A bloody gooduglygreat launch!

Now that a few days have passed since the much-anticipated launch of the Children's Reading Room at Village to Village Orphanage (Thurs. 22 May), I finally have the will, strength, and courage to write about it here. Let's just say it was one of the up-and-down days, which basically started good, then got a bit ugly, but ended great.

Let's start with the good:

After the initial shock which took place on Tues. after returning from my Zambia trip and realizing at least half of the Domasi College staff had not received invitations to the launch (followed by my usual reactions of shock, panic, and frustration), I had resolved to just distribute extra invitations and then make a flier to post around campus, most of which were printed/posted on Tues. & Wed. (ooh, this sounds like a 'bad' not a 'good' --- just settin' up the 'good'). I also spent a lot of time explaining that I was not the person in charge of sending the invites. That was being handled by other parties in another office, which shall go unnamed for obvious reasons.

My own word-of-mouth and posting campaign seemed to bear more fruit than the aforementioned (I hardly ever get to use that word, so had to find an excuse, but not sure if I'm using it correctly) traditional printed invitation delivering campaign attempted in conjunction with that other entity that will remain a secret. In the end, it seemed most of my colleagues at Domasi College would be present at the launch. So, things were looking good by Thurs. morning (i.e. the morning of the launch). Ya, this is now the good part.

As a result of my own informal word-of-mouth, flier posting, e-mailing, and shouting (he he just checkin if you're still readin--only a little shouting) campaign, in conjunction with arranging the details for food, drinks, site-readiness, and the like, I woke up on Thursday morning (i.e. launch day), feeling good. Am I overusing that very vague adjective? Well, o.k. Confident. Enthusiastic. Relaxed. Maybe too relaxed, as I realized a bit later. This leads me to the 'ugly' bit.

The ugly bit:

After waking up (ya, that's always ugly), I needed to meet with the general office manager (name censored) at about 8:00 a.m. I arrived not-so-promptly at about 8:15 a.m. The reason for the visit was to discuss the purchase of petrol (actually, diesel) fuel for the large flatbed truck (allegedly suffering from an empty fuel tank) to deliver chairs for the launch event to the orphanage site, which is about 1.5 km. away from Domasi College. The college was kind enough to let me borrow about 100 chairs for the event, but asked me to provide fuel for the truck, to which I agreed. I met with said manager (or is that aforementioned? ;-) to discuss the amount of fuel I needed to buy, and that person suggested it should be 5 litres to go a total of 3 km. (to the site and back), to which I agreed.

I had a few small items to take care of in my office, and this manager then said they'd leave the 5-litre bottle at the Porter's Lodge (like 'reception' or 'lobby' back home, but outside). I later went to pick it up, and checked with the drivers to make sure it'd be enough. At first they scoffed a bit, but then when I reminded them I was buying the fuel only for transporting chairs 1.5 km. each way, they agreed that 5 litres would be fine. o.k. good.

So, off I went to Zomba to run this little errand. Since I was short on cash, I needed to stop at the bank to withdraw money from the ATM, after which I did my usual errand of buying pre-paid Celtel cell-phone cards from the lovely young ladies selling them just outside the bank property (since they're not allowed legally to sell them on bank grounds, though they usually wander in anyway...).

After buying a ridiculous amount of cellphone units since my ground phone hasn't worked for months due to phone-line thieves (won't go there now), something very strange happened. I was walking on the pathway through the lush, overly-tended garden and lawn (the only place I've ever seen a sprinkler here) in front of the bank, when an older man (maybe in his 60's) pointed at me, yelling, "What nationality are you??!!" in a very accusatory tone. Of course, I gave him that shocked, annoyed, 'Jennifer' look (those who know me well also know it well), and kept walking. He then said (in the same tone), "Are you British?" Oh, how could he accuse me of such a crime? British? Bloody Hell!! (That was for you, Tim... just to see if you're actually readin' this 'ugly American' tripe... ;-) By this point, I'd passed him, so I looked back, and calmly said, "No, I'm just me..."

I think that's when it happened. What's 'it', you ask? Keep readin...

