We apparently do not have the luck of the Irish yet

We have officially been living in Ireland for one week now, although it feels longer. Every day feels so full and a little bit stressful, and yet at the same time we fell like we're just not getting anything done.

Yesterday, for example, was a rough day. Jorge rode down in the morning to the immigration office to register, as we were told we should do when we arrived at the airport. However, the man at the desk there told jorge he could not register until he applied for EU residency first. He explained he does not want residency, since we are only going to be here six months (it takes 6 months before you typically receive a decision on your residency application, at which point we would be leaving). The immigration officer told Jorge "It's not my job to answer your questions. This is how we do it."

So we applied for the residency card, which required us sending off both his and my passports. Which felt very risky, given that I travel for work, and Jorge has only 3 weeks left until his initial entry stamp into the country expires. So cross your fingers they send those passports back soon!

The other tricky thing is looking for a place to live. I feel like there must be a system that I'm just not tapping into yet. Apartments all seem to be either over-priced, too small, or already taken (particularly once they hear we have children).I came in with fairly low expectations, but I'm finding it hard to accept the idea of living in a run-down neighborhood, or in a run-down apartment, especially given what I am willing to pay.

So yesterday we had a viewing of a nice-looking place lived up, and Jorge biked all the way out there, only to find no one waiting to show him the place. when we called the agent, he told Jorge that we had the time wrong, and that the viewing was at 6:15.. Jorge said "Um, it IS 6:15. I'm 15 minutes early" and the agent backtracked and said, no the appointment was at 5:45. Which was a flat-out lie. Needless to say, we crossed that apartment off our lists.

Since nothing seems to happen on the weekends here, we decided to rent a car for the weekend, and are planning to go on a couple of day-trips out of town, to unwind and forget about everything that needs to be done for a few days. Then Monday I start work, and the pressure to find a place to live will really be on.

wish us luck. And if you happen to know of a two-bedroom apartment in a nice neighborhood in central Dublin, walking distance to my office, with a good shower, and preferably with a grocery store and running trails nearby, please do let me know. Not that I'm particular or anything.

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.

It can´t all be smooth sailing

So overall, we have had a pretty straightforward, easy trip in Argentina. This is a big surprise, as those of you who have followed our other trips on this blog should know, because when we travel something ALWAYS goes wrong. Visas are incomplete, reservations are cancelled randomly, backs are thrown out, whatever. It´s always something.

Anyway, I wanted to stay true to the spirit of the blog and reassure you that we´ve had our share of flubs on this trip, but they´re pretty minor compared to usual. So here are some of our misadventures so far:

1) One of the most common search terms that leads people to my blog is ¨South African Airlines sucks¨. Every month this is in the top ten, along with ¨Gwyneth Malawi¨ and ¨Coolest pet ever¨. There is a reason for this, and it is my total disdain at the incompetence and occasionally outright ineptitude of SAA. For example, when we boarded our flight to Johannesburg from Lilongwe, and finally got a moment to look at our seating assignments, we discovered, to our great dismay, that the ticketing agent had seated us in three very separate, very far-flung seats. Lucky little Milo got a seat all by himself 15 rows behind me, and Jorge and I were seated nowhere near each other. It´s not like they didn´t know we had a child - Milo was standing on the countertop babbling away the whole time we were checking in.

But fine, we figured the flight attendant would sort it out. She went back to the row where Milo was seated, explained the situation, and asked the two people seated around Milo if they would switch with us. And would you get this - one of them wouldn´t move! Are you kidding me? He won´t move to let a parent sit with their baby? What sort of special level of a-hole-ness is that?

So of course, I´m ticked. I take Milo to the seat and say ¨so you´re the guy who wants to help look after my child, then?¨And he smiles, totally vapidly, and says ¨I don´t mind! I have a little one myself too.¨ To be fair the guy seemed more clueless than obstinate, and three minutes seated next to Milo, who kept trying to claw his way over the man´s lap while yelling ¨Daddy! Daddy!¨did the trick. As if it was his idea, the man turns to me and says ¨Hey, why don´t I switch seats with your husband?¨ Well, yeah, how´s that for an idea! So it ended up being fine in the end.

