Random thoughts on blogging

Hello? Anybody out there? In honor of my completely gutted readership, I thought I’d share some of my latest thoughts on blogging for the scant few of you who still bother to come to this site (and yet never comment on ANYthing. Lazy slobs.)

1) I took a long sabbatical from blogging, I know. To tell you the truth, after 5 years in Malawi, I was beginning to feel like I just had nothing good to say anymore. Malawi is still a lovely country, don’t get me wrong. I’d live there over, say, Chad or the Central African Republic any day. But things have been on a gradual decline for the past year, and it was sad to see. I’ve already written about the fuel shortages, of course, and the protests. But I didn’t write about the concerns over governance, the way the government seemed to be increasingly intolerant of criticism, sometimes taking out full page ads in the newspaper, explaining point by point why a) they have never made any mistakes at all, ever, and b) the opposition are idiots.

However, this blog has never been about politics (although every day I am finding it increasingly difficult to restrain from mocking the Republican Party), and as a humanitarian aid worker, I can jeopardize my own ability to work in a country by saying the wrong thing, so mum was the word. I feel conflicted about my silence however; isn’t it my duty to speak out when I see something unjust?

2) I never wrote about this one: I got Twittered. Tweeted?

It was the day of the protests in Lilongwe, and someone (cough cough government cough) had managed to shut down all the radio stations. Nyasa Times had reportedly been hacked. At any rate, there were no readily available news source. So for the first time, I turned to Twitter. For the rest of the day, I refreshed, read, and repeated.

Then I read something curious. Someone tweeted about a blogger named Gwyneth who worked in Public Health in Malawi. “Wow!” I thought “There’s another Gwyneth working in public health in Malawi? And she has a blog too! What are the odds?” And then it occurred to me – the odds were actually something like 6.7 million to one. They were talking about me.

I clicked through the link, and found my own blog post, written just a couple hours earlier, posted on the African news website All Africa. At first I was quite proud. But then I thought of how the government had announced it would be monitoring Facebook, and Twitter, and blogs, with the implication that those found writing negative things would face consequences. I briefly considered removing my post, but then I read my post again, and I was proud of what I had done. I decided to stand by my words.

3) Call me naïve, but I only recently realized that prospective employers Google their job candidates. Since my contract in Malawi was coming to an end, I have been steadily job-hunting over the past few months. Not long after a job interview a few months ago, I discovered that someone had found my blog by Googling me. Unfortunately, they were able to find me because a certain friend made the indiscretion of referring to our last names on this blog. I will punch him the next time I see him, but seeing as the guy is like 250 pounds, I don’t think I’ll do much harm.

But here’s something you should know, Mr. or Ms. Prospective employer. I see you. I know you’re out there, looking for me. I can now what you’re up to too.

And my next blog post is likely to be titled “Why I am the most awesome employee EVAH.”

Big news. Sad, but big.

Malawi has been our home for so long, I’ve forgotten that the nature of my job is more in the moving than the staying. In fact, when I was younger, I scoffed at the idea of staying put more than a year or two in any given place. I was born to roam, baby.

Now that I’m older, more maternal, and quite frankly, a little boring, I don’t see the point in being anywhere less than three years. What can you really accomplish in a year? Two? That’s just enough time to figure out what you’re doing, then you have to start all over again.

The norm, however, seems to be two to three years for most of my friends and colleagues, though. Which means that a couple of years ago, we went through one big endless year of farewell parties as most of our close friends moved on. Now, after 5 years in Malawi, the second wave is beginning.

And it seems, my friends, the tide is taking us out with it. In just one week, we are leaving Malawi.

My heart breaks just a little bit even writing those words.

We knew we would be leaving soon. I had extended my contract through the end of the year, but my feet have gotten itchy again, and it’s too hard to see everyone else leave and feel like we’re being left behind. So we made a conscious decision, come what may, we would be leaving Malawi by the end of the year, even if that meant moving back home to the U.S. to mooch off of our families.

As it turns out, we’re not having to couch-surf just yet. One of our senior advisers is out on maternity leave, and she asked if I would cover for her during the 7 months she will be out of work. I agreed, and so next week we are moving to Dublin (that’s Ireland, in case you were expecting yet another remote developing country).

Ireland. I know, right? How totally different can you get from Malawi (apart from Finland)? We’re expecting a total and completely new way of life, but that’s part of the excitement. After all, how much longer do we have that we can still traipse off to Europe for a few months if we want to?

