Well, today was a rather regular day... busy, but no exciting stories to tell. I had my class this morning, and treated them to their second computer lab day in the "American Corner" set up in the library by the friendly Public Affairs Section people at the U.S. Embassy in Lilongwe. Incidentally, these are also the people I report to. Because I technically work for them, I've decided to make more use of this lab with my students, which has been especially helpful for their research. You see, if they don't have access to the lab during a special class session, they have to actually pay to use the computer lab. And yes, they do pay tuition as well. So, it gets a bit expensive for them. Today was the 2nd time we've visited the lab, and they seem to enjoy it, and they actually get a lot of work done, too. Unless they're just pretending to work, but if so, they're very good actors...
I also told my class this week that I'll be away next week to help with "Teaching Practice Observations" for the student-teachers at Domasi College. I'm actually going with a group of instructors from the college who will be sent to Lilongwe, and I'll be leaving Sunday afternoon (around 1 p.m.), and staying there until Friday (or possibly Saturday). This means that I most likely will not be adding any posts next week, as I don't think I'll have regular internet access. Oh, what will I do without my daily e-mailing, IM-ing, and blogging??? It could get ugly, but I'll try not to freak out too much.
I'm actually looking forward to the experience very much, as I'll finally get an opportunity to visit actual public school classrooms and get a feel for what it's really like for teachers and students in the public schools here. I'll also have the opportunity to give feedback to teachers, and find out what some of the major educational issues are here, based on first-hand observation. Not only that, but I'll be in Lilongwe, so it'll be a nice change of scenery, staying in the city, eating at nice restaurants (hopefully) and just enjoying a little "faster pace" for awhile. I think I will actually miss the quiet nights in Domasi (except for the dog barking parties at night followed by the rooster crowing parties in the morning), but it feels like a good time to break away from the place and have a new experience.
Luckily, the timing of the research project my students at Chanco are working on ended up fitting perfectly into this schedule, as they're at the point where they need to gather information and organize their notes, so they should have plenty of work to do next week. My only worry is that the lecturers' strike will continue indefinitely, possible resulting in the students being sent home (which is one of the current rumors floating around campus). If this happens, they will not be able to finish out their semester, even with my class, despite the fact that we've continued to meet faithfully despite the strike. It also means they'll have to come back in January and finish their papers then. That would be horrible for all involved, so I really hope that doesn't happen. They've really been working hard, and I'm sure they're hoping to get this one required first-year course (Have I mentioned that it's a required first-year writing/study skills course?--ya, everyone's favorite ;-) out of the way, at least. I'm pulling for them, for what it's worth.
I also made the bold (and perhaps unwise) move of giving them my cell phone number in case they had dire questions that couldn't wait while I'm gone. Hopefully they won't take that liberty too often, though the high cell phone rates here should prevent too much of that (or so I hope). I really like my students, but the teachers out there know what a crazy and bold move it is to give out your personal number to them! ;-) Of course, I told them I'd miss them, and they told me the same. I was telling the truth. I wonder if they were, too... hmmm....
OK, finally to the subject of my blog title today. It seems as if the rainy season has truly begun here. Last night, it rained continuously (and very heavily) almost all night. Then, this afternoon, it did something I'm not sure I've ever actually seen before. It actually poured buckets of cats and dogs while the sun was still shining. It was incredible. Even though I've experienced rain in the midst of sunshine while living out west in New Mexico and Colorado in the U.S., this was different. This was POURING rain. And, it went on for at least an hour this afternoon. It was really quite a sight. Now, the weather is much cooler, fresher, and the mountains are incredibly beautiful. I'm hoping to take a short trip up Zomba mountain tomorrow afternoon to enjoy the fresh air. Prior to that, I hope to get my last posting in before my week away in Lilongwe.
So, for now, I'll write as if I may not make it back to the office tomorrow, thus I won't have to make good on the FREE GIN offer (though none of my faithful readers have tried to collect on it yet, so I guess you're not interested in gin... OK, that's cool, no problem...). If I don't make it back online tomorrow, I should be online next Saturday, Nov. 3. Tiwonana! NOTE TO "SLACKERS" (i.e. unfaithful readers who somehow have more important things to do that read this blog everyday--though what could possibly be more important??? I can't imagine...) This next week should finally give you time to catch up! Don't miss me too much, or at least not as much as I know my students will, OK? I'll be saving up lotsa stories and pics for all of you, so brace yourselves!
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Stopped by COPS!
Ya, it's true. They finally got me. I've been runnin from them for years, and this time, they won. When looking at my travel/living overseas record, not many people realize there may be "another reason" I move around so much. Ya, runnin from the 'law'. Well, the 'law' finally caught up with me today on my way out of Zomba after my class at Chancellor College ('Chanco'). I was leisurely driving down the road, minding my own business (after an interesting lone trip to the market-my first!), and they asked me to pull over. Now, I've learned that in Malawi, routine traffic stops on the major highways and roads are a common thing, so of course I didn't even flinch. I just pulled over the car, greeted the nice female police officer with my usual 'Mwa Swayla Bwangee' (i.e. 'Good evening, how are you?'), and she returned the greeting in the usual polite way.
After that, the politeness stopped. She asked for my drivers' license (which of course is still from New York state, but that doesn't seem to bother the law here). She took a quick look at it, and then proceeded to ask me for my 'triangle plates.' "Triangle Plates, what are those?" I innocently asked. "You don't know what triangle plates are?" she said with a sly grin. "No, I'm sorry, I don't. Could you tell me?" She then gave a 'look' to her colleague. (I'm guessing it was an 'oh, not another clueless 'mzungu' look--ya, it's mzungu, not muzungu... I just learned the correct spelling from one of my most faithful Malawian readers, Limbika... Thanks!). After giving the 'look,' she turned to me and said, "Those are the triangle-shaped plates you put around your car when you have a break-down on the road (like 'traffic cones' in the U.S., but much smaller, and shaped like those 'slow moving vehicle' signs the Amish use on the backs of their buggies), so that people are alerted to drive around your vehicle." "Oh, yes!" I enthusiastically replied, "I've seen them on the highway. Do I need them now?" (Ya, I wasn't quite getting it yet.) "Yes. You are under violation. You must have them in your car at all times, in case you have a breakdown. It's 'the law'." (Now, I'm not sure if she really said that last part, but I like the sound of it, so I added it, American 'cop show' style...
Of course, I had a perfect defense-- complete and utter ignorance. So, of course, I used it. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that I needed those plates. It's never been explained to me." "How long have you been in Malawi?" was her reply. "I came in early September, but I've only had the car for about two weeks." "I see," she said. She then proceeded to walk around to the passenger side of the vehicle (the left side... ya, we're on the left side of the road, remember?) to discuss the matter with her colleague, of course in Chichewa.
Now, at this point I'm thinking maybe they're expecting a bribe (a 'beca', as it's called in Mexico). This is when a cop stops you, usually in a developing country, cites you for some minor offense, and expects you to pay him off to let you go. I really didn't want to pay them off, and I wasn't sure whether that is a common practice here (though I'd be willing to bet that it is), so I just continued with the 'ignorant mzungu' act-- which really wasn't an act at all, as I pretty much qualify as an ignorant mzungu. So, my conscience is clear. In the end, it served me well. The policewoman let me go, saying, "make sure you buy the triangle plates right away, as the next time we'll have to take you to court." "Really?" I replied in shock. "This is really serious, huh?" "Yes," she said with a wry smile. "Where can I buy these plates?" I asked. "At any shop. Just go to a shop and ask someone, and they'll help you to find them." OK, now it was obvious to me that she really thought I was mentally challenged. But, eventually I got it. I'll be shopping for the plates tomorrow, hopefully before hitting the next 'cop stop.'
Oh, and as a sidenote, I think the favorable outcome might've been a bit of good kharma coming back my way, as I actually gave another nice lady cop a ride to the courthouse with an offender a couple of days ago. I stopped at one of the checkpoints, and instead of trying to cite me for some minor offense, she asked me for a ride. Well, I couldn't say 'no' to a cop, could I? So, I agreed, and she got into the front, while the alleged offender got into the back. Poor guy. I just helped her to take him to court, probably for not having the bloody triangle thingies in his trunk. That probably brought on some bad kharma, too. But this time, the good kharma won out. We'll see how long it lasts. As usual, I'll keep you posted. Tiwonana mawa!
After that, the politeness stopped. She asked for my drivers' license (which of course is still from New York state, but that doesn't seem to bother the law here). She took a quick look at it, and then proceeded to ask me for my 'triangle plates.' "Triangle Plates, what are those?" I innocently asked. "You don't know what triangle plates are?" she said with a sly grin. "No, I'm sorry, I don't. Could you tell me?" She then gave a 'look' to her colleague. (I'm guessing it was an 'oh, not another clueless 'mzungu' look--ya, it's mzungu, not muzungu... I just learned the correct spelling from one of my most faithful Malawian readers, Limbika... Thanks!). After giving the 'look,' she turned to me and said, "Those are the triangle-shaped plates you put around your car when you have a break-down on the road (like 'traffic cones' in the U.S., but much smaller, and shaped like those 'slow moving vehicle' signs the Amish use on the backs of their buggies), so that people are alerted to drive around your vehicle." "Oh, yes!" I enthusiastically replied, "I've seen them on the highway. Do I need them now?" (Ya, I wasn't quite getting it yet.) "Yes. You are under violation. You must have them in your car at all times, in case you have a breakdown. It's 'the law'." (Now, I'm not sure if she really said that last part, but I like the sound of it, so I added it, American 'cop show' style...
Of course, I had a perfect defense-- complete and utter ignorance. So, of course, I used it. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that I needed those plates. It's never been explained to me." "How long have you been in Malawi?" was her reply. "I came in early September, but I've only had the car for about two weeks." "I see," she said. She then proceeded to walk around to the passenger side of the vehicle (the left side... ya, we're on the left side of the road, remember?) to discuss the matter with her colleague, of course in Chichewa.
Now, at this point I'm thinking maybe they're expecting a bribe (a 'beca', as it's called in Mexico). This is when a cop stops you, usually in a developing country, cites you for some minor offense, and expects you to pay him off to let you go. I really didn't want to pay them off, and I wasn't sure whether that is a common practice here (though I'd be willing to bet that it is), so I just continued with the 'ignorant mzungu' act-- which really wasn't an act at all, as I pretty much qualify as an ignorant mzungu. So, my conscience is clear. In the end, it served me well. The policewoman let me go, saying, "make sure you buy the triangle plates right away, as the next time we'll have to take you to court." "Really?" I replied in shock. "This is really serious, huh?" "Yes," she said with a wry smile. "Where can I buy these plates?" I asked. "At any shop. Just go to a shop and ask someone, and they'll help you to find them." OK, now it was obvious to me that she really thought I was mentally challenged. But, eventually I got it. I'll be shopping for the plates tomorrow, hopefully before hitting the next 'cop stop.'
Oh, and as a sidenote, I think the favorable outcome might've been a bit of good kharma coming back my way, as I actually gave another nice lady cop a ride to the courthouse with an offender a couple of days ago. I stopped at one of the checkpoints, and instead of trying to cite me for some minor offense, she asked me for a ride. Well, I couldn't say 'no' to a cop, could I? So, I agreed, and she got into the front, while the alleged offender got into the back. Poor guy. I just helped her to take him to court, probably for not having the bloody triangle thingies in his trunk. That probably brought on some bad kharma, too. But this time, the good kharma won out. We'll see how long it lasts. As usual, I'll keep you posted. Tiwonana mawa!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Thunderstorm Extraordinaire
***Note: Some new pics of my mini safari with Deliwe have (finally) been added at left. I tried to put them in chronological order, so the newest ones are below the ones I'd already posted on Monday. Enjoy!
Ah, I feel better now. THREE comments on yesterday's post! So, I guess if I use the old 'guilt tactic,' I'll get a few responses. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the correction as well from one of my faithful Malawian readers. 'CCAP' is the church that established the boarding school and hospital where Deliwe's aunt and uncle live (the place we visited on Monday). According to my faithful reader, that stands for 'Church of Central Africa Presbyterian.' I suppose that when Deliwe said it, it sounded like 'CCB' to me. I'm still getting used to some of the nuances of the Malawian accent. Plus, I have a hearing problem, as my sisters continuously tell me. Too much loud music back in the day. And three visits to see my boys 'The Police' in concert last summer. That probably did permanent damage, but it was SO WORTH IT!
(Sorry, digressed again. Back to the present. It happens to me sometimes, as you've probably noticed. The truly faithful Malawi 'n Me readers--all 3-5+ of them--are used to it by now... ;-)
One major occurrence since my last post was a MAJOR thunderstorm last night. I was working on some materials for my class the following morning, and rain started to POUND on the roof of my house. I'm not sure whether I mentioned this before, but most of the roofs of houses and buildings here are made of metal (tin, I think), so when it rains, the sound is quite strong. I'm still trying to figure this phenomenon out, though, as my house (and most other buildings on the Domasi campus) are also covered with tiles, so I'm not sure why the sound still sounds like stones hitting metal. In any case, it sounded more like strong hail than heavy rain. This was the first major thunderstorm I've experienced since I came here, and it was very reminiscent of the extremely strong storms I grew up with in the American Midwest. My friends and family from that region know what I'm talking about... those sudden clashes of thunder in the middle of the night that literally shake the house, and make you run to your mommy (if she's still around)!! If not, you have to find someone to run to, cuz that kind of thunder is truly other-worldly, and can really freak a person out.
In my case, I ran outside to my faithful dog (Deliwe was in bed, probably asleep... nothing scares her... not even a belly-up cockroach or a big, hairy, scary RAT!!). The dog still hangs around, and was laying outside my door on the front stoop, sheltered from the rain. Come to think of it, he didn't seem too phased by the thunder, either. Often U.S. dogs run and hide during thunderstorms, but this guy ('doggy') is tough. Ya, I call him 'doggy'. It's not a tough name at all, is it? I need to find a tougher name. Any suggestions? Leave them in the comments section!! (nudge, nudge, wink, wink...). He has a real name ('Trigger', but I don't think it fits him), since I kinda 'stole' him from my next door neighbor, as I think I've mentioned before, using powdered milk, which I feed him nightly (ya, that's what I drink here...just for cereal & tea-- the 'Cheeseheads' out there must be dying of shock and dismay at the mere thought of it...)
So, I'm thinking maybe this thunderstorm is a signal that the 'rainy season' may be upon us soon. I hope so. October is really hot here. It feels so strange to me now, as where I come from it should be getting colder now. But here, it's getting hotter. Southern hemisphere. Everything's backwards and upside down here. Even the moon. Did I tell you about that? When the moon is a 'crescent' shape, it's upside down. It faces in the direction of a smiling face, but without the eyes and nose. Just the smiling mouth. Hmmm... I'll have to try to take a picture sometime, as that description will not cut it. It's pretty cool. I'm not an astronomer (far from it), but I think the constellations are also in an upside down and in backwards order here (compared to the northern hemisphere, that is... DISCLAIMER: I'm not passing judgement!). Anybody know something about that? Leave a comment! Enlighten me, and all 5 or so of my faithful readers, please! There's so much I still don't understand! Help! Help! Help!
OK, with that, I'd better sign off. Pray for more rain! And for me to grow a brain! (Hey, a rhyming couplet! I did it again! A miracle!) Tiwonana mawa!
DISCLAIMER #2: Really, I am not drunk or under the influence of any illicit chemicals while writing this blog, contrary to what my ramblings may lead an unsuspecting reader to believe. This is just me, in the early evening, in Malawi. Ya, Malawi 'n Me. Those who know me well will not find this hard to believe, methinks. OK, BYE!
Ah, I feel better now. THREE comments on yesterday's post! So, I guess if I use the old 'guilt tactic,' I'll get a few responses. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the correction as well from one of my faithful Malawian readers. 'CCAP' is the church that established the boarding school and hospital where Deliwe's aunt and uncle live (the place we visited on Monday). According to my faithful reader, that stands for 'Church of Central Africa Presbyterian.' I suppose that when Deliwe said it, it sounded like 'CCB' to me. I'm still getting used to some of the nuances of the Malawian accent. Plus, I have a hearing problem, as my sisters continuously tell me. Too much loud music back in the day. And three visits to see my boys 'The Police' in concert last summer. That probably did permanent damage, but it was SO WORTH IT!
(Sorry, digressed again. Back to the present. It happens to me sometimes, as you've probably noticed. The truly faithful Malawi 'n Me readers--all 3-5+ of them--are used to it by now... ;-)
One major occurrence since my last post was a MAJOR thunderstorm last night. I was working on some materials for my class the following morning, and rain started to POUND on the roof of my house. I'm not sure whether I mentioned this before, but most of the roofs of houses and buildings here are made of metal (tin, I think), so when it rains, the sound is quite strong. I'm still trying to figure this phenomenon out, though, as my house (and most other buildings on the Domasi campus) are also covered with tiles, so I'm not sure why the sound still sounds like stones hitting metal. In any case, it sounded more like strong hail than heavy rain. This was the first major thunderstorm I've experienced since I came here, and it was very reminiscent of the extremely strong storms I grew up with in the American Midwest. My friends and family from that region know what I'm talking about... those sudden clashes of thunder in the middle of the night that literally shake the house, and make you run to your mommy (if she's still around)!! If not, you have to find someone to run to, cuz that kind of thunder is truly other-worldly, and can really freak a person out.
In my case, I ran outside to my faithful dog (Deliwe was in bed, probably asleep... nothing scares her... not even a belly-up cockroach or a big, hairy, scary RAT!!). The dog still hangs around, and was laying outside my door on the front stoop, sheltered from the rain. Come to think of it, he didn't seem too phased by the thunder, either. Often U.S. dogs run and hide during thunderstorms, but this guy ('doggy') is tough. Ya, I call him 'doggy'. It's not a tough name at all, is it? I need to find a tougher name. Any suggestions? Leave them in the comments section!! (nudge, nudge, wink, wink...). He has a real name ('Trigger', but I don't think it fits him), since I kinda 'stole' him from my next door neighbor, as I think I've mentioned before, using powdered milk, which I feed him nightly (ya, that's what I drink here...just for cereal & tea-- the 'Cheeseheads' out there must be dying of shock and dismay at the mere thought of it...)
So, I'm thinking maybe this thunderstorm is a signal that the 'rainy season' may be upon us soon. I hope so. October is really hot here. It feels so strange to me now, as where I come from it should be getting colder now. But here, it's getting hotter. Southern hemisphere. Everything's backwards and upside down here. Even the moon. Did I tell you about that? When the moon is a 'crescent' shape, it's upside down. It faces in the direction of a smiling face, but without the eyes and nose. Just the smiling mouth. Hmmm... I'll have to try to take a picture sometime, as that description will not cut it. It's pretty cool. I'm not an astronomer (far from it), but I think the constellations are also in an upside down and in backwards order here (compared to the northern hemisphere, that is... DISCLAIMER: I'm not passing judgement!). Anybody know something about that? Leave a comment! Enlighten me, and all 5 or so of my faithful readers, please! There's so much I still don't understand! Help! Help! Help!
OK, with that, I'd better sign off. Pray for more rain! And for me to grow a brain! (Hey, a rhyming couplet! I did it again! A miracle!) Tiwonana mawa!
DISCLAIMER #2: Really, I am not drunk or under the influence of any illicit chemicals while writing this blog, contrary to what my ramblings may lead an unsuspecting reader to believe. This is just me, in the early evening, in Malawi. Ya, Malawi 'n Me. Those who know me well will not find this hard to believe, methinks. OK, BYE!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Need for Divine Intervention
Wow! It's been a few days since I've received any comments on my blog. Are my 3-5 faithful U.S. readers (plus 1,000 or so Malawian readers) still out there? Am I just writing to myself? Or maybe the length of my postings is just too daunting for the average blog-reader. Plus, nothing too controversial as of late. Is it getting too boring now? Hmmm...
Actually, I don't have too much to say today, so this should allow all of the faithful out there to catch up with all my other ramblings. I do still need to add a few more of my pix from the weekend at left, but I'll do that tomorrow, as it's time to go home already (almost 7:00-- dinnertime!)
Today I had my first experience of driving 25 minutes to Zomba for a meeting at Chancellor College, and then there was no meeting. The reason was that one of the lecturers is currently on strike, and the meeting could not go on without her. I think my director felt a bit embarrassed that I'd made the trip, as Tuesday is usually an off-day for me at Chancellor College, so he treated me to a drink (don't worry, just an orange soda) in the "Common Room." For the Americans out there, this is sort of like the student union (or 'Campus Center') on campus, but for instructors and staff only. Ya, a true utopia (or dystopia, depending on how you look at it). This one is quite special, as it also serves alcohol, though Sydney (my director) assured me that instructors are "not allowed to go to the classroom drunk." He did, however, clarify that one beer was o.k. before teaching. Hmmm... Food for thought.
OK, I just typed an entire paragraph, and then somehow erased the whole thing while inserting a period (don't ask me how), so I'll try to write it again in the same grain, as it turned out nicely. I wonder if I can do it again. OK. Here goes. So, Sydney and I did not drink alcohol, partly because he's a 7th-Day Adventist, which is a religion that follows both the old and new testaments almost equally. I've only met one Seventh Day Adventist in the past, but I found him too strange to talk religion with, so I decided to ask Sydney more about his faith. He explained a lot of it to me, and really made a lot of sense. I've gotten into several discussions of religion while I've been here, and what I really appreciate about the faithful here is that they don't preach or try to convert you, or pass judgement on you if you are not religious. They simply explain where they're coming from and why, and leave it at that. They also acknowledge and understand questioning one's faith, as well as validating a feeling of frustration with organized religion. They just simply seem to 'get it,' regardless of their own beliefs. Again, I appreciate that.
