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.

Nkhotakota dance par-tay!

Well, here I am in Nkhotakota, at the Sungu Motel. It meets my benchmark for hotel standards – there is a towel, soap, a mosquito net, and a fan that works. In fact, this place is rather four-star by Malawian standards – there’s a TV and what looks like a cable box, although they don't actually work, and I've been provided with sandals for the shower. However, I am not sure that wearing sandals that have been worn by countless other guests is really any better than standing on a shower floor.

Something in here smells like urine, though, and I’m pretty sure it isn’t me.

So our big event was tonight. I naively arrived on time, then waited an hour and half before everyone else showed up and we were ready to start. (Still, I just know that the one day I decide to show up late, everyone else will get there on time. So every time, I wait.)

I made my speech, and I think it went pretty well. It was mostly coherent, and I tried to not talk so fast. I always figure with public speaking, if you talk loud, clear, and slow, you’re halfway there.

Anyway, for once the speeches weren’t the main event here. Unbeknownst to me, this was not your typical NGO-government formal-schmormal talking heads evening. No, this was a shin-dig. A hootenanny, if you will. Open bar, DJ, and people drunk before the party even started – it almost felt like I was in New Orleans again.

As soon as the speeches were over, it was announced by the MC that I should take the floor with the District Environmental Health Officer, along with three other assigned couples made up of the bigwigs of the night, for the first dance. Now, I might seem like a pretty outgoing person, but dancing in front of a room full of people – ummm, not really my thing. But I did it, because this is my job.

And actually, I had a really great time. The other Malawians eventually took the floor, and the men, once they’ve had a few drinks, dance with such joyous abandon that you can’t help but get sucked in. The women are a bit more reserved, but even they get in on the action. So there I was, getting jiggy with the top brass of Nkhotakota district. A few guys even asked for my number (I politely declined). Seriously, it was like I was in New Orleans again, only with lots of termites flying around and me wearing a suit. Good times, man, good times.


Oh, and eventually I will get the pictures of me and my "first dance" off or our Communications Officer and post them here. But I have seem them already, and I can assure you, I look like a tool. I think a long career of looking awkward at official functions awaits me.

So, I have a whole companion piece to my last post all ready in my head, but I literally have no time to write it. This last week I was in the office all of 5 hours, and, hard as this may be to believe, I actually had to work during all that time.

So today I'm here on a Sunday trying to catch up with e-mails, but I have promised my husband not to vanish for the whole day. So again, that post is just going to have to wait.

On Tuesday I'm traveling to the Deep South of Malawi - Nsanje. I will be there all the way up until Saturday afternoon. I'm hopnig after that things will start to ease up just a wee bit.

It's been a fun weekend so far, though. A friend dropped by yesterday with freshly baked goodies for us, then last night we went to a party, where we were asked to dress as our musical heroes. Jorge was Jimmy Buffet - we didn't have a parrot, so he taped a raccoon to his shoulder (oddly enough, everyone still knew who he was supposed to be!)

And I was Pat Benetar. My costume was AWESOME. I looked just like this:

I have pictures to prove it. Unfortunately for you, though, we left the camera cable in New Orleans, and so cannot upload any photos. So you will just have to believe that I was the hardest-rockin' 80's rocker chick at the party.

Happy birthday to me!

It's my birthday! Yay for me being born! Thank God my parents weren't so fastidious with the birth control, ya know what I mean? (My mom, bless her heart for thinking I'd actually be concerned about this sort of thing, once told me: "You weren't an accident, honey. You were a pleasant surprise")

So what are the plans, you ask? Well, a few days ago I realized that my birthday was coming up, and fast, and I had a bit of a meltdown. For one thing, Jorge and Milo are still away, and I have spent every birthday with my husband for the last 7 years. But even worse, I suddenly realized I have almost no friend left here.