2) In Salta, we rented a car, and asked for a car seat. To save a bit of money, we decided to pick up the car on the second day, before heading off on the road. Before leaving the airport, we asked about the office hours. ¨We open at 9 and close at 9¨ they told us.

The next day, we go to the EuropCar office to collect the car seat. Only to find they´ve closed for lunch. That´s reasonable, I suppose. Then we notice - it´s a FOUR HOUR lunch break! What kind of lazy people take lunch from 1 to 5 PM?

We ended up calling the staff on their cell phone and getting them to come back to give us the car seat, but it meant sitting in our car with a tired, fussy toddler for two hours. No fun.

3) A few days ago, we arrived at the airport to check in for our flight from Salta to Buenos Aires. Only the ticket agent couldn´t find our reservation. A few minutes later, we discovered the problem: our reservations were for the following night! Jorge had booked the tickets for the wrong day, and neither of us had noticed the mistake. Fortunately, though, the ticket agent was able to change our tickets, and didn´t even charge us anything.

4) Yesterday we headed out of town to spend a few days on a country estate. We had arranged to catch the 10:30 bus, and at 9:30 were ready to leave for the bus station. However, Jorge just needed to pop across the street to buy some diapers for Milo. Half an hour later, bearing a complicated tale of woe involving a security guard and multiple exits, my frazzled husband returned. We grabbed a taxi, but as we sat in traffic, it became increasingly obvious that we were never going to make it in time. Finally, we arrive close to the station, 10 minutes late - only to see that the street, a random side street at that, has been closed for a protest! The buses were unable to pick up the passengers, so they were late. We had time to collect our tickets then walk a few blocks away where the buses were waiting for us. Saved again!

So you see, it´s not that we haven´t had our share of mishaps, it´s just that apparently South America is a little more laid back when it comes to screw-ups like us, as opposed to, say, the inflexible Cambodians or the quarrelsome Egyptians!

Stuck in the mud

First of all, you may have noticed a few changes around here. After many years, I finally decided to give this blog a little overhaul. One, I was just tired of the old layout, and two, we are thinking about the possibility of moving on from Malawi some day - not any time soon, but still, the idea is out there - so it felt like I ought to transition to a style and name that would work somewhere else, not just here. Anyway, I hope you like the new look.

Last week I went up to one of my favorite places, Nkhotakota, again. I have written before about how crazy things always happen when I drive up there, and this trip was no exception.

The usual road, which runs along Lake Malawi, got washed out by heavy rains the day before we were to leave for Nkhotakota, so we had to take an alternative route, up north on the main highway, then cutting across the country through the Nkhotakota Game Reserve, a national park.

I've never been through the game reserve before, and it was a beautiful drive. Unfortunately, we didn't get to enjoy it much, though, because we were all hanging on for dear life as the car slipped and slid through the mud. We got to a very nasty patch about halfway into the park, where three trucks were blockign the road, bogged down in the muck. Unwisely, we decided to try to go around the side of the stranded trucks...and got stuck in the mud ourselves.

Here are the menfolk (mostly occupants from other abandoned trucks) discussing what to do:

And then we ladies decided to take matters into our own hands:

Finally, just before dark, a construction vehicle showed up and pulled us out! Hooray!

Seriously, there's never a dull moment around here!

Day 2

Transport has become a problem.

The logistics of this survey are a nightmare. We have to visit 95 communities from throughout the district. We have 5 teams, and we optimistically hoped that each team could visit about 4 villages a day, finishing up in 5 days.

We’ve got five cars to do this: 3 decent, but not great, 4WD cars we hired in Lilongwe, 1 Land Cruiser that belongs to my organization, and the shoddy little pickup truck from the government I told you about yesterday. And we need every little set of wheels we’ve got.

Last night, I got a call at 9 PM from the office manager, saying he needed one of the cars to go to a meeting an hour away. I tried to explain that there really are no cars to spare, and he got very angry with me. We ended up giving him a lift to the meeting this morning, setting us back a couple hours.