I guess you can expect a whole new class of misadventures from us as we navigate immigration, find a place to live, and apparently the hardest thing, open a bank account. These may sound like menial tasks, but they scare the bajeezus out of me. I’m pretty sure I can’t just smile my way into getting a driver’s license in Europe, the way I can here.

Wish us luck as we make this big leap, friends. I will try to keep you up to date on this newest adventure in our lives.

Quiet now

I just thought I would pop on and let you all know that things have settled down here in Malawi, at least for now. After two days at home I got incredibly stir-crazy, and convinced my office to let me go out to the field on Friday, and it was as calm as you could ever imagine. All the supposed damage to the city center had never happened, and while everyone seemed a little more tense than usual, I never felt in any danger. So it seems that at least some of the news reports were overblown. Never again will I turn to twitter for news!

What is clear, though, is that 18 people lost their lives during the two days of unrest, and that is a horrible, shocking tragedy. Lots of fingers have been pointed, but no one has taken any responsibility. In the cities, at least, the protests seem to have had the effect that people are even more frustrated now.

In the meantime, things have gotten back to normal. Which means no fuel at the filling stations, regular black-outs, and high prices on everything from tomatoes to tires.

For us, we are just looking forward to the arrival of my dad tomorrow, who is coming for a two-week visit. And then beyond that, trying to figure out where we go now, as it looks like we have officially, finally, and somewhat reluctantly decided that I will leave my current job at the end of this year. We have been here five years, and given all the difficulties of life lately, and all the friends who have already left before us, it is finally starting to feel like enough.

Another day

Well, it’s the end of yet another tense day here in Lilongwe. Again, the city basically shut down, due to the ongoing protests, which have now seemingly collapsed into anarchy. All of my meetings were again canceled today, so it was basically a snow day for all of us. I didn’t get much done, as Jorge and I kept checking the updates on Twitter. We worried for some young friends who had been traveling around Malawi and Tanzania, and who were supposed to be on a bus back to the city. I wondered how we were going to get food for the week, with the market shut down, and the gorcery stores reportedly looted. I worried about the violence and chaos coming closer to home, closer to my babies.

To deal with the anxiety, I baked cookies. And then ate LOTS of them.

Then, sometime after my lunch of cookies, I had this strange sense of déjà vu. I have dealt with perilous situations before – my time in Darfur was basically one crisis after another. So at first I thought all this conflict was bringing back memories of difficult times I had experienced in Sudan.

But then I realized, it wasn’t a conflict I was remembering, it was a catastrophe of an entirely different sort: Hurricane Katrina.

In the days and weeks after I evacuated from New Orleans in 2005, it was so hard to tell the fact from rumor. Who can forget the melodramatic interviews on Oprah, the (eventually disproved) tales of babies being sexually assaulted in the Superdome? And every horrible misdeed that was reported was just taken as truth, because of course, that’s what people’s stereotypes of New Orleans residents allowed them to believe.

And here we are again, imagining violent Africans wielding machetes and wreaking havoc…after years of being shown Africa only in the light of famine or war, is it any wonder that we don’t even doubt that people are capable of such violence?

Once the dust clears, I wonder what I will find – the battleground of burned-out cars and smashed, looted buildings that the reports have been evoking; or the ghost-town, shell of a city where most people just want to keep their heads down and get back to their normal life – the vision that my friends who have been in town today tell me they’ve seen. I hope it’s the latter, but by now I just don’t know what to believe.

Day of Protest

I have lived in Malawi for 5 year now, and not once have I ever known the people to rise up in angry protest. Sure, there are editorials written, the occasional march held, but generally Malawians have always seemed a peaceful lot. They take pride in the fact that Malawi, a rarity in sub-Saharan Africa, has never experienced true violent conflict.

So when I was told by the organization that I work for that all transportation within the country would be suspended today, due to planned protests over the ongoing fuel crisis and other governance issues, I was a little skeptical.

It all seemed like a big over-reaction. A coworker stopped by my desk yesterday to make sure I knew to be careful getting to and from work. “It might be quieter where you are, because of the presidential house being there,” he speculated (I live across the street from a guest house where dignitaries are housed during official visits). “But then again, that might be where they launch the counter-attack.”