So, I calmly walked to my car, and drove on to the BP filling station. Once I arrived, I realized that I wasn't sure whether to buy 'petrol' (bloody brit term for gas) or diesel (luckily we 'yanks' use the same word)... So, I reached for my phone, and Sh--! It wasn't there. Not in my pocket, not in my purse, not under the car seat or in the car door. Gone. At home? I was pretty sure not, but not absolutely sure. Soon after that, I filled the bloody 5-litre bottle with diesel (at that point I didn't care anymore), and headed back to DCE. This is where it got REALLY ugly.

The REALLY ugly part:

After obsessing during the entire 20-25 min. drive back to Domasi as to whether I'd left the phone at home or not, I turn onto the small road to campus, and while approaching the gate, what do I see??? No, I didn't just see that. Was that a white pick-up truck loaded with chairs for the launch, headed in the direction of the orphanage? No, it couldn't be. I'm just hallucinating. This can't be right.

Oh, no--- no hallucination. After a short trip home to check for my phone and not finding it (ya, that strange, angry, nationality-interrogation man was the decoy for the pickpocketer -- is that a word?---). AAARGH! So, there I was, getting ready for the biggest event of my stay here, with no phone, basically due to a trip to Zomba to buy fuel that apparently was NOT needed in the first place!! Grrrrrr....

Oh, ya... It was not a pretty scene... After finding a certain colleague to help me call my phone to confirm it was really lost (lovely, calm female British-accented voice saying, "I'm sorry, the number you've dialed cannot be reached at the moment. Please try again later...") For those unseasoned cellphone owners in Malawi, if you've misplaced your phone, and you manage to call your number and get this answer, it's gone. It means someone has taken the 'sim-card' from the inside of the phone and plans to use it or sell it. Say goodbye. Forever. But, I did get my revenge later. Keep readin...

So, back to the whole diesel-buyin thing... I proceeded back to the general office where I was told by the anonymous manager mentioned before that the bottle of diesel I was delivering was actually 'replacement fuel,' and that it would be put into the college bus to transport staff to the event. Very upset about this (not because I'm against transporting people, but because of the blantant and shameless deception of it all), I stormed into the transportation officer's office to confirm. This person also very calmly told me that the purpose of my trip to Zomba to buy this bottle of gas (and lose my phone in the process) was to buy 'replacement fuel' to transport staff to the event. He'd even told staff members (who were perfectly capable, willing, and fully intending to walk, as they assured me later) that I had 'arranged for the bus' to transport them to the event.

Now, I don't want to sound like a callous, uncaring person who feels that transporting chairs is more important than transporting people. The problem here is principle. I was told that the chairs could not be transported without fuel. Then, as I'm returning from purchasing said fuel, I see 1 of at least 2 pick-up trucks transporting chairs to the site. Then, I'm told that the fuel I bought will be used to transport people to the event, most of whom were able and willing to walk. Remember, it's only 1.5 km (about 1 mile) away. The managers in question, instead of just asking me whether I'd be willing to arrange for transport of staff, essentially 'duped' me into doing this, while certainly using more fuel for the combined transport of the chairs and people than they ever would have used for just the chairs. In the end, I was deceived, and the college ended up with less fuel for their vehicles than they had when this whole scheme had started. Not only was it sneaky and downright deceptive, but it was completely illogical. Ugly. Very, very ugly.

From there, things could only go up, right? Well, sort of... I proceeded to accept the situation, forced myself to calm down, remember the reasons for the event, and be thankful that enough of my colleagues wanted to come that they could actually fill a bus. That was pretty cool. Not only that, but I learned of a scheme to find the pricks who took my phone, or to at least find my phone. Focus on the positive. Silver lining. Puppies. Kitties. Deep breaths. In, out, in, out...

But, not to the 'great' ending yet. After changing into my dress-up clothes (featuring a new traditional Malawian-style blouse just tailored a few days prior), I headed down to the kitchen to pick up the cooks, 300 samosas, and about 180 bottled sodas (minerals, as they refer to them here...not sure why... are there minerals in coke? fanta? sprite? Is that a dumb question? Probably, but anyway...).

Ironically, at this point I was thinkin happy thoughts... nothing more could go wrong now, could it? Ha!