The other thing Sydney explained to me was the reasons behind the Jewish Kosher diet, which the Adventists also observe. It actually made a lot of sense to me... for the first time, despite having spoken with both Jews and Muslims on the subject, someone was able to explain that with clarity. I'm thinking of going Kosher myself. Well, I am Kosher here, actually--no pork, no shellfish. The only thing I really miss is shellfish. Not sure whether I could give that up forever. I'll keep you posted.
One last thing I learned about Sydney is that he belongs to a gospel band, and they recently recorded their first CD, which he gave to me (actually he gave me the cassette, hoping I'll eventually buy a CD). As I mentioned last week, I do appreciate all Malawian music, even the religious tunes I've heard in church, so I'm looking forward to listening to it. Plus, it's in Chichewa, so I won't be too put off by the religious lyrics. It turns out that Sydney's quite the Renaissance man, a self-taught guitarist with his own recording studio. He even offered to give me voice lessons to help me actually bring my singing talent up to the same level as my love for singing (my friends/family, as well as some radio listeners in northern California, thanks to my brother working in radio there--never mind the details of that-- can attest to my serious lack of singing prowess). But oh, how I do love to sing! Hmmm... that may be a problem he'd definitely need divine intervention to solve. Again, I'll keep you posted. Tiwonana mawa!
Actually, I don't have too much to say today, so this should allow all of the faithful out there to catch up with all my other ramblings. I do still need to add a few more of my pix from the weekend at left, but I'll do that tomorrow, as it's time to go home already (almost 7:00-- dinnertime!)
Today I had my first experience of driving 25 minutes to Zomba for a meeting at Chancellor College, and then there was no meeting. The reason was that one of the lecturers is currently on strike, and the meeting could not go on without her. I think my director felt a bit embarrassed that I'd made the trip, as Tuesday is usually an off-day for me at Chancellor College, so he treated me to a drink (don't worry, just an orange soda) in the "Common Room." For the Americans out there, this is sort of like the student union (or 'Campus Center') on campus, but for instructors and staff only. Ya, a true utopia (or dystopia, depending on how you look at it). This one is quite special, as it also serves alcohol, though Sydney (my director) assured me that instructors are "not allowed to go to the classroom drunk." He did, however, clarify that one beer was o.k. before teaching. Hmmm... Food for thought.
OK, I just typed an entire paragraph, and then somehow erased the whole thing while inserting a period (don't ask me how), so I'll try to write it again in the same grain, as it turned out nicely. I wonder if I can do it again. OK. Here goes. So, Sydney and I did not drink alcohol, partly because he's a 7th-Day Adventist, which is a religion that follows both the old and new testaments almost equally. I've only met one Seventh Day Adventist in the past, but I found him too strange to talk religion with, so I decided to ask Sydney more about his faith. He explained a lot of it to me, and really made a lot of sense. I've gotten into several discussions of religion while I've been here, and what I really appreciate about the faithful here is that they don't preach or try to convert you, or pass judgement on you if you are not religious. They simply explain where they're coming from and why, and leave it at that. They also acknowledge and understand questioning one's faith, as well as validating a feeling of frustration with organized religion. They just simply seem to 'get it,' regardless of their own beliefs. Again, I appreciate that.
The other thing Sydney explained to me was the reasons behind the Jewish Kosher diet, which the Adventists also observe. It actually made a lot of sense to me... for the first time, despite having spoken with both Jews and Muslims on the subject, someone was able to explain that with clarity. I'm thinking of going Kosher myself. Well, I am Kosher here, actually--no pork, no shellfish. The only thing I really miss is shellfish. Not sure whether I could give that up forever. I'll keep you posted.
One last thing I learned about Sydney is that he belongs to a gospel band, and they recently recorded their first CD, which he gave to me (actually he gave me the cassette, hoping I'll eventually buy a CD). As I mentioned last week, I do appreciate all Malawian music, even the religious tunes I've heard in church, so I'm looking forward to listening to it. Plus, it's in Chichewa, so I won't be too put off by the religious lyrics. It turns out that Sydney's quite the Renaissance man, a self-taught guitarist with his own recording studio. He even offered to give me voice lessons to help me actually bring my singing talent up to the same level as my love for singing (my friends/family, as well as some radio listeners in northern California, thanks to my brother working in radio there--never mind the details of that-- can attest to my serious lack of singing prowess). But oh, how I do love to sing! Hmmm... that may be a problem he'd definitely need divine intervention to solve. Again, I'll keep you posted. Tiwonana mawa!
Monday, October 22, 2007
A family trip in my 'trusty Toyota'
This post will definitely be on the shorter side, as I just spent a couple of hours uploading pix from my weekend safari with Deliwe, and then my computer started acting strangely, so I wasn't able to finish. I did get most of them up, though, but there are a couple more I'd like to add tomorrow, so stay tuned!
Today was relatively uneventful, except for two things: 1) I had the opportunity to take Deliwe and her family up to a small village to see her aunt who is very sick. She just had surgery for stomach cancer, and is very weak, so Deliwe, her mother, and her aunt wanted to go see her. I was glad to be able to help them out, as the journey would've been very long, had it not been for me. The village they needed to visit was a good 3 miles or so from the main road, and would've required quite a climb up a rough, dirt road. Instead, they got a nice (though a bit bumpy) ride in the my trusty Toyota. Wow, that car's been through a lot already, but it still keeps running smoothly(knock on wood-- just did... luckily my desk is made of wood).
I managed to get them up to the village before driving to my class in Zomba just before lunchtime, and then picked them up afterwards, not long before dusk, just barely beating the sunset. When I arrived to pick them up, I was impressed to see how many family members were there. All of the aunts and uncles on Deliwe's mother's side were there, taking time to visit their brother's wife (which is how Deliwe refers to her, leading me to believe there's a word for this in Chichewa... they don't just say 'aunt' as we do in English) in her time of need. I'm not sure whether they were all concerned that she may not make it, and just wanted to be sure to spend some time with her just in case, or whether they wanted to just cheer her up and try to make her feel better. Perhaps it was a bit of both. I was just glad I could do my small part to help bring the family together at this difficult time, and of course I offered to help with future transportation to the hospital if necessary.
Luckily, Deliwe's uncle has a good teaching job at a private primary school attached to a private hospital-- "CCB"-- I think it stands for 'Christian'-something -something, and was established by a Christian missionary group. Deliwe wasn't sure. Any of my Malawian readers out there want to help me out with that one? All comments welcome! In any case, the place was very nice, and she does have access to medical care there, but if something serious happens, she could need transportation to Zomba Hospital, which is where she had her surgery. According to Deliwe, the surgery was successful, so everyone's hoping for the best.
Whenever there's a 1), there must be a 2). In this case, it was a dreaded rat sighting. Yes, there's a RAT living in my house! I saw it scurry from my bedroom to the spare room, and yes, I screamed like a little girl! Deliwe came into the spare room, and we both looked for it. I figured it was hiding in the closet, and unfortunately I was right... I picked up my luggage that was stored in there, and there it was... big, fat, RAT! AAAHH! I hate them almost as much as cockroaches! I thought I heard something scurrying around in the ceiling a few times, and of course I remembered the droppings we found when I first moved into the house. Deliwe then told me she noticed that one of our potatoes had been moved from the shelf to the top of the woodburning stove in the kitchen. She was wondering how the potato got moved. Ya, this thing is big enough to transport a potato. Or, worse yet, maybe its friends helped it move the potato, and God knows what else. I won't be sleepin much tonight. Wish me luck with that, and Tiwonana mawa! (That is, if I don't become a giant rat victim-- stay tuned...)
Today was relatively uneventful, except for two things: 1) I had the opportunity to take Deliwe and her family up to a small village to see her aunt who is very sick. She just had surgery for stomach cancer, and is very weak, so Deliwe, her mother, and her aunt wanted to go see her. I was glad to be able to help them out, as the journey would've been very long, had it not been for me. The village they needed to visit was a good 3 miles or so from the main road, and would've required quite a climb up a rough, dirt road. Instead, they got a nice (though a bit bumpy) ride in the my trusty Toyota. Wow, that car's been through a lot already, but it still keeps running smoothly(knock on wood-- just did... luckily my desk is made of wood).
I managed to get them up to the village before driving to my class in Zomba just before lunchtime, and then picked them up afterwards, not long before dusk, just barely beating the sunset. When I arrived to pick them up, I was impressed to see how many family members were there. All of the aunts and uncles on Deliwe's mother's side were there, taking time to visit their brother's wife (which is how Deliwe refers to her, leading me to believe there's a word for this in Chichewa... they don't just say 'aunt' as we do in English) in her time of need. I'm not sure whether they were all concerned that she may not make it, and just wanted to be sure to spend some time with her just in case, or whether they wanted to just cheer her up and try to make her feel better. Perhaps it was a bit of both. I was just glad I could do my small part to help bring the family together at this difficult time, and of course I offered to help with future transportation to the hospital if necessary.
Luckily, Deliwe's uncle has a good teaching job at a private primary school attached to a private hospital-- "CCB"-- I think it stands for 'Christian'-something -something, and was established by a Christian missionary group. Deliwe wasn't sure. Any of my Malawian readers out there want to help me out with that one? All comments welcome! In any case, the place was very nice, and she does have access to medical care there, but if something serious happens, she could need transportation to Zomba Hospital, which is where she had her surgery. According to Deliwe, the surgery was successful, so everyone's hoping for the best.
Whenever there's a 1), there must be a 2). In this case, it was a dreaded rat sighting. Yes, there's a RAT living in my house! I saw it scurry from my bedroom to the spare room, and yes, I screamed like a little girl! Deliwe came into the spare room, and we both looked for it. I figured it was hiding in the closet, and unfortunately I was right... I picked up my luggage that was stored in there, and there it was... big, fat, RAT! AAAHH! I hate them almost as much as cockroaches! I thought I heard something scurrying around in the ceiling a few times, and of course I remembered the droppings we found when I first moved into the house. Deliwe then told me she noticed that one of our potatoes had been moved from the shelf to the top of the woodburning stove in the kitchen. She was wondering how the potato got moved. Ya, this thing is big enough to transport a potato. Or, worse yet, maybe its friends helped it move the potato, and God knows what else. I won't be sleepin much tonight. Wish me luck with that, and Tiwonana mawa! (That is, if I don't become a giant rat victim-- stay tuned...)
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Amazing African Animals Abound
It is now Sunday afternoon, and time to chronicle the story of my (and Deliwe's) first trip to a national park in Malawi. Our journey was a very good one, with only one major incident, this time involving finding accommodation. Like a good traveler, I tried to book accommodation in advance, only to realize that my lack of orientations skills (i.e. lousy sense of direction) would cause me to fail to find that accommodation. The place I'd booked was called 'Shire Camp,' located in the town of Liwonde, next to the Shire river. I had a simple map of the area in my trusty Malawi guidebook, though when we got into the town of Liwonde, it somehow wasn't as straightforward as I'd hoped. Luckily, Deliwe was kind enough to help me after I took a wrong turn (or 2, or 3) by asking random passersby for directions.
This is where it got interesting. Since this was my first real "road trip" in the car to a new place without any real directions, it was also my first experience with asking directions. Luckily, I was with someone who speaks the local language (Chichewa, for those who aren't aware), so she was able to help a lot with this communication, which was good. The bad part was that we got several different directions from several different people. One young man told us to turn right at a certain intersection, so we did. After driving down the road a bit after the turn, however, we realized we were really in the middle of nowhere, so we had to turn around. This led to asking another person, who told us to turn a different way. Once we did that, we were closer to going the correct way, but came to a fork in the road, and didn't know which side of the fork to follow. Luckily, some young girls were walking there with their mother, and all seemed certain that we needed to take the left fork. Since we'd already started down the right fork, this meant turning around, and hoping for the best.
Since it was nearing dusk, I was beginning to feel a bit desperate as I gripped the wheel and headed down another dirt road in search for our lovely camping accommodation next to the Shire River. The road gently inclined to a railroad track mounted on a sketchy-looking cement platform. I hesitated a bit before trying to scale this jagged precipice with my low-lying small Toyota sedan. As I slowed down, a group of men sitting on the railroad tracks took a look at me, pointed up the road in the direction I was heading, and said, "Shire Camp is that way..." I still don't know how they knew where we were going, only that somehow the word must've spread amongst the 20 or so people we'd stopped to ask along the way. I have a feeling Deliwe wanted to hide under a rock at that point.
After saying thanks ('Zikomo' in Chichewa), I headed over the cement platform with the tracks on it, and was welcomed on the other side with a simultaneous forward dive and loud scraping sound as the car hit the other side of the cement platform, immediately followed by a large pothole (as I later realized upon scaling the same railroad tracks on the way back the following day). Amazingly, the car survived unscathed, and would continue to survive similar road obstacles during the rest of the weekend. I will never again buy anything other than a Toyota. I'm a true believer.
So, after surviving the railroad track incident, we head straight down the road, and see a sign for the 'Shire Lodge.' Hmmm... we'd planned to stay at the 'Shire Camp,' but maybe they changed their name, so what the heck? We drove in. Now, when I saw it, I thought it might be a bit pricey, as the set-up was a bit fancier than the place I'd originally booked, complete with rows of high-end adobe-style thatched roof self-contained cabin-like rooms. Of course, after walking into the reception area, I did discover the price was a bit more than twice what I'd planned to pay, but at this point, it was getting dark, and we didn't want to chance it, so I just paid for the first night, and we stayed put. As a sidenote, almost everyone we talked to (the hotel staff, and the guide at the park) told us that the 'Shire Camp' was really not a good place to stay, and that most people just go there to socialize rather than stay the night. Since my telephone conversations were a bit stilted and unclear with the staff there, I took their word for it. However, I'd like to take a look at some point, as I didn't have a chance during this trip.
So, we went to our room, and found the facilities acceptable... it even had an air conditioner! Wow, I haven't seen one of those in a long time. Ironically, though, I think I've grown so accustomed to life without one, that I didn't really feel the need to use it. I turned it on for a couple of minutes, and then realized that the fan positioned on the wall between the two beds was good enough. I know my friends back home would be shocked, but yes, it is possible to survive without air conditioning in hot climates. Remember life back in the 70's? We did it all the time! And we're all still alive! Food for thought, especially in the age of overuse of fossil fuels and the global warming crisis... but yes, I digress...
The most interesting features of this hotel where we stayed were the fact that it was practically empty (I counted a total of maybe 6 other guests the entire time we were there), and it was right on the river, with outside seating, so a nice place to enjoy some drinks and dinner while watching for hippos and crocodiles. And yes, we saw a few hippos on Saturday night, and our waitress told us that sometimes the hippos come up onto the grounds to eat the grass and fancy plants. Unfortunately, that didn't happen during our stay, but I suppose that's just as well, as hippos are known to also bite people in half. Ya, that's not a joke. They can literally bite a person in half, and usually will do so out of anger and fear rather than hunger. The waitress also told us this. If a hippo bites a person in half, it will just leave the 2 halves of the person there for the scavengers. How this waitress actually knew this, I do not know. It sounded like she might've witnessed such an occurence, but I was too chicken to ask.
So, after enjoying a couple of beers and some chicken and rice for dinner, we headed for bed, and both of us were snoring by 9 p.m. or so. Like I've said before, things happen much earlier here in Malawi than in most other places. Both of us were exhausted and knew we had to get up early, so 9 p.m. was it. If I'd told myself a couple of months ago that I'd ever go to bed before 11 p.m., I'd never have believed myself. I still can't quite believe it.
So, the following morning after a nice big breakfast (English style-- eggs and 'chips'-- i.e. french fries-- always a strange combination to me, but I'm starting to get used to it here...), we headed out for our big safari adventure. I'd had big plans to take a "boat safari," since that's the best way to see animals at Liwonde, as the Shire (pronounced "SHI-reh", not the English 'shire') River runs through the entire park. Well, this was my plan, until I ended up paying twice the originally planned amount for accommodation. When I found out (after a small hike to the boat dock) that taking a 2-hour boat safari (in a rather rickety-looking boat) costs $20/head, I decided the car would be a better option. Deliwe enthusiastically agreed, as her fear of crocodiles (ya, her favorite animal) surfaced while looking at the boat as well. I didn't realize that crocodiles can attack boats, but the waitress confirmed that for us as well. However, she also said that the motors scare them off, and though this boat looked in need of renovation, it did have a motor on it. But, so does my car, and crocodiles can't get us in there, so we opted for the good ol' trusty, tough Toyota.
Of course, after our adventure of finding our way the night before, we felt more confident that we could make it to the park (since my first mistake that night was accidentally taking the road to the park, before remembering that we were staying in town, rather than in the park... duh...). We easily found our way there, and were greeted by a very friendly park ranger named Benson. He greeted me at the car, and then asked me to meet him at the window, where he explained the fees and the option of hiring an armed guide. Ya, they're armed, mainly as protection from out of control large animals, mainly elephants. Luckily, they don't need to use the guns often, and I think they mostly shoot them off to scare the elephants if they start to charge. I must say I'm very petrified of guns, so when we took our guide (yes, I did decide to hire one, as the price was right, and around here, it's just a good idea to have one around) to go pick up his gun from the military barracks (the park has a military training facility), I almost died when he got into the car holding the rifle. If you don't understand what I mean, try driving with someone in the back seat holding a rifle. You'll see. It takes a special kind of trust, especially on a bumpy dirt road.
So, off we went, Deliwe and I in front, guide and rifle in back, in our trusty little Toyota on our adventure to see amazing African animals. By the way, I should mention that our guide spoke very little English, so Deliwe was given the task of interpreting. After a while, she was also helping to spot animals and serving as my 'camera assistant' while I was driving. She seemed to handle all of these tasks quite well, and became the best animal spotter of all of us by the end of the day. At first, the road was relatively smooth and the animals elusive, but we did see some cool trees, as the pictures to the left can attest. My favorite is the 'Boabob' (pronounced BO-uh-bob). This is literally an upside-down tree. It looks like the roots are at the top, and it has a really, really wide trunk. I love this tree because it reminds me of something out of a storybook. It's truly other-worldly. I stopped to take pictures of several of my favorite boabobs, featured here on this site.
One of the sad sights we saw as we drove up the road was the charred remains of several fires started by animal poachers. According to our guide, the poachers start the fires to drive the animals into certain areas where they can hunt them more easily. Unfortunately, these people have done a lot of damage to several acres of the park, and have also killed a lot of animals, especially various antelope species. The good thing is at least there is not a big problem with elephant ivory poaching like in other regions of Africa. However, poachers have caused quite a negative impact on the plant and animal life here, and of course the rangers are always on the lookout for these guys, and sometimes do catch them and make arrests.
Eventually, as we continued, we saw a few guinea fowl (very pretty bird that looks like a big quail with a light-blue head and dark blue body). They ran too fast for me to get a picture, though. We also saw bushbuck, waterbuck, and some sable antelope. Then, finally, our guide asked us to stop at a certain point, walk a bit into the 'bush,' and there they were. The elephants. Wow. Amazing. The pictures tell all. We watched a nice, big group of females and their young (I think about 10 or so) walking in the lush area near the river. Eventually, they turned and walked toward us, and the guide warned me that the elephants might think I was food, as I was wearing a white shirt, and they're attracted to that color because they see it as a possible food source. Hmmm... Should I stay or should I go? Of course, the guide didn't want to use his rifle (on me, or the elephants-- well, maybe a little on me), so we headed back to the car. Of course, not before I shot off a few pictures, though.
After that excitment, we headed on down the road and had a few more sightings-- babboons, warthogs, a few more birds, until finally we reached the fancy lodge at the north end of the park-- Mvuu camp. Luckily, it was just after 12:00 noon, so a good time to stop for a bite to eat. What we didn't realize upon entering, however, was that this was a high-end lodge for rich Muzungus, mostly from South Africa, from the looks of it. As a result, the price for a buffet lunch was about 3 times the usual price of a meal here (1700 kwacha, which is about 12 bucks). That's a really expensive meal in Malawi. And I needed to feed 3 people, and I'm on a budget. After a bit of haggling, we did convince the manager to serve us some cheese and tomato sandwiches for 500 kwacha, which is the usual price of lunch in Malawi. We also had some drinks (but not cheap), but at least they refilled our water bottles for free. I love this country!
The place we ate was quite fancy; a typical African safari lodge, complete with fancy thatched roofs with open sides for viewing the river and passing wildlife. There were many well-to-do tourists there, and from the accents, they appeared to be about 90 percent white South African, and 10 percent (white and black) American. Most likely they were travelling on package deals which included the meals, room, and boat/road safaries, so maybe the lunch for them didn't appear so pricey. Or maybe it's because they were from developed countries where $12 is average for lunch. Ya, that could be it. We were confined to the lounge area, separate from the upper-class dining area. It was a bit like 'Titanic', but without all the drama of the sinking ship, freezing people in the ocean, etc. Lucky for us.