Yesterday, one of the cars blew out a tire going up a hilly, rocky mountain road. It’s beyond repair, so that car is now out in the bush without a spare.

This morning, the government driver called in sick. It took 5 hours to find a replacement.

Our IT guy is here from the head office, and he needs to go to Blantyre (3 hours away) this week to buy computer supplies.

We are seriously one flat tire or busted shock away from this being a total disaster.

Only a few more days to go…only a few more days to go…only a few more days to go…

Trips are never dull in the C. family

Well, here I am in brisk, but sunny Glasgow. It's actually quite a nice little city. I can walk from my hotel to our office here, mostly along pedestrian shopping malls with great industrial-age architecture. The weather is lovely today, and it isn't half as cold as I expected.

There are also a lot of great shopping bargains, thanks to the tanked economy. The bad news is that I don't have a way to shop. My husband, genius that he is, lost his wallet in Colombia. He canceled the credit and ATM cards, but since our mailing address is in the US, they went to my sister's house in Seattle. Yes it's our own fault for not having her mail them to us months ago, but it just didn't seem important at the time.

We do have two credit cards that still work, so we each took one - the American Express for me, and the Visa for him. I also brought some dollars to exchange. Then we asked my dad to Express mail me the ATM cards. Jorge was going to bring more cash as a backup. Seemed like a solid plan, right? Well...

• Most of the shops here don't take American Express
• Jorge wrote yesterday from the airport to say he FORGOT his wallet at home. Meaning no extra cash and no Visa. There's no way to express how deep in doo-doo he is going to be when I see him today.
• Dad sent the ATM cards, but the PIN numbers haven't come in the mail. Cross your fingers they come soon. At the least I guess we can use them as debit cards.

So....we may be setting up Milo's travel cot (assuming I'm even able to buy one today) and sleeping in train stations for this vacation. Why can't we ever, ever have a stress-free, easy vacation? (OK, don't say it's because we're total airheads. That is not the answer I am looking for. Sympathy and support, people, sympathy and support...)

Maybe some good news???

So we are still totally in the lurch about our trip to Portugal, but have decided, as is always our way, to hope for the best and not worry too much.

Jorge went to the German Embassy yesterday (there is no Portuguese Embassy here, so the Germans process all the visas for Western Europe) to see if there was anything they could do to speed up the application. He even congratulated them on the fall of the Berlin Wall. But no, unfortunately there is nothing they can do, we were told. The whole process just has to run its course. They were very nice about it, so we couldn't even get annoyed at them and call them rude names afterwards. That sort of sucked the fun out of the experience. After all, who doesn't enjoy taking stabs at Germans?

Anyway, after Jorge left, he got a very cryptic phone call from the embassy, which went something like this, according to Jorge's re-telling (Imagine Jorge telling the story with a very bad German accent, even though the caller was a Malawian desk clerk):

Clerk: "Mr Gorge? Have you changed your travel plans?"

Jorge: "No, not yet. Why?"

Clerk: "Don't change your travel plans yet....[garble garble garble, bad connection, garble]

Jorge: "Is the visa going to come in?"

Clerk: "You are traveling on the 20th, right?"

Jorge: "No, I'm traveling on Monday. The 16th."

Clerk: "OK, don't change your plans [garble garble garble] I will call you next week."

Jorge: "No, you don't understand - I am flying on Monday. I won't be here next week."

Clerk: "[garble garble garble] OK, I call you this week."

So they didn't actually say the visa would be ready, but we have decided to take this as a good sign that they are taking pity on us and will try to help. Cross your fingers!

Ruh-roh

Remember I mentioned a few weeks back that my office was sending me to Scotland to present at a workshop? Well, that's next week. I fly out in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

We thought it would be a great opportunity for a little European vacation, so Jorge and Milo are flying out to meet me, then we're going to Portugal. We've got the tickets booked and everything.