Excuse me?! Counter-attack? Those are words I never thought I would hear in Malawi.

Still, I wasn’t really concerned. After all, I was told to stay home on the day of the presidential election as well (I didn’t), and that ended up being the quietest, most peaceful day I have ever experienced in Africa.

But today feels different.

I happen to also live very close to a police station. When I got up this morning, I could hear them practicing - the occasional test message over a bullhorn, short blasts of sirens punctuating the usual morning calm. It was like they were just warming up for the mayhem to come.

I arrived at the office; still more quiet. But people seem on edge. There is a constant background chatter of radios quietly tuned to the news, and when I go in to the staff break room, people look up at me as if I have interrupted some important discussion. Everything is closed in town, and all the usual meetings and work trips postponed. Many of my co-workers just stayed home, and other organizations didn’t even bother opening.

Occasionally I ask for updates – a government office has been burned in Mzuzu, I’m told; the streets around the market are chaos, tear gas has been released. I made my first-ever foray to Twitter today, looking for news, and was surprised to hear numerous reports of looting and fires, although not violence, thank goodness. It’s hard to sort out the facts from the rumors. But what seems to be clear is that some important corner has been turned here in Malawi.

Most likely things will return to business as usual tomorrow, as the damage is assessed and people get back to their usual lives of just trying to survive in a country where there are few jobs, and wages are low, but costs are high. But the seed has been planted. People will wake up, remember that they took the chance to speak out, that they raised their voices against the problems they have seen, and realize that the world did not fall apart. And just maybe they’ll decide to do it again. We’ll see.

Coming up Short

The order of the day in Malawi is shortages. It seems just about everything is running low these days – fuel, electricity, forex, drugs…A friend recently saw a news story in the local paper bemoaning the “shortage of models,” which is apparently crippling Malawi’s fashion industry. Half the time, we don’t even have powdered milk for our tea in my office. Life is certainly more difficult these days.

Of course, there’s also my critical shortage of time. And the shortage of words to describe just how insanely busy I have been. Swamped. Overwhelmed. Engaged. Occupied. You see? I have run out already.

But today I’ll try to squeeze out a few words in between bits of my hastily eaten lunch, banking on the likelihood that my 2:00 meeting will be late.

Of course, of all the shortages in Malawi, the biggest news is probably the fuel shortages. For weeks now, there just has not been enough fuel in the gas stations. At any given time, only a handful of stations will have fuel. You can tell which ones these are by the lines of cars stretching in every direction trying to get in, or the rush of people jostling with their jerry cans. The other stations sit empty, traffic cones placed in front of the pumps to indicate that they are dry yet again.

Of course, the fuel shortage is not just annoying for commuters, it is dangerous to the economy. I heard that at one point, even the fuel tankers were running out of gas, unable to make it back to the port in Mozambique to resupply. Naturally, a booming black market trade has sprung up for those who don’t have the time or patience to spend 6 hours waiting in line. The last few times we had major fuel shortages, the government blamed Mozambique for having problems at their port (oddly enough, though, Mozambique itself seemed to have plenty of fuel. Hmmmm.) Now, apparently, the problem is that the government has created sooooo much prosperity through its canny economic choices, that the fuel suppliers can’t keep up with the demand created by all the newly rich Malawians buying new cars.

As for us, we’re no longer so concerned about running out of fuel – Jorge unexpectedly sold our car on my birthday this Monday. In the morning, I had a car. I come home from work, no car.

Huh. I guess that’s one way to deal with the problem of the worn-out clutch and the bald tires we needed to replace. Kind of genius, actually.

Ineptitude

Everyone who lives in Africa for very long accumulates a nice trove of stories around ineptitude - there's the friend of mine who, for example, picked her car up from the mechanic, only to find that they had sliced her entire car engine clear in half. Or another friend who followed up with a supplier on the school supplies he'd been told had been ordered 6 months earlier, only to find that the order was never placed. The person-I-shall-not-name who tried to clean our car with steel wool. Things like that happen regularly in Malawi.

But Jorge had a very interesting experience of ineptitude while walking through a busy shopping area of Lilongwe last week. He was going to meet a friend, when a very tiny Malawian man walked up to him and said "Give me the money."

"What?" Said Jorge, a little surprised. We're used to small children yelling out "Givah me a-mon-ee!" as we walk past, but it's unusual for adults to be so bold.

