier, so when friends offered us a JR puppy, we were delighted. And “Patch” certainly proved the most vigilant dog we have ever owned, and one we probably owe our lives to on more than one occasion.  Once, a Mozambique spitting cobra reared its head in our garden, and all the other dogs circled it barking, but it was Patch who raced behind its head and killed it with a swift strike to the neck. It was Patch who alerted us to rabid dogs, rat infestations, and surly characters.

A boomslang, killed by Maxwell, alerted by Patch and cut open by Ryan to discover a chameleon inside!

We adopted two gentle giants, Squidgy, a pure-bred Great Dane, and her son, Titch, half Great Dane and half German Shepherd.  Squidgy followed me everywhere in the house and the garden, her head resting at my waist with my hand on her neck. Although she could easily take food off the counter, she never did, and Nala must have wondered what was wrong with her!  She loved squeaky toys and Jett’s “Sofie the giraffe” was often found beside Squidgy’s paws, as she was hiding with the toy in the garden.

Titch went from chasing butterflies to Hayton dog pack “bossman,” and liked to pace the hospital night watchman from inside the fence as he did his perimeter rounds from outside the fence. If one of the other dogs was doing something Titch didn’t approve of he took it upon himself to place his big paw on the offending dogs head, until their behavior improved. During avocado season, he was mostly found with a large avocado in his mouth, or nearby, as he protected his “Cado” with deep growls.

From left: Titch, Squidgy, Patch, Nala

And then we were given a dachshund puppy. “Dog of a lifetime”, Digger, was curious, cuddly, playful and loyal. He went everywhere with us, to the lake, to Zomba, to Mulanje. And when he died unexpectantly at age two, our family grieved his loss with big, fat, sad tears that fell in his wake for years.

A sweet, soft Labrador X traveling salesman came next and Benson still talks about how much he loves this dog. Poppy, a chewy puppy, who got into more trouble than most, by severing the trailer cords, fridge wires, and generator cords with her teeth, and destroying any toys that were accidentally left out overnight, she caused some grief but made up for it with her personality which remains calm and loving.

From Left: Digger, Titch, Patch, Poppy, Nala

The final dog in the Hayton pack arrived on a plane in early 2019. He was the combined birthday and Christmas present for the boys. Born in Bloemfontein South Africa, he has become one of the best traveled dogs I know. When we picked Ntochi (Chichewa for banana) up at Chileka Airport, the boys had another dachshund to love and he is proving just as cheeky and audacious and loveable as we had hoped. 

Ntochi with his best friend, Titch

Ntochi on route to us in the USA, being "Lion-kinged" in DC with Jessica - our friend who hand-carried Ntochi to us from Malawi to LAX.

It was the garden where Hayton ‘green thumbs’ starting sprouting. Ryan became an avid gardener, procuring specialty trees and plants from all over Africa and was often found in the early morning and evening hours with a red bucket full of water to feed the young seedlings. Someone told us our first year that we were a bit silly for planting fruit trees that took five years to produce (five years being the length of our contract with the GC) as we would never eat the fruit ourselves. Well, the nine-year harvest of 72 red mangoes certainly tasted sweet. Benson, Hudson and Jett began to catch the green thumb bug and collected seeds and seedlings from our adventures and brought them home to “The Hayton House” to take root. Over nine years we added purple passionfruit, red papaya, Tommy Atkins and Kent mangoes, pine trees, acacia trees (from the banks of South Luangwa), and tea and coffee bushes from Bwana Chip of Satemwa Tea Estate. (Among many others that I need Ryan to add when he gets home…)

Benson, Hudson and Jett next to an Mbawa tree they planted as a seedling.

A typical wandering in the expansive garden

Red Papayas grown from seed now bearing fruit and below our red Tommy Atkin mango harvest!

The Red Tommy Atkin mango growing near our playground

Maxwell and Duncan made the vegetable garden bloom, with seeds from Australia and American and Africa.

“The Hayton House,” was a home buzzing with ‘strays.’ We always had food to share, games to play, and lively conversations to keep visitors awake until midnight.  We hosted Christmas parties, Bible studies, baby showers and birthday parties with chitengi birthday bunting that flapped in the wind on the Kondi. Over the years we met some of the most wonderful people and enjoyed a meal with them at the big round table on the kondi, or the made-to-order square Mbawa table from the Chimpeni forests in our dining room. And there was always enough of everything to go around. It was a house we shared with many, maybe even you?

Jett's third birthday party on our kondi

The Hayton family celebrating another year of life

The Blantyre and Malamulo Missionary group in our garden in 2012

Always room for another to pull up a mat...