Then something came up, and we had to travel out of town. We got back yesterday, finished all of Jorge's visa paperwork, then took it to the embassy today. And even though they previously told us they only need a week to process the visa, today they said "uh, no. We need 10 days. You're not going to get your visa in time."

Crap. Crappety-crap-crap.

So what do we do? Do we cross our fingers, bother them a lot, and hope they rush it through in time? The deck officer didn't seem too optimistic about that approach. Do we shell out the money to pay to change the flight, hoping they get the visa back at least in time for the trip to Lisbon?

Argh. I wish Jorge was just a US citizen already. That is the one drawback to not living in America, where he would have been eligible for citizenship years ago. The visa situation is so stressful. Cross your fingers for us that we didn't just blow a couple thousand bucks on a trip we'll just have to cancel...

Crawling out of my hole

This last week sucked. Big time. It started with a few hours of aches and illness Thursday. Friday afternoon, the fever hit. Then came the barrage of every symptom of every tropical illness ever thought of, except Ebola. Where do I start?

Fever
Chills
Soreness
Fatigue
Chest pain
Shortness of breath
Hives
Sore throat
And then, the worst – the headache to end all headaches. Even codeine only dulled it a bit. I thought my head was going to explode.

So I pretty much spent the entire weekend in bed, making it out for a few hours each evening. And this was really bad timing, because we had a really close friend visiting, and for once I actually was invited to a few social functions that didn’t involve bubble machines and jumpy castles.

Four doctor’s visits and 4 malaria tests later, I was diagnosed with a bacterial infection. Oh, thank God for antibiotics. I’m back at work today, finally, just trying to claw out of the huge pile of work that is building up. Which means this is going to be a short post. Because I am going back to work now. Bye.

Artistic tendencies

So, time for a weekend update. This last one just flew by. I got to work on Monday feeling like I never had a break at all.

It was a full weekend. On Saturday we went to a friend's beautiful home for breakfast, where Milo splashed in the pool and chased chickens. In the afternoon we drove out to the village to visit our housekeeper Godfrey and his family. Milo is a total celebrity in the village. He just smiles and waves to the crowds of adoring women and children, while they fight over who gets to hold him next. I think it's beginning to go to his head, really.

Our babysitter came back with us, and Jorge and I went out on a much-needed date alone. We went to the one Ethiopian restaurant in town, my favorite, and then after that went to the newly opened "jazz club" for a musical performance by a world music duo from France. It was a really lovely night out, and I looked forward to more nice dates with live music, until I found out that the "jazz club's" owner is only going to have live music once every 2 months (to keep the excitement and interest up, you know.) This led me to speculate that I should call my house a restaurant and start charging people. After all, I cook dinner for others at least once every two months. Seriously, only in Lilongwe. Also, did I mention that pretty much EVERYone I know was also at the concert? Not much new happens here in Malawi, that's all I have to say.

Then on Sunday we went to church, and decided to stick around for the picnic afterwards, even though this meant Milo would have a late nap. Whoa, big mistake. Milo got home, slept for thirty minutes, then wanted to party. We left him in his room a bit, hoping he'd go back to sleep. Instead, he took off his diaper, took a crap on the bed, and proceeded to fingerpaint.

(Just an aside here - when I was pregnant, I said once that it is really never OK to talk about your kid's bowel movements in regular conversation. Seriously, no one wants to know how many times your kid poops (or doesn't poop) in a day. But I am making an exception in this case, as the circumstances are rather extreme. I promise, I will try not to let it happen again.)

Needless to say, it was kind of a mess. I spent my Sunday afternoon cleaning the crib, the sheets, the stuffed animals, the boy, the floor, the mosquito netting...Ah, the joys of motherhood.

And also, Milo now has a new nickname in our house: Poopy Pollock.

