I was making my last(?) tour through Kabindiza village. Gift and I walked along the dry, dusty road and chatted about day to day stuff. How many goats did he think he would have by next year, when the rains would come, what he was going to grow this year. We turned off the road and made our way through some fields and came to a clearing, to the village that is adjacent to Kabindiza. There we saw Gift’s friend. I never got his name. He was sitting down on the ground among some women and children and they were chatting. Gift shouted at him that we were going to visit his home. The man put his arms on the ground and in a half pushup, walked himself (using his hands) to his house, his feet dragging beside him. His legs were like toothpicks. His body seemed to big for him. He has polio.
We got to his house and sat down. He smiled and laughed, as we chatted about day to day stuff. He told Gift his radio was broken. Gift said he would fix it. We talked about the weather, the planting season, and he asked about Gift’s family. We shook hands and Gift and I took our leave.
I was sitting in my friend Martha’s house. We chat about the weather, about her mother, about her son Philip, who is terrified of me. She shows me around the house, which her and her mother rent for 1500 kwacha per month. She shows me her room, which is empty save for a mosquito net. She shows me her mother’s room, which is empty, except for a few clothes, and a mosquito net. We walk out of the house and stroll over to where some bricks are baking in the sun. Martha is building a room where she can bathe. It won’t be pretty, but it will be something. We chat a bit more, and we laugh and joke with one another. I look at the time and realize that I have to leave. Martha’s mother asks me if I’m really going to leave without eating. I know they have nothing to give, so I reply that I am. Martha walks me back to the road where I can catch a bus. In a low voice, she asks me if I would be willing to buy her some relish for their meal. I give her 40 kwacha (30 cents Canadian). We laugh and joke a bit more before we get to the road. I say my goodbye and leave.
Women, who walk for hours every day, a baby on their back, collecting firewood. Women, who cook, clean, fetch water. They really are the backbone of humanity. Throughout Malawi, I saw people who were hungry, broke, homeless. Yet, most receive visitors with a smile, and a laugh. Many know that the future will not be bright, but they have hopes for their children, and they carry on. And even when I denied them something that they had asked for (money, clothes, ipod), they still wished me well.
When I had hurt my leg and was using a crutch, even strangers who were stricken by polio, and were using crutches were concerned about me.
In the midst of suffering, perhaps because of it, the human spirit is able to shine brightly. I think that is the greatest gift that I received while overseas. To see that, though there is a long way to go to eradicating poverty, the human spirit, though faced with hardship, denial, and suffering, will ultimately triumph.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
homeward bound
I'm sitting in the lounge in Nairobi. The sun is going down. Out the window, there is a world of infinite events, happening to a much less than infinite amount of people. How do I feel? Small. Waiting in an airport for a connection can be very tedious, boring etc. But its also a good space to reflect. Its like a stopping point in between two journeys. So, Nairobi separates me from my life in Malawi and my life in Toronto. How do I feel? Weird.
There are few places that I would ever call home. Weirdly enough, I would call Malawi home. Its strange to say, but there it is. Perhaps its a result of only staying in some place for 10 months, a result of always being on the move, of being struck with new sensations, stimuli, experiences, and learning every day. Maybe if I stuck around longer, I'd be feeling homesick for Canada, that Malawi would be turn into a routine like everything else.
Though, my life in Malawi, was pretty routine. Get up, go to work, come home, cook, etc. Maybe, it's easy to look back at something and see it more fondly than it was. Then again, its easy to look back and see it for being worse.
I'll miss Malawi. I already do. As my buddy Graham said, "this is good living." it really is. Okay, reflection is over. Time to look ahead. Time look forward. Hello Canada.
There are few places that I would ever call home. Weirdly enough, I would call Malawi home. Its strange to say, but there it is. Perhaps its a result of only staying in some place for 10 months, a result of always being on the move, of being struck with new sensations, stimuli, experiences, and learning every day. Maybe if I stuck around longer, I'd be feeling homesick for Canada, that Malawi would be turn into a routine like everything else.
Though, my life in Malawi, was pretty routine. Get up, go to work, come home, cook, etc. Maybe, it's easy to look back at something and see it more fondly than it was. Then again, its easy to look back and see it for being worse.
I'll miss Malawi. I already do. As my buddy Graham said, "this is good living." it really is. Okay, reflection is over. Time to look ahead. Time look forward. Hello Canada.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Mama, I'm coming home.
This is my last week in Malawi.
Tomorrow I get on a bus for Lusaka. Then I jump on a plane to Toronto. Then to Fort Mac. It is difficult to leave. Malawi is such a beautiful country filled with so many great people. It really is the warm heart of Africa. Not only will I miss my many Malawian friends, I will also miss the Engineers without Borders crew. Never before have I been in a group of such warm-hearted, intelligent, hard working people. If you ever have the chance to go overseas with them, take it.
Tomorrow I get on a bus for Lusaka. Then I jump on a plane to Toronto. Then to Fort Mac. It is difficult to leave. Malawi is such a beautiful country filled with so many great people. It really is the warm heart of Africa. Not only will I miss my many Malawian friends, I will also miss the Engineers without Borders crew. Never before have I been in a group of such warm-hearted, intelligent, hard working people. If you ever have the chance to go overseas with them, take it.
Last time? in Kabindiza
Last weekend was an interesting weekend. Both happy, sad, and interesting. I won't tell you all of it, but I'll tell you some.
I headed out to Kabindiza village to see the family that I had stayed with. I had been gone for a very long time, so they were skeptical that I would ever show up again. I brought my bicycle with me, as I figured it would be a nice gesture to leave it there.
I got to the minibus in Lilongwe and asked if I could bring the bike. They agreed but for MK350. I knew I was getting ripped off, but i really didn't care. I just wanted to transport the bike. I jumped on the back of the bus. On the way there, the conductor tried to collect the MK350 from me, but there was such an uproar from the other passengers, all shocked that he would charge me that much that we settled for MK100. Beauty!