I arrived at the previously-arranged time of 1:00 p.m. (earlier that day when I had a phone), outside the kitchen gate, to find nobody. No food. No minerals (except maybe the iron gate). And, of course, I had no phone to call anyone. Panic started to set in, but I was running out of energy for that. I just tried to calmly look for someone, and luckily someone was around who helped me find the head cook, who told me he had no cloth to cover the samosas because his boss was not there. I'm not sure what the boss had to do with the covering cloths. Maybe they're very valuable and he keeps them in a safe somewhere. I couldn't be bothered with wondering why. Right after I headed to the trunk of my car to retrieve the windshield sun-shade to use as a cover, the head cook produced some for me. At that point, I didn't care where they'd come from or how... I just said, "ok, let's get in the car."

But oh, the minerals. Iron, zinc, copper... or was it fantas, cokes, and sprites? At this point, I didn't care anymore. But of course nothing had been retrieved from the cooler prior to my arrival (btw, showtime was 2:30 p.m., and it was approaching quickly). More time. More energy. Head cook runs somewhere to get a key. To open the gate. To open the kitchen (they had cooked in a different kitchen--the main one has no functioning stove... ya, that makes sense.). Mad rush to the cooler. Take out 8 crates of minerals. Pack in car. Everyone gets in. Samosas on laps. Off we go. Puppies. Kitties. Deep Breaths.

Once we got to the site, things were looking better, but still needed a bit of 'Jenniferizing"-- hey, I like that new-fangled-ego-crazed-verb... I wanted the event to be outside. Alfred (Village to Village Director) wanted it inside. He won. But, I got to change the direction of the chairs so they faced a better-lighted area. The 'inside' was a great hall (i.e. auditorium) that is quite dark and a bit dingy. Which is why I wanted to do things outside. But, the outside area was a bit too sunny, dusty, and informal for the big chiefs (traditional authorities) and other V.I.P's, so we had to hold the event in the dark. People who know me know I hate dark, dank, closed-in, inside places. I prefer open, airy, sunny, or, better yet, outside. Oh, well. I lost that battle, but in the end, things did get better. OK, the great part now.

The GREAT part:

The event went almost without a hitch. A good 120 or so people came, most from Domasi College (on the Jennifer-catered bus, of course), and many from the surrounding community, including some of my colleagues from Chanco. The two public affairs officers from Lilongwe (the capital) appeared impressed at what they saw, as did everyone else. There were speeches given by Alfred, myself (and I didn't totally screw it up, though my jokes pretty much fell flat--I'm blaming cultural difference and formal decorum for that), one of the chiefs, Public Affairs Officer John Warner (who, I must say, was very complimentary of the project and my efforts. Nice when that happens from someone in authority. Can be a rare occurrance, and DCE Principal Dr. Chakwera, who also was very complimentary and so gracious to agree to be our guest of honor at relatively short-notice a week and 1/2 prior to the event.

The reading room was toured by all, and all appeared impressed. Samosas were gobbled. Minerals were chugged. Faces were covered with smiles. Ya, it was a great event, with a happy ending. Except for my own cultural fau pauxes (AH! How do you spell that?), including asking everyone to get up and get something to eat in bloody yank style when I guess it's not appropriate to do so before the chiefs (decorum just makes me so bloody uncomfortable), it all went almost without a hitch. I was the only hitch. But I'm a Mzungu, so everyone here seems to have more patience with me. At least it appears that way most of the time.

And, it gets better. After it was all over, I dropped off the cooks, the empty bottles, and trays, and rushed to Zomba to see if I could report my stolen phone. Amazingly, the Celtel store was still open after 5 p.m., the ladies were very nice and told me what to do (had to get a search warrant from my buddies at the Zomba Police Station the next day--they know me by name now... lucky me!)-- not only that, but I was able to buy a new sim-card with the same phone number. However, since I'm leaving Malawi soon, I hesitated to buy a new phone, hoping to find a good used one or to borrow one.

Right after leaving the store, the most amazing thing happened. I went to visit my friend Dr. Maseko (who's also buying my car) to discuss the car purchase, told him about the lost phone, and he offered to let me borrow one of his 'extra' phones until I leave Malawi!

Now, that's a GREAT ending, eh? Aren't you glad you actually made it to the end? Same phone number, borrowed phone, most of my saved contacts replaced, all's well that ends well, or so they say.

After that up 'n down marathon, I'd better save Zambia for the next post. Thanks for comin along for the ride (again) on M'n M! ;-) Tiwonana!!