This has been the year of the friend diaspora. They're dropping like flies. First Cassandra - that was a blow - then Ann, Christine, Alisha, Emily...Each departure takes a little bit out of me. Then last week I got the news that Amy is leaving soon, too, and I just about lost it. While it's cool to have 'couple friends' and all that, I really need my girlfriends - people who know me as me, on my own, not as a mom or half of a married couple.

I was a bit lost - I sure didn't want to spend my birthday alone, but I didn't exaclty wan tto have to throw myself a party. That seems laml. And wouldn't you know it - my girls pulled through for me, with dinner, drinks, and hopefully dancing (there's a Michael Jackson tribute party tonight). And we've decided to suck in a few ladies that I don't know all that well, but who seem cool. The plan is to start rebuilding the ranks. So tonight is ladies night, people, and I plan to live it up. Hope you all have a fun weekend as well.

Today is a holiday in Malawi - Martyr's Day. Jorge and I ditched Milo with the babysitter and are at my office making use of the internet.

Milo was pretty sick last week, with a fever and bad cough. I had to go out of town for a night for work, so I felt very guilty about leaving him, but his papa is pretty capable. He's doing much better now. Look, he's even happy about being stuck in a laundry basket while we do chores!

Oh, which brings me to something that annoyed me recently. I have this silly book about babies, written by Dr. Sears, who is the famous physician and advocate for "attachment parenting." Anyway, Jorge and I both flipped through the book and were stunned by the sexism. I mean, I know it's not common for the father to be the primary caregiver, but it does happen. The entire book seemed to be based on the assumption that the mother would be the one who really "knows" the child, and that the father would be at work all day, and just popping in every now and again to toss a ball around with the kid. Have we really not come farther than that?

In Milo news, he got his 7th tooth yesterday. That kid is just dying to eat some ribs, I can tell! Jorge claimed that he also took his first steps yesterday, but I am doubtful. After all, it's Jorge's word alone, you know what I mean?

And last week we had our 3rd annual Mardi Gras party. Our parties keep getting smaller, because we're not making friends fast enough to replace the ones that are leaving for new jobs. But here are a few pictures from a very fun night:

Finally, the rest of the news is:

My contract is being extended to the end of May. So we have an end date in sight, and are having to get used to the idea of leaving Malawi.

We've got tickets to Cape town for Easter! Jorge is running the Two Oceans race with a group of friends. It should be a terrific week.

Almost everything is sorted now

There's this amazing thing that happens when I complain - the problem goes away! It's like when I'm having trouble with my computer for hours (or more often days) and then I finally give in and call IT, and the minute their car rolls in, the problem resolves itself. I should complain more often. Why haven't I figured this out before?

So yesterday I finally got a response from the man in Kenya who issues the airline tickets. We got the ticket numbers and had the Kenya Airways office here print us out the confirmation. Unfortunately all the bulkhead seats (with the bassinets for babies) are taken now, so it means we'll probably be crammed into some middle seats with a 20-pound child squeezed on top of us for the whole flight. What's really aggravating is that it's always some healthy, 30-something man sitting in the bulkhead seats. Yes, they might be tall, but I have an extra person. Who do you think needs the room more?

Jorge's visa came back quickly - just one week processing time - so perhaps my UK passport isn't useless after all.

Now we just need our passports.

Oh, did I not mention that we don't have our passports? My Malawian residency permit was finally approved a week ago, so I took our passports to the office so they could be processed at Immigration. However, our administrator has yet to travel to Blantyre to do this. But since everything else has worked out OK so far, I am just going to assume that, oh, a few hours before we depart Malawi, I'll finally have everything together for the trip. No use worrying, right?

In other news, Milo is officially crawling. His break-dancing days are over for now, sadly. He also stands up in his crib and screams to be taken out. Not a cute development. And this morning he decided to get up at 4:30. When we finally brought him to our bed at 5:30 out of exhaustion, he peed on our sheets. Jorge as been calling him "turd blossom" ever since.

Today is also our staff Christmas party. I offered to host it at my house. There will be about 30 people, and we already have 120 soft drinks and 50 chairs. That's a Malawian party for you. But I think it will be really fun; I'm sure I'll have stories for you next week.