The view of the river from this place was amazing, and we could even see some hippos soaking in the river as we sipped our cokes and ate our fancy tomato and cheese sandwiches (which, actually, were two sandwiches each, so we couldn't complain). While waiting for the food, Deliwe struck up conversation with another young man from Zomba, and they played a traditional Malawian game (sorry, I forgot the name), using stones and a wooden tray. They tried to show me how to play it, and I think I got the basic idea, but I'm still not confident in my understanding of the strategy. In some ways, it's similar to 'checkers' in that one player 'steals' stones from the other player and then puts them on his side. But then, in checkers you don't use your friend's pieces on your side of the board, so no, it's really not like checkers at all. In any case, I'd like to learn how to play again sometime. I always see the drivers at Domasi College playing this game. I wonder if they'd let me join them sometime. I'll let you know how that goes when I get the courage to try it.
So, after our lunch, we took a little walk around Mvuu camp. I wanted to try to see more animals, but for some reason, our guide showed us around the camp first. He showed us the pool we couldn't swim in, the nice cabins we couldn't sleep in, and then went to visit some of his friends in the workers' quarters. It was a bit strange. He also showed us a little 'party area' for barbeques, where I ran into one of my Chancellor College students, Rafael, who actually seemed very happy to see me. He was with a the college Anglican Students' group, helping to prepare for a barbecue/party they were having that afternoon. Wow. I never imagined I'd run into someone I knew in the middle of the national park. I guess I'm becoming a 'local' more quickly than I thought!
After seeing the lovely Mvuu facilities, and feeling even more deprived that we weren't staying there, we then started off for our journey back to the front gate. It was then that we were told that our guide (sorry, I can't remember his name... Deliwe wrote it down, so I'll fill it in when I see her again) would be staying at Mvuu camp, and another guide named Jana would be coming back with us. Though we were were a bit sad to lose our old guide, Jana turned out to be a good replacement, as he not only could speak English, but he was a good animal spotter, and had a much more serious weapon (though this last point made me even more nervous. I made sure to be VERY nice to Jana during our drive back).
At the beginning of our journey back, we took a short, but somewhat treacherous road through the grass to the river to check out the water-lovin wildlife. Almost immediately, we saw a couple of crocodiles, one which was sitting on the shore with its mouth open, right next to a water bird (see picture at left), who amazingly just sat there as if to dare him to attack. We also spotted a big group of hippos, and even saw a few of them jump into the river while running away from something, but we never figured out exactly what it was. We also saw another herd of elephants across the river, which convinced me that a boat safari is a much better idea for animal viewing, as that's the only way to access the other side of the river. So, I guess I'll have to save my money for the next time.
Another interesting site on the river was this amazing breed of kingfisher. I know we have them in the states, but I don't know if they fish in the same way as these little guys. They actually hover in the air above the water, and then dive in for the fish, and quickly fly back up again. It's an amazing sight to see. I tried to get a picture of them, but they were way too fast. I'll have to try again next time. Stay tuned!
Almost immediately after getting back into the car and on the main dirt road, Jana informed us that there was a herd of elephants not too far off, so we parked the car and took another little walk. This time, they were a bit closer than the morning group, so I got some really good pictures of them. Of course, Jana had to rein me in a bit as I wanted to move closer than the recommended distance, partially to get better pictures, but also because I have an irrational lack of fear of elephants. Because they appear so gentle, I just never think they'd possibly attack. I know, it's stupid. Good thing Jana and Deliwe were there to control this crazy muzungu.
So, after our little visit with the last group of elephants, we were on our way, down the bumpy road and back to the entrance gate, where Benson greeted us with a big smile. It was then that I noticed the painted warning sign at the entrance: "Do not get out of your car. Elephants of this park are unpredictable. Wild animals have the right of way." Good thing our guides were with us, or I'd likely be a trampled mess of flesh and bones right now (or a 2-piece corpse chomped in half by a hippo, better yet). I'll leave you with that pleasant thought. Tiwonana mawa!
This is where it got interesting. Since this was my first real "road trip" in the car to a new place without any real directions, it was also my first experience with asking directions. Luckily, I was with someone who speaks the local language (Chichewa, for those who aren't aware), so she was able to help a lot with this communication, which was good. The bad part was that we got several different directions from several different people. One young man told us to turn right at a certain intersection, so we did. After driving down the road a bit after the turn, however, we realized we were really in the middle of nowhere, so we had to turn around. This led to asking another person, who told us to turn a different way. Once we did that, we were closer to going the correct way, but came to a fork in the road, and didn't know which side of the fork to follow. Luckily, some young girls were walking there with their mother, and all seemed certain that we needed to take the left fork. Since we'd already started down the right fork, this meant turning around, and hoping for the best.
Since it was nearing dusk, I was beginning to feel a bit desperate as I gripped the wheel and headed down another dirt road in search for our lovely camping accommodation next to the Shire River. The road gently inclined to a railroad track mounted on a sketchy-looking cement platform. I hesitated a bit before trying to scale this jagged precipice with my low-lying small Toyota sedan. As I slowed down, a group of men sitting on the railroad tracks took a look at me, pointed up the road in the direction I was heading, and said, "Shire Camp is that way..." I still don't know how they knew where we were going, only that somehow the word must've spread amongst the 20 or so people we'd stopped to ask along the way. I have a feeling Deliwe wanted to hide under a rock at that point.
After saying thanks ('Zikomo' in Chichewa), I headed over the cement platform with the tracks on it, and was welcomed on the other side with a simultaneous forward dive and loud scraping sound as the car hit the other side of the cement platform, immediately followed by a large pothole (as I later realized upon scaling the same railroad tracks on the way back the following day). Amazingly, the car survived unscathed, and would continue to survive similar road obstacles during the rest of the weekend. I will never again buy anything other than a Toyota. I'm a true believer.
So, after surviving the railroad track incident, we head straight down the road, and see a sign for the 'Shire Lodge.' Hmmm... we'd planned to stay at the 'Shire Camp,' but maybe they changed their name, so what the heck? We drove in. Now, when I saw it, I thought it might be a bit pricey, as the set-up was a bit fancier than the place I'd originally booked, complete with rows of high-end adobe-style thatched roof self-contained cabin-like rooms. Of course, after walking into the reception area, I did discover the price was a bit more than twice what I'd planned to pay, but at this point, it was getting dark, and we didn't want to chance it, so I just paid for the first night, and we stayed put. As a sidenote, almost everyone we talked to (the hotel staff, and the guide at the park) told us that the 'Shire Camp' was really not a good place to stay, and that most people just go there to socialize rather than stay the night. Since my telephone conversations were a bit stilted and unclear with the staff there, I took their word for it. However, I'd like to take a look at some point, as I didn't have a chance during this trip.
So, we went to our room, and found the facilities acceptable... it even had an air conditioner! Wow, I haven't seen one of those in a long time. Ironically, though, I think I've grown so accustomed to life without one, that I didn't really feel the need to use it. I turned it on for a couple of minutes, and then realized that the fan positioned on the wall between the two beds was good enough. I know my friends back home would be shocked, but yes, it is possible to survive without air conditioning in hot climates. Remember life back in the 70's? We did it all the time! And we're all still alive! Food for thought, especially in the age of overuse of fossil fuels and the global warming crisis... but yes, I digress...
The most interesting features of this hotel where we stayed were the fact that it was practically empty (I counted a total of maybe 6 other guests the entire time we were there), and it was right on the river, with outside seating, so a nice place to enjoy some drinks and dinner while watching for hippos and crocodiles. And yes, we saw a few hippos on Saturday night, and our waitress told us that sometimes the hippos come up onto the grounds to eat the grass and fancy plants. Unfortunately, that didn't happen during our stay, but I suppose that's just as well, as hippos are known to also bite people in half. Ya, that's not a joke. They can literally bite a person in half, and usually will do so out of anger and fear rather than hunger. The waitress also told us this. If a hippo bites a person in half, it will just leave the 2 halves of the person there for the scavengers. How this waitress actually knew this, I do not know. It sounded like she might've witnessed such an occurence, but I was too chicken to ask.
So, after enjoying a couple of beers and some chicken and rice for dinner, we headed for bed, and both of us were snoring by 9 p.m. or so. Like I've said before, things happen much earlier here in Malawi than in most other places. Both of us were exhausted and knew we had to get up early, so 9 p.m. was it. If I'd told myself a couple of months ago that I'd ever go to bed before 11 p.m., I'd never have believed myself. I still can't quite believe it.
So, the following morning after a nice big breakfast (English style-- eggs and 'chips'-- i.e. french fries-- always a strange combination to me, but I'm starting to get used to it here...), we headed out for our big safari adventure. I'd had big plans to take a "boat safari," since that's the best way to see animals at Liwonde, as the Shire (pronounced "SHI-reh", not the English 'shire') River runs through the entire park. Well, this was my plan, until I ended up paying twice the originally planned amount for accommodation. When I found out (after a small hike to the boat dock) that taking a 2-hour boat safari (in a rather rickety-looking boat) costs $20/head, I decided the car would be a better option. Deliwe enthusiastically agreed, as her fear of crocodiles (ya, her favorite animal) surfaced while looking at the boat as well. I didn't realize that crocodiles can attack boats, but the waitress confirmed that for us as well. However, she also said that the motors scare them off, and though this boat looked in need of renovation, it did have a motor on it. But, so does my car, and crocodiles can't get us in there, so we opted for the good ol' trusty, tough Toyota.
Of course, after our adventure of finding our way the night before, we felt more confident that we could make it to the park (since my first mistake that night was accidentally taking the road to the park, before remembering that we were staying in town, rather than in the park... duh...). We easily found our way there, and were greeted by a very friendly park ranger named Benson. He greeted me at the car, and then asked me to meet him at the window, where he explained the fees and the option of hiring an armed guide. Ya, they're armed, mainly as protection from out of control large animals, mainly elephants. Luckily, they don't need to use the guns often, and I think they mostly shoot them off to scare the elephants if they start to charge. I must say I'm very petrified of guns, so when we took our guide (yes, I did decide to hire one, as the price was right, and around here, it's just a good idea to have one around) to go pick up his gun from the military barracks (the park has a military training facility), I almost died when he got into the car holding the rifle. If you don't understand what I mean, try driving with someone in the back seat holding a rifle. You'll see. It takes a special kind of trust, especially on a bumpy dirt road.
So, off we went, Deliwe and I in front, guide and rifle in back, in our trusty little Toyota on our adventure to see amazing African animals. By the way, I should mention that our guide spoke very little English, so Deliwe was given the task of interpreting. After a while, she was also helping to spot animals and serving as my 'camera assistant' while I was driving. She seemed to handle all of these tasks quite well, and became the best animal spotter of all of us by the end of the day. At first, the road was relatively smooth and the animals elusive, but we did see some cool trees, as the pictures to the left can attest. My favorite is the 'Boabob' (pronounced BO-uh-bob). This is literally an upside-down tree. It looks like the roots are at the top, and it has a really, really wide trunk. I love this tree because it reminds me of something out of a storybook. It's truly other-worldly. I stopped to take pictures of several of my favorite boabobs, featured here on this site.
One of the sad sights we saw as we drove up the road was the charred remains of several fires started by animal poachers. According to our guide, the poachers start the fires to drive the animals into certain areas where they can hunt them more easily. Unfortunately, these people have done a lot of damage to several acres of the park, and have also killed a lot of animals, especially various antelope species. The good thing is at least there is not a big problem with elephant ivory poaching like in other regions of Africa. However, poachers have caused quite a negative impact on the plant and animal life here, and of course the rangers are always on the lookout for these guys, and sometimes do catch them and make arrests.
Eventually, as we continued, we saw a few guinea fowl (very pretty bird that looks like a big quail with a light-blue head and dark blue body). They ran too fast for me to get a picture, though. We also saw bushbuck, waterbuck, and some sable antelope. Then, finally, our guide asked us to stop at a certain point, walk a bit into the 'bush,' and there they were. The elephants. Wow. Amazing. The pictures tell all. We watched a nice, big group of females and their young (I think about 10 or so) walking in the lush area near the river. Eventually, they turned and walked toward us, and the guide warned me that the elephants might think I was food, as I was wearing a white shirt, and they're attracted to that color because they see it as a possible food source. Hmmm... Should I stay or should I go? Of course, the guide didn't want to use his rifle (on me, or the elephants-- well, maybe a little on me), so we headed back to the car. Of course, not before I shot off a few pictures, though.
After that excitment, we headed on down the road and had a few more sightings-- babboons, warthogs, a few more birds, until finally we reached the fancy lodge at the north end of the park-- Mvuu camp. Luckily, it was just after 12:00 noon, so a good time to stop for a bite to eat. What we didn't realize upon entering, however, was that this was a high-end lodge for rich Muzungus, mostly from South Africa, from the looks of it. As a result, the price for a buffet lunch was about 3 times the usual price of a meal here (1700 kwacha, which is about 12 bucks). That's a really expensive meal in Malawi. And I needed to feed 3 people, and I'm on a budget. After a bit of haggling, we did convince the manager to serve us some cheese and tomato sandwiches for 500 kwacha, which is the usual price of lunch in Malawi. We also had some drinks (but not cheap), but at least they refilled our water bottles for free. I love this country!
The place we ate was quite fancy; a typical African safari lodge, complete with fancy thatched roofs with open sides for viewing the river and passing wildlife. There were many well-to-do tourists there, and from the accents, they appeared to be about 90 percent white South African, and 10 percent (white and black) American. Most likely they were travelling on package deals which included the meals, room, and boat/road safaries, so maybe the lunch for them didn't appear so pricey. Or maybe it's because they were from developed countries where $12 is average for lunch. Ya, that could be it. We were confined to the lounge area, separate from the upper-class dining area. It was a bit like 'Titanic', but without all the drama of the sinking ship, freezing people in the ocean, etc. Lucky for us.
The view of the river from this place was amazing, and we could even see some hippos soaking in the river as we sipped our cokes and ate our fancy tomato and cheese sandwiches (which, actually, were two sandwiches each, so we couldn't complain). While waiting for the food, Deliwe struck up conversation with another young man from Zomba, and they played a traditional Malawian game (sorry, I forgot the name), using stones and a wooden tray. They tried to show me how to play it, and I think I got the basic idea, but I'm still not confident in my understanding of the strategy. In some ways, it's similar to 'checkers' in that one player 'steals' stones from the other player and then puts them on his side. But then, in checkers you don't use your friend's pieces on your side of the board, so no, it's really not like checkers at all. In any case, I'd like to learn how to play again sometime. I always see the drivers at Domasi College playing this game. I wonder if they'd let me join them sometime. I'll let you know how that goes when I get the courage to try it.
So, after our lunch, we took a little walk around Mvuu camp. I wanted to try to see more animals, but for some reason, our guide showed us around the camp first. He showed us the pool we couldn't swim in, the nice cabins we couldn't sleep in, and then went to visit some of his friends in the workers' quarters. It was a bit strange. He also showed us a little 'party area' for barbeques, where I ran into one of my Chancellor College students, Rafael, who actually seemed very happy to see me. He was with a the college Anglican Students' group, helping to prepare for a barbecue/party they were having that afternoon. Wow. I never imagined I'd run into someone I knew in the middle of the national park. I guess I'm becoming a 'local' more quickly than I thought!
After seeing the lovely Mvuu facilities, and feeling even more deprived that we weren't staying there, we then started off for our journey back to the front gate. It was then that we were told that our guide (sorry, I can't remember his name... Deliwe wrote it down, so I'll fill it in when I see her again) would be staying at Mvuu camp, and another guide named Jana would be coming back with us. Though we were were a bit sad to lose our old guide, Jana turned out to be a good replacement, as he not only could speak English, but he was a good animal spotter, and had a much more serious weapon (though this last point made me even more nervous. I made sure to be VERY nice to Jana during our drive back).
At the beginning of our journey back, we took a short, but somewhat treacherous road through the grass to the river to check out the water-lovin wildlife. Almost immediately, we saw a couple of crocodiles, one which was sitting on the shore with its mouth open, right next to a water bird (see picture at left), who amazingly just sat there as if to dare him to attack. We also spotted a big group of hippos, and even saw a few of them jump into the river while running away from something, but we never figured out exactly what it was. We also saw another herd of elephants across the river, which convinced me that a boat safari is a much better idea for animal viewing, as that's the only way to access the other side of the river. So, I guess I'll have to save my money for the next time.
Another interesting site on the river was this amazing breed of kingfisher. I know we have them in the states, but I don't know if they fish in the same way as these little guys. They actually hover in the air above the water, and then dive in for the fish, and quickly fly back up again. It's an amazing sight to see. I tried to get a picture of them, but they were way too fast. I'll have to try again next time. Stay tuned!
Almost immediately after getting back into the car and on the main dirt road, Jana informed us that there was a herd of elephants not too far off, so we parked the car and took another little walk. This time, they were a bit closer than the morning group, so I got some really good pictures of them. Of course, Jana had to rein me in a bit as I wanted to move closer than the recommended distance, partially to get better pictures, but also because I have an irrational lack of fear of elephants. Because they appear so gentle, I just never think they'd possibly attack. I know, it's stupid. Good thing Jana and Deliwe were there to control this crazy muzungu.
So, after our little visit with the last group of elephants, we were on our way, down the bumpy road and back to the entrance gate, where Benson greeted us with a big smile. It was then that I noticed the painted warning sign at the entrance: "Do not get out of your car. Elephants of this park are unpredictable. Wild animals have the right of way." Good thing our guides were with us, or I'd likely be a trampled mess of flesh and bones right now (or a 2-piece corpse chomped in half by a hippo, better yet). I'll leave you with that pleasant thought. Tiwonana mawa!
Friday, October 19, 2007
Weekend with the 'Big Five' (well, at least one of them)
This posting should be relatively short and simple, as I'm getting ready for a trip to my first national park since I came to Malawi. I'm very excited about it, as I'll be taking Deliwe (my housekeeper) with me. She confessed to me the other day that she has never had a chance to visit any national parks here, and has never seen any of the "Big 5" animals in the flesh. For those who are unaware, the "Big Five" are the 5 large mammals traditionally most sought after by hunters in Africa(though most are protected today in most areas of the continent, except for population management purposes): Lion, Leopard, Elephant, Rhino, and Buffalo.
Ironically, many of the local people here do not have the means to travel to the big game parks, and in Malawi, these are the only places you can see these animals. So, I thought it would really be fun to take Deliwe to the nearest national park (Liwonde National Park), which is only about 40 mins. drive from here. I was very lucky to visit South Africa 3 years ago, and had the rare opportunity to see four of the "Big Five." The leopard was the only one we never saw, as they are very elusive, stay out of sight, and tend to be more active at night. Maybe we'll get lucky this time, though I'm told at Liwonde, the most common sightings are elephants, hippos, and crocodiles, partially due to the fact that the largest river (the Shire) runs through the park, and these animals spend lots of time in the river. This will be just fine for Deliwe and me, as my favorite animal is the elephant, and hers is the crocodile (though she also likes snakes-- I can't say that I share her enthusiasm). She was telling me a story last night about an encounter with a snake, and I'm now convinced she may have snake-charming abilities. Hopefully if we run into any, she'll be able to use her powers on them.
So, it looks like I'll be offline at least until Sunday. I'll make sure to take lotsa pictures to upload and share with my loyal readers (now in the thousands, as my Malawian sources tell me). As this is a nation of very gracious people, I've also received an acceptance of my apology, as well as assurance from a couple of Malawian readers that my comments have not caused any offense to them. I suppose all "great writers" have their critics. I also know I'm fallible. I'll certainly be more careful from now on, and keep in mind my huge Malawian audience. The pressure's on. I'll do my best to share my insights without causing too much offense. Wish me luck!
Oh, and by the way, I checked my National Bank of Malawi acct. yesterday. The money now is there. Those gnomes and leprachauns at Citibank were working hard on Wednesday night! Enjoy your weekend, and Tiwonana Sunday!
Ironically, many of the local people here do not have the means to travel to the big game parks, and in Malawi, these are the only places you can see these animals. So, I thought it would really be fun to take Deliwe to the nearest national park (Liwonde National Park), which is only about 40 mins. drive from here. I was very lucky to visit South Africa 3 years ago, and had the rare opportunity to see four of the "Big Five." The leopard was the only one we never saw, as they are very elusive, stay out of sight, and tend to be more active at night. Maybe we'll get lucky this time, though I'm told at Liwonde, the most common sightings are elephants, hippos, and crocodiles, partially due to the fact that the largest river (the Shire) runs through the park, and these animals spend lots of time in the river. This will be just fine for Deliwe and me, as my favorite animal is the elephant, and hers is the crocodile (though she also likes snakes-- I can't say that I share her enthusiasm). She was telling me a story last night about an encounter with a snake, and I'm now convinced she may have snake-charming abilities. Hopefully if we run into any, she'll be able to use her powers on them.
So, it looks like I'll be offline at least until Sunday. I'll make sure to take lotsa pictures to upload and share with my loyal readers (now in the thousands, as my Malawian sources tell me). As this is a nation of very gracious people, I've also received an acceptance of my apology, as well as assurance from a couple of Malawian readers that my comments have not caused any offense to them. I suppose all "great writers" have their critics. I also know I'm fallible. I'll certainly be more careful from now on, and keep in mind my huge Malawian audience. The pressure's on. I'll do my best to share my insights without causing too much offense. Wish me luck!