The minibus stops in Nkhoma. The bike ride from Nkhoma to Kabindiza was absolutely beautiful. Whizzing by small farms on a dirt road, with the mountains in the distance was amazing. I enjoyed waving to people, old men and women sitting on the door steps of their mud houses, men working in the field, women carrying goods from the market on their heads, the children running to the road to stare at the white dude on the bike, all of them crying out, "Azungu!" It was a lot of fun.
In Kabindiza, I was greeted warmly, as usual. I stayed with Barrack and his family again, and we had nsima for dinner, with some pumpkin leaves for relish. It was great. There have been some changes since I last left. Little Mphatso no longer runs his store, apparently, he ate his capital. Same for the guys who sell chips on the side of the road. Across from Barrack, a new mud house has gone up, apparently a new tea room. The house is built slightly askew, and with the thatching looks a bit ominous, almost like a haunted ghost.
That night, the most amazing thunderstorm took place. Lightning flashes in the distance, and from 3 different sides (270 degrees). The flashes were so bright, you were temporarily blinded. It was pretty cool. Then the clouds hit us and it rained hard, for about 20 - 30 minutes. Everybody was happy. The first rains of the season. My friend Gift remarked, "You've brought the rains." We spent the weekend visiting in the village, talking about farming, about Canada, about Malawi, about life. Its funny how quickly a place becomes home.
Although everyone was asking me to stay longer, I knew my welcome was wearing thin. The fertilizer subsidy is upon us. Some in the villages get coupons so they can buy fertilizer for a much cheaper price. Tomorrow was the day when they would go to the trading centre to pick some up. Unfortunately, there aren't enough coupons for every family in the village (31 coupons for 85 families) so people have to share them. Don't believe the hype in the newspapers. I woke up from my vacation reverie when I saw how Regina, my host mom, and her sister in law each struggled to put MK800 together so they could each buy a bag of subsidized fertilizer. MK800 is about US$5.50
The next day, I left early because I knew both Barrack and Gift wanted to get back their fertilizer. I pondered if I should stay longer and help them get the fertilizer. The night before, I got word that my neighbour in Lilongwe had died, so I decided I should head back for the funeral.
As I was walking to Nkhoma (about 7 km from Kabindiza), Barrack and Gift fell into step determined to walk me the way. I protested but new it was futile, that's Malawian hospitality. Luckily a bus came by. A bus came by? when does that happen? A quick handshake and a hug and on my way home to Lilongwe.
I headed out to Kabindiza village to see the family that I had stayed with. I had been gone for a very long time, so they were skeptical that I would ever show up again. I brought my bicycle with me, as I figured it would be a nice gesture to leave it there.
I got to the minibus in Lilongwe and asked if I could bring the bike. They agreed but for MK350. I knew I was getting ripped off, but i really didn't care. I just wanted to transport the bike. I jumped on the back of the bus. On the way there, the conductor tried to collect the MK350 from me, but there was such an uproar from the other passengers, all shocked that he would charge me that much that we settled for MK100. Beauty!
The minibus stops in Nkhoma. The bike ride from Nkhoma to Kabindiza was absolutely beautiful. Whizzing by small farms on a dirt road, with the mountains in the distance was amazing. I enjoyed waving to people, old men and women sitting on the door steps of their mud houses, men working in the field, women carrying goods from the market on their heads, the children running to the road to stare at the white dude on the bike, all of them crying out, "Azungu!" It was a lot of fun.
In Kabindiza, I was greeted warmly, as usual. I stayed with Barrack and his family again, and we had nsima for dinner, with some pumpkin leaves for relish. It was great. There have been some changes since I last left. Little Mphatso no longer runs his store, apparently, he ate his capital. Same for the guys who sell chips on the side of the road. Across from Barrack, a new mud house has gone up, apparently a new tea room. The house is built slightly askew, and with the thatching looks a bit ominous, almost like a haunted ghost.
That night, the most amazing thunderstorm took place. Lightning flashes in the distance, and from 3 different sides (270 degrees). The flashes were so bright, you were temporarily blinded. It was pretty cool. Then the clouds hit us and it rained hard, for about 20 - 30 minutes. Everybody was happy. The first rains of the season. My friend Gift remarked, "You've brought the rains." We spent the weekend visiting in the village, talking about farming, about Canada, about Malawi, about life. Its funny how quickly a place becomes home.
Although everyone was asking me to stay longer, I knew my welcome was wearing thin. The fertilizer subsidy is upon us. Some in the villages get coupons so they can buy fertilizer for a much cheaper price. Tomorrow was the day when they would go to the trading centre to pick some up. Unfortunately, there aren't enough coupons for every family in the village (31 coupons for 85 families) so people have to share them. Don't believe the hype in the newspapers. I woke up from my vacation reverie when I saw how Regina, my host mom, and her sister in law each struggled to put MK800 together so they could each buy a bag of subsidized fertilizer. MK800 is about US$5.50
The next day, I left early because I knew both Barrack and Gift wanted to get back their fertilizer. I pondered if I should stay longer and help them get the fertilizer. The night before, I got word that my neighbour in Lilongwe had died, so I decided I should head back for the funeral.
As I was walking to Nkhoma (about 7 km from Kabindiza), Barrack and Gift fell into step determined to walk me the way. I protested but new it was futile, that's Malawian hospitality. Luckily a bus came by. A bus came by? when does that happen? A quick handshake and a hug and on my way home to Lilongwe.
Malawian Travel Time
This morning, I’m in Karonga. I am heading to the uranium mine Kaylekera to have a look at what is going on over there. Yesterday, on the way from Mzuzu to Karonga, I started chatting with the conductor on the minibus. Edwards (conductor) gave me some of the inside scoop on how to get to Kaylekera. Apparently, there should be a bus carrying workers from Karonga every so often and I should be able to hitch a ride.
So this morning, I leave my small hostel room and try to find the bus. Guess what? No bus. I see a matola heading to Chitipa, and Kaylekera is on the way to Chitipa. But its only 8:30 am and I need to get there by 3 pm. So what to do in the meantime? I see a sign that says Kaylekera is only 55 km away.