Sharing a Sabbath afternoon chat on the kondi with our fellow missionaries

Some of my sweet friends

Another birthday party on the kondi

A combined baby shower for our PAACS family

Jett learning to catch the ball with Papa on the kondi

plenty of space for everyone at the big round table!

Nai Nai reading on the kondi to her boys

The Malamulo missionary group in our garden in 2016

Our PAACS family squeezing into our living room in 2019

Our staff Christmas party with Thoko, Susan, Maxwell, Duncan and their families on our kondi

It was the house where the ‘three blonde tornadoes’ got their first daddy-made treehouse and when of age started homeschool. Where each boy learned to read and write and build Legos practically with their eyes shut. Where Jett drew in permanent markers on the walls, and where Huddy and I helped him make a mural from his four-year-old designs. It was the house of renovations, additions, and dreams.

Ryan and the boys in their homemade treehouse

The kondi under construction 2012

The kondi under construction 2012

The finished kondi

The Hayton McCusker Guest house under construction 2012

The boys and I during homeschool morning session in our renovated garage/school room

I suppose Jett saw his Mommy painting on the walls in the school room... and this is what together we created after his scribbles on the wall in Sharpie pen...

The LEGO room...

Lego sorting: A labor of love...

Life was alot about learning to "dance in the rain"

It was the house where I wrote a book about Malawi’s last ‘Colonial’ family tea planter, Chip Cathcart Kay, a historical biography not yet to market, but worth a read once it makes it to print. Ever wondered what families did in the 1930’s to protect their children from Malaria? Or what is was like to fly Tiger Moths over Central Africa, and later Cessna’s for small business ventures, always knowing where you were by the mango trees below? How about what makes the best cup of tea and how to grow the best tea bush in Thyolo? Chip knew and he shared his life of adventure with me, and I pieced it together in “The Hayton House.”

Learning from the best - Chip Cathcart Kay while writing his book, "Kangaroo Kay"

Chip and his Tiger Moth, Mike Yanky

In 2020, the white lorry with the bent front bumper carried on its tray a blue 20’ shipping container. It had arrived to Residence Number Nine to load a household of belongings and carry it halfway around the world to California. When it arrived, Ryan stood in the driveway along with Sue, Maxwell and Duncan waiting to greet it.

It wasn’t a new sight for them, for Sue, Maxwell and Duncan as nine years earlier they had seen one just like it arrive to Residence Nine. Only in 2011, it was full of things, strange things, that the new family ‘needed’ to survive in Malawi. This time it was different.

In 2010, when we drove in through the chain link gate to our new home, an older man was busy with a twig broom, sweeping fallen fig leaves off the driveway. We soon found out, that Duncan basically came with the house. He had gardened there for a slew of missionaries over the last thirty years, and who were we to disband his impeccable employment record? Duncan proved a faithful, honest worker, who loved sweeping. It was a disagreement he often had with Ryan, who asked him to stop sweeping in efforts to ‘save the grass’… One time I asked Duncan to cut down an old mango tree which produced such stringy fruit nobody ate it, and besides that, it was shading the vegetable garden and I wanted more sunlight. After days of asking him to cut it down, and days of him not cutting it down, I finally asked Maxwell why I was having this problem. Maxwell said, “Well, Duncan doesn’t want to cut down the tree he planted thirty years ago.” Too right. I’ll just plant my basil somewhere else… As my friend Chip would say, Duncan was a true “Nyasa gentleman” (born of the old school) and we loved him well.

Duncan Beatie, a Malawi gentleman

Maxwell came to work for us on the recommendation of his father, Mr Gringer, who had worked for Ryan’s parents back in the 1980’s. “You won’t regret hiring Maxwell, he is a hard worker,” his dad had said. And it was true. Maxwell was versatile, and hard working. He could dig a pit in a day, and build a brick walkway the next. His section of the vegetable garden was always abundant with herbs and tomatoes, cucumbers and green beans, and the most delicious bok choy I’ve ever eaten.  When the children were little, he would make mud bricks with them and lay them out to dry in the sun, and then bake them in a brick stack, simulating how they make bricks in the village. The star of the local soccer team, he was well known in the area, and our boys got to kick the soccer ball with him in between school classes. Maxwell built his family a house and takes care of his children on weekends, bringing them to church, and to his soccer games, always a present father.  There’s so much I can say about Maxwell and how well we loved him. He certainly made our garden an enjoyable place for nine years. 

Maxwell Gringer

Maxwell, about to dig a hole for the new septic system we put in for the guest room to have a flushing toilet - on request of both our mothers and my cousin Jenny!