News in small, digestible chunks

Here are today's tidbits:

• I'm sick
• I'm working way too much
• I might get to go to Scotland for work in a couple months!
• I feel guilty for being away from my family so much of the time
• In the past week, we hosted the Saturday run (and breakfast), hosted the weekly Hash, and tonight I'm cooking dinner for 6 co-workers. Sunday is Gumbo night for friends. We do too much.
• I lost my cell phone
• I can't remember my own husband's phone number to call and ask for a ride
• Milo is on a food strike
• But he knows his feet, gives plenty of kisses, and enjoys dancing to reggaeton.
• I haven't photographed my son in almost 6 weeks. But for Auntie Miriam, here is a picture from when we were in New Orleans:

For those of you who are wondering, here is the account of how I finally resolved my money dilemma, taken from an e-mail to my dad:

I did end up managing, but it was a hellish day. First, I made an hour-long
walk to the other ATM I knew of. It also would not take my card. So I called
Jorge (who hadn't been home before) to get my account number and I went into the
branch to try to do a withdrawal. But they wouldn't allow me to withdraw from
a checking account without an actual check.

The teller directed me to another nearby branch. I walked there. The branch was closed. I walked further toward another bank. Each Malawian I asked told me "no, it's not far." but Malawians are not very good at giving directions, so I got lost. Finally I called a taxi, which I couldn't pay for, but I was being hopeful. He drove me to ANOTHER bank, one with the other banks had told me would take my card. They were wrong. Finally, I threw myself on the mercy of their customer service rep, who took pity on me and allowed me to make a withdrawal from my checking account. I mean, really, couldn't they have done that in the first place?

All in all, I walked for 3 hours. My poor feet.

I know, I know

So I have had several complaints about my lack of blogging of late. Honestly, I just don't have the time these days. In the last month I spent a week in Dowa district, 3 days in our Lilongwe project office, traveled up to Nkhotakota, and am now spending a week in Blantyre. In between that I thre a going-away dinner for a friend (meaning my whole weekend was taken up with cooking, and am still trying to occasionally spend time with my son and husband. I'm wiped out.

Also, to add to the bad news - our bank changed it's ATM cards. While some ATMs still took the old card in Lilongwe, the central bank here in Blantyre doesn't. So I can't get money, and I'm running low. I'm planning to take a looooong walk to another ATM after leaving this internet cafe, I sure hope they take the cards there, otherwise I am screwed.

Interesting morning though - I had breakfast with two majors from the Zimbabwe army! How many people do you know who can say that? There is a whole contingent of officers staying at my hotel - they are studing at the military college in Zimbabwe and are doing a study tour in Malawi. One of the men tried to bait me into a discussion of U.S. foreign policy, but I wasn't going for it, and switched the topic to their own country. It was interesting to hear their perspective on the situation in Zimbabwe (which they assured me is really fine now. I remain skeptical) and their thoughts in Malawi.

And then the Major asked me out dancing . That hasn't happened in a long time. I told him I am too old and too married for the nightclub scene (not exactly true, but I've always found that the modest, prudish response is usually the most effective in deterring would-be African suitors. As in "Excure me, but in MY country, men just don't talk to women like that!" Hahaha.)

Well, I'm running low on cash, so I guess I best start walking now.

SAA sucks

We are safe and sound in DC, and I've been attending the Global Health Council conference, learning a lot and making some interesting connections. 

The 18-hour flight with the baby was bad, but it could have been worse. He slept for about 8 hours, and only screamed a little. But when we arrived, wouldn't you know it, my bags didn't show up. Again. I freaking hate South African Airlines. They also lost Milo's carseat. When we pointed out that we couldn't exactly leave without a car seat, they loaned us one they had lying around (probably someone else's lost luggage). 

The we got to the car rental place and discovered that the carseat did not actually have any child restraint straps. So it was useless. We ended up renting a carseat from the car rental company, at basically the cost of buying a new one.

I have been wearing the same dress for three days. 

If you can avoid it, never fly through Johannesburg on South African. As soon as I have a spare minute, and angry complaint letter is headed their way.

Well, I've got another session to attend, so I'll check back in soon!

Aw crap.

Man, talk about bad news. Swine flu, the economy's in the dumps, I put on five pounds in South Africa...and our car just died.