The training looks like it's finally going to happen, so next week I'll be up North, out of the office. Because I'm breastfeeding, I'll be commuting - an hour each way - instead of staying at the training venue. It's going to be a long week, I can tell you.

Unfortunately, today I seem to have come down with a cold, so that is going to make training a bit more difficult. Milo has also been sick, and not sleeping well as a result. So it's been pretty tiring around here lately.

I do have some good news though - success on the cake front! My first chocolate cake attempt, last weekend, didn't work out. The cake tasted good, but it just fell to pieces when I tried to cut it. But this weekend I made a strawberry cake with fresh strawberries. Nummers. So I'm 2 for 3 so far. Next up: red velvet cake. I love my new hobby.

Also, I managed to get out of the house last night and go to a party. Had too much wine, stayed up too late, and sang very loudly. So really, a great night. I'm paying for it today though!

Belle of the ball

One of the nicer compliments my sister ever paid me was something along the lines of "Oh, Gwyneth, you're not an airhead...you're more of a...butterfly." Meaning, of course, that I just flit from here to there without always having an evident purpose.

This weekend I definitely felt like a butterfly, but in a good, social, way. The last week was full of activity. It started out with a nice dinner with friends at a very strange new, Chinese-run, restaurant, where every other dish we ordered was met with "oh nooooo....you won't like that one" by the petite little Asian waitress. (We overrided her protestations and were pleasantly surprised with how much we like the food indeed).

Then on Thursday my friend Leslie had her second annual Valentine's Day party. Here is a picture of me posing as Jorge's fallen-from-grace prom date (ooh, and you can see my new haircut as well!):

On Friday we went out again with friends, this time to an Ethiopian restaurant. Mmmm, injera.

Saturday was pretty packed - we drove out to the dam for our last sailing day for a long while. On the way there we rescued a slow-moving chameleon from the road. After crushing Jorge's poor little hopes ("Can we keep it? Pleeease?") we relocated the little guy to the relative luxury of the sailing club, where I learned that Malawians are terrified of chameleons (the poor guide almost turned white). The poor lizard was then taunted for an hour by small children wielding sticks, until he escaped up a tree. I just hope he doesn't have a little lizard wife and kids sitting at home wondering why dad never came home...

That evening there were two parties to attend; yes, yours truly is very much sought-after.

On Sunday we went to church, which was Jorge's idea, so rather surprising, really. He has decided that now we are to become parents, we need to start pretending to be good, moral people, so as to fool the kids for as long as possible. After church we went to brunch at a friend's house, where I think I ate my weight in homemade bagels. Finally, yesterday evening, after Jorge's ultimate frisbee game, a friend threw a little potluck dinner to wish us farewell, which was nice.

Now I am just focusing on getting through one last work-week. I am ready for a break from work!

Got de baby!

My friend Francisca says that in Guinea, when women are pregnant they say "I got de baby."

It's a tradition in Louisiana to have King Cake, a bready, glazed cake, often filled with cream cheese or praline (or both, my favorite). Inside the cake you put a little plastic baby, and whoever gets the piece of cake with the baby in it has to throw the next party.

So we threw our annual Mardi Gras party on Tuesday and had friends over for jambalaya, king cake, and plenty of tasty blended drinks. When it was time to make the King Cake, we realized we had no baby bead. In stepped our friend Christine, whose parents used to live in New Orleans, and who had, unexpectedly, a stock of Mardi Gras paraphenalia at her house. She shoved the baby somewhere in the cake, then poked lots of holes so we wouldn't know which piece had it.

At the end of the night, we brought out the cake, explained the tradition, and my friend Leslie took over cake-cutting responsibility. I thought the cake was a little light on the filling, so I directed Leslie to give me a slice from the more filled side. She refused. I told her it was my house, and my cake, and I'll have whichever slice I like! And she yelled "No! You just want that piece because you know it has the baby!!"