"Give me the money!" He repeated. Again, Jorge was just totally confused, and said again, "What?!"

Finally, the little man pulled from his pocket a small, blunt kitchen knife, about 3 inches in length, and repeated his demand. At this point Jorge was still a wee bit puzzled, and amused at the size of the knife, but was starting to realize that the poor guy was trying to rob him. So Jorge just said "No." The little Malawian seemed to be stumped at that point, unable to figure out what his next move should be.

At that point Jorge saw the friend he was meeting, waved, and then gently took the would-be-robber's hand and held it out of his way as he walked the few feet to talk to his friend. The foiled robber just continued to stand there plaintively nearby,I suppose still hoping for some money, as the crowds all milled around them. And then Jorge walked off and went on with his day.

It makes me very grateful indeed that Malawi is still at the point where most people haven't even figured how to be criminal very well.

Doh.

When I have nothing to blog about, the local newspaper always gives me plenty of material. I've been storing up some shocking headlines, lately, but here's a recent story that gave me hope, then made me chuckle, and then made me sad.

The headline read: "Opposition Leader Refuses Government Car"

My first thought was - "well, gee, isn't that something! An African leader denying expensive, unnecessary benefits, to save money for the people!" I seriously thought that the opposition was trying to make a statement about the misuse of public funds on things like expensive Mercedes Benz cars for high-level politicians.

Then I read further, and this is what I learned instead:

"He says the car is too old."

::Sigh::

Yes, you saw my naievete right away, didn't you? He didn't refuse the car on the grounds that it was a waste of money. He refused it because it wasn't expensive enough. I mean, how could he be seen driving around in a 2005 vehicle?!

Sometimes you just start to feel things are never going to change.

You think YOUR DMV is bad?

It's been an interesting couple of weeks since I got back home from my holiday. First, I'm all on my own for a while, as Jorge has traveled home to the States and is visiting his family. I've done the single mom thing before, but only for a couple nights at a time. It actually hasn't been bad, after the first tear- and recrimination-filled night. (My tears, mostly). Milo's been a doll - I mean, how did I get such a great kid? - and we've had a lot of fun just hanging out and going for walks and stuff.

Also, it's World Cup time again, and Malawi is soccer-crazy like the rest of Africa. I've even been infected by the spirit, and in the afternoons I go to my neighbor's and watch the match while Milo plays with their two boys. Tonight I'm multi-tasking - watching a DVD, blogging, and checking in on the FIFA website with my i-pod to see if South Africa has scored.

Also, there has just been a lot to do. For example, I realized last week that my driver's license is about to expire. Since I couldn't renew it online, that meant one thing...time to finally get a Malawi driver's license. I've avoided this unpleasant task for as long as I could, but now there was no getting around it.

So off to the Road Traffic Office I go...expecting the worst.

Day 1 wasn't too bad. I used my obvious foreignness and cheerful disposition to ask anyone official-looking if they could help me. Mostly their 'help' went like this: "You need to go to Room 2," then in Room 2 I was told "You can pick up the application in HB." HB didn't seem to exist, so I asked again, and was sent back to Room 2. At that point I called it Bureaucracy 1, Gwyneth 0, and went back to my office to make photocopies instead.

Day 2 I tried a different approach. My office offered to send a driver with me, someone who had a friend who worked in the Road Traffic Office. That seemed promising - I saved at least an hour while the driver's friend entered my application information. Then I spent several more hours having my photo and fingerprints taken. I gave up again at 4 o'clock when the line for the cashier stretched so far out the door that there was a guard to keep people out.

Day 3 my sunny disposition was finally starting to fade. I started where I left off, the cashier's office. Only there was no cashier - she was replacing the printer ink cartridge, which apparently takes half an hour in a government building. I finally got to the front of the line, only after several Malawian men literally muscled their way in front of me, only to be told, "you need to go to Room 2." Room 2 told me, "You need to go to the cashier's office."

Another 30 minute wait in line, only to be told "You have to take your photos." I explained that I had already done that. Wellllll...they got lost. So BACK to the photo room, for yet another photo and round of fingerprints (and you can imagine what my passport photo is going to look like at this point - definitely not my best shot). Then back AGAIN to the cashier's office, where they at last took my money.