Oh, and by the way, I checked my National Bank of Malawi acct. yesterday. The money now is there. Those gnomes and leprachauns at Citibank were working hard on Wednesday night! Enjoy your weekend, and Tiwonana Sunday!
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Sincere Apology
Today's post is a sincere apology to any Malawians who have read or are still reading this blog on a regular basis. I understand from a comment I received yesterday that some of my comments below my pictures have caused offense to at least one reader from Malawi, who also asserts that this blog is read by "thousands" of Malawians at home and abroad. Though I find this figure quite hard to believe, I am very saddened that even one comment I've made offended even one person. This really was not my intent at all. Since my impression was that this blog is read mostly by my friends back home, the pictures and comments beneath them are meant to give people an idea of what things are like here, not to pass any judgement on the condition of the people here or belittle their struggles. I've often prided myself in being an open-minded person with great respect for all people and cultures, and now I've had to take a step back and really look at how some of the comments in this blog could be perceived by a person from Malawi, reading it for the first time.
One thing I can say is that, on the whole, my comments have been at least 95 percent positive. I'm only sorry that a few descriptions of the road and travel conditions may have left me looking like an arrogant, ugly-American ex-pat passing some sort of negative judgement on the local people here. This saddens me a great deal, because nothing could be farther from the truth. Since I've been here, I've experienced the greatest kindness, generosity, selflessness, sincerity, and strength of body and spirit I think I've ever seen in this world. And this is saying a lot, as I've been to and lived in a lot of different places.
Please accept my sincere apologies. I truly regret that I've caused offense to anyone in this great place. (As a sidenote, I've also edited Mrs. Mbano's name to read Dr. Mbano. I was also corrected on this detail by a Malawian reader.) Thanks for your comments. I am taking them very seriously.
One thing I can say is that, on the whole, my comments have been at least 95 percent positive. I'm only sorry that a few descriptions of the road and travel conditions may have left me looking like an arrogant, ugly-American ex-pat passing some sort of negative judgement on the local people here. This saddens me a great deal, because nothing could be farther from the truth. Since I've been here, I've experienced the greatest kindness, generosity, selflessness, sincerity, and strength of body and spirit I think I've ever seen in this world. And this is saying a lot, as I've been to and lived in a lot of different places.
Please accept my sincere apologies. I truly regret that I've caused offense to anyone in this great place. (As a sidenote, I've also edited Mrs. Mbano's name to read Dr. Mbano. I was also corrected on this detail by a Malawian reader.) Thanks for your comments. I am taking them very seriously.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Contest, College, Cash
First of all, let me just say that I'm glad to see that at least a couple (ya, about half) of my loyal readers are getting into the "guessing contest" spirit. I've had 2 more guesses today, but nope. Keep on guessing! There's no limit to how many guesses you can enter, and you likely still have a few more weeks to guess (hopefully the prize will get there before I do at Christmastime!) Interesting to hear from my friend Bridget that the mail is so slow in PA. I wonder why... Are there a lot of vigilante postal workers around there? Let me just say that I really don't understand the "goin postal" thing, as I've always felt that if I didn't make it to or through college, I'd probably work for the postal service. Especially if I got to run routes. I can't think of a better job, really. Walking around outside, enjoying the sunshine... even better if you get to drive the cool white truck with the right-hand drive. Fun stuff. (Ya, now I know...) Though, I guess it depends on where you live. I suppose being a postal worker in Alaska or Finland probably isn't so much fun. I also probably wouldn't enjoy it so much in southern New Mexico, where I used to live... sweltering hot. Maybe it is a good thing I made it to and through college, though sometimes I still dream of delivering mail or driving a truck for a living. More on that another time.
So, on to my life in Malawi. Today was relatively uneventful, actually, but there are some interesting things going on with my job and my finances. As I've mentioned before, I'm posted at two academic institutions-- Domasi College of Education, where I currently am not teaching any classes, but will start in a week or two (I'd better double-check on the exact start date), and Chancellor College in Zomba, where I've been teaching for about a month now. I think I also mentioned that there is currently a lecturer's strike underway, which began last week, but which I am not a part of, due to the fact that I'm not from here, and thus not in the union. The dispute is over a pay increase that was promised by the government and the higher-ups at the University of Malawi, a government-funded institution. Chancellor College is a branch institution of that university. Well, after teaching the class today, I ran into another instructor, Dr. Mbano, who is the wife of Mr. Mbano, who was the lecturer that taught my Language and Communications course prior to my arrival. He's now in Scotland, studying a PhD on a special grant program at the University of Glasgow, I believe related to the special relationship between Scotland and Malawi which I mentioned earlier. Lucky guy!
In any case, Dr.. Mbano was able to give me some more info. on the strike. It appears that the lecturers have been getting a pretty raw deal, as other administrative officials (especially those in the upper ranks) have been getting periodic raises, but the lecturers have not gotten a cent in over two years, so they're understandably very upset. Hmmm... sounds like some small private colleges in the Northeast I've recently become familiar with. In any case, the lecturers have been threatening a strike for awhile, and finally are going ahead with it. This is not just Chancellor College, but the entire University of Malawi System. I also picked up a newspaper after class today, and found out that many officials believe that if unresolved soon, this strike could disrupt the end of the school year, leaving students to finish their academic year (which should end in November) in January or February of 2008. It's really a bad situation. Even if I continue teaching, it will likely disrupt my course as well, since the students will literally be sent home if their instructors are unable to go back to the classroom.
So, this is serious stuff. I think my students might be relieved if this happens, though, as I have them working on a big research paper, and they're already looking frazzled, even though we're only in the preliminary research phase. I even had to escort them to the library today to help them out. This is clearly the first time most of them have ever done any type of research. We shall see what happens, but they're hard workers, so I have faith they'll figure it all out. I'll keep you posted.
The only other big event for me today was picking up my new ATM card at the National Bank of Malawi. It's been there for a couple of weeks, but I just never had the time nor opportunity to go get it. I also thought it might take a long time, based on my previous experience waiting around at the bank for about 2 hours while opening my account. In the end, it didn't take long at all (about 10 mins. in all). However, when I went to the ATM to check my acct. balance, there was only 5,000 kwacha in the acct. (about 35 bucks). I was shocked, as I'd had much more than that put in via a personal check when I opened the acct., and I knew the check had cleared last week when I looked at my online statement.
Of course, I went back into the bank to check it out. I should've guessed. Citibank is behind the whole thing. Ya. Citibank. I haven't trusted that organization since I got lured into my first credit card scam with them shortly after my college graduation a la 1989 (Ya, I'm OLD!!). Ya, I was a communications major and didn't know how to read the small print, especially anything numerical... 20% interest? What's that? Holy idiocy, they took all the money I didn't have-- and then some...
Anyway, it turns out that Citibank has some sort of ownership over The National Bank of Malawi, and at least handles their overseas transactions. Since I opened the acct. with a personal check (to save on the wire transfer fees, which now I see wasn't worth it), I had to wait for that to clear in order to start using the acct. It took a good 3 weeks to clear the bank. Now, the money is sitting in some vault somewhere at Citibank, and little gnomes are counting it before sending it into my acct. at The National Bank of Malawi. Maybe they have to fill their pots of gold and then find a leprachaun at the end of a rainbow who can put it on a boat and send it to Malawi. I just wish they'd hurry the bloody thing up.
In the meantime, I'll be visiting the HSBC leprachauns online and getting a scanned copy of the check printed for the bank, so maybe they can send it to the gnomes who will wire it to the leprachauns who can then ship it over to me. That'd be nice, eh? Wish me luck on that (misad)venture! Tiwonana Mawa!
So, on to my life in Malawi. Today was relatively uneventful, actually, but there are some interesting things going on with my job and my finances. As I've mentioned before, I'm posted at two academic institutions-- Domasi College of Education, where I currently am not teaching any classes, but will start in a week or two (I'd better double-check on the exact start date), and Chancellor College in Zomba, where I've been teaching for about a month now. I think I also mentioned that there is currently a lecturer's strike underway, which began last week, but which I am not a part of, due to the fact that I'm not from here, and thus not in the union. The dispute is over a pay increase that was promised by the government and the higher-ups at the University of Malawi, a government-funded institution. Chancellor College is a branch institution of that university. Well, after teaching the class today, I ran into another instructor, Dr. Mbano, who is the wife of Mr. Mbano, who was the lecturer that taught my Language and Communications course prior to my arrival. He's now in Scotland, studying a PhD on a special grant program at the University of Glasgow, I believe related to the special relationship between Scotland and Malawi which I mentioned earlier. Lucky guy!
In any case, Dr.. Mbano was able to give me some more info. on the strike. It appears that the lecturers have been getting a pretty raw deal, as other administrative officials (especially those in the upper ranks) have been getting periodic raises, but the lecturers have not gotten a cent in over two years, so they're understandably very upset. Hmmm... sounds like some small private colleges in the Northeast I've recently become familiar with. In any case, the lecturers have been threatening a strike for awhile, and finally are going ahead with it. This is not just Chancellor College, but the entire University of Malawi System. I also picked up a newspaper after class today, and found out that many officials believe that if unresolved soon, this strike could disrupt the end of the school year, leaving students to finish their academic year (which should end in November) in January or February of 2008. It's really a bad situation. Even if I continue teaching, it will likely disrupt my course as well, since the students will literally be sent home if their instructors are unable to go back to the classroom.
So, this is serious stuff. I think my students might be relieved if this happens, though, as I have them working on a big research paper, and they're already looking frazzled, even though we're only in the preliminary research phase. I even had to escort them to the library today to help them out. This is clearly the first time most of them have ever done any type of research. We shall see what happens, but they're hard workers, so I have faith they'll figure it all out. I'll keep you posted.
The only other big event for me today was picking up my new ATM card at the National Bank of Malawi. It's been there for a couple of weeks, but I just never had the time nor opportunity to go get it. I also thought it might take a long time, based on my previous experience waiting around at the bank for about 2 hours while opening my account. In the end, it didn't take long at all (about 10 mins. in all). However, when I went to the ATM to check my acct. balance, there was only 5,000 kwacha in the acct. (about 35 bucks). I was shocked, as I'd had much more than that put in via a personal check when I opened the acct., and I knew the check had cleared last week when I looked at my online statement.
Of course, I went back into the bank to check it out. I should've guessed. Citibank is behind the whole thing. Ya. Citibank. I haven't trusted that organization since I got lured into my first credit card scam with them shortly after my college graduation a la 1989 (Ya, I'm OLD!!). Ya, I was a communications major and didn't know how to read the small print, especially anything numerical... 20% interest? What's that? Holy idiocy, they took all the money I didn't have-- and then some...
Anyway, it turns out that Citibank has some sort of ownership over The National Bank of Malawi, and at least handles their overseas transactions. Since I opened the acct. with a personal check (to save on the wire transfer fees, which now I see wasn't worth it), I had to wait for that to clear in order to start using the acct. It took a good 3 weeks to clear the bank. Now, the money is sitting in some vault somewhere at Citibank, and little gnomes are counting it before sending it into my acct. at The National Bank of Malawi. Maybe they have to fill their pots of gold and then find a leprachaun at the end of a rainbow who can put it on a boat and send it to Malawi. I just wish they'd hurry the bloody thing up.
In the meantime, I'll be visiting the HSBC leprachauns online and getting a scanned copy of the check printed for the bank, so maybe they can send it to the gnomes who will wire it to the leprachauns who can then ship it over to me. That'd be nice, eh? Wish me luck on that (misad)venture! Tiwonana Mawa!
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Goin' 'Postal'!!!
Today I had another post office adventure, but this time it was in one of the bigger post offices in Limbe, a larger city about an hour away. I needed to go there to pick up a box sent to me by my boyfriend a good three weeks ago, but which I did not receive because the customs office at the Limbe Post Office decided to hold it "because the value of all of the contents was not declared." Hmmm... Of course, my experience with such matters in foreign post offices told me that something was amiss.
Of course, when I arrived at the post office, about 10 minutes prior to noon, I was told at the counter that I needed to go to a different area ("parcel pick-up" or something of the sort) to pick up the box. Since I was also trying to send a package to Heather (yes, the prize for winning the "guess the big bug on my wall" contest), it took a while to find out that I couldn't send the prize in the large envelope in which it was packed. Instead, I would need a 'carton' (British/Malawian English for 'box'). Of course, I could not buy this box at the post office, nor could the nice lady at the counter give me a clear idea of where I could buy one. After a bit of discussion about this, I finally decided to go to the "parcel pick-up area," where after a short wait, a nice lady greeted me and looked at the form I received in the mail from customs about 3 weeks ago. After a bit of discussion, she then informed me that it was lunchtime, and no one was available in the "parcel holding-room" (that's my term) until after 1 p.m., so I'd have to come back then.
O.K., so I decided to go find something to eat, and also look for a box in which to send the special prize to my sister... (By the way, the contest is still on to guess what I sent her... I'm hoping it'll get there in about 2 weeks, but some sources tell me it could take longer, so there should be plenty of time to enter your guesses. Come on, don't you wanna win the next prize?) I eventually stopped into an electronics store, as I was in the market for a couple of fans and a radio, and after seeing the ridiculously high prices, decided to ask if they had any small boxes they could spare for the package. Luckily, the salesperson was very helpful and after checking with the store owner, went to the back room and brought out two boxes to choose from, and let me take one of them, free of charge. After that was taken care of, I found a place to eat not far up the road, and was able to kill the next 45 minutes until I could pick up my box at 1 p.m. Yahoo!
So, I headed back to the post office a few minutes past 1 p.m., and waited a few minutes for the nice "parcel pick-up clerk" to finish her phone conversation, and then come to the counter to help me. Now, it's my belief that no one was really out to lunch. It's just a matter of course for post office clerks to behave this way everywhere in the world. Even if they can help you, they won't if the clock is at a certain hour. In the U.S., it's the closing time (4:00 or 5:00, depending on the Post office). Even if all you need is one bloody stamp, they won't sell it to you one minute after closing time. It's that same thing all over the world. Some big post office conspiracy, I'm convinced.
So, she finally comes to help me, then goes to the door where the boxes ('parcels') are kept (btw, they're 'parcels' if something is in them, but 'cartons' when empty... just to be clear..), and a woman appears. This is the woman I believe was always there, in hiding, but out of principle would not help me during the sacred 'lunch hour.' They proceed to open the box, and as they're doing so, I look at the customs form, which lists everything in the box, and a value of $100. Included in the box was an old Lexmark printer (worth about $50), 4 ink cartridges, some towels, a can opener, a fork, and a butter knife (this was when I couldn't find these things in Zomba-- I've since bought a whole set of utensils in Blantyre, since the box was sitting in Limbe for so long...)
I then mentioned to the ladies that the customs declaration form was clearly filled out, but the clerk disputed the value of the ink cartridges, which were not listed. I told her the value of the printer was only about $50, and the cartridges were worth about $10 each, and the rest of it was worth about another $10, totalling $100. She tried to argue that with the ink cartridges, the true value was $150. Clearly, this was a racket to get more money out of me. I almost gave in, but this time realized what was going on, and in the end she gave in and said $100 was o.k., and I was able to retrieve my box without any extra fees. Whew! I also managed to pack Heather's box with the help of a nice gentlement who lent me a marker and some packing tape, so all's well that ends well, and I didn't even have to "go postal." I even got a 'tracking number' for the package. I wonder if it means anything. Hopefully I won't need to find out. As always, I'll keep you "posted." Tiwonana Mawa!
Of course, when I arrived at the post office, about 10 minutes prior to noon, I was told at the counter that I needed to go to a different area ("parcel pick-up" or something of the sort) to pick up the box. Since I was also trying to send a package to Heather (yes, the prize for winning the "guess the big bug on my wall" contest), it took a while to find out that I couldn't send the prize in the large envelope in which it was packed. Instead, I would need a 'carton' (British/Malawian English for 'box'). Of course, I could not buy this box at the post office, nor could the nice lady at the counter give me a clear idea of where I could buy one. After a bit of discussion about this, I finally decided to go to the "parcel pick-up area," where after a short wait, a nice lady greeted me and looked at the form I received in the mail from customs about 3 weeks ago. After a bit of discussion, she then informed me that it was lunchtime, and no one was available in the "parcel holding-room" (that's my term) until after 1 p.m., so I'd have to come back then.
O.K., so I decided to go find something to eat, and also look for a box in which to send the special prize to my sister... (By the way, the contest is still on to guess what I sent her... I'm hoping it'll get there in about 2 weeks, but some sources tell me it could take longer, so there should be plenty of time to enter your guesses. Come on, don't you wanna win the next prize?) I eventually stopped into an electronics store, as I was in the market for a couple of fans and a radio, and after seeing the ridiculously high prices, decided to ask if they had any small boxes they could spare for the package. Luckily, the salesperson was very helpful and after checking with the store owner, went to the back room and brought out two boxes to choose from, and let me take one of them, free of charge. After that was taken care of, I found a place to eat not far up the road, and was able to kill the next 45 minutes until I could pick up my box at 1 p.m. Yahoo!
So, I headed back to the post office a few minutes past 1 p.m., and waited a few minutes for the nice "parcel pick-up clerk" to finish her phone conversation, and then come to the counter to help me. Now, it's my belief that no one was really out to lunch. It's just a matter of course for post office clerks to behave this way everywhere in the world. Even if they can help you, they won't if the clock is at a certain hour. In the U.S., it's the closing time (4:00 or 5:00, depending on the Post office). Even if all you need is one bloody stamp, they won't sell it to you one minute after closing time. It's that same thing all over the world. Some big post office conspiracy, I'm convinced.
So, she finally comes to help me, then goes to the door where the boxes ('parcels') are kept (btw, they're 'parcels' if something is in them, but 'cartons' when empty... just to be clear..), and a woman appears. This is the woman I believe was always there, in hiding, but out of principle would not help me during the sacred 'lunch hour.' They proceed to open the box, and as they're doing so, I look at the customs form, which lists everything in the box, and a value of $100. Included in the box was an old Lexmark printer (worth about $50), 4 ink cartridges, some towels, a can opener, a fork, and a butter knife (this was when I couldn't find these things in Zomba-- I've since bought a whole set of utensils in Blantyre, since the box was sitting in Limbe for so long...)
I then mentioned to the ladies that the customs declaration form was clearly filled out, but the clerk disputed the value of the ink cartridges, which were not listed. I told her the value of the printer was only about $50, and the cartridges were worth about $10 each, and the rest of it was worth about another $10, totalling $100. She tried to argue that with the ink cartridges, the true value was $150. Clearly, this was a racket to get more money out of me. I almost gave in, but this time realized what was going on, and in the end she gave in and said $100 was o.k., and I was able to retrieve my box without any extra fees. Whew! I also managed to pack Heather's box with the help of a nice gentlement who lent me a marker and some packing tape, so all's well that ends well, and I didn't even have to "go postal." I even got a 'tracking number' for the package. I wonder if it means anything. Hopefully I won't need to find out. As always, I'll keep you "posted." Tiwonana Mawa!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Dogs 'n fishbones
Well, after the hard work on my last blog entry, I've received a couple of comments about its length and how I must have "so much time on my hands," but then followed by, "But, I'm enjoying reading about your experiences. Keep them coming!" Hmmm... these are mixed signals from my loyal readers. Perhaps I could shorten my entries, but that would take away from the richness of my fabulous descriptions, don't you think?
I suppose I could give up writing every day, but then the entries would definitely be longer, and most likely all would read like 'Memento.' Perhaps everyone enjoys the 'Memento' entries. I guess if I wrote only once a week, all of them could go on and on and in backwards order. Would you like that better? Hmmm... Let's think about that for awhile. I'll get back to you 'mawa'.
Rest assured if you're still trying to catch up on a daily basis that this one will be relatively short (well, by Jen X standards). Nothing too earth-shattering happened today, but I did tell my students that I was writing a blog about my experiences here, and that I've already mentioned them. I think that made them nervous. I told them they'd better behave, or I'd write about them on the blog. I wonder if that will work as well as the Santa lie works on kids. "You'd better be good, or you'll end up on my naughty list, and the whole world reads that list on my blog, cuz my blog's really popular, and I have at least a billion readers!" Ya, that should do it... I'll tell them during the next class on Wed.
Speaking of the class, did I mention last week that there was a lecturer's strike at Chancellor College? But, since I'm not in the union, I don't get to take a vacation. My students are really loving me now, because I'm making them write a research paper, and they have to come to my class, but not most of their other classes. Ya, not so fun for them, but they're good kids, and they're taking it well. Amazingly, the attendance has been very good in my class since the strike started. I guess that's a good sign, at least. I hope they don't vandalize my car. I'll keep you posted.
Other than that, not much to tell. I did find out this evening that dogs in Malawi can eat fish bones. I thought fish and chicken bones could kill dogs, but I guess it's just American dogs. You know, we spoil them like we spoil our kids. If we just fed them the bones, they'd be tough and chew them up and just eat them. Like my dogs. Deliwe and I ate outside this evening because it was so hot, and of course the dogs (the one I adopted and his sidekick) were begging. We were eating chambo (the famous Malawi fish), and Deliwe laughed at me when I said I couldn't give them the bones. "Of course, they can eat them," she said. I answered, "But won't they choke on them?" "No, these are Malawian Dogs. They can eat anything," was her answer. Sure enough. I threw them the bones, and they chewed them up and ate them. No subsequent choking ensued.