I run into Edwards again, he explains that the matola should drop me off at a T intersection and that Kaylekera is 5 km from the T intersection. He also mentions that there should be cars running back and forth from the T intersection and will also take you for a small fee. I have plenty of time.
Woah! Red Flag! I don’t have plenty of time. In Canada I would see a 55 km sign and estimate, okay a 1/2 hour to get there, 1 hour tops. But I’m in Malawi, time to do some Malawian math.
Time now = 8:30 am
Time I need to be at Kaylekera = 3 pm
I’m taking a matola which is basically riding in the back of a truck. They don’t leave on scheduled times and only when their full. The road is most likely dirt all the way there. So 1 hour normal travel time will stretch into 3 hours. Also, there might not be another matola after this.
Also, Edwards said that there are cars at the T intersection, and that it is 5 km. He seemed a bit uncertain of the total distance. As a rule, Malawians are not strict on time, and they tend to like to please so they will often underestimate distances that you have to travel, perhaps to keep you from wimping out. So, cars waiting probably means no cars waiting, and 5 km probably means 10 or more. So add 2 more hours walking time.
My 1 hour has now stretched to 5 hours.
I’m still hanging with Edwards, the time is now 9 am. Yup, I better get on the Matola. I jump on. I wait on there until about 10 when we finally take off. We get to the T junction by noon. There are no cars waiting. The sign at the side of the road says Kaylekera 12 km. After a 2 hour hike, I reach Kaylekera. The sun is brutal and I’m a mess of sweat. It’s 2 pm. Yup, 5 hours. Malawian travel time.
So this morning, I leave my small hostel room and try to find the bus. Guess what? No bus. I see a matola heading to Chitipa, and Kaylekera is on the way to Chitipa. But its only 8:30 am and I need to get there by 3 pm. So what to do in the meantime? I see a sign that says Kaylekera is only 55 km away.
I run into Edwards again, he explains that the matola should drop me off at a T intersection and that Kaylekera is 5 km from the T intersection. He also mentions that there should be cars running back and forth from the T intersection and will also take you for a small fee. I have plenty of time.
Woah! Red Flag! I don’t have plenty of time. In Canada I would see a 55 km sign and estimate, okay a 1/2 hour to get there, 1 hour tops. But I’m in Malawi, time to do some Malawian math.
Time now = 8:30 am
Time I need to be at Kaylekera = 3 pm
I’m taking a matola which is basically riding in the back of a truck. They don’t leave on scheduled times and only when their full. The road is most likely dirt all the way there. So 1 hour normal travel time will stretch into 3 hours. Also, there might not be another matola after this.
Also, Edwards said that there are cars at the T intersection, and that it is 5 km. He seemed a bit uncertain of the total distance. As a rule, Malawians are not strict on time, and they tend to like to please so they will often underestimate distances that you have to travel, perhaps to keep you from wimping out. So, cars waiting probably means no cars waiting, and 5 km probably means 10 or more. So add 2 more hours walking time.
My 1 hour has now stretched to 5 hours.
I’m still hanging with Edwards, the time is now 9 am. Yup, I better get on the Matola. I jump on. I wait on there until about 10 when we finally take off. We get to the T junction by noon. There are no cars waiting. The sign at the side of the road says Kaylekera 12 km. After a 2 hour hike, I reach Kaylekera. The sun is brutal and I’m a mess of sweat. It’s 2 pm. Yup, 5 hours. Malawian travel time.
Newspaper article from March
Here is a newspaper article from March that I dug up. I'm not posting this as a value judgement, but merely to highlight the realities of Malawian Life. Not everyone believes in witchcraft, but a lot of people do. Also, you can get a strong sense of the values present through the style of reporting.
2 children die in inferno, mothers arrested
Two sisters have stunned people of Mondiwa Village, Traditional Aughority Machinjiri in Blantyre after they allegedly threw their two children on a raging fire on Saturday - burning them to death - claiming the children were practicing witchcraft.
The sisters - Agnes Kamanga-Gadama, 30, and Catherine Kamanga, 23 - are also alleged to have locked up their four children (including the two who died on Saturday) in their house for a week without food, saying (the mothers) were praying and fasting to rid their children of witchcraft.
The tortured children are Mayankho Gadama (9), Martin Gadama (7), James Gadama (3) and Pemphero Phiri (eight months). Agnes is mother to the first three while Catherine is parent to Pemphero.
Mayankho and Martin died in the inferno while James and Pemphero were rescued from the ordeal by villagers who rushed to the house after getting suspicious.
The two mothers have since been arrested and as of yesterday morning they were being held at Bangwe Police Station.
According to Limbe Police spokesperson Chifundo Chibwezo, the sisters - who hail from Nkhotakota - say they are members of a reputable established church (name withheld). “They say as Christians, they decided to pray and fast when their children allegedly confessed to practicing witchcraft.
“According to the neighbours, they would hear some shouting coming from the house but the children were never seen outside [the house],” said Chibwezo.
But things took to a dramatic and shocking turn Saturday afternoon when a passer-by saw the suspects roughly beating up the children outside the house as the smoke was seen inside the house.
“The passer-by rushed to the village elders to alert them about the incident and when people rushed to the house, they found Mayankho and Martin lying dead with burns all over.
“the villagers quickly grabbed James and Pemphero and put out the fire. The matter was reported to Police. James and Pemphero were rushed to Queen Elizabeth Central Hospital as they were dehydrated from the fasting and had inhaled a lot of smoke,” siad Chibwezo.
However, in an interview at the Police station yesterday, the sisters denied having killed the children.
“We did not throw the children on fire. We were just praying for them because they confessed they were wizards. While we prayed for them, they would vomit things like vegetables, snails and frogs.
“Strange things were happening. THe wall clock also started talking. Then Mayankho and Martin just fell down,” alleged Agnes, who spoke confidently without stuttering.
But when asked why the children had burns, the two - who did not seem shaken after being shown the pictures of the deceased burnt bodies - just fell silent without an answer.
Throughout the interview, the two remained composed without shading a tear even after the news that Mayankho and Martin did not survive the ordeal.