At that point I thought I was free and clear. But no. Instead I was sent back to the dreaded Room 2, where they had no idea what to do with me. So rather than take the effort to find out, the man I spoke to directed me to the office for the driving examiner. Crap. I've been driving for 16 years, but there's no way I could pass a Malawi driving exam - they still require you to use hand signals.

But at last, some good news. On my way to the road test room, a man I had spoken to on the first day of my ordeal saw me and asked "What are you still doing here? Haven't you got your license yet?" I explained my predicament, and he took pity on me. "Here," he said, "just go see the big boss. The RTO will sort it out for you," and then he showed me into a plush, carpeted office, where the receptionist took my papers and disappeared behind a big wooden door. A few minutes later she reappeared...and then uttered those fateful words...

"You need to go to Room 2."

But, seeing my look of panic, she instead escorted me there myself, where I found, after three days and many frustrating hours, fresh off the printer, my new temporary Malawi driver's license.

Now I can only wonder how much trouble it will be to collect my real license once it's finally minted.

Back home

I'm back in Malawi, and as busy as ever. As much as I love to travel, I always feel such a deep sense of relief and calm once I finally get off the plane, make it through immigration and customs, and get on the road home. It's all so familiar to me now, so comforting. I know just where on the road there will be pumpkins for sale, or to watch out for the intersection where minibuses clog traffic. "Ah!" I was pleased to note while on my way home, "Mice are back in season!" After coming from a big city, the expanses of land where you see nothing bit scrubby grass and bushes for miles just soothes me.

Of course, then I get home, and there's a dead car battery to deal with, a shady dealership that doesn't want to honor its warranties, post office employees who fail to show up for work...all the usual African nonsense. Still, it's good to be home.

I'm still working on getting the next round of trip photos up, but in the meanwhile, I thought I'd share our very typical exchange from this afternoon's commute home:

Jorge: "Did you see the new embassy that just opened right around our house?"

Me: "Nooo....which one?"

Jorge: "Don't you see the sign?"

Me, looking up and reading the sign above my head: "Ah, yes. The Christ Embassy. That will be useful." [Note: I am not making the name up. Most likely it's a new storefront church.]

::Long pause::

Me: "Do you think their consular office is open? I want to get a visa for heaven."

The party of the year

It was a big weekend around these parts. Construction crews have been working at a frantic pace for weeks to get the city ready. There were dignitaries, convoys, road closures, speeches, lengthy news coverage, and work crews everywhere trying for a bit of last-minute spiffying. Robert Mugabe (or Uncle Bob as he’s affectionately known around these parts) flew in from Zimbabwe with his wife. The former presidents of Mozambique and Zambia came too, along with Prime Ministers and dignitaries from across Southern Africa.

So what happened here this weekend you ask? Well, Milo’s birthday party of course!

Oh, and the president got married. Yeah, there was THAT.

Yes, dear old Bingu got hitched on Saturday, in a big ceremony officiated by the archbishop, with a reception (or was it two?) for some 4,000 of his closest guests (and those intrepid Malawians who were able to get a spot in the Lilongwe stadium).

The former first lady passed away several years ago, so, after waiting a respectable length of time, the president has chosen a new bride, Callista, who, while no spring chicken herself, is still a good 30 or 40 years younger than the old man.

Ah, but that wasn’t really the big event, though, was it? While the president and his entourage celebrated his recent nuptials, an even more momentous and exciting engagement was underway just a few miles away.

Yes, my little guy is TWO. And showing his age, I must say. We had a terrific party at our friend Marisol’s house on Saturday (celebrating her daughter’s 4th birthday as well), complete with two cakes, lots of food, a bouncy castle, two kiddie pools, goodie bags, and the most awesome home-made robot piñata you have ever seen, whipped together in 15 minutes by my dear husband (who failed to leave an opening through which we could tie the thing to a tree. It was OK, though, all it needed was a little robot brain surgery). Basically, it was heaven for toddlers. Milo had a great time, and he and his friends are still singing “Happy Birthday dear Milo!” all this week.

So I think I made the right choice in terms of social activities this week. I bet Bingu didn’t have a bubble machine at his party. Or the cutest, sweetest little two-year old you ever did see.