It's all got me thinking. Somehow in our information-saturation, we've become more misinformed and overly paranoid. Perhaps I'm reading into it a bit too much, but it seems that we do tend to over-think things, let parnoia rule us, and take the joy out of life (especially for our dogs and our kids). In that spirit, I won't over-think this idea and drive all of my (3-5, now maybe 2-4) readers nuts by rambling on about it. Let's just say the dogs here can eat fish bones, but in the U.S. they only eat dog food. Let's see which ones live longer, more fulfilling lives. I'm bettin on the African dogs. Tiwonana mawa!
I suppose I could give up writing every day, but then the entries would definitely be longer, and most likely all would read like 'Memento.' Perhaps everyone enjoys the 'Memento' entries. I guess if I wrote only once a week, all of them could go on and on and in backwards order. Would you like that better? Hmmm... Let's think about that for awhile. I'll get back to you 'mawa'.
Rest assured if you're still trying to catch up on a daily basis that this one will be relatively short (well, by Jen X standards). Nothing too earth-shattering happened today, but I did tell my students that I was writing a blog about my experiences here, and that I've already mentioned them. I think that made them nervous. I told them they'd better behave, or I'd write about them on the blog. I wonder if that will work as well as the Santa lie works on kids. "You'd better be good, or you'll end up on my naughty list, and the whole world reads that list on my blog, cuz my blog's really popular, and I have at least a billion readers!" Ya, that should do it... I'll tell them during the next class on Wed.
Speaking of the class, did I mention last week that there was a lecturer's strike at Chancellor College? But, since I'm not in the union, I don't get to take a vacation. My students are really loving me now, because I'm making them write a research paper, and they have to come to my class, but not most of their other classes. Ya, not so fun for them, but they're good kids, and they're taking it well. Amazingly, the attendance has been very good in my class since the strike started. I guess that's a good sign, at least. I hope they don't vandalize my car. I'll keep you posted.
Other than that, not much to tell. I did find out this evening that dogs in Malawi can eat fish bones. I thought fish and chicken bones could kill dogs, but I guess it's just American dogs. You know, we spoil them like we spoil our kids. If we just fed them the bones, they'd be tough and chew them up and just eat them. Like my dogs. Deliwe and I ate outside this evening because it was so hot, and of course the dogs (the one I adopted and his sidekick) were begging. We were eating chambo (the famous Malawi fish), and Deliwe laughed at me when I said I couldn't give them the bones. "Of course, they can eat them," she said. I answered, "But won't they choke on them?" "No, these are Malawian Dogs. They can eat anything," was her answer. Sure enough. I threw them the bones, and they chewed them up and ate them. No subsequent choking ensued.
It's all got me thinking. Somehow in our information-saturation, we've become more misinformed and overly paranoid. Perhaps I'm reading into it a bit too much, but it seems that we do tend to over-think things, let parnoia rule us, and take the joy out of life (especially for our dogs and our kids). In that spirit, I won't over-think this idea and drive all of my (3-5, now maybe 2-4) readers nuts by rambling on about it. Let's just say the dogs here can eat fish bones, but in the U.S. they only eat dog food. Let's see which ones live longer, more fulfilling lives. I'm bettin on the African dogs. Tiwonana mawa!
Sunday, October 14, 2007
‘Memento' Sunday
I’m sure all 3-5 of you are just waiting on the edge of your seats in anticipation of my description of my Catholic church experience this morning with the girls next door, Pamela and Agnes (especially those of you who know my opinion of the church establishment), so I’ve decided to start with that experience first, and then work backwards (again). So, today is ‘Memento Sunday.’ For the millions of readers who have joined this blog after the debut of ‘Memento Monday,’ this is when I write about my experiences in backwards order (a la the film ‘Memento’—if you haven’t seen it yet, please do so… it is FREAKY!).
But, not as freaky as my first time in a Catholic church in a long, long while. Since I did grow up Episcopalian (Anglican/Church of England, for those outside the U.S.), the service itself was quite familiar, like most Catholic masses I've attended, it’s basically the same as that with which I grew up. The only major difference in this case is that the entire service was in Chichewa, so I couldn’t understand a thing (much like the ‘old English’ services I grew up with, so no big deal), so of course I couldn’t really participate, which is just as well, due to my ambivalence about organized religion.
Another huge difference is the singing. Wow. The singing is AMAZING. I am now convinced that there is not one person in Malawi who cannot sing. No joke. I have never heard any bad singing since I’ve been here… no one off-key, no screeching, nothing of the sort. Perhaps it’s just that those who cannot sing just keep quiet. Ah, if only that woman in my church growing up had done that (my brothers and sisters know the one… bleach blonde woman—fake blonde, I think… Mrs. Voght I think her name was… I’m sure she’s not reading this--, so it should be o.k. to give her name ;-). It’s possible that if that woman and a few others had sung a little less boisterously, I might still be a Christian today. Fat chance.
But seriously, I do think had I grown up in the church here, I might still be going, just because the type of singing and music is so much more joyful, uplifting, and enjoyable. The choir is relatively young and includes a good mix of men and women with incredible voices. And none of that awful “church music.” The sound is more like African dance music. And yes, some people actually get up to dance during the ‘hymns.’ If I do attend another service, I’ll try to record some of the songs to upload onto this blog if possible. It’s really quite amazing. I now can see where the African American gospel church traditions may have originated. Really good stuff.
Another big difference between this church and the ones I’ve experienced back home is the lack of padding on the kneelers, and the presence of small benches rather than pews. The benches do have backs on them, but they’re quite stiff and upright. In any case, it makes for a very uncomfortable two and a half hours. That’s right. The mass was a full 2 and ½ hours long! Toward the end, I started praying for it to end. Is that sacreligious? My prayer was answered, however, as the end came about 10 mins. after my little prayer. Maybe I’ll have to become a believer after all. It was funny, because the communion finally came almost 2 hours into the service, so I was thinking, “OK… this is it. We’re done.” The reason I felt this was because I used to wait for that moment when attending church back in the day. I remember always being happy when communion came, because that meant it was all almost over. I think that was just followed by a short prayer or chant thingy, then the final hymn and we were outta there. (well, after the ‘social hour’ my parents always stayed for, but I won’t get into that). In this case, however, it was not over so quickly. Instead, the priest went into this long explanation of how to use the rosary (I guess many people are still learning). There were some jokes told during that part, but of course I couldn’t understand… too bad for me. By the way, the priest was one of the Fathers who attended the dinner I attended at Sister Anastasia’s house a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, I can’t remember his name, though. He seems to be quite the comedian. A good quality in a priest. Should be required. And they should let them get married, too (the Anglicans do). Don't get me started.
One other big difference with the church here is that when they take the church offerings, they don’t just pass around the plate. Instead, they call out the names of different saints, and then different people get up to give their donation to that particular saint. I just took Pamela’s lead on this, and went up when she told me to. I have no idea who the money was for, but I gave my 10 kwacha. When I asked her, she said it was “to help the priests.” Hmmm. I definitely have mixed feelings about that one. I’m guessing we gave to that fund because that might be the one that supports Sister Anastasia as well. She wasn’t there today because she’s at a retreat in Dedza, about 2 hours north of here. She’ll be gone for two weeks. Amazing. Those girls still go to church without her. I suppose someone will certainly report back to her if they notice the girls are not there. I also think they really like church. They didn’t even think it was too long! Ya, amazing. It’s probably the singing. That’s what it would be for me, definitely.
Oh, and back to the paying off of the saints. The other interesting thing is that toward the end of the mass, this woman got up (my guess that she was the church accountant), and she started reading off how much money each saint got. I wonder if the saints tally it up somehow and then answer more prayers that week to gain popularity so they get more donations the next week. I think it’s all just some popularity contest. Some saints definitely got a lot more money than others. I really wish I could figure out what this is all about. Any Catholics out there? Do you know what this is? Please explain!
The final big difference I noticed is that for communion, only the priest got wine. Everyone else got that round piece of cardboard the Catholic church likes to call bread---and let me tellya, that's the last thing you want after 2 hours with no water. And they do that thing where the priest puts it right into your mouth. Luckily, Pamela informed me that I could put my hands out for the bread, as that’s how we did it in our church… the other way just would feel too weird. I decided to take communion (oh, I hope I don’t get struck down), as technically I’m baptized in some sort of Catholic-like church, and well, I just wanted to follow the crowd. I think that’s the first communion I’ve taken in at least a decade. So far, no lightning bolts. I’ll keep you posted.
So, all in all, it was a good morning at church. I think the best part is that this is where people celebrate community, and I think they really appreciated seeing me there. It was all my decision, and no one made a big deal about it, which was cool. And, in a weird way, it was o.k. I think it was the singing. I’ll probably come back, just for that.
The other story I had to tell today is about one of my last excursions in the car. As I may have mentioned in an earlier entry, I was planning to go to Blantyre on Friday to buy a few things for the house that I cannot find here. If I haven’t already explained, Blantyre is the most developed city in Malawi, and is named after a city in Scotland. There’s a big connection between Malawi and Scotland, due to a Scottish missionary and hero by the name of Robert Livingston. He is a hero because he worked to stop the Arab slave trade in Malawi in the mid-1800s. He was a good guy, for a missionary. He actually helped free the people, and had a good heart. He’s also the major reason so many people here are Christian, and also started a Scottish rite church in Blantyre, as well as a few other places. I may have to check the facts again on him, as I don’t have my handy-dandy Malawi travel guide with me right now. In any case, it’s because of him that Blantyre got its name, and also became the commercial capital of Malawi. I'm also part Scottish, so it's good to hear a Scottish guy did some good things for the people here.
So, on Friday morning, I set out on a journey with Carlos to visit Blantyre, meet with some of my embassy contacts, and do a little shopping. Carlos needed to buy a T.V. – ya, he’s the only foreigner here I know that will have a T.V. and cable service. I have a feeling that I won’t be seeing much of Carlos once the T.V. is hooked up. He’s already warned me, though he says he only wants to ‘watch the news.’ We shall see. (BTW, after 2 trips, we still haven't found a T.V. for Carlos... long story... Electronics market is hidden somewhere!)
As you may have guessed, something happened on the way to Blantyre. Things couldn’t just go smoothly on my first road trip in my new car. No, no. This is me we’re talking about. And this is driving. In Malawi. You know… wrong side of road, wrong side of car, wrong shifting hand, yadda yadda yadda…
So, we’re cruising along, and actually do quite well on the road to Blantyre, with no real incidents (except for this bloody SUV – yes, they’re a menace in this country too). The idiot was overtaking someone on a hill, and of course I crested the hill and saw him coming with little room to avoid a head-on collision. Let’s just say my choices were to hit a group of people walking along the road on my left, or hit the guy head-on. In the end, I slowed down in a panic, hoping there was enough road for him to overtake the group of cars he was passing before sending Carlos and I straight to the afterlife in the process. Quick ‘n painless. That’s all I ask. I’m here to tell the tale, so you know how that one ended.
Other than that harrowing experience, everything went well. I remembered which side to stay on, I didn’t drift onto the dirt shoulder more than once or twice, and all bikers and pedestrians barely noticed the inexperienced muzungu cruising along in their midst.
That was until I actually got into Blantyre. Carlos had been there before, so directed me toward the big shopping center where we would meet the embassy people and then do our shopping. As I was heading there, thinking all was fine (after some crazy roundabout that kinda freaked me out), it happened. I hit the curb on the passenger side. Carlos tried to yell and warn me, but it was too late. I didn’t just hit it, I smashed it. And the tire. AAARGH! Of course, now it’s starting to feel like kharma.
Luckily, we were almost inside the parking lot, and there was an available space closeby, so we could just pull right in, flat tire and all. As always, there was a nice man in the parking lot ready to help us out. He helped us to change the tire (and yes, I had a spare and a jack… whew! Yes, I’d forgotten to check, and yes, I’m an idiot…)
Of course, once the tire was changed, we realized it was pretty low, so we went to the nearbye BP to get air put in (ya, this was Blantyre… shopping center with Petrol Station… Hallelujah!).
After that, the young man who helped us told us he knew of a place where they could patch the tire, so he directed us to the area, and told us to park the car. He assured us that if he took the tire, he could get a good price for us, but if we went with him, they’d charge us the ‘muzungu’ price (i.e., ‘jack it up,’ and I’m not talking about the tire). Yes, it’s true, and I suppose not surprising, as it’s like this in many places around the world. The outsiders get charged more. Because we understand this, Carlos and I didn’t even flinch. We said, ‘OK’, and let him take the tire, and all of his personal belongings from the car, and then watched him roll the tire up some alley and out of sight.
Now, I know you’re all thinking we were complete idiots. Perhaps so. However, in Malawi, this is how things work, and my experience (so far) has been that for the most part, people are pretty honest and moral. Now, the guy did come back about 5 mins. later and told us they’d charge 1,000 kwacha (about 9 bucks) to fix it, so we agreed. Now, this is where we probably were idiots. How do we know that was the real price? Certainly it could’ve been considerably less, but he may have told us it was more to get his own cut. Duh. Anyway, we agreed, and he went back to the place again, after telling us it would take about 20 mins. to fix. In the meantime, I had a lunch appointment with my embassy contacts, so I was concerned about making it in time, as it was already about noon. After a quick call, I was assured that lunch wouldn’t start until about 1 p.m., so we were in good shape.
After waiting for about 10 minutes, that’s when Carlos said it. “Jennifer, do you realize that we just gave that guy the tire, his things, and 1,000 kwacha, and we have no idea where he went and if he’ll ever come back?" Uh, yeah. Duh. Dorks. Been living overseas for a long time. But still stupid. Or maybe it’s just Malawi. Somehow you just feel like you can trust people here… maybe not completely, but when it comes to the big things. So, we waited. 10 mins. 15 mins. 20 mins. 25 mins. 30 mins. Finally, Carlos asked one of the street vendors if he knew the guy, and if there really was a tire repair place in the neighborhood. They ensured Carlos that everything was on the up-and-up. Ya. Right. They could be part of the racket. And there we were—Dorks. Duh.
5 more mins., and there he was. Our trusty good Samaritan came back, but no tire. He actually came back to tell us it’d take about 10 more mins. Whew! Now we knew we hadn’t been taken for a total ride. Perhaps a partial one. We’re both pretty sure he got a cut of the deal, but that’s o.k. As long as the tire gets fixed. So, after waiting a few more minutes, he did return with the ‘rebuilt’ tire. I did some pretty major damage to the sidewall, so they actually had to stitch it (very low-tech, of course), but so far, it’s holding well. It got us through the afternoon and evening on Friday, and on another trip to Blantyre and back yesterday. That time I took Deliwe, and we had a great time. So far, the tire’s still holding. I’ll keep you posted. Tiwonana mawa!
But, not as freaky as my first time in a Catholic church in a long, long while. Since I did grow up Episcopalian (Anglican/Church of England, for those outside the U.S.), the service itself was quite familiar, like most Catholic masses I've attended, it’s basically the same as that with which I grew up. The only major difference in this case is that the entire service was in Chichewa, so I couldn’t understand a thing (much like the ‘old English’ services I grew up with, so no big deal), so of course I couldn’t really participate, which is just as well, due to my ambivalence about organized religion.
Another huge difference is the singing. Wow. The singing is AMAZING. I am now convinced that there is not one person in Malawi who cannot sing. No joke. I have never heard any bad singing since I’ve been here… no one off-key, no screeching, nothing of the sort. Perhaps it’s just that those who cannot sing just keep quiet. Ah, if only that woman in my church growing up had done that (my brothers and sisters know the one… bleach blonde woman—fake blonde, I think… Mrs. Voght I think her name was… I’m sure she’s not reading this--, so it should be o.k. to give her name ;-). It’s possible that if that woman and a few others had sung a little less boisterously, I might still be a Christian today. Fat chance.
But seriously, I do think had I grown up in the church here, I might still be going, just because the type of singing and music is so much more joyful, uplifting, and enjoyable. The choir is relatively young and includes a good mix of men and women with incredible voices. And none of that awful “church music.” The sound is more like African dance music. And yes, some people actually get up to dance during the ‘hymns.’ If I do attend another service, I’ll try to record some of the songs to upload onto this blog if possible. It’s really quite amazing. I now can see where the African American gospel church traditions may have originated. Really good stuff.
Another big difference between this church and the ones I’ve experienced back home is the lack of padding on the kneelers, and the presence of small benches rather than pews. The benches do have backs on them, but they’re quite stiff and upright. In any case, it makes for a very uncomfortable two and a half hours. That’s right. The mass was a full 2 and ½ hours long! Toward the end, I started praying for it to end. Is that sacreligious? My prayer was answered, however, as the end came about 10 mins. after my little prayer. Maybe I’ll have to become a believer after all. It was funny, because the communion finally came almost 2 hours into the service, so I was thinking, “OK… this is it. We’re done.” The reason I felt this was because I used to wait for that moment when attending church back in the day. I remember always being happy when communion came, because that meant it was all almost over. I think that was just followed by a short prayer or chant thingy, then the final hymn and we were outta there. (well, after the ‘social hour’ my parents always stayed for, but I won’t get into that). In this case, however, it was not over so quickly. Instead, the priest went into this long explanation of how to use the rosary (I guess many people are still learning). There were some jokes told during that part, but of course I couldn’t understand… too bad for me. By the way, the priest was one of the Fathers who attended the dinner I attended at Sister Anastasia’s house a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, I can’t remember his name, though. He seems to be quite the comedian. A good quality in a priest. Should be required. And they should let them get married, too (the Anglicans do). Don't get me started.
One other big difference with the church here is that when they take the church offerings, they don’t just pass around the plate. Instead, they call out the names of different saints, and then different people get up to give their donation to that particular saint. I just took Pamela’s lead on this, and went up when she told me to. I have no idea who the money was for, but I gave my 10 kwacha. When I asked her, she said it was “to help the priests.” Hmmm. I definitely have mixed feelings about that one. I’m guessing we gave to that fund because that might be the one that supports Sister Anastasia as well. She wasn’t there today because she’s at a retreat in Dedza, about 2 hours north of here. She’ll be gone for two weeks. Amazing. Those girls still go to church without her. I suppose someone will certainly report back to her if they notice the girls are not there. I also think they really like church. They didn’t even think it was too long! Ya, amazing. It’s probably the singing. That’s what it would be for me, definitely.
Oh, and back to the paying off of the saints. The other interesting thing is that toward the end of the mass, this woman got up (my guess that she was the church accountant), and she started reading off how much money each saint got. I wonder if the saints tally it up somehow and then answer more prayers that week to gain popularity so they get more donations the next week. I think it’s all just some popularity contest. Some saints definitely got a lot more money than others. I really wish I could figure out what this is all about. Any Catholics out there? Do you know what this is? Please explain!
The final big difference I noticed is that for communion, only the priest got wine. Everyone else got that round piece of cardboard the Catholic church likes to call bread---and let me tellya, that's the last thing you want after 2 hours with no water. And they do that thing where the priest puts it right into your mouth. Luckily, Pamela informed me that I could put my hands out for the bread, as that’s how we did it in our church… the other way just would feel too weird. I decided to take communion (oh, I hope I don’t get struck down), as technically I’m baptized in some sort of Catholic-like church, and well, I just wanted to follow the crowd. I think that’s the first communion I’ve taken in at least a decade. So far, no lightning bolts. I’ll keep you posted.
So, all in all, it was a good morning at church. I think the best part is that this is where people celebrate community, and I think they really appreciated seeing me there. It was all my decision, and no one made a big deal about it, which was cool. And, in a weird way, it was o.k. I think it was the singing. I’ll probably come back, just for that.
The other story I had to tell today is about one of my last excursions in the car. As I may have mentioned in an earlier entry, I was planning to go to Blantyre on Friday to buy a few things for the house that I cannot find here. If I haven’t already explained, Blantyre is the most developed city in Malawi, and is named after a city in Scotland. There’s a big connection between Malawi and Scotland, due to a Scottish missionary and hero by the name of Robert Livingston. He is a hero because he worked to stop the Arab slave trade in Malawi in the mid-1800s. He was a good guy, for a missionary. He actually helped free the people, and had a good heart. He’s also the major reason so many people here are Christian, and also started a Scottish rite church in Blantyre, as well as a few other places. I may have to check the facts again on him, as I don’t have my handy-dandy Malawi travel guide with me right now. In any case, it’s because of him that Blantyre got its name, and also became the commercial capital of Malawi. I'm also part Scottish, so it's good to hear a Scottish guy did some good things for the people here.
So, on Friday morning, I set out on a journey with Carlos to visit Blantyre, meet with some of my embassy contacts, and do a little shopping. Carlos needed to buy a T.V. – ya, he’s the only foreigner here I know that will have a T.V. and cable service. I have a feeling that I won’t be seeing much of Carlos once the T.V. is hooked up. He’s already warned me, though he says he only wants to ‘watch the news.’ We shall see. (BTW, after 2 trips, we still haven't found a T.V. for Carlos... long story... Electronics market is hidden somewhere!)