"Ummm. OK. Well, NOW I know it has the baby." ("You doofus", I wanted to add). Christine actually had to step in and tell Leslie I didn't put the baby in the cake. Seriously, I thought Leslie might just hit me for a second there!

So, turns out not only do I "got de baby," I also got the baby. And now have to throw the next Mardi Gras party. Which I was going to do anyway.

Goin' away

I don't have too much to write about, because I haven't finished going through my trip photos. Angkor Wat will be up soon, though, I promise.

Over the weekend Jorge and I drove out to Salima. Our friend Bethany is leaving Malawi in about a week, and as a nice way to send her off, her roommate Ann planned a weekend getaway for Bethany and her friends - there were about 20 of us in total, and we rented out a beach house by the lake.

Going-away parties are an ever-present thing in expat life. Every couple of weeks I'm invited to a barbecue, cocktail party, dinner, or other event to say goodbye to a friend. Most of these people I will never see, or even hear from, again. A small number become life-long friends, keeping in touch by sporadic e-mail over the years.

You get used to all the coming and going, but it's always a bit sad. Because everyone has been new at some point or another, people are friendlier to new arrivals, and you make friends fast. But most of the time those friends leave just when you're really starting to get to know eachother. I live with the sad knowledge that I have had so many "almost" friends - people I would have really built a bond with had we only had more time together.

So I say goodbye to another friend, and wish her a wonderful life wherever she may end up.

Arriba, arriba!!!

Jorge and I had our first real party over the weekend, for Cinco de Mayo. I say “real” because I had a little Mardi Gras party back in February, but it was a weekday, and there was a huge storm, so not many people showed up. So it was really more of a gathering.

Of course, it’s Africa, so everyone showed up about 3 hours late. So I spent the first 2 hours worried that no one would come at all and that I would get a reputation for lame parties. For some reason, my party reputation matters to me very, very much. I have always thrown pretty kick-ass parties, although I’m sure there are a couple duds in there that I’ve blocked from my memory. My wedding was one big 3-day drunken bacchanalia. (And it was awesome, I whisper in hushed, reverent tones).

I think the secret to a good party is this: tight spaces and limited seating. I once held a party in a one-room studio apartment in Washington DC that was so cramped people were actually hanging out in my walk-in closet. At my wedding I had the reception site get rid of 25% of the chairs so people would have to stand and mingle. After all, if you’re already standing, you might as well be dancing, right?

The party had a Latin theme, naturally. Jorge put together a great play list of salsa and merengue music, and you could tell a few people really wanted to dance but were too shy. I got Jorge out on the floor after he’d had a few beers, though. I love dancing with Jorge – he’s exactly the right size for me, and after 6 years, we’ve got each other’s moves down pretty well.

Oh, and the star of the evening? Our one duty-free bottle of tequila, hoarded since March from our last flight through Nairobi . Like Jesus and the fishes, I made that baby last. I think I got about 5 liters of margaritas out of it, and they weren’t weak either. All around it was a really good night.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get any good photos to document the festivities, but here’s a crappy one of Jorge and me on the dance floor:

And these are the roses we bought to decorate. 100 export-quality roses for 7 dollars. Man I love Malawi.

Pictures from Mardi Gras

Well, I have some rotten luck. Around about 4 o'clock on the day of my very first party in Malawi, a huge storm hit Lilongwe. I had to pick up a few last items, so I dashed for the car after work, getting soaked. Then when I got home I found that the power was out. Well, that's not unusual here, so I went off to the store, decorated the king cake, and showered while there was still a bit of light left. Then I noticed that all the neighbors had power - it was only my house that was out. Tried the fusebox - there was a short in the system.

So I went over to my neighbor's house, and they were nice enough to let me use their stove to cook the rice and beans. Just as the food was almost finished, the power in the whole city went down.

Fortunately I have a lot of candles, and a good long battery life on my computer.

We still had a good time, though, and the candlelight was actually a nice touch. A lot of people couldn't make it, though, due to trees down in their neighborhoods and the bad weather. Well, I'll just have to have another Mardi Gras party when Jorge gets back!