And now for something totally banal

Well, things haven't gotten any easier over here in Lilongwe, as you can probably tell from my conspicuous absence. I worked both Saturday and Sunday this week, and even though tomorrow is a public holiday - Martyr's Day (Or 'Marty's Day' as the HR announcement at work erroneously called it, brightening my day immensely. I feel like I should watch 'Back to the Future' tomorrow to celebrate) - you guessed it, I will be working again. Tonight was running, followed by choir. Tomorrow I'll cook breakfast for some friends, go to work, then there's a barbecue. Thursday is ladies night. Friday, I sleep.

But instead of whining again, I thought I would write about something totally mundane, but which seems to have been on a lot of people's minds lately - the weather. Yes, I have become that dull - when there is nothing else to say, one can always talk about the weather.

But seriously, though - the weather is a really big deal in a country like Malawi, where about 90% of the population relies on tiny little rain-fed farms for their food and income. Every year as December looms, the speculation on what sort of year it will be begins. People read much into the occasional sprinkles that occur in November (the "little rains"), trying to figure out whether the rains will fail. When the first real storm hits, everyone gets excited, no matter how old they are, how many rainy seasons they have seen.

This year has been a strange one for the weather, and everyone is a little worried about what that will mean come harvest-time. Until about 2 weeks ago, it hardly rained at all. Now it seems to do nothing but. The problem with this is that many people planted their maize back in December, only to have their crops die during the long dry spell. Those who can afford it replant. Those who can't will depend on the generosity of aid next year when their food stocks run out.

So far, it looks like we have avoided a full-scale crop failure. Still, I worry that there will be many homes with not enough food when the hungry season comes around next year. I hope that we have learned enough from the last two food crises in Malawi (8 years ago and 4 years ago) to be ready to help them.

Malawi woyee!! Flames woyee!!

Big, BIG news from Malawi, today, which will probably never make it to your corner of the world.

But the Malawi Flames, the lowest ranked team in the Africa Cup of Nations tournament, beat Algeria three to one in their opening game. WOO-HOO! Seriously, people, this is BIG here. The Africa Cup of Nations is like the regional World Cup for African football (soccer) teams. From around 3 o'clock this afternoon, the city has been filled with cheers, honking horns, and and people waving at strangers, just sharing in the happiness. Jorge drove around to all the minibus depots for a while, blaring the horn, just because he could get away with it.

We went for a walk after work, and many of the men we saw were still carrying their little battery-operated radios around with them, listening to the commentary and highlights. Then on the drive home, we passed several revelers who had taken big, leafy branches from the trees and covered their bodies with them, an impromptu traditional costume.

We are very proud of our guys! Go Flames!!

Wacky NKK

Today I am off to Nkhotakota for the night. One of our projects is phasing out there, and the District Health Office is holding an event to mark them taking it over. I have even been asked to make a speech. Aren’t I fancy? It’s gratifying to see the project get taken on by the government, though. They have been pretty much running things for the last year anyway, but this will make it official.

Anyway, I enjoy going up to Nkhotakota – I always see the strangest things on these trips. For example:

Once, I saw a full grown man, sitting in the middle of the yard in front of his house, strapped to a dining room chair. He was just enjoying watching the cars go by. I’m guessing that he was mentally unstable, and his family probably needed to get some things done around the house, so they just tied him up and left him while they worked in their garden, or went to the market or whatever.

On that same trip, I rode for a while behind a tiny little hatchback car that was filled with ELEVEN large men (4 in the trunk, 4 in the back seat, and three up front). They were on their way to the mosque, and all were wearing their caps and jalabeeyahs for the service. It looked a bit like a clown car in a crazy Muslim circus.

On another trip, we ran over a monitor lizard by accident. I felt really badly about that. Those things are big and pretty amazing. Then on the way home a big crow flew smack into our windshield. I have nicknamed that driver the Grim Reaper now.

Jorge and I once bought a 4-foot long catfish just outside of Nkhotakota on a trip to the lake. We saw the man holding it up by the side of the road, and couldn’t believe our eyes, so we had to stop. The monster was still alive too. We tied it to the side mirror, then had to double it up and tie the tail to the mirror too, so that it wouldn’t drag on the ground as we drove home. That fish fed us for months.

I’m wondering what exciting new Malawi sights this trip is going to bring me!

Welcome to the Hotel Madalitso

Let’s just step away from the survey for a bit, shall we? Instead, let me give you a little tour of my new home away from home: The Hotel Madalitso.