As you may have guessed, something happened on the way to Blantyre. Things couldn’t just go smoothly on my first road trip in my new car. No, no. This is me we’re talking about. And this is driving. In Malawi. You know… wrong side of road, wrong side of car, wrong shifting hand, yadda yadda yadda…
So, we’re cruising along, and actually do quite well on the road to Blantyre, with no real incidents (except for this bloody SUV – yes, they’re a menace in this country too). The idiot was overtaking someone on a hill, and of course I crested the hill and saw him coming with little room to avoid a head-on collision. Let’s just say my choices were to hit a group of people walking along the road on my left, or hit the guy head-on. In the end, I slowed down in a panic, hoping there was enough road for him to overtake the group of cars he was passing before sending Carlos and I straight to the afterlife in the process. Quick ‘n painless. That’s all I ask. I’m here to tell the tale, so you know how that one ended.
Other than that harrowing experience, everything went well. I remembered which side to stay on, I didn’t drift onto the dirt shoulder more than once or twice, and all bikers and pedestrians barely noticed the inexperienced muzungu cruising along in their midst.
That was until I actually got into Blantyre. Carlos had been there before, so directed me toward the big shopping center where we would meet the embassy people and then do our shopping. As I was heading there, thinking all was fine (after some crazy roundabout that kinda freaked me out), it happened. I hit the curb on the passenger side. Carlos tried to yell and warn me, but it was too late. I didn’t just hit it, I smashed it. And the tire. AAARGH! Of course, now it’s starting to feel like kharma.
Luckily, we were almost inside the parking lot, and there was an available space closeby, so we could just pull right in, flat tire and all. As always, there was a nice man in the parking lot ready to help us out. He helped us to change the tire (and yes, I had a spare and a jack… whew! Yes, I’d forgotten to check, and yes, I’m an idiot…)
Of course, once the tire was changed, we realized it was pretty low, so we went to the nearbye BP to get air put in (ya, this was Blantyre… shopping center with Petrol Station… Hallelujah!).
After that, the young man who helped us told us he knew of a place where they could patch the tire, so he directed us to the area, and told us to park the car. He assured us that if he took the tire, he could get a good price for us, but if we went with him, they’d charge us the ‘muzungu’ price (i.e., ‘jack it up,’ and I’m not talking about the tire). Yes, it’s true, and I suppose not surprising, as it’s like this in many places around the world. The outsiders get charged more. Because we understand this, Carlos and I didn’t even flinch. We said, ‘OK’, and let him take the tire, and all of his personal belongings from the car, and then watched him roll the tire up some alley and out of sight.
Now, I know you’re all thinking we were complete idiots. Perhaps so. However, in Malawi, this is how things work, and my experience (so far) has been that for the most part, people are pretty honest and moral. Now, the guy did come back about 5 mins. later and told us they’d charge 1,000 kwacha (about 9 bucks) to fix it, so we agreed. Now, this is where we probably were idiots. How do we know that was the real price? Certainly it could’ve been considerably less, but he may have told us it was more to get his own cut. Duh. Anyway, we agreed, and he went back to the place again, after telling us it would take about 20 mins. to fix. In the meantime, I had a lunch appointment with my embassy contacts, so I was concerned about making it in time, as it was already about noon. After a quick call, I was assured that lunch wouldn’t start until about 1 p.m., so we were in good shape.
After waiting for about 10 minutes, that’s when Carlos said it. “Jennifer, do you realize that we just gave that guy the tire, his things, and 1,000 kwacha, and we have no idea where he went and if he’ll ever come back?" Uh, yeah. Duh. Dorks. Been living overseas for a long time. But still stupid. Or maybe it’s just Malawi. Somehow you just feel like you can trust people here… maybe not completely, but when it comes to the big things. So, we waited. 10 mins. 15 mins. 20 mins. 25 mins. 30 mins. Finally, Carlos asked one of the street vendors if he knew the guy, and if there really was a tire repair place in the neighborhood. They ensured Carlos that everything was on the up-and-up. Ya. Right. They could be part of the racket. And there we were—Dorks. Duh.
5 more mins., and there he was. Our trusty good Samaritan came back, but no tire. He actually came back to tell us it’d take about 10 more mins. Whew! Now we knew we hadn’t been taken for a total ride. Perhaps a partial one. We’re both pretty sure he got a cut of the deal, but that’s o.k. As long as the tire gets fixed. So, after waiting a few more minutes, he did return with the ‘rebuilt’ tire. I did some pretty major damage to the sidewall, so they actually had to stitch it (very low-tech, of course), but so far, it’s holding well. It got us through the afternoon and evening on Friday, and on another trip to Blantyre and back yesterday. That time I took Deliwe, and we had a great time. So far, the tire’s still holding. I’ll keep you posted. Tiwonana mawa!
Saturday, October 13, 2007
SHORTEST POST EVER!
Hey, this post will DEFINITELY be the shortest ever, as I just finished a Skype conversation with my boyfriend back home, and now remember that I'd promised to go to church tomorrow with Pamela, the girl next door who lives with Sister Anastasia. I'd promised to go with her about 3 weeks ago, but I still haven't gone. I have to leave at 7:30 a.m. It's now midnight. I'm in my office (which is the only place I can use the internet.) I gotta go to bed. Lots more stories tomorrow! Tiwonana Mawa!
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Car today, gone tomorrow
Ha! I knew it was true! only 4 responses to my online poll. This confirms my suspicion that I truly only have 3-5 faithful readers. Thanks for hangin on! There definitely will be rewards for all of you in June '08 (if you can make it that long!--And, since no one seems to notice when I miss a post, there clearly is no need to make good on the free gin offer... I didn't post yesterday, but there was a power outage during my evening posting time, so... NO FREE GIN FOR YOU! ;-)
Oh, and the new contest (re: what is Heather's prize for winning the 'big bug' contest). Two people have guessed. One (Cherette) said a carved wooden box, and the other (my Grandma) said 'something carved out of wood from the peddler' I mentioned in an earlier post. Both of you are very close, but you have to guess the exact item, and only Heather can tell you if you're right. That's all I'll say on the subject for now. I'll let Heather deal with those guesses over the next two weeks. I still have to find something to send the prize in to get it out to her. I'll be going to a bigger post office tomorrow, so it should go out then. Good luck! ;-)
Speaking of the poll, ALL FOUR VOTERS WERE WRONG!! So, no prizes yet. Amazingly, my car did materialize yesterday. I even had pictures taken of me sitting in it, but forgot to bring them to the office with me this evening. I'll do my best to upload those soon. Of course, the delivery did not go without a hitch. First of all the delivery driver insisted on meeting me in Zomba, where I was hanging out with Carlos for lunch and a bit of "supermarket" (HA!) shopping. I was more than a bit nervous about this, because Zomba's a pretty busy place, and well, you know, the left side of road, right side of car, shifting with left hand, yadda yadda yadda. In any case, the guy decided to come anyway, even though Carlos and I had arranged a taxi to take me back to Domasi to meet the driver with my car.
Of course, not only did he meet me in Zomba, but also in one of the busiest areas-- what I call the "Banking District," as the (only) 3 banks in Zomba are located there, which makes it a center for many things, such as buying cell phone cards, people selling fruits and vegetables, and getting gas (it's also the "petrol district"). I've noticed that many cities here are organized this way. All of the banks and gas (i.e. "petrol" in these parts... bloody brits... gotta love 'em!) stations are in the same areas. This is convenient in a way, because you know where to find everything, but also inconvenient, as when you need a bank or petrol, there's only one place you can find them. If you're not in that place, no money or gas for you!
So, I was in this very busy area, waiting for my car, extremely nervous about the whole thing. Carlos, sensing my stress (well, after witnessing a minor meltdown as I cursed the driver after finishing my conversation with him), offered to go with me in the car to Domasi to make sure I got there o.k. It was a very good thing that he chose to do this, as you will see later.
After waiting for about 10 minutes or so (which felt like an hour or so), the driver came, paperwork in hand, with all receipts and an itemized invoice detailing all of the costs incurred by the dealer in handling the processing of the vehicle. This was necessary, as it turned out I still owed the dealer a fair amount of money (24,000 kwacha, to be exact--about $174). I wasn't too thrilled about the extra cost, but was very happy to see the car nonetheless.
So, I got in the driver's seat (on the RIGHT), Carlos got in the passenger seat (on the LEFT), and the car delivery guy got in the back seat. And, off we went. Amazingly, it was all fine. Did I mention that the car has a manual transmission? Luckily, I do drive a manual back home (unlike most Americans), so I'm very comfortable with the shifting/clutch, but the shifting pattern feels backwards and strange when using your left hand... In any case, I did alright. The clutch was very smooth, and the gears engaged easily, no grinding necessary. So, I backed it out of the busy bank parking lot (avoiding a few fruit vendors on the way), pulled it out into traffic taking a right turn into the left lane, and off we went! Amazing. I didn't hit anyone, and didn't kill the engine! The only thing I did do was turn on the windshield wipers instead of the right turn signal. This is the one thing that's taken me the longest to get used to. On Japanese cars (yes, from Japan... they also drive on the wrong side of the road), the directional lever is on the right side of the steering wheel, rather than the left. They actually have a separate lever for the directional and lights (on the right), while the lever on the left only controls the windshield wipers. Not only that, but when you want to turn right, you have to pull the lever down, and when you want to turn left, yhou have to push the lever up. This is extremely counter-intuitive for a bloody yank like myself. I'm still turning on the wipers every time I wanna make a flippin' turn. But, I'm learning.
So, now to the meat of the story (finally)... I drive the car the 20 or so miles back to Domasi, drop off the car delivery guy near the turnoff to the college where he'll pick up a minibus back to Lilongwe. I then drive to campus and stop at my house to show off the car to Deliwe and Harold (the gardener), who promises to "wash it every day" for me. Isn't that sweet? I'll try to discourage him, though, as I hate to waste all that water. But the thought was nice. So, after gushing and getting Carlos to take a picture of me in my new car, we decide to head back to Zomba to take Carlos back to his house. On the way, I realized the petrol tank was almost empty, so I decided to stop at the BP station (ya, they're everywhere! Bloody Brits) and get some GAS. After the tank is almost full (GAS is VERY EXPENSIVE here... about $5 a gallon by my lates estimate), I turn the key in the ignition. Nothing. I look at Carlos. He says, "try again." I turn the key again. Nothing but a grinding noise. After doing this 4 or 5 times, we realize something's wrong. So, we open the hood, and Carlos takes a look with a couple of the gas station attendants. After a little while, Carlos picks up a big tree branch and tells me he's going to hit the starter with it. By the way, did I mention Carlos is from Puerto Rico? They have some exotic practices there, apparently. He said that to test whether the starter is the problem, he had to hit it with this big tree branch. If the car starts after he does this, then it's definitely a problem with the starter. So, he hits it with the branch. But still, it doesn't start! Based on Carlos' theory, this should be a good thing. Or should it? At this point, I'm completely dumbfounded. And dumb. And Deaf. And I've had enough. Then, Carlos says, "O.K. Let's try something else. Put the car in neutral. We're going to push it. Then, when I tell you, pull up the clutch." Another Puerto Rican ritual, I thought. Apparently it's a way to jump-start the engine, and it worked. As I was rolling backwards, I suddenly realized the car was running. Wow! A miracle!
So, after this experience, it was clear that unless I wanted to roll the carl and pop the clutch to get it started on a regular basis, I was in serious need of a mechanic. As luck would have it, a mechanic was there at the petrol station. His name was Peter. He agreed to look under the hood to confirm whether it was the starter, which he did. He then told us he couldn't work on it until the morning (it was already after 5 p.m., and everything stops at that time here, especially because the sun sets by 6 p.m. So, we put our faith in Peter, pulled the car into the service area which was fenced off and appeared secure, walked up to Carlos' place for a beer, and then I called my favorite cabbie Melvin to take me home. Melvin, incidentally, was the cab driver who witnessed my mini-meltdown earlier that day, so I was a bit concerned that he might not let me back into the car. However, Melvin, like most Malawians I've met, is a gracious and kind soul, so of course gladly drove me back. Though, looking back on it, I think he charged me a bit more than usual. Hmmm....
So, of course, this morning, I was concerned. Has my kharma changed here? Will I continue to experience bad luck from now on? Will the car be fixed this morning as promised? Worse yet, will the car still be there? All of these thoughts were going through my mind as I spoke with Sydney, the director of my department at Chancellor College, telling him of the problem and how I was hoping things would work out o.k. After starting my journey back into Zomba with the dreaded walk through campus to the mini-bus stop, my luck did suddenly change for the better. As I walked, a truck came by, driven by the same guy who drove me to the post office on Tuesday. Luckily, he was taking a few staff members to Zomba, so offered me a ride. Yahoo! No minibus today! He then dropped me off at the trusty ol British Petrol station, where I found Carlos (he asked me to call him before going into Zomba so he could check that the car was o.k.). Of course, Peter the mechanic was not there, but some other guy was, explaining that it was fixed, gave Carlos the key and a small invoice for 1,900 kwacha (400 kwacha more than the original quote, but still relatively reasonable). Despite Carlos' attempts to find out what exactly was done to the car, it seemed to be in good working order, and I made it to class in plenty of time. In fact, I drove the car a few times today, and no problems. I even had to drive a bit in the dark on my way home this evening. I've now gotten used to honking at people in the road. This is weird for me, as I almost NEVER honk the horn back home. But here, it's a necessity, as the roads are very narrow, and since there are so few cars on the roads, the pedestrians, cyclists, goats, and dogs take over the pavement until the rare passing vehicle comes along. Most motorists have to honk just to remind the non-motorists that we can kill them if they don't move. As a cyclist myself, it's still taking me some getting used to, as I hate it when I get honked at by rude drivers while on my road bike.
OK, I got on another tangent there, but I'm sure my 3-5 faithful readers won't mind, as you're all used to it by now. So that's the first car saga. I'm sure there will be many more. Tomorrow, I'm off to Blantyre (about an hour away) to meet some U.S. Embassy contacts at the French Cultural Center for lunch. Oui, Oui, it should be interesting. I'm not sure if I'll be back in time to complete my blog entry, so for now I'm giving myself tomorrow (Friday) off from the blogosphere, but I should be back on Saturday! Tiwonana! (Watch for new car pix, coming soon!)
Oh, and the new contest (re: what is Heather's prize for winning the 'big bug' contest). Two people have guessed. One (Cherette) said a carved wooden box, and the other (my Grandma) said 'something carved out of wood from the peddler' I mentioned in an earlier post. Both of you are very close, but you have to guess the exact item, and only Heather can tell you if you're right. That's all I'll say on the subject for now. I'll let Heather deal with those guesses over the next two weeks. I still have to find something to send the prize in to get it out to her. I'll be going to a bigger post office tomorrow, so it should go out then. Good luck! ;-)
Speaking of the poll, ALL FOUR VOTERS WERE WRONG!! So, no prizes yet. Amazingly, my car did materialize yesterday. I even had pictures taken of me sitting in it, but forgot to bring them to the office with me this evening. I'll do my best to upload those soon. Of course, the delivery did not go without a hitch. First of all the delivery driver insisted on meeting me in Zomba, where I was hanging out with Carlos for lunch and a bit of "supermarket" (HA!) shopping. I was more than a bit nervous about this, because Zomba's a pretty busy place, and well, you know, the left side of road, right side of car, shifting with left hand, yadda yadda yadda. In any case, the guy decided to come anyway, even though Carlos and I had arranged a taxi to take me back to Domasi to meet the driver with my car.
Of course, not only did he meet me in Zomba, but also in one of the busiest areas-- what I call the "Banking District," as the (only) 3 banks in Zomba are located there, which makes it a center for many things, such as buying cell phone cards, people selling fruits and vegetables, and getting gas (it's also the "petrol district"). I've noticed that many cities here are organized this way. All of the banks and gas (i.e. "petrol" in these parts... bloody brits... gotta love 'em!) stations are in the same areas. This is convenient in a way, because you know where to find everything, but also inconvenient, as when you need a bank or petrol, there's only one place you can find them. If you're not in that place, no money or gas for you!
So, I was in this very busy area, waiting for my car, extremely nervous about the whole thing. Carlos, sensing my stress (well, after witnessing a minor meltdown as I cursed the driver after finishing my conversation with him), offered to go with me in the car to Domasi to make sure I got there o.k. It was a very good thing that he chose to do this, as you will see later.
After waiting for about 10 minutes or so (which felt like an hour or so), the driver came, paperwork in hand, with all receipts and an itemized invoice detailing all of the costs incurred by the dealer in handling the processing of the vehicle. This was necessary, as it turned out I still owed the dealer a fair amount of money (24,000 kwacha, to be exact--about $174). I wasn't too thrilled about the extra cost, but was very happy to see the car nonetheless.
So, I got in the driver's seat (on the RIGHT), Carlos got in the passenger seat (on the LEFT), and the car delivery guy got in the back seat. And, off we went. Amazingly, it was all fine. Did I mention that the car has a manual transmission? Luckily, I do drive a manual back home (unlike most Americans), so I'm very comfortable with the shifting/clutch, but the shifting pattern feels backwards and strange when using your left hand... In any case, I did alright. The clutch was very smooth, and the gears engaged easily, no grinding necessary. So, I backed it out of the busy bank parking lot (avoiding a few fruit vendors on the way), pulled it out into traffic taking a right turn into the left lane, and off we went! Amazing. I didn't hit anyone, and didn't kill the engine! The only thing I did do was turn on the windshield wipers instead of the right turn signal. This is the one thing that's taken me the longest to get used to. On Japanese cars (yes, from Japan... they also drive on the wrong side of the road), the directional lever is on the right side of the steering wheel, rather than the left. They actually have a separate lever for the directional and lights (on the right), while the lever on the left only controls the windshield wipers. Not only that, but when you want to turn right, you have to pull the lever down, and when you want to turn left, yhou have to push the lever up. This is extremely counter-intuitive for a bloody yank like myself. I'm still turning on the wipers every time I wanna make a flippin' turn. But, I'm learning.
So, now to the meat of the story (finally)... I drive the car the 20 or so miles back to Domasi, drop off the car delivery guy near the turnoff to the college where he'll pick up a minibus back to Lilongwe. I then drive to campus and stop at my house to show off the car to Deliwe and Harold (the gardener), who promises to "wash it every day" for me. Isn't that sweet? I'll try to discourage him, though, as I hate to waste all that water. But the thought was nice. So, after gushing and getting Carlos to take a picture of me in my new car, we decide to head back to Zomba to take Carlos back to his house. On the way, I realized the petrol tank was almost empty, so I decided to stop at the BP station (ya, they're everywhere! Bloody Brits) and get some GAS. After the tank is almost full (GAS is VERY EXPENSIVE here... about $5 a gallon by my lates estimate), I turn the key in the ignition. Nothing. I look at Carlos. He says, "try again." I turn the key again. Nothing but a grinding noise. After doing this 4 or 5 times, we realize something's wrong. So, we open the hood, and Carlos takes a look with a couple of the gas station attendants. After a little while, Carlos picks up a big tree branch and tells me he's going to hit the starter with it. By the way, did I mention Carlos is from Puerto Rico? They have some exotic practices there, apparently. He said that to test whether the starter is the problem, he had to hit it with this big tree branch. If the car starts after he does this, then it's definitely a problem with the starter. So, he hits it with the branch. But still, it doesn't start! Based on Carlos' theory, this should be a good thing. Or should it? At this point, I'm completely dumbfounded. And dumb. And Deaf. And I've had enough. Then, Carlos says, "O.K. Let's try something else. Put the car in neutral. We're going to push it. Then, when I tell you, pull up the clutch." Another Puerto Rican ritual, I thought. Apparently it's a way to jump-start the engine, and it worked. As I was rolling backwards, I suddenly realized the car was running. Wow! A miracle!
So, after this experience, it was clear that unless I wanted to roll the carl and pop the clutch to get it started on a regular basis, I was in serious need of a mechanic. As luck would have it, a mechanic was there at the petrol station. His name was Peter. He agreed to look under the hood to confirm whether it was the starter, which he did. He then told us he couldn't work on it until the morning (it was already after 5 p.m., and everything stops at that time here, especially because the sun sets by 6 p.m. So, we put our faith in Peter, pulled the car into the service area which was fenced off and appeared secure, walked up to Carlos' place for a beer, and then I called my favorite cabbie Melvin to take me home. Melvin, incidentally, was the cab driver who witnessed my mini-meltdown earlier that day, so I was a bit concerned that he might not let me back into the car. However, Melvin, like most Malawians I've met, is a gracious and kind soul, so of course gladly drove me back. Though, looking back on it, I think he charged me a bit more than usual. Hmmm....
So, of course, this morning, I was concerned. Has my kharma changed here? Will I continue to experience bad luck from now on? Will the car be fixed this morning as promised? Worse yet, will the car still be there? All of these thoughts were going through my mind as I spoke with Sydney, the director of my department at Chancellor College, telling him of the problem and how I was hoping things would work out o.k. After starting my journey back into Zomba with the dreaded walk through campus to the mini-bus stop, my luck did suddenly change for the better. As I walked, a truck came by, driven by the same guy who drove me to the post office on Tuesday. Luckily, he was taking a few staff members to Zomba, so offered me a ride. Yahoo! No minibus today! He then dropped me off at the trusty ol British Petrol station, where I found Carlos (he asked me to call him before going into Zomba so he could check that the car was o.k.). Of course, Peter the mechanic was not there, but some other guy was, explaining that it was fixed, gave Carlos the key and a small invoice for 1,900 kwacha (400 kwacha more than the original quote, but still relatively reasonable). Despite Carlos' attempts to find out what exactly was done to the car, it seemed to be in good working order, and I made it to class in plenty of time. In fact, I drove the car a few times today, and no problems. I even had to drive a bit in the dark on my way home this evening. I've now gotten used to honking at people in the road. This is weird for me, as I almost NEVER honk the horn back home. But here, it's a necessity, as the roads are very narrow, and since there are so few cars on the roads, the pedestrians, cyclists, goats, and dogs take over the pavement until the rare passing vehicle comes along. Most motorists have to honk just to remind the non-motorists that we can kill them if they don't move. As a cyclist myself, it's still taking me some getting used to, as I hate it when I get honked at by rude drivers while on my road bike.