Agnes’s husband, Gadama, is currently serving a one-year and five months jail term at Chichiri Prison in Blantyre after being convicted of theft last year. Catherine divorced her husband in 2004. The families moved from Nkhotakota to Blantyre in 2003.
As of yesterday, toddlers James and Pemphero were receiving treatment at the hospital after being starved of food for a week. Mayankho and Martin’s bodies were at the mortuary awaiting postmortem.
2 children die in inferno, mothers arrested
Two sisters have stunned people of Mondiwa Village, Traditional Aughority Machinjiri in Blantyre after they allegedly threw their two children on a raging fire on Saturday - burning them to death - claiming the children were practicing witchcraft.
The sisters - Agnes Kamanga-Gadama, 30, and Catherine Kamanga, 23 - are also alleged to have locked up their four children (including the two who died on Saturday) in their house for a week without food, saying (the mothers) were praying and fasting to rid their children of witchcraft.
The tortured children are Mayankho Gadama (9), Martin Gadama (7), James Gadama (3) and Pemphero Phiri (eight months). Agnes is mother to the first three while Catherine is parent to Pemphero.
Mayankho and Martin died in the inferno while James and Pemphero were rescued from the ordeal by villagers who rushed to the house after getting suspicious.
The two mothers have since been arrested and as of yesterday morning they were being held at Bangwe Police Station.
According to Limbe Police spokesperson Chifundo Chibwezo, the sisters - who hail from Nkhotakota - say they are members of a reputable established church (name withheld). “They say as Christians, they decided to pray and fast when their children allegedly confessed to practicing witchcraft.
“According to the neighbours, they would hear some shouting coming from the house but the children were never seen outside [the house],” said Chibwezo.
But things took to a dramatic and shocking turn Saturday afternoon when a passer-by saw the suspects roughly beating up the children outside the house as the smoke was seen inside the house.
“The passer-by rushed to the village elders to alert them about the incident and when people rushed to the house, they found Mayankho and Martin lying dead with burns all over.
“the villagers quickly grabbed James and Pemphero and put out the fire. The matter was reported to Police. James and Pemphero were rushed to Queen Elizabeth Central Hospital as they were dehydrated from the fasting and had inhaled a lot of smoke,” siad Chibwezo.
However, in an interview at the Police station yesterday, the sisters denied having killed the children.
“We did not throw the children on fire. We were just praying for them because they confessed they were wizards. While we prayed for them, they would vomit things like vegetables, snails and frogs.
“Strange things were happening. THe wall clock also started talking. Then Mayankho and Martin just fell down,” alleged Agnes, who spoke confidently without stuttering.
But when asked why the children had burns, the two - who did not seem shaken after being shown the pictures of the deceased burnt bodies - just fell silent without an answer.
Throughout the interview, the two remained composed without shading a tear even after the news that Mayankho and Martin did not survive the ordeal.
Agnes’s husband, Gadama, is currently serving a one-year and five months jail term at Chichiri Prison in Blantyre after being convicted of theft last year. Catherine divorced her husband in 2004. The families moved from Nkhotakota to Blantyre in 2003.
As of yesterday, toddlers James and Pemphero were receiving treatment at the hospital after being starved of food for a week. Mayankho and Martin’s bodies were at the mortuary awaiting postmortem.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Dignity
I'm riding matola from an engineering conference by the beach (I know, tough life). We're whizzing by villages, passing mud huts with grass roofs, clothes lines up, with children running around. Adults are sitting in the shade that their roofs provide and are chatting happily. I see an old woman walking around bare foot through the dust and dirt, carrying tomatoes. I think about this old woman. You know, a lot of us might look at her and pity her. But, she carries a lot of dignity. She looks happy. She just wants to make sure her kids and grandkids are okay, like any grandma. The only difference between her and me, aside from our gender and age, is that my life might have a bit more of a safety net to it. Welfare, health care etc. Or so I hope, sometimes I think we all walk a fine line, just at the edge of the precipice, but that's a story for another day.
This woman, she has never used a computer, never driven a car. She's woken with the sun, and gone to bed with the moon. She doesn't think about cell phones, or what the latest fashion is in Italy. She hasn't attended a football match, yet she is dignified. There are so many different ways of living. A lot of times, my life in Canada has been racing after things that I thought I needed, that I thought I wanted, that I thought were necessary to fulfill my part in the social contract. But, really there is no more value in my life than there is in hers. Mine might be more varied, and I might have more opportunity to try new and different things, but at the end of it, her friends and family will mourn her at her funeral just as mine will me. She is important to someone, and has contributed to the life of someone. I hope I can do the same.
As an overseas volunteer, I am not here to bring dignity to her. She already carries much more than I can ever give. She has much more than I do. All I want to see is that her vulnerability is reduced. That when she gets sick, there is a hospital. That when her kids or grandkids need to learn, there is a school. That the scourge of HIV/AIDS transitions from reality to memory. I'm not kidding myself. I can't do any of these things, but I want to see them done. We can all work together to see these happen. We can reduce vulnerability. She already possesses dignity. She recognizes it in herself. Perhaps, we will all work to eliminate these vulnerabilities when we recognize it in her as well.
This woman, she has never used a computer, never driven a car. She's woken with the sun, and gone to bed with the moon. She doesn't think about cell phones, or what the latest fashion is in Italy. She hasn't attended a football match, yet she is dignified. There are so many different ways of living. A lot of times, my life in Canada has been racing after things that I thought I needed, that I thought I wanted, that I thought were necessary to fulfill my part in the social contract. But, really there is no more value in my life than there is in hers. Mine might be more varied, and I might have more opportunity to try new and different things, but at the end of it, her friends and family will mourn her at her funeral just as mine will me. She is important to someone, and has contributed to the life of someone. I hope I can do the same.
As an overseas volunteer, I am not here to bring dignity to her. She already carries much more than I can ever give. She has much more than I do. All I want to see is that her vulnerability is reduced. That when she gets sick, there is a hospital. That when her kids or grandkids need to learn, there is a school. That the scourge of HIV/AIDS transitions from reality to memory. I'm not kidding myself. I can't do any of these things, but I want to see them done. We can all work together to see these happen. We can reduce vulnerability. She already possesses dignity. She recognizes it in herself. Perhaps, we will all work to eliminate these vulnerabilities when we recognize it in her as well.