The linens don’t match, and they are worn thin, but each night I come home to a new Harry Potter-themed pillowcase, which is a nice touch. The towel is rough and scratchy, but it’s clean. There’s no soap, but at least the toilet has a seat, which is an improvement over my last room at the Madalitso (I must have gotten a free upgrade. Lucky me!)

There is only one power outlet, forcing me to choose between my computer and the fan. But there’s a fan! And it works! A ceiling fan would be better, but really, who am I to complain? The power has only gone out once since I’ve been here, and if it does, the Madalitso has thoughtfully provided a candle (but no matches).

Ah yes, the Madalitso. It’s not so bad. I’m kind of fond of the place. I even brought Jorge here once. They did, after all, invent the signature breakfast dish Deep-Fried Egg. It comes with a side of chips. They are both cooked in the same oil. The egg is like a little pirate’s island – you dig and dig through the crusty, brown mess, and eventually, you find the buried treasure – a little gold edible egg yolk!

I think you are beginning to understand why, when I go on vacation, I like to stay at hotels with “Palace” in the name…

It's like Thunderdome out there

I seem to have arrived back to a post-apocalyptic Malawi. It looked peaceful enough when I was driving down the bucolic country roads from the airport. Same old women working their fields, the same men sitting under their trees.

Then I hit the city. It's madness here. There has been a fuel shortage ever since we left, and every gas station is surrounded by seemingly abandoned cars along the side of the road, while the pumps are swarmed by throngs of people holding jerry cans, trying to get a bit of fuel before it all runs out. At the station near my office, the police had been called out to maintain order, and others stood around the fringes watching to see if fighting would break out. It's tense. No cage-fighting, though. Not yet, at least.

And the worst thing? I saw it coming. There was a diesel shortage just before we left, and I told my dear husband, you know, that man who always listens to everything I say, "Petrol is going to be next. Make sure you fill up the tank before you leave for the airport. You should probably fill a jerry can, too."

Do you think he did? Would I even write about it had he done as I asked? Good husbands make bad copy, you should know that by now. No, of course, he ignored me. I could be the one smug SOB driving around Lilongwe with a full tank of gas right now, but instead I have to ration out my little half-tank like everyone else, forgoing the A/C, combining shopping trips...

Of course, on top of the fuel shortage there is also a critical lack of foreign exchange, grinding the economy to a halt. And today I went to the ATM and they weren't working. More crowds of people hanging around waiting.

I tell you, the bread riots are coming, you just wait. And then, oh yes, then...the cage-fighting. Excellent.

High Maintenance

So the other day I was driving to a friend’s house, Milo nestled into his carseat in the back. On Sunday, the roads in Lilongwe are pretty empty, so I was anticipating a short trip to the other side of town.

Instead, I got stuck in convoy traffic. Basically, convoy traffic is when the police close off all the roads that the President is going to travel on. In Lilongwe, there aren’t very many main roads, so you have a pretty good chance of getting caught in one of these jams every few months or so. You can tell that convoy traffic is going to happen sometime soon, because the city erects big white flagpoles, topped by the Malawian flag, around all the roundabouts on the roads. If you’re unfortunate enough to get stuck in convoy traffic, you will sit on the road for about 15-20 minutes, with impatient drivers occasionally driving up the sidewalks, only to get stopped again by the police once they get to the closest intersection. You might as well relax, turn the engine off, and try to get something done (thank goodness I had tweezers in my bag – my eyebrows were a bit of a mess, after all).

Finally, a virtual Macy’s Day Parade of police cars, black SUVs, and motorcycles whizzes past, sirens and lights a-blaring, and then you can get back on with your day. I counted 14 cars and at least as many motorcycles.

So I thought this was a fairly uncommon occurrence, reserved for official state visits and such, but I asked a friend who works at the embassy and she told me that no – EVERY time the President leaves his house, this is how he travels! Sheesh, talk about high maintenance! Is that how it is in the U.S., too? Isn’t that a little, you know, conspicuous?

And think of how long it would take to get your whole entourage organized every time you just wanted to pop round to the store for something? (“Sorry, Mr. President, you can’t go to dinner tonight – we haven’t erected the flagpoles”!) It’s hard enough getting me, Jorge, and Milo out of the house on time in the mornings. I swear, if I were president, I think I’d only leave my house about once a month. Crazy! I’m hoping my friend is wrong, because the whole logistics of it just boggles my mind.

Hello from the Deep South

The south of Malawi, that is. This week I am in the southern-most district of Malawi supporting one of our field offices.