Poor Jorge, he was on the way home from Milo's playgroup when it happened. Fortunately a friend passed by and gave him and Milo a lift home. We got the car towed, now we just have to see if it's salvageable. We never should have sold The Wanker. That was a big mistake. Our friends who bought it are still driving around happily in it, never having had a problem.

So now I have to leave work on time for a change so that I can walk home. In heels.

Dang it.

What is it about us and luggage?

We have clearly ticked off some sort of travel deity or something, because honestly, more often than not something goes wrong with our bags. We arrived back home from South Africa on Sunday. Unfortunately, all four of our bags, PLUS the stroller and carseat that we checked at the gate did not arrive with us.

How did South African airlines manage to lose SIX bags? That weren't even checked in together? The other passengers from Cape Town managed to get their bags. Why were we singled out, yet again? Sigh.

Five of the bags turned up yesterday. The baggage handlers only managed to break one wine bottle, although it turned out to be the most expensive one. And it spilled all over our clothes. At least nothing seems to have been stolen this time.

I am still waiting for my favorite backpack to turn up, the one that has been across 5 continents with me. The one containing the fondue mix and the gnocchi. (Why? Why the gnocchi? Why not Jorge's fig jam?).


*Breaking news*

I just got a text from the airport! The last bag is in!

I have been trying to upload photos from the trip, but the internet is not cooperating. Soon, I promise!

Happy Birthday, Milo!

I've only got a few minutes in between putting Milo down for a nap, picking up our picnic lunch, and collecting his birthday cake to hop on and post an entry.

We're having a nice time in South Africa. Right now we're in Franschhoek, culinary capital of the country, and I've picked up a stomach bug, naturally. Yesterday I couldn't eat anything. Today I've managed a couple sips of wine and a good breakfast. Jorge, always the supportive (and not at all melodramatic) husband, keeps saying "I can't believe you ruined the vacation."

Jorge did well in the race on Saturday - he had some leg cramps, so he wasn't as fast as he'd hoped, but he came in only about 20-30 minutes behind target. I had my video camera all set to record him crossing the finish line, and kept checking it every 30 seconds or so to make sure it didn't turn off automatically. Right after checkign it the last time I heard the announcer say, "And here we have our only runner from COLOMBIA!" I whipped up the camera, hit record...and it was turned off. $&%#!!! So there will be no footage on YouTube, I'm sorry to say. You'll just have to trust me tha he looked great.

Today we're celebrating little Milo's big milestone. One whole year already...! Yes, it's cliche and everyone says it, but it's true: I can't believe how fast he's growing up!

Slow news week...

When you’re having a slow week in a developing country, you can always count on the newspaper for some good material. So here is what’s been going on in Malawi over the last week:

• There is a cholera outbreak, and it’s centered in Lilongwe, where we live. So far there have been about 2,500 confirmed cases, and about a hundred deaths. So you parents in the U.S. who worry about germs and ear infections and colds and everything else your kid can get – I SO have you beat.
• Only 40% of high school seniors passed the graduation exit exam this year. Have I mentioned the education system here is lousy?
• A man was run over and killed, after he got drunk and decided to go to sleep underneath a truck.
• In other motor vehicle news: “Police in Blantyre are hunting for a minibus driver and his conductor for seriously injuring a police officer on duty by pushing him out of a speeding minibus and running over him.”
• The president has apparently “blasted” (the local media’s term, not mine) the British Ambassador, because the ambassador has called for Bingu to comment on the Zimbabwe situation. Bingu says it’s not his place to comment, and that the West shouldn’t pressure Africa. Personally, I think it has more to do with the perks and favors most Southern African presidents have picked up from Mugabe. But you didn’t hear that from me.
• The president also spontaneously fired a large number of Cabinet ministers. It happens.
• Here’s a sad story from today’s paper: “Irate villagers in Nkhata Bay beat up and burned to death their 52 year-old village headman on suspicion that he bewitched a woman who rejected his love proposal.” Apparently the man admitted to driving the woman crazy with magic. If I were a witch, I think I would be better at covering up my shenanigans.
• And in a bizarre and macabre incident, a “97-year-old” man was found dead in a maize field, minus his head, his genitalia, and his intestines (I’m guessing witchcraft is somehow involved). His head was later found, without the eyes. Police in Chiradzulu have not made any arrests, because, and I quote, “Foul play was not suspected.”