Rainy Season
The weather is hot. We're expecting the rainy season to start soon, and let me tell you it will be a welcome respite from this heat. Although, it will probably still be hot, and will just add some humidity. It hasn't rained (aside from the odd spittle) here in about 6 months. Malawi, according to the department of water only has 1500 cubic metres of water per person per year in ground water and river systems, which is less than the 2000 cubic metres stated by the United Nations as required for human development. Malawi's situation is unique. What happened? My friend Graham's visit to a Stephen Carr shed some light on the situation.
Who is Stephen Carr,? you ask. He is an elderly gentleman who has been working in development throughout Southern Africa for the past fifty years. He's something of a food expert in these parts. Ol' Stevie said that one of the things that makes Malawi unique is that it has a high population density with only one rainy season. Other countries in the area either have lower population densities or have more than one growing season.
So, what do we do? Malawi needs its irrigation schemes to be developed. But how, you ask, when the water is too little for full development? Hmmm, good questions. Luckily that number doesn't include the lake, which, if you include it, pushes the number up to 3000. But, that lake would have to be used quite extensively, and the infrastructure would be enormous. All the problems seem to be magnified and compouned through and through. But I guess that is life.
Who is Stephen Carr,? you ask. He is an elderly gentleman who has been working in development throughout Southern Africa for the past fifty years. He's something of a food expert in these parts. Ol' Stevie said that one of the things that makes Malawi unique is that it has a high population density with only one rainy season. Other countries in the area either have lower population densities or have more than one growing season.
So, what do we do? Malawi needs its irrigation schemes to be developed. But how, you ask, when the water is too little for full development? Hmmm, good questions. Luckily that number doesn't include the lake, which, if you include it, pushes the number up to 3000. But, that lake would have to be used quite extensively, and the infrastructure would be enormous. All the problems seem to be magnified and compouned through and through. But I guess that is life.
Straight for the cliff
Funny thing about human nature. We see these disasters coming. Yet we do nothing to change, always hoping that we’re wrong, that it will all work itself out. The funny thing is, if we act as change agents to avert catastrophe and succeed, others will laugh at us, pointing out that the catastrophe never happened. It could very well be that the change agents prevented it.
In Malawi, the rate of deforestation is increasing. There are many parts of the country where there are very little trees. The reason that the deforestation is happening is that people use firewood to cook, to heat water, and for whatever purposes fuel is needed. The widespread deforestation is so bad that government has banned the sale of charcoal.
However, in the face of an alternative, the ban has no teeth, and people continue to use charcoal or firewood to cook. What else can they do? There is no electricity where they live, hooking up solar panels is too expensive, too complicated, and would probably not provide enough electricity to power a stove.
Eventually, Malawi will run out of trees. What then? There is a lot of talk but no action. We’re heading straight for the cliff, and we’re not even applying the brakes. I shudder to think what will happen to the family I stayed with in the village when the wood runs out.
In Malawi, the rate of deforestation is increasing. There are many parts of the country where there are very little trees. The reason that the deforestation is happening is that people use firewood to cook, to heat water, and for whatever purposes fuel is needed. The widespread deforestation is so bad that government has banned the sale of charcoal.
However, in the face of an alternative, the ban has no teeth, and people continue to use charcoal or firewood to cook. What else can they do? There is no electricity where they live, hooking up solar panels is too expensive, too complicated, and would probably not provide enough electricity to power a stove.
Eventually, Malawi will run out of trees. What then? There is a lot of talk but no action. We’re heading straight for the cliff, and we’re not even applying the brakes. I shudder to think what will happen to the family I stayed with in the village when the wood runs out.
Friday, October 17, 2008
A call to arms
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the global credit crisis. About Malawi. About food production. About energy. About change.
Malawi is a mono-crop culture. They grow maize, and they grow a lot of it. This becomes a problem because there is no crop rotation and no fallow. There is only one rainy season and very little irrigation. When you have a small plot that you need to feed your family with, and you live in a staple-food culture (nsima, made from maize), well, it’s obvious what you are going to plant. The government has tried to fix this situation by subsidizing fertilizer, and in reality, its working. Maize yields are up this year and it is unlikely that there will be a food shortage. However, a problem may exist because much of this fertilizer is petro-chemical based, i.e. it comes from oil. With the market tightening for oil, it is likely that we will be seeing farmers’ dependence on fertilizer as a constraint to long term growth. A bag of fertilizer costs around MK9000 per 50 kg bag. (When subsidized, farmers can buy it for MK500). Ten years ago, it cost MK6500 per ton. In the long term, farmers may be fighting a losing battle. So, while I understand the rationale behind subsidizing fertilizer (people need to eat), I am also concerned that the problem is being avoided, being pushed into the future.
We, in the West, are not so different in our thinking. This credit crisis has shown how fragile our economy is. In reality, it likely points out how our growth rates over the past years have been largely fraudulent. We have gotten by on borrowing and consuming and borrowing rather than producing. We’re trying to fix this with changes in taxes, tweaks to borrowing rules, changes to regulation and corporate bailouts. Perhaps we’re doing the same that Malawi is doing. Look at the environment. We continue to pollute, continue to drive large vehicles, live in large houses, and degrade the environment. Most of us are environmentalists until it encroaches on our comforts, which we somehow believe we deserve. We appear to be pushing our problems into the future rather than facing them. We are going to need a dramatic shift in the way we live.
Which brings me to this idea. I was reading a document written by Donella Meadows on Leverage Points, where to push to affect change. Number 12 on her list is constants, parameters numbers (such as subsidies, taxes, standards). Tweaking these, she argues, are the least dramatic ways of producing change. She says that changing parameters can be important in the short-term, but rarely change people’s behaviour. Number 1 and 2 on her list deal with paradigms, and creating paradigm shifts. Changing the way people behave or think about things is bound to have dramatic effects.