It's hot down here, but not as hot as it will get once summer kicks into full swing here. Even the enormous mosquitoes aren't such a problem this time.

Today I went out to visit a remote health facility. It was 90 minute drive, with the last 30 minutes being a dramatic, nearly vertical climb up a rocky mountain-face. We ended up at the top, in the beautiful, wooded little hillsides of Lulwe. When we arrived at the health center, which is run by the Catholic church, not the Malawi government, no one was there except one sole mother with her sick child.

It turns out the staff hadn't been paid, so they had all gone to town to get loans. One Medical Assistant was left to man the center, and he was at home "charging his phone". We rousted the slacker out of his house while the government health representative with us tried to convince me that all the patients must have already been seen this morning (a simple question to the poor mother waiting there told us that this wasn't true. As of 10AM, not one person had showed up for work yet).

I honestly think the Medical Assistant would have gone back home after talking to us had I not pointed out that there was a patient who had been waiting several hours. Of course, I'm not sure how much help she ended up getting - the other health staff had taken the keys to the pharmacy with them, so there were no drugs available!

Sigh. Still, I had a nice day. I always like getting out to the field. I never tire of the way children run to the roadside, beaming and waving, their little chests puffed out. Seeing a white person in their village is about as exciting to them as it was to Jorge the time he spotted a Delorean parked by the side of the road in cozy little Bozeman, Montana. In the more rural areas like the one we were in today, even the grown men and women smile and wave. I felt a bit like Queen Elizabeth in her birthday parade.

We had visitors from another district with us, so we drove out to a viewpoint, where on a clear day you can see the Zambezi River flowing through Mozambique (today was not a clear day, alas. It's burning season.) We also stopped by the border with Mozambique, one little bar across the road and a shabby little immigration shack. All in all, it was a fun little tour of Malawi dysfunction.

Last day on the job

Today is my last day at work in my current position. It's been a bit more rushed than I wanted as I had to stay home with Milo this morning until the babysitter could make it. But, all things considered, I'm pretty much ready to wrap up. I think I will actually leave the office on time today, which will be a first. Usually on my last day of work I am in the office until 8 at night, trying to get all my files backed up and cleaned off. That stuff's all done already - I just need to sit down with the woman covering for me and go over a few things, then I am outta here!

I have really enjoyed my job, and love the team that I work with - they're hard-working, creative, and take inititative for theri own tasks. I'm going to really miss the cooperative team spirit that we've built up over the last 3 years. But I feel I have done what I came to do - build the capacity of the team and get things moving so that they no longer need an international staff person helping out. Working myself out of a job, one position at a time...the aid worker's creed.

The last couple of days in Malawi have been interesting. It's been so calm, so civilized - not at all what you'd expect if you've been listening to the BBC airing condemnations of the election by the opposition candidate, John Tembo. Here in Lilongwe, everyone has accepted the election results very peacefully, and no one seems to doubt the fairness of the voting.

For the last few days, the radios all over the country have been on constantly, the monotonous drone of polling station results announced hour after hour. And now it's over - I've just listened to President Bingu's inauguration speech; he's already been sworn in, even though the polls just closed three days ago! Today I've seen a lot of people in Bingu chitenjes, or wearing t-shirts and buttons with the president's face emblazoned across the front. People seem to be more relaxed, and they are justifiably proud of their little country for pulling off a peaceful, seemingly fair, mostly harmonious election - that's about the extent of the excitement, though.

As for me, I'll relax once I'm resting at my brother-in-law's house in New Orleans, still more than a week away!

Voterani!

It's voting day in Malawi! I've never seen Lilongwe quite so quiet - there are so few cars out on the road. It seems everyone is being very cautious, going to "voterani" then going straight home.

I ignored the advice of my office, and did not stay home today. Jorge and I went to the local polling station, where we asked for permission to take a few photos. After establishing that we were not media, official observers, or rabble-rousers, they said yes. I didn't stay long, as I didn't want to make people uncomfortable - after all, most African countries have had at least some experience with voter harassment. But here are some pictures from today's election:

The Polling Station

People waiting in line to vote
The man at the first table is being checked to make sure his identification matches the voter rolls. The woman at the second table is having her fingers dipped in ink to make sure she can't vote more than once.

Inky fingers and a voter registration card

Making his mark

Casting her ballot