OK, I got on another tangent there, but I'm sure my 3-5 faithful readers won't mind, as you're all used to it by now. So that's the first car saga. I'm sure there will be many more. Tomorrow, I'm off to Blantyre (about an hour away) to meet some U.S. Embassy contacts at the French Cultural Center for lunch. Oui, Oui, it should be interesting. I'm not sure if I'll be back in time to complete my blog entry, so for now I'm giving myself tomorrow (Friday) off from the blogosphere, but I should be back on Saturday! Tiwonana! (Watch for new car pix, coming soon!)
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
One more day and still no car...
Well, just as I thought, another day has gone by and still my car has not arrived. I am truly losing faith in the idea of the car delivery ever really happening at all. Even the director of my department at Chancellor College sounded quite discouraged about it when I told him this afternoon. I'd been warned that it may take some time, but even he and my contacts at the embassy have now admitted that waiting almost 3 weeks is way too long. As you may recall, I actually purchased the car (wired money from my U.S. account for payment) on Sept. 20. If I do not see it tomorrow, it's officially been 3 weeks since the date of purchase, and still no car. 'Mawa,Mawa' ('tomorrow, tommorrow') seems to be the mantra in this case.
Now the latest promise is that the car will be delivered to Zomba after my classes end tomorrow. I was a bit nervous about this, as Zomba is a larger and much busier city than Domasi (which is really just a village), and learning to drive on the wrong side of the road in the wrong side of the car while shifting with the wrong hand in a busier city does not excite me at all. However, since this seems to be the only option at the moment, the dealer did assure me that the driver would "give me a few lessons" before leaving me alone in the car after taking him to the mini-bus station for his 4-5 hour trip back to Lilongwe. This, of course, would be followed by the sight of me weaving around the hapless pedestrians, cyclists, goats, and whomever else might be using the roadway, while grinding gears and repeatedly killing the engine as I think I'm shifting into first while really shifting into 5th (all you manual drivers out there...the shifting pattern here is the same, but backwards because you have to use the other hand... clear as mud, I know...I'll send pix). Ah, it should be quite the experience for all, and not with much rejoicing. I'll keep you posted.
The good news is that I didn't need to go anywhere today, so was able to avoid the dreaded mini-bus experience. Instead, I was content to stay in my office in Domasi, and complete, copy, and send-out essential paperwork necessary for reimbursement of funds spent for settling in after my arrival (also known by the feds as 'post-departure expenses'). Even though I'm working overseas, the U.S. government still requires a printed expense report complete with original receipts, each of which has to be attached to a 'receipt form,' and then sent via snail mail to Washington, D.C. (actually to the coordinators of the English Language Fellows Program at Georgetown University). Yes, it's as tedious as it sounds, and I was putting it off for awhile, so being "stuck" here today was the perfect opportunity to finish this beaurocratic joy in plenty of time to beat the deadline (60 days from arrival, thankfully).
My only interesting experience today was my first trip to the local post office, where a nice lady took care of my needs, but not without some difficulty. As I mentioned, there were a few pieces of paper involved (12, to be exact), and when I asked for an envelope, all that was available was a rather standard-sized business envelope labeled "registered letter." At first, I thought there was no way I could fit everything into it-- However, much to my surprise, I was actually able to stuff the entire packet of dead trees into that little envelope. I think even the nice post office clerk was impressed. Or concerned. Or both. Once I sealed the envelope, I did ask for some tape to cover the seal. However, this was denied, as it's not allowed. I wonder why. I guess they like to be able to look inside. I'm just hoping this works out better than the car situation.
So, once I got everything all stuffed and sealed, it was time to buy the stamps. Ya, this is a developing country. They don't have those handy-dandy meter thingies we have in the states. They use stamps. In this case, a lot of stamps. I think she packed about 20 stamps onto that little overstuffed envelope. They were beautiful stamps though, with butterflies and birds on them, and luckily she was able to overlap them a bit to make all of them fit. Soon my sister Heather will get something with all those stamps on it, since she won the special prize for the "guess what kinda bug was on my wall" contest. The free gin winners will also get to see the pretty stamps. See? Now aren't you glad you've suffered through all my ramblings and remained a loyal reader? Someday even you might get to see the pretty stamps from Malawi.
I was actually thinking about starting another contest taking bets on what day my car might actually arrive. Instead, I think I'll insert a poll on this posting, just for fun. I haven't tried that yet, so we'll see if it works. Maybe this way, I can find out how many truly loyal readers are still with me daily, or semi-daily, or just logging on for the pictures and contests.
By the way, the nice post office lady owes me 300 kwacha (about 2 bucks--the exchange is about 140 kwacha to the dollar), since she couldn't make change for 1,000 Kwacha (the highest bills here are 500 kwacha notes-- I've found that making change is a common problem here, so I need to remember to carry smaller notes with me). I'll be going back to collect tomorrow, since I need to go back to the post office after buying something to pack Heather's special prize into, since it definitely will not fit into a business-sized envelope.
Hmmm. Maybe we could have another contest for my 3-5 faithful readers, guessing what gift I'm sending to Heather! Yeah, that's it. Start posting your guesses in the 'comments' section now! (It'll take a good two weeks for Heather's gift to get there, so you can take your time... I hope she doesn't mind if we spoil the surprise. Better yet, I'll let her post the answer once her gift arrives! Ah, this'll be so fun!! Are you with me? Now, we shall see who is truly faithful--at least for the next two weeks or so... ;-)
Tiwonana Mawa!
Now the latest promise is that the car will be delivered to Zomba after my classes end tomorrow. I was a bit nervous about this, as Zomba is a larger and much busier city than Domasi (which is really just a village), and learning to drive on the wrong side of the road in the wrong side of the car while shifting with the wrong hand in a busier city does not excite me at all. However, since this seems to be the only option at the moment, the dealer did assure me that the driver would "give me a few lessons" before leaving me alone in the car after taking him to the mini-bus station for his 4-5 hour trip back to Lilongwe. This, of course, would be followed by the sight of me weaving around the hapless pedestrians, cyclists, goats, and whomever else might be using the roadway, while grinding gears and repeatedly killing the engine as I think I'm shifting into first while really shifting into 5th (all you manual drivers out there...the shifting pattern here is the same, but backwards because you have to use the other hand... clear as mud, I know...I'll send pix). Ah, it should be quite the experience for all, and not with much rejoicing. I'll keep you posted.
The good news is that I didn't need to go anywhere today, so was able to avoid the dreaded mini-bus experience. Instead, I was content to stay in my office in Domasi, and complete, copy, and send-out essential paperwork necessary for reimbursement of funds spent for settling in after my arrival (also known by the feds as 'post-departure expenses'). Even though I'm working overseas, the U.S. government still requires a printed expense report complete with original receipts, each of which has to be attached to a 'receipt form,' and then sent via snail mail to Washington, D.C. (actually to the coordinators of the English Language Fellows Program at Georgetown University). Yes, it's as tedious as it sounds, and I was putting it off for awhile, so being "stuck" here today was the perfect opportunity to finish this beaurocratic joy in plenty of time to beat the deadline (60 days from arrival, thankfully).
My only interesting experience today was my first trip to the local post office, where a nice lady took care of my needs, but not without some difficulty. As I mentioned, there were a few pieces of paper involved (12, to be exact), and when I asked for an envelope, all that was available was a rather standard-sized business envelope labeled "registered letter." At first, I thought there was no way I could fit everything into it-- However, much to my surprise, I was actually able to stuff the entire packet of dead trees into that little envelope. I think even the nice post office clerk was impressed. Or concerned. Or both. Once I sealed the envelope, I did ask for some tape to cover the seal. However, this was denied, as it's not allowed. I wonder why. I guess they like to be able to look inside. I'm just hoping this works out better than the car situation.
So, once I got everything all stuffed and sealed, it was time to buy the stamps. Ya, this is a developing country. They don't have those handy-dandy meter thingies we have in the states. They use stamps. In this case, a lot of stamps. I think she packed about 20 stamps onto that little overstuffed envelope. They were beautiful stamps though, with butterflies and birds on them, and luckily she was able to overlap them a bit to make all of them fit. Soon my sister Heather will get something with all those stamps on it, since she won the special prize for the "guess what kinda bug was on my wall" contest. The free gin winners will also get to see the pretty stamps. See? Now aren't you glad you've suffered through all my ramblings and remained a loyal reader? Someday even you might get to see the pretty stamps from Malawi.
I was actually thinking about starting another contest taking bets on what day my car might actually arrive. Instead, I think I'll insert a poll on this posting, just for fun. I haven't tried that yet, so we'll see if it works. Maybe this way, I can find out how many truly loyal readers are still with me daily, or semi-daily, or just logging on for the pictures and contests.
By the way, the nice post office lady owes me 300 kwacha (about 2 bucks--the exchange is about 140 kwacha to the dollar), since she couldn't make change for 1,000 Kwacha (the highest bills here are 500 kwacha notes-- I've found that making change is a common problem here, so I need to remember to carry smaller notes with me). I'll be going back to collect tomorrow, since I need to go back to the post office after buying something to pack Heather's special prize into, since it definitely will not fit into a business-sized envelope.
Hmmm. Maybe we could have another contest for my 3-5 faithful readers, guessing what gift I'm sending to Heather! Yeah, that's it. Start posting your guesses in the 'comments' section now! (It'll take a good two weeks for Heather's gift to get there, so you can take your time... I hope she doesn't mind if we spoil the surprise. Better yet, I'll let her post the answer once her gift arrives! Ah, this'll be so fun!! Are you with me? Now, we shall see who is truly faithful--at least for the next two weeks or so... ;-)
Tiwonana Mawa!
Monday, October 8, 2007
Mantis 'n Mulanje
OK, so first of all, I have a winner to announce. As the new top photo can attest, the big insect on my wall was, in fact, a Praying Mantis. And yes, my sister Heather won the prize. Congratulations, Heat! The prize is to be announced, however. I have some things in mind, but I just need to figure out what will be most feasible to send from here. Luckily for Heather, not only do I know her identity and mailing address, I'm also headed to the post office to pick up a box tomorrow, so I should be able to get her prize out right away! Congratulations! In the end, I think only 3 people guessed, so maybe the turnout will be better next time. We shall see. Perhaps I can work in a contest once or twice a month, just to keep my readers faithful. Stay tuned for more details ;-)
So, as I mentioned, Carlos and I decided to take a weekend trip, since today is Mother's Day, so most of us lucky government employees are "on holiday" today. Carlos survived the night on my couch last week Monday, and has agreed to be my friend, and in this case, my travelling companion for the weekend. Just as a note to all of you who know my relationship status, Carlos is only a friend, so don't get any ideas. He is very much a gentleman, and also a great person to have around when traveling, since he's been in Africa for awhile, and "knows the ropes." It's also not a bad idea to travel with a man here, as women are much more likely to be attacked if traveling alone or with other women. Especially in light of the transportation issues we experienced, I was really glad to have him around.
Originally, we were hoping to trek down to Liwonde National Park in my "new" (1994) Toyota Carina, but alas, the car was not ready in the end. The latest expected arrival date is tomorrow (Tues. Oct. 9th)--it's now been delayed at least 4 times, I think (I lost count last week). I'm keeping my fingers crossed, though not expecting too much. Hopefully the car will make it this time, as I had to cancel my class last Friday, since the driver from Chancellor College didn't make it to pick me up that morning (as I think I mentioned in my last blog). In any case, by week's end, I should finally have my wheels, and will be able to make good on the promise of a "driving saga" (wrong side of car, wrong side of road, yadda yadda yadda)-- stay tuned!
Speaking of transportation woes, Carlos and I experienced many during our trip, many of which are chronicled in the new pictures of our journey posted at left. It's a good thing that Carlos has lived in Africa for several years as a volunteer (Ghana and Ethiopia), so he is relatively unphased by the transportation situation. I, on the other hand, though having travelled to many places in the world, have never experienced anything like what we experienced on this trip. As I mentioned in my entry on Friday, I had to take a minibus for the first time into Zomba. That day, I was meeting Carlos to plan our trip. I discovered on the relatively short trip from Domasi to Zomba that the minibus experience isn't so terrible between these two towns, as it's not so crowded (though maybe I just got lucky that day), and I actually got a seat in the front, which is a bonus. Not so on Saturday morning. The ride from Domasi to Zomba was a bit more full, but nothing like we'd experience for the rest of the trip.
After finding Carlos in Zomba, we boarded another minibus headed to a town called Limbe, about an hour away. We were among the first to board the bus, but of course we couldn't leave immediately, as the custom here is to fill the bus before departing. There are basically no schedules. They leave when the bus is full, and then try to pack more people in along the way. This is the main reason I've been avoiding riding these things ever since I got here (that and the fact that they like to fill the tank with the engine running... yes, they did that on the mini-bus from Limbe to Mulanje... I almost had a heart attack...).
So, in the end, we ended up waiting for a good hour before departing, all the while trying to fend off the persistent salesmen taking advantage of the captive passengers. We did end up buying some water, a coke, and melted ice cream which I ended up giving to a poor blind man asking me for money for food. He was all too happy to take the melted ice cream instead, and I was happy to give it to him. Now I know that when I see an ice cream cart here, I shouldn't actually expect it to have a refrigeration system... what was I thinking?
So, after we departed, the full (well, in my view packed) bus stopped a few more times to pack more people in. Not only that, but many people were carrying luggage and other assorted items. Carlos and I were not very smart, as we sat in the seat just behind the driver, at first not realizing that they also seat people on a bench right behind the driver, facing toward the seats we were in. I chose the seat because it was next to an open window. This is my requirement for the mini-bus, so I thought I'd be just fine there, as my main requirement is air. As long as I have air, I'll be o.k. Well, before we left, they filled that small bench with more people. However, it is not the kind of seating with space for legs like you see on trains in which people are facing each other. You are literally on top of the person across from you, and you have to negotiate the legroom. Add to that the fact that I had a bag full of stuff which I put on the floor, and managed to get my feet on top of it. Eventually, I lost circulation in my right foot. It was not a pretty sight. Let's just say I will not be sitting in that place ever again, if I can help it. (Well, if the car comes, I may be able to avoid all the seats on the mini-bus, but we shall see...)
Once we got to Limbe, we learned from that mistake, and took a spot further in the back of the bus, again next to a window (closed, but with an open window in the seat ahead of us). This time, the bus filled up quickly, so we also left quickly, which was good. However, this bus was a bit more crowded and much louder than the first bus. Everyone on this bus was talking, and loudly. Luckily, there were no screaming babies (amazingly, that's a rare occurrence here... happy people from birth, methinks). So, we were a bit more comfortable on that leg of the journey, though we did have to survive that gas stop (mentioned earlier).
So, eventually, we got to the hotel, very weary from all the mini-bus mayhem... My shorts were literally wet with sweat (a fact which Carlos nicely pointed out... I guess he has no sweat glands in that region of his body, as he seemed genuinely amazed at how much I had produced. Too much information? Sorry! -- this is becoming quite an issue for me though, as it's getting hotter and hotter, and no, there is not any A/C anywhere, including the mini-buses -- maybe the car?? we shall see...)
So, we got back to the hotel, found the room (with 2 beds... don't worry!) to be o.k.-- shower was pretty weak, and toilet needed 3 tries to flush, but overall not bad, as it only cost us about $14 U.S. per night... not bad!
Once we dumped our things, we went outside to find the restaurant, got a table/chairs set up outside so we could see the mountain (for about 10 minutes before the sun went down), and then had some food and a couple of beers. I ended up ordering Chambo (the most common fish here), but it wasn't the best choice as we were sitting in the dark, and I had to de-bone most of it. Other than that, it was an excellent meal at the end of the day, and I was starving!
While we were waiting for our food, a man came up to us and introduced himself as Stephen, letting us know that he was an experienced guide who could help us get to and up the mountain. I had read in my trusty guidebook that a trail guide is a necessity at Mulanje, as the trails are not very well-marked, and finding your way around can be treacherous or fatal on your own. So, after talking with him a bit and checking with the hotel manager in the morning, we decided to hire him. Of course, once we set off in the morning (about 8 a.m.-- yes, I'm becoming a morning girl!! After dinner and a couple of beers, I was out like a light before 9 p.m.!! Can you believe it? I can't...), we found that this isn't the kind of guide you expect in many places. He wasn't even carrying a backpack, never mind food, water, or any type of transportation. He brought only himself, and first walked us to the market to pick up some snacks to eat on the trail. We ended up buying some bananas, bread rolls, and water, for Stephen and ourselves. We wanted cheese, but as I've discovered, that is a precious and rare commodity here in Malawi.
After buying the food, Stephen told us we needed to go to the "transport area" to get a ride to the mountain. Because it was Sunday, he assured us that it would be difficult to find a bus, and that we may have to hire a private driver. We first tried the bus transport area, and of course there were no buses to the mountain (though, I must admit the place he took us was different from the place we found our minibus this morning... so, could be a "racket," most likely...) So, we ended up going to this other area that was rather desolate and found a guy with a very small pick-up truck to take us to the mountain. In the meantime, we also found a guy who was willing to lend us a backpack, as I didn't have mine because Deliwe mistakenly took it for an overnight with a friend of hers who was getting married on Saturday. So, when I was getting ready to pack on Saturday, there was no backpack. I had to use my trusty soft, expandable briefcase from China in order to pack my things. Though it's a great bag, it's not a great hiking bag. In any case, we borrowed the backpack, took a good look at this very questionable small white truck (see pic at left), and said, "well, what the Hell?"
The drive itself was relatively uneventful, except for the fact that Carlos and I decided to sit inside the cab (as recommended by the guide) instead of in the back of the truck. This ended up being a very bad idea for me, as I was in the middle, trying to keep my legs out of the way of the stick shift, and feeling extremely claustrophobic. Ya, even worse than the mini-bus. In the meantime, the driver was haggling out the window with the guide about the price (we agreed to 1,300 kwacha, but he wanted 1,500 kwacha-- a difference of about $1.40, which does go a long way here in comparison to back home). I was getting a bit nervous as he got more agitated, but luckily the road was relatively wide and not too steep or full of rocks, etc. (a veritable "highway" compared to the roads in Ethiopia, according to Carlos)--his driving was also marked by frequent engine shut-offs allowing him to coast downhill to save gas. In any case, we eventually got there, and the guide explained to us that he had to pay the driver the extra 200 kwacha in the end. I think he wanted us to help him out, but considering the conditions we'd just faced, we held onto our extra change.
We then headed up the trail, and from there it was very calm, peaceful, and enjoyable. My only true complaint was the heat. One reason we'd decided to go to Mulanje (which is the highest mountain in Malawi) was the hope that the higher altitude produced cooler temperatures than we experience in Domasi (where I live) and Zomba (where Carlos lives). However, we did find it to be almost as hot as our respective residences. After about 1.l5 hours of relatively steep uphill hiking, we were welcomed to the beautiful sight of a waterfall and large natural swimming pool... UGH! I forgot my swimsuit! After a bit of hemming and hawing (and Carlos' admission that he's not a fan of deep water), not to mention my shyness at the sight of many "Muzungus" in the area, we found some shallow pools which were devoid of people, and eased our way in... me in full clothing, him and Stephen without shirts (sucks to be female...). Stephen actually jumped right over the harrowing rocks, crossed the river, climbed up the other side, and jumped right in. He showed no fear. This experience reminded me a lot of a trip I took with my boyfriend in June to Sedona, AZ. Though the town itself didn't thrill me much, we had a great experience swimming in a natural pool there, where many people were scrambling up the rocks and jumping in. I never could get the courage up to do it back then or now, but it's a lot of fun watching other crazy people do it!
So, we found this small waterfall where we could dunk our heads in, get refreshed, and then hang out on the dry rocks. I forgot to mention that I'm not as good a rock scrambler as I used to be, so one reason we stayed where we were was my fear of climbing this particularly large boulder with a steep, straight face. I just stopped, took my shoes off, handed them to Stephen, and got in the water. Ya, I'm a big chicken in my old age.
So, after about an hour in and out of the water, and a lunch of bread, bananas, and water (mmm, scrumptious), we headed back down the trail. The trip back was also relatively uneventful, only marked by my continuously slow pace. I'm always bringing up the rear, and the boys were always way ahead of me. Sometimes they were out of sight, not even concerned about me, or waiting up for me. I guess this could've bothered me, but I tend to be a lone hiker generally anyway, so it was alright. Perhaps they got sick of my incessant rambling... No, couldn't be that. Carlos even took off with some random French Canadian woman who apparently had an argument with her husband (we saw them on the way up, and then once on the way down, and then suddenly she caught up to us coming down, not long after they'd passed us). I stayed with the guide, and Carlos and this woman hiked ahead of us, and eventually diverted off of the trail at one point, eventually finding us later. Hmmm... Carlos says it was all perfectly innocent. I'm sure it was ;-) Even though we were very close to the main road at the bottom, this just shows how important the guides are... there were many trail diversions, and it was extremely difficult to know which way to go.