Perhaps, in Canada, we need to have a paradigm shift. We need to rethink about how we want our economy to work, about how we want our Canada to work. Perhaps in Malawi, Malawians need to rethink about maize as a staple food. Perhaps there needs to be no staple food. Or irrigation needs to be increased, so that in the current ‘dry’ season, nitrogen-fixing crops can be planted (maize is nitrogen-consuming) and thus better maintain soil quality without the use of fertilizer.
I’m no expert on farming or planting, so perhaps my words shouldn’t be taken so seriously, and I know I’m severely simplifying the problem.
But I think, regardless of where we are and what we’re doing, we need to be open to change so that we take into consideration both the current and future effects of our behaviour. Who knows, if future generations will look back on us and admire our ingenuity, or scoff and wonder at our stupidity?
Change will not come easy, but if this is a call to arms, discipline is necessary.
Malawi is a mono-crop culture. They grow maize, and they grow a lot of it. This becomes a problem because there is no crop rotation and no fallow. There is only one rainy season and very little irrigation. When you have a small plot that you need to feed your family with, and you live in a staple-food culture (nsima, made from maize), well, it’s obvious what you are going to plant. The government has tried to fix this situation by subsidizing fertilizer, and in reality, its working. Maize yields are up this year and it is unlikely that there will be a food shortage. However, a problem may exist because much of this fertilizer is petro-chemical based, i.e. it comes from oil. With the market tightening for oil, it is likely that we will be seeing farmers’ dependence on fertilizer as a constraint to long term growth. A bag of fertilizer costs around MK9000 per 50 kg bag. (When subsidized, farmers can buy it for MK500). Ten years ago, it cost MK6500 per ton. In the long term, farmers may be fighting a losing battle. So, while I understand the rationale behind subsidizing fertilizer (people need to eat), I am also concerned that the problem is being avoided, being pushed into the future.
We, in the West, are not so different in our thinking. This credit crisis has shown how fragile our economy is. In reality, it likely points out how our growth rates over the past years have been largely fraudulent. We have gotten by on borrowing and consuming and borrowing rather than producing. We’re trying to fix this with changes in taxes, tweaks to borrowing rules, changes to regulation and corporate bailouts. Perhaps we’re doing the same that Malawi is doing. Look at the environment. We continue to pollute, continue to drive large vehicles, live in large houses, and degrade the environment. Most of us are environmentalists until it encroaches on our comforts, which we somehow believe we deserve. We appear to be pushing our problems into the future rather than facing them. We are going to need a dramatic shift in the way we live.
Which brings me to this idea. I was reading a document written by Donella Meadows on Leverage Points, where to push to affect change. Number 12 on her list is constants, parameters numbers (such as subsidies, taxes, standards). Tweaking these, she argues, are the least dramatic ways of producing change. She says that changing parameters can be important in the short-term, but rarely change people’s behaviour. Number 1 and 2 on her list deal with paradigms, and creating paradigm shifts. Changing the way people behave or think about things is bound to have dramatic effects.
Perhaps, in Canada, we need to have a paradigm shift. We need to rethink about how we want our economy to work, about how we want our Canada to work. Perhaps in Malawi, Malawians need to rethink about maize as a staple food. Perhaps there needs to be no staple food. Or irrigation needs to be increased, so that in the current ‘dry’ season, nitrogen-fixing crops can be planted (maize is nitrogen-consuming) and thus better maintain soil quality without the use of fertilizer.
I’m no expert on farming or planting, so perhaps my words shouldn’t be taken so seriously, and I know I’m severely simplifying the problem.
But I think, regardless of where we are and what we’re doing, we need to be open to change so that we take into consideration both the current and future effects of our behaviour. Who knows, if future generations will look back on us and admire our ingenuity, or scoff and wonder at our stupidity?
Change will not come easy, but if this is a call to arms, discipline is necessary.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Vacation
Yesterday, was a day off, to celebrate Eid, a Muslim holiday after Ramadan. I didn't have much to do so I just hung out around Lilongwe, and eventually met up with some other Canuck's at Ali Baba's for some tasty treats. The rest of the crew had Pizza while enjoyed some chicken kebab and fries. Not what you expected in Sub-Saharan Africa, now was it, but its there. Its amazing the difference between the city and the village. Life can be weird at times.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Eng Conference
I spent the last few days in Mangochi. I was attending an engineering conference. Funny thing, engineering conferences are boring here too.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Cool irrigation system
We jumped into a mini-bus on Saturday morning, and we were off. Okay, that's not exactly true. We waited in the back of the mini-bus for 2 hours before it took off. You could look at it that everything takes long here, or you could say that we were just too early. Regardless, you need to overestimate how much time it will take for you to get somewhere.
Enam, Graham and I got off the bus in Ntcheu, where our friend Megan lives. We walked around and found ourselves at her house, with her not there. Her roommate, Loti, let us in. Megan would be another couple of hours, he told us. She was stuck in Blantyre. No big deal. We made ourselves at home, and though we wanted to take a nap, we couldn't because Megan's bedroom was locked. We went for a walk instead. We looked at the stunning scenery. A path meanders through the village, passing houses and broken down structures. It descended down in the distance, where we could see a green forest. Beyond the forest was a lot of bare dry land. As you followed it with your eyes, you could see it touch the foothill of a mountain. The mountain then rose high creating a horizon. It was a stunning view.
Graham suggested that we walk to the forest because there was probably a river or stream there, as the greenery stood out from the dusty parched background. We walked along and we did indeed find a stream. At the stream, very low at this time of year, some women were washing some clothes. We said our hellos and crossed. As we crossed, we found ourselves in a football field beside a school. We walked beyond and were surprised to see some greenery, although this was an agricultural plot, at the foot of the mountain. It is strange to see plants at this time of year, so there had to be some irrigation system.
We walked along the fields and thought that perhaps people watered the fields with buckets. This seemed unlikely as the distance to the stream was too great and the fields were quite large. We did notice an old aqueduct system, but it seemed to be in disuse. However as we followed the system, up the mountain, we noticed that it was not quite as ancient as we thought. We saw evidence of use, in little puddles in the aqueduct system that hadn't quite evaporated. People must be using this system.