All in a days work...

Maxwell removing a problem tree stump along with his "helpers"...

After some trouble finding a suitable helper inside the house, Thoko arrived with a knock at the gate and a smile on her face. She was so well presented and spoken I mistook her for a nurse from the hospital. “No, I’m here for the job in your house,” she said. The boys raced over to her immediately and I hired her on the spot. Thoko made me love Malawi. She and I had the affection of sisters for each other which just grew over time. I’ll always remember her coming to meet us on a Saturday when we returned from the USA with a brand-new baby. “Where’s my baby?” She asked. I gave her Jett and she just beamed. “You made a good one here, Madam,” she said. She witnessed so many of the boys’ first moments alongside me, teeth falling out, arms getting broken, first words spoken, first steps taken. She had compassion for her fellow Malawians and the struggles unique to poverty. I hoped to help her and others out of it. Over the years, she built a home for her family, one with cement, and now waits for electricity. She has outgrown domestic work and is now doing an excellent job as a translator for the hospital. I will always and forever be grateful for Thoko. 

At Thoko's house during the maize harvest. Benson, Hudson, Jett, Thoko, and Vicky - Thoko's daughter

Thoko and Jett watching a truck deliver a load of sand for one of the many building projects...

Thoko teaches Hudson how to eat "Nsima", the local fare.

Susan, Sharlene and Thoko all dressed in our newly made dresses by our local tailor, Mr Dickman.

 For one thing, Thoko brought me Susan. Ryan and I always wanted to hire as many people as we could afford. A job is a way out of poverty and we certainly needed some help as things got busier at the hospital and at home. Susan came to us as a very young lady, not so great English and uncertain of domestic work. But it was soon clear she was hardworking and capable and would do an excellent job of whatever she did. Sue stayed with us until the end. She worked her way around the house, starting as a cleaner, and ending as a chef and household manager. Sue was honest and decent and I could trust her with anything. Sue had a penchant for business and one day told me, “Madam, the banana ladies are making fun of you.” “Oh?” I inquired, “Why?” “Because you’re buying full price from them, and not bartering,” Sue said, almost like she couldn’t believe I would pay full price. “Ok, I’ll go fix it right now,” I told Sue, and marched up the hill to barter bananas with the ladies. They laughed and laughed when they presented bananas to me for 1000mk and I told them, albeit a little sheepishly, “Eei – tenga 800 ntochi, basi.” (I’ll take 800 kwacha for the bananas, that’s all.)

From that day on, I sent Sue out to meet the vendors at the gate. You know, to get the best price…

Susan and Jett, the early days

negotiating banana purchases

Basket weaver, Mr Bison - (yes, Sue always got better prices than me with Bison)

Enjoying our new dresses by expert tailor, Dickman.

 I wasn’t there the day the white lorry with the bent front bumper toted a blue container into our yard. In fact, I was the reason the lorry was there. My sudden cancer diagnosis which sent our family spinning from Malawi to California in late July 2019 had caused this scene. A scene which I hoped to be a part of, knowing that goodbyes can be just as important as hellos. But I watched from a distance as Sue sent me a text with a photograph of the lorry leaving the gate and the words, “When I see the truck going with my bosses things…tears comes out from my eyes…It’s like the end of our relationship…I wish you to come again…”

Loading the USA bound container.

The truck leaves our gates with all we 'own' in the world inside...

                Well Sue, it’s not the end of our relationship, although I too can feel the pain of leaving. I too feel the sadness of a hurried goodbye. And my family and I will always and forever hold Malawi close to our hearts. 

Residence number Nine at Malamulo will always be “The Hayton House” to our family, it will always hold memories too copious to pen, and relationships too precious to sever. Maybe you have a memory with us in our home? Maybe you were the resident who was so tall that the boys worried you’d hit the fan? Maybe you were the family who provided an instant neighborhood of children for capture the flag games in our garden? Maybe you were our Malawi family who kept us going on the tough days? Maybe you remember? 

We do. We won’t forget. Teonana (Goodbye) Hayton Home and all that you embody. We remember you well. 

Always a welcome chair for you, wherever you may find us now...

Our playground, gifted to us and installed by friends while we were on annual leave, we will never forget your kindness our Malawi grandparents.

Our family on the childrens slide in our garden

The people who made The Hayton House extra special - Thoko, Susan, Maxwell and Duncan 

The Haytons, of the Malamulo Hayton House - packed with memories of a lifetime. May God bless with abundance the next missionary who serves in this home... and may the missionary enjoy the kondi as much as we have...