Pictures from Jorge's accident

Here are some photos I'm sure you're all interested in seeing - I finally remembered to bring them in. I've also got one of the MONSTER bruise that Jorge had on his arm, but forgot it, so will add that as soon as I can.

Just after the accident. You can see how their things are strewn across the road. People started looting as soon as the car came to a stop. Oddly, though, they returned all of Jorge's books. Go figure.

The locals pushing the car to the side of the. You can see here how the tires blew out, causing the rims to dig in and the car to flip several times.

At the hospital. Apparently there was no runningwater, so the beds and examination rooms were covered with blood (and worse). Jorge said the nurses and doctors looked like butchers in their bloody aprons. The Portuguese man who picked them up brought a bed sheet from his home to cover the table.

The next day, trying to recover their stolen items. When the car flipped, the main impact was on the rear, not over the passengers, which was very fortunate.

Here you can see a close-up of the damage the back end of the vehicle. The man there is a local pastor, negotiating for the return of stolen items, including a very nice camera. It was returned in exchange for a $100 reward.

Coming soon - pictures from England!

Nothing ever works here the way it is supposed to. Take buying a plane ticket, for example. You go to the website, find the flights you want, pay with a credit card, they take your money, and presto! E-ticket!

Well, in Africa, you go to the website, find the flights you want, pay with a credit card, they take your money, and….and….um, still waiting here….

Yeah, no tickets.

Even though our credit card was charged by Kenya Airways two weeks ago. Jorge has been to the Kenya Airways office 3 times, we have called the Lilongwe Airport, and we have even called the head office in Nairobi. The reservation is confirmed, but there are no tickets associated with it. I don’t quite understand this. And apparently the people at the Kenya Airways offices can’t do anything about it, because the ticket was bought online.

I really don’t need this stress right now.

Jorge thinks it’s no big deal. They took our money, we have the reservation, he says. They have to give us the tickets.

Only this is Africa. They don’t have to do anything.

Once, while traveling with my family, I did a really stupid, Gwynnie thing and lost my plane ticket from Kenya to the U.S. (And my sister’s. She shouldn’t have let me hold it in the first place). We got to the airport 12 hours before the flight was to leave, and started trying to get the ticket reissued. The British Airways person in Nairobi said this would be no problem at all. “I just need to get authorization from the head office.”

Fastforward 11 hours and we have no time left – we need to board the flight. No one in London had answered the phone in all that time. The British Airways person tells us sorry – she can see that we have tickets, and that we have reserved seats, but she can’t let us board the plane. My dad, bless his heart, finally had to whip out the Visa and buy us new tickets, so that we paid twice for the same seats. They eventually re-funded his money, but the lesson was learnt.

In Africa, just because they take your money, it doesn’t mean you get the tickets. We are a little stressed here, folks. Let’s hope it all works out.

It just keeps coming

Bad news, that is. Yesterday one of my colleagues, the Transport Manager, died. She was in her late 30s and had been ill for some time with a severe respiratory infection. We will all go to the funeral tomorrow.

This has been a bad couple of months for the organization I work for. First, our former Assistant Country Director died in a car accident. A few weeks after that, our new Assistant Country Director developed a brain hemhorrage and had to be flown to South Africa. He is recovering, thankfully, but still has a long way to go. Shortly after that, the Country Director of the Zambia program died of a heart attack.

Then it got even worse - the brother of my colleague (and friend, and former boss) was killed in a fire-bombing attack in South Africa, more of the violence that has been occuring against immigrants in that country. The wife died a few days later from the burns, leaving a young daughter orphaned.

And of course Jorge did his damnedest to continue the trend, but luckily for me, he is made of Teflon.

Very sad, indeed. I hope things start to turn around in the next year.