As we walked further up, we saw a large tank that had a valve at its base so watering the aqueducts could be done in a controlled fashion. This was a pretty complicated system with the ability for changes in water direction throughout the system. Impressive. But what was feeding the basin? As we walked up further, we found our answer. An underground spring feeds the basin through a series of pipes.
The villagers share the land as a co-op and use the water to grow vegetables in the dry season. Irrigation is one of the major impediments to relieving poverty in Malawi. Good nutrient filled soil is another, but that is a story for another day. This story is about a cool irrigation water system. I wish I had taken my camera with me.
Friday, September 26, 2008
We all look the same to you, don't we?
You remember that Seinfeld episode when George tells his boss that he looks like Sugar Ray Leonard? And his boss replies, "We all look the same to you, don't we?"
Well, its funny, but there is a woman in Malawi who repeatedly goes up to Azungus and tries to trick them specifically on this premise. She's tried with me. Here's the scam. I almost fell prey to it except that Megan (a fellow EWBer) had warned me about it before it happened.
She'll call you from far away, and she'll be waving and smiling. She has a baby strapped to her back. Now, because you've met so many Malawians in the last few days, you can't exactly remember all of them. She'll be smiling and say hello. Now, you start thinking to yourself, 'Oh crap, where do I know her from? I can't remember. This is so embarrassing. Should I just come out and say that I don't know her? No, I'll play along and see if I can figure it out.' Now, she looks like a woman that comes to the office once in a while. "Hi", she says. "Hello", you reply.
"You don't remember me?" She notices the stunned look on your face.
"Yeah, I remember. Sure I do."
"You know my brother, Mr. Banda."
You start thinking to yourself, 'Banda, Banda, yeah I know a Banda' (there are a lot of Banda's in Malawi, I currently know at least 10). "Yeah, he works at City Centre with me. At Department of Science and Technology."
"Yes, exactly."
Again, because you don't want to offend her, you start offering information to prove that you know her and she just smiles and nods approvingly. Whew, disaster averted.
Then she says, "My baby is sick, and I need to buy some medicine at the pharmacy. It only costs 1000 kwacha. My brother will give you the money tomorrow at work." Okay, this makes you a little uncomfortable, but you have met her before and you do know her brother. You reach into your pocket to get out the money, but then it finally hits you, Megan's warning. You remember how she explained this scam earlier. Somehow the woman sells the medicine somewhere at pockets the money. You actually start to admire this woman, it's a good scam, and she plays the part well.
"Uh, sorry, I don't have that much money on me. I can't help you." Then, as you walk away you start to realize that today is Saturday and there is no way you would meet her "brother" the next day.
The interesting thing is that this woman has approached me with the same scam twice more. So, it got me thinking. When I first got to Malawi, I had a hard time distinguishing between people. I think the reason might be is that when you first meet someone in Canada, you don't have to pay a lot of attention to distinguish them later on. They might have different hair lengths, hair colour, skin colour, eye colour etc. So, you start to use these as triggers. But how do you do that when everyone has the same skin tone, and hair cut. You have to use different triggers. I think the same works the other way. In a world full of Malawians, being an Azungu means you stick out. Therefore there is no need to identify them based on anything else. You simply look for the different person. Maybe that's why the people in my neighbourhood kept confusing me with the Japanese volunteer down the street...
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Meet the neighbours
There are a few new neighbours in my courtyard. Lonely moved out from across the way, Mwasiye has moved out as well. In their place, in a 12 x 7 ft room, now live Brenda, Essie, Mary and a woman with a baby. It must be a tight fit.
All of the girls, with the exception of Mary are going to school. Mary is 15 years old. She doesn't speak english and she only went to school up to grade 4. She is now in the employment of the woman with the baby. So, most days, she just sits around the house washing or cooking, and either takes care of the baby while the woman is at school, or does something else. There is not much to do so she probably just hangs around. Mary and my conversations are purely based around greetings in the morning and when I get home from work. I think she sees me as a curiosity.
Mary's options are limited. Since she can't speak English, her employment opportunities in the city are virtually zero. There are a lot of English speaking people out of work. English is also a sure sign of education. Hey life will probably take one of two roads. Either she will get married and depend on her husband for income, or she will stay employed as a 'house girl' looking after the cooking and cleaning for another woman. I'm not trying to be pessimistic or down on Mary. That's just the most likely possibility. I think about what the heck I was doing at 15. It seems a world away. But perhaps, my world view is wrong or naive. It wasn't that long ago, that people at that age in North America and Europe were working and starting families. It could very well be, that I'm being unrealistic. Maybe so, I'm not sure.
All of the girls, with the exception of Mary are going to school. Mary is 15 years old. She doesn't speak english and she only went to school up to grade 4. She is now in the employment of the woman with the baby. So, most days, she just sits around the house washing or cooking, and either takes care of the baby while the woman is at school, or does something else. There is not much to do so she probably just hangs around. Mary and my conversations are purely based around greetings in the morning and when I get home from work. I think she sees me as a curiosity.
Mary's options are limited. Since she can't speak English, her employment opportunities in the city are virtually zero. There are a lot of English speaking people out of work. English is also a sure sign of education. Hey life will probably take one of two roads. Either she will get married and depend on her husband for income, or she will stay employed as a 'house girl' looking after the cooking and cleaning for another woman. I'm not trying to be pessimistic or down on Mary. That's just the most likely possibility. I think about what the heck I was doing at 15. It seems a world away. But perhaps, my world view is wrong or naive. It wasn't that long ago, that people at that age in North America and Europe were working and starting families. It could very well be, that I'm being unrealistic. Maybe so, I'm not sure.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Looking for a new place
I'm walking through the back alleys of the neighbourhood that I live in. The mission? To find a new place to live in the village adjacent to where I'm currently staying. It will not be easy. Lilongwe is a ridiculously cramped place and vacancy is at an all time low. I'm feeling good today. Today is the first time I'm not using a crutch. If you didn't know I dislocated my patella (knee cap for those who are not medically or biologically inclined. I had no idea it was called that before I busted it. I felt silly going to the doctor and saying 'my patella' but that's another story) awhile back. The alley is a dusty road surrounded by high walls on both sides. Every so often, a gate provides a gap in the wall, giving access to a house. The walls alternate through brick, stucco, and grass. Some of them have broken glass at the top, some have barbed wire. Maximum protection. I walk through the market, and head into the village, a ramshackle of broken tin roofs, uneven streets and degrading walls. However, it feels homey, and it looks like a nice neighbourhood. I walk into one of the little shops and buy some tasty soy pieces. This will make a nice dinner later. I ask the shop owner (or person running it anyway, he seems to be a young boy), if he knows of any places for rent. No luck.