So, eventually, we made it down the mountain, took a few pictures of the lovely scenery, including some wood thieves and lovely chalets(see at left),then it was time to find a ride back. Can you guess what time it was? Well, being that this is very much a morning/daytime culture, we were actually back by about 1 p.m. because Stephen was concerned about finding a ride before dark... remember, "dark" is at about 5:30-5:45 here. Pitch black starts at 6 p.m. It's like that all year round. I'm still getting used to it.
So, we walked down the road, through the village, actually found a small bottle store where we could replenish our water supply (which was in serious need of replenishing), and then found the "bus stop." HA! I thought Stephen was kidding, but that's really what it was (see pic. at left). It basically consisted of 2 dirt roads coming to a T-intersection, with a couple of small vegetable stands set up nearbye, and some people whose job it was to help hail down any random vehicle passing by (mostly trucks) and see if they'd let any human cargo on board. So, we planted ourselves near a tree and waited. It looked like we'd be waiting a very long time, so when Stephen said that these "truck hailers" could also fetch us beer from the bottle store for a small fee (basically the bottle deposit they collect when they return the bottles), we said, YeeHA! Let's get us some beers, eh? So, we sent the young man running for the bottles, and of course a couple of vehicles came right away... lucky for me, they weren't taking any human cargo (you know I grew up in Wisconsin right? I had to risk my life to wait for that bloody beer...).
Soon, the boy returned with our 3 beers, and we drank them happily (though Carlos complained that his wasn't cold enough... whatever!). Of course, I took about 2 or 3 swigs, and then it came. The big, white truck. Our salvation. We HAD to board, but my beer was 3/4 full! I couldn't just dump it carelessly the way Stephen and Carlos did! So, I handed the kid 200 kwacha for his trouble, kept my beer in hand, and went runnin for the truck. This was a huge pick-up truck, with about 10 people in the back and several bags of maize meal (the stuff they use to make the nSima flour). There were also a couple of bikes laying on top of the bags. I parked myself next to a guy holding his bike down. At first, I thought I could stand, but then I noticed that I was only about a foot from the back of this truck, which had no back... no tailgate thingy... what do you call those? The part that holds everything in on the back of a pick-up truck. It didn't have one, so there was about a foot between me and most certain death and/or dismemberment. I decided to crouch down, and hang onto this guy's bike with one hand, and then grab the (very hot metal) side of the truck with the other hand. Ya, it was harrowing. Ya, it was nuts. Ya, it was Malawi. And ya, I missed the mini-buses.
Eventually we stopped and the guys unloaded the maize meal. By this time, I'd given up on the beer, as I tried to take a couple of swigs after we departed, and almost knocked my two front teeth out due to the constant bouncing on boulders, holes, and whatever else was in the road. After the maize was gone, I moved to the other side, next to Carlos, and was "sitting pretty" on the bottom of the truck bed, feeling a bit more secure, though by this time covered in red dust and feeling like an egg in a frying pan. I managed to get a couple more photos of the view from the truck (see at left), and was ready to call it a day.
We soon made it back to town, and Stephen jumped very easily from the vehicle. Carlos, trying to follow his lead, also made the leap of faith, but unfortunately got it shirt stuck on a piece of metal sticking up from the truck bed. Though this looked really funny at the time (and I think I laughed out loud), it caused him to lose his footing and he landed on his right foot strangely, and ended up spraining it pretty badly. Needless to say, he was not a happy camper after that. He had to walk very slowly back to the hotel (about a mile or so away from the drop-off point). Though it was a long walk, it was a pretty one, so I took a few more pictures while helping Carlos along (see at left.)
Once we got back to the hotel, I took out my trusty trail first-aid kid (thanks to Eastern Mtn. Sports in Ithaca, NY) which we luckily didn't need in AZ in June, but this time it came in handy. After trying to wrap Carlos' foot and almost cutting off his circulation, we decided that what he needed was ice, elevation, and beer. Thank God for all those years of running cross country and track in high school in Wisconsin (no, I didn't use the 'beer therapy' until college, don't worry-- I was such a nerd in High School!). I knew about the ice and elevation from all of my ankle sprains suffered as a result of a combination of clumsiness and narrow (i.e. weak) ankles. So, that's what we did. I went to get some ice from the restaurant, some beer from the bar, and Carlos felt much better after about 3 beers and a bit of ibuprofen from the first aid kit. We also made use of the medical tape, which we used to strap the ice onto his foot. I think I've missed my calling. I should definitely have gone to nursing school. Hmmm...
Eventually, Carlos was feeling well enough to hobble over to the motel next door to get some food and a bit more therapy. This time, we topped off the beer with a couple of gin and tonics, featuring the fabulous Malawi Gin. That really killed the pain for Carlos, luckily not leaving either of us with a hangover this morning, amazingly. I love this gin. This gin is dangerous. I should be careful around this gin. I should give it all away. To the next lucky winner!
So, that about ends the saga of Mount Mulanje. We returned today in relative comfort, actually getting a front seat on the mini-bus to Limbe, and then a ride from Carlos' country rep for his volunteer organization (IFESH) in a fancy big pick-up truck with air-conditioning, so it was like being in a completely different world. We made it back comfortably and safely, and I even got dropped off right at my house in Domasi. Wow. What a ride.
OK, I'm done for now. Tiwonana Mawa!
So, as I mentioned, Carlos and I decided to take a weekend trip, since today is Mother's Day, so most of us lucky government employees are "on holiday" today. Carlos survived the night on my couch last week Monday, and has agreed to be my friend, and in this case, my travelling companion for the weekend. Just as a note to all of you who know my relationship status, Carlos is only a friend, so don't get any ideas. He is very much a gentleman, and also a great person to have around when traveling, since he's been in Africa for awhile, and "knows the ropes." It's also not a bad idea to travel with a man here, as women are much more likely to be attacked if traveling alone or with other women. Especially in light of the transportation issues we experienced, I was really glad to have him around.
Originally, we were hoping to trek down to Liwonde National Park in my "new" (1994) Toyota Carina, but alas, the car was not ready in the end. The latest expected arrival date is tomorrow (Tues. Oct. 9th)--it's now been delayed at least 4 times, I think (I lost count last week). I'm keeping my fingers crossed, though not expecting too much. Hopefully the car will make it this time, as I had to cancel my class last Friday, since the driver from Chancellor College didn't make it to pick me up that morning (as I think I mentioned in my last blog). In any case, by week's end, I should finally have my wheels, and will be able to make good on the promise of a "driving saga" (wrong side of car, wrong side of road, yadda yadda yadda)-- stay tuned!
Speaking of transportation woes, Carlos and I experienced many during our trip, many of which are chronicled in the new pictures of our journey posted at left. It's a good thing that Carlos has lived in Africa for several years as a volunteer (Ghana and Ethiopia), so he is relatively unphased by the transportation situation. I, on the other hand, though having travelled to many places in the world, have never experienced anything like what we experienced on this trip. As I mentioned in my entry on Friday, I had to take a minibus for the first time into Zomba. That day, I was meeting Carlos to plan our trip. I discovered on the relatively short trip from Domasi to Zomba that the minibus experience isn't so terrible between these two towns, as it's not so crowded (though maybe I just got lucky that day), and I actually got a seat in the front, which is a bonus. Not so on Saturday morning. The ride from Domasi to Zomba was a bit more full, but nothing like we'd experience for the rest of the trip.
After finding Carlos in Zomba, we boarded another minibus headed to a town called Limbe, about an hour away. We were among the first to board the bus, but of course we couldn't leave immediately, as the custom here is to fill the bus before departing. There are basically no schedules. They leave when the bus is full, and then try to pack more people in along the way. This is the main reason I've been avoiding riding these things ever since I got here (that and the fact that they like to fill the tank with the engine running... yes, they did that on the mini-bus from Limbe to Mulanje... I almost had a heart attack...).
So, in the end, we ended up waiting for a good hour before departing, all the while trying to fend off the persistent salesmen taking advantage of the captive passengers. We did end up buying some water, a coke, and melted ice cream which I ended up giving to a poor blind man asking me for money for food. He was all too happy to take the melted ice cream instead, and I was happy to give it to him. Now I know that when I see an ice cream cart here, I shouldn't actually expect it to have a refrigeration system... what was I thinking?
So, after we departed, the full (well, in my view packed) bus stopped a few more times to pack more people in. Not only that, but many people were carrying luggage and other assorted items. Carlos and I were not very smart, as we sat in the seat just behind the driver, at first not realizing that they also seat people on a bench right behind the driver, facing toward the seats we were in. I chose the seat because it was next to an open window. This is my requirement for the mini-bus, so I thought I'd be just fine there, as my main requirement is air. As long as I have air, I'll be o.k. Well, before we left, they filled that small bench with more people. However, it is not the kind of seating with space for legs like you see on trains in which people are facing each other. You are literally on top of the person across from you, and you have to negotiate the legroom. Add to that the fact that I had a bag full of stuff which I put on the floor, and managed to get my feet on top of it. Eventually, I lost circulation in my right foot. It was not a pretty sight. Let's just say I will not be sitting in that place ever again, if I can help it. (Well, if the car comes, I may be able to avoid all the seats on the mini-bus, but we shall see...)
Once we got to Limbe, we learned from that mistake, and took a spot further in the back of the bus, again next to a window (closed, but with an open window in the seat ahead of us). This time, the bus filled up quickly, so we also left quickly, which was good. However, this bus was a bit more crowded and much louder than the first bus. Everyone on this bus was talking, and loudly. Luckily, there were no screaming babies (amazingly, that's a rare occurrence here... happy people from birth, methinks). So, we were a bit more comfortable on that leg of the journey, though we did have to survive that gas stop (mentioned earlier).
So, eventually, we got to the hotel, very weary from all the mini-bus mayhem... My shorts were literally wet with sweat (a fact which Carlos nicely pointed out... I guess he has no sweat glands in that region of his body, as he seemed genuinely amazed at how much I had produced. Too much information? Sorry! -- this is becoming quite an issue for me though, as it's getting hotter and hotter, and no, there is not any A/C anywhere, including the mini-buses -- maybe the car?? we shall see...)
So, we got back to the hotel, found the room (with 2 beds... don't worry!) to be o.k.-- shower was pretty weak, and toilet needed 3 tries to flush, but overall not bad, as it only cost us about $14 U.S. per night... not bad!
Once we dumped our things, we went outside to find the restaurant, got a table/chairs set up outside so we could see the mountain (for about 10 minutes before the sun went down), and then had some food and a couple of beers. I ended up ordering Chambo (the most common fish here), but it wasn't the best choice as we were sitting in the dark, and I had to de-bone most of it. Other than that, it was an excellent meal at the end of the day, and I was starving!
While we were waiting for our food, a man came up to us and introduced himself as Stephen, letting us know that he was an experienced guide who could help us get to and up the mountain. I had read in my trusty guidebook that a trail guide is a necessity at Mulanje, as the trails are not very well-marked, and finding your way around can be treacherous or fatal on your own. So, after talking with him a bit and checking with the hotel manager in the morning, we decided to hire him. Of course, once we set off in the morning (about 8 a.m.-- yes, I'm becoming a morning girl!! After dinner and a couple of beers, I was out like a light before 9 p.m.!! Can you believe it? I can't...), we found that this isn't the kind of guide you expect in many places. He wasn't even carrying a backpack, never mind food, water, or any type of transportation. He brought only himself, and first walked us to the market to pick up some snacks to eat on the trail. We ended up buying some bananas, bread rolls, and water, for Stephen and ourselves. We wanted cheese, but as I've discovered, that is a precious and rare commodity here in Malawi.
After buying the food, Stephen told us we needed to go to the "transport area" to get a ride to the mountain. Because it was Sunday, he assured us that it would be difficult to find a bus, and that we may have to hire a private driver. We first tried the bus transport area, and of course there were no buses to the mountain (though, I must admit the place he took us was different from the place we found our minibus this morning... so, could be a "racket," most likely...) So, we ended up going to this other area that was rather desolate and found a guy with a very small pick-up truck to take us to the mountain. In the meantime, we also found a guy who was willing to lend us a backpack, as I didn't have mine because Deliwe mistakenly took it for an overnight with a friend of hers who was getting married on Saturday. So, when I was getting ready to pack on Saturday, there was no backpack. I had to use my trusty soft, expandable briefcase from China in order to pack my things. Though it's a great bag, it's not a great hiking bag. In any case, we borrowed the backpack, took a good look at this very questionable small white truck (see pic at left), and said, "well, what the Hell?"
The drive itself was relatively uneventful, except for the fact that Carlos and I decided to sit inside the cab (as recommended by the guide) instead of in the back of the truck. This ended up being a very bad idea for me, as I was in the middle, trying to keep my legs out of the way of the stick shift, and feeling extremely claustrophobic. Ya, even worse than the mini-bus. In the meantime, the driver was haggling out the window with the guide about the price (we agreed to 1,300 kwacha, but he wanted 1,500 kwacha-- a difference of about $1.40, which does go a long way here in comparison to back home). I was getting a bit nervous as he got more agitated, but luckily the road was relatively wide and not too steep or full of rocks, etc. (a veritable "highway" compared to the roads in Ethiopia, according to Carlos)--his driving was also marked by frequent engine shut-offs allowing him to coast downhill to save gas. In any case, we eventually got there, and the guide explained to us that he had to pay the driver the extra 200 kwacha in the end. I think he wanted us to help him out, but considering the conditions we'd just faced, we held onto our extra change.
We then headed up the trail, and from there it was very calm, peaceful, and enjoyable. My only true complaint was the heat. One reason we'd decided to go to Mulanje (which is the highest mountain in Malawi) was the hope that the higher altitude produced cooler temperatures than we experience in Domasi (where I live) and Zomba (where Carlos lives). However, we did find it to be almost as hot as our respective residences. After about 1.l5 hours of relatively steep uphill hiking, we were welcomed to the beautiful sight of a waterfall and large natural swimming pool... UGH! I forgot my swimsuit! After a bit of hemming and hawing (and Carlos' admission that he's not a fan of deep water), not to mention my shyness at the sight of many "Muzungus" in the area, we found some shallow pools which were devoid of people, and eased our way in... me in full clothing, him and Stephen without shirts (sucks to be female...). Stephen actually jumped right over the harrowing rocks, crossed the river, climbed up the other side, and jumped right in. He showed no fear. This experience reminded me a lot of a trip I took with my boyfriend in June to Sedona, AZ. Though the town itself didn't thrill me much, we had a great experience swimming in a natural pool there, where many people were scrambling up the rocks and jumping in. I never could get the courage up to do it back then or now, but it's a lot of fun watching other crazy people do it!
So, we found this small waterfall where we could dunk our heads in, get refreshed, and then hang out on the dry rocks. I forgot to mention that I'm not as good a rock scrambler as I used to be, so one reason we stayed where we were was my fear of climbing this particularly large boulder with a steep, straight face. I just stopped, took my shoes off, handed them to Stephen, and got in the water. Ya, I'm a big chicken in my old age.
So, after about an hour in and out of the water, and a lunch of bread, bananas, and water (mmm, scrumptious), we headed back down the trail. The trip back was also relatively uneventful, only marked by my continuously slow pace. I'm always bringing up the rear, and the boys were always way ahead of me. Sometimes they were out of sight, not even concerned about me, or waiting up for me. I guess this could've bothered me, but I tend to be a lone hiker generally anyway, so it was alright. Perhaps they got sick of my incessant rambling... No, couldn't be that. Carlos even took off with some random French Canadian woman who apparently had an argument with her husband (we saw them on the way up, and then once on the way down, and then suddenly she caught up to us coming down, not long after they'd passed us). I stayed with the guide, and Carlos and this woman hiked ahead of us, and eventually diverted off of the trail at one point, eventually finding us later. Hmmm... Carlos says it was all perfectly innocent. I'm sure it was ;-) Even though we were very close to the main road at the bottom, this just shows how important the guides are... there were many trail diversions, and it was extremely difficult to know which way to go.
So, eventually, we made it down the mountain, took a few pictures of the lovely scenery, including some wood thieves and lovely chalets(see at left),then it was time to find a ride back. Can you guess what time it was? Well, being that this is very much a morning/daytime culture, we were actually back by about 1 p.m. because Stephen was concerned about finding a ride before dark... remember, "dark" is at about 5:30-5:45 here. Pitch black starts at 6 p.m. It's like that all year round. I'm still getting used to it.
So, we walked down the road, through the village, actually found a small bottle store where we could replenish our water supply (which was in serious need of replenishing), and then found the "bus stop." HA! I thought Stephen was kidding, but that's really what it was (see pic. at left). It basically consisted of 2 dirt roads coming to a T-intersection, with a couple of small vegetable stands set up nearbye, and some people whose job it was to help hail down any random vehicle passing by (mostly trucks) and see if they'd let any human cargo on board. So, we planted ourselves near a tree and waited. It looked like we'd be waiting a very long time, so when Stephen said that these "truck hailers" could also fetch us beer from the bottle store for a small fee (basically the bottle deposit they collect when they return the bottles), we said, YeeHA! Let's get us some beers, eh? So, we sent the young man running for the bottles, and of course a couple of vehicles came right away... lucky for me, they weren't taking any human cargo (you know I grew up in Wisconsin right? I had to risk my life to wait for that bloody beer...).
Soon, the boy returned with our 3 beers, and we drank them happily (though Carlos complained that his wasn't cold enough... whatever!). Of course, I took about 2 or 3 swigs, and then it came. The big, white truck. Our salvation. We HAD to board, but my beer was 3/4 full! I couldn't just dump it carelessly the way Stephen and Carlos did! So, I handed the kid 200 kwacha for his trouble, kept my beer in hand, and went runnin for the truck. This was a huge pick-up truck, with about 10 people in the back and several bags of maize meal (the stuff they use to make the nSima flour). There were also a couple of bikes laying on top of the bags. I parked myself next to a guy holding his bike down. At first, I thought I could stand, but then I noticed that I was only about a foot from the back of this truck, which had no back... no tailgate thingy... what do you call those? The part that holds everything in on the back of a pick-up truck. It didn't have one, so there was about a foot between me and most certain death and/or dismemberment. I decided to crouch down, and hang onto this guy's bike with one hand, and then grab the (very hot metal) side of the truck with the other hand. Ya, it was harrowing. Ya, it was nuts. Ya, it was Malawi. And ya, I missed the mini-buses.
Eventually we stopped and the guys unloaded the maize meal. By this time, I'd given up on the beer, as I tried to take a couple of swigs after we departed, and almost knocked my two front teeth out due to the constant bouncing on boulders, holes, and whatever else was in the road. After the maize was gone, I moved to the other side, next to Carlos, and was "sitting pretty" on the bottom of the truck bed, feeling a bit more secure, though by this time covered in red dust and feeling like an egg in a frying pan. I managed to get a couple more photos of the view from the truck (see at left), and was ready to call it a day.
We soon made it back to town, and Stephen jumped very easily from the vehicle. Carlos, trying to follow his lead, also made the leap of faith, but unfortunately got it shirt stuck on a piece of metal sticking up from the truck bed. Though this looked really funny at the time (and I think I laughed out loud), it caused him to lose his footing and he landed on his right foot strangely, and ended up spraining it pretty badly. Needless to say, he was not a happy camper after that. He had to walk very slowly back to the hotel (about a mile or so away from the drop-off point). Though it was a long walk, it was a pretty one, so I took a few more pictures while helping Carlos along (see at left.)
Once we got back to the hotel, I took out my trusty trail first-aid kid (thanks to Eastern Mtn. Sports in Ithaca, NY) which we luckily didn't need in AZ in June, but this time it came in handy. After trying to wrap Carlos' foot and almost cutting off his circulation, we decided that what he needed was ice, elevation, and beer. Thank God for all those years of running cross country and track in high school in Wisconsin (no, I didn't use the 'beer therapy' until college, don't worry-- I was such a nerd in High School!). I knew about the ice and elevation from all of my ankle sprains suffered as a result of a combination of clumsiness and narrow (i.e. weak) ankles. So, that's what we did. I went to get some ice from the restaurant, some beer from the bar, and Carlos felt much better after about 3 beers and a bit of ibuprofen from the first aid kit. We also made use of the medical tape, which we used to strap the ice onto his foot. I think I've missed my calling. I should definitely have gone to nursing school. Hmmm...
Eventually, Carlos was feeling well enough to hobble over to the motel next door to get some food and a bit more therapy. This time, we topped off the beer with a couple of gin and tonics, featuring the fabulous Malawi Gin. That really killed the pain for Carlos, luckily not leaving either of us with a hangover this morning, amazingly. I love this gin. This gin is dangerous. I should be careful around this gin. I should give it all away. To the next lucky winner!
So, that about ends the saga of Mount Mulanje. We returned today in relative comfort, actually getting a front seat on the mini-bus to Limbe, and then a ride from Carlos' country rep for his volunteer organization (IFESH) in a fancy big pick-up truck with air-conditioning, so it was like being in a completely different world. We made it back comfortably and safely, and I even got dropped off right at my house in Domasi. Wow. What a ride.
OK, I'm done for now. Tiwonana Mawa!
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