I step back into the street, careful to take the steps. I trace my steps back up the street and buy some groundnuts from a lady sitting outside her house. (Groundnuts = peanunts) They don't speak english and my chichewa is not good enough to communicate. I keep walking and encounter a blue car with the hood removed. A man is leaning over the engine looking inside. I greet him. "Muli bwanji abwana?" "Ndili bwino" is his reply. "Ndikufuna nyumba ku renti" I'm not sure if that is the right way to say it. I'm not sure if he gets me, but he replies in chichewa way too quickly. I can't understand him at all. Now I know what my Uncle Mike meant when he told me that I talk like a bloody machine! I switch to english, and am happy to see that he speaks english as well. He tells me that he lives in the house behind the car, and that he is a member of the village council. I ask him if he knows a place where I can stay. He doesn't. You have to be careful at a moment like this. While I'll be happy with a small house or even a room, most people expect that you're looking for a house that has 3 bedrooms, 2 sitting rooms, 4 bathrooms, a kitchen, electricity, running water, and a wall surrounding the yard. Those places usually go for MK50-60,000 and since my stipend barely covers that, its not even possible to consider. Anyway, that's too much space for me. I explain what I'm looking for, and he replies that he knows of nothing that I can rent. But, he tells me to talk to someone in the market.
I walk to the market, and talk to a few people about it, a tailor, a vegetable vendor. No luck, but I'm told to come back on Thursday to ask again. Also, the tailor says that he can fix my shorts. Sweet.
I leave and grab a mini-bus for Baghdad. Its a village just outside Lilongwe. Well, technically its in Lilongwe, but its so ridiculously far, that it might as well be in another country. I get out and head to see my friend Martha. She's not home, so I talk with her uncle Gearson. He doesn't speak english, so our conversation mostly revolves around trees, Baghdad, and brick making with me trying to communicate in chichewa and using my hands for effect. I ask him if he knows a place where I can rent. He doesn't, or at least I think he doesn't. I'm not sure. But its getting late, so I get on a bus and head back to Lilongwe. I'll have to look again another day.
I step back into the street, careful to take the steps. I trace my steps back up the street and buy some groundnuts from a lady sitting outside her house. (Groundnuts = peanunts) They don't speak english and my chichewa is not good enough to communicate. I keep walking and encounter a blue car with the hood removed. A man is leaning over the engine looking inside. I greet him. "Muli bwanji abwana?" "Ndili bwino" is his reply. "Ndikufuna nyumba ku renti" I'm not sure if that is the right way to say it. I'm not sure if he gets me, but he replies in chichewa way too quickly. I can't understand him at all. Now I know what my Uncle Mike meant when he told me that I talk like a bloody machine! I switch to english, and am happy to see that he speaks english as well. He tells me that he lives in the house behind the car, and that he is a member of the village council. I ask him if he knows a place where I can stay. He doesn't. You have to be careful at a moment like this. While I'll be happy with a small house or even a room, most people expect that you're looking for a house that has 3 bedrooms, 2 sitting rooms, 4 bathrooms, a kitchen, electricity, running water, and a wall surrounding the yard. Those places usually go for MK50-60,000 and since my stipend barely covers that, its not even possible to consider. Anyway, that's too much space for me. I explain what I'm looking for, and he replies that he knows of nothing that I can rent. But, he tells me to talk to someone in the market.
I walk to the market, and talk to a few people about it, a tailor, a vegetable vendor. No luck, but I'm told to come back on Thursday to ask again. Also, the tailor says that he can fix my shorts. Sweet.
I leave and grab a mini-bus for Baghdad. Its a village just outside Lilongwe. Well, technically its in Lilongwe, but its so ridiculously far, that it might as well be in another country. I get out and head to see my friend Martha. She's not home, so I talk with her uncle Gearson. He doesn't speak english, so our conversation mostly revolves around trees, Baghdad, and brick making with me trying to communicate in chichewa and using my hands for effect. I ask him if he knows a place where I can rent. He doesn't, or at least I think he doesn't. I'm not sure. But its getting late, so I get on a bus and head back to Lilongwe. I'll have to look again another day.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Ode to the minibus.
If you don't know what a minibus is, I'll try to describe it. Its kind of like a full size van, that rides lower, and has seating for between 11 and 14 people. The third seat in each row folds up to become an aisle so that people can pass to other rows.
All minibuses in Malawi have 2 employees running it. One is the driver (essential) and the other is the conductor (sort of essential, at least he lets the driver focus on driving). The conductor yells at you as you're walking by, trying to coax you into getting on the minibus. He's (i have yet to meet a female conductor or driver for that matter) likely to tell you things that are not always true. "Yes, we leave at 5 am sharp." "Yes, this bus goes to Salima." Then went you get to Dwangwa (half way to Salima), they stop the bus and he refunds you part of the trip, though he likely never had any intention of going the full distance.
Typicall mini-buses are in horrible shape. This is a small sum up of some minibus experiences.
1) The sliding door falls off - has happened many times
2) One 2 different minibuses the back of the seat fall off when I leaned against it.
3) I've been in a bus that has been chased by police, while I was in it.
4) Some buses have had live animals inside like chickens, or had fish hanging by the sideview mirrors. How else are going to transport these goods?
5) Once, I was sitting in my seat and noticed that the floor underneath me was smoking. As the driver and conductor jumped out and pushed me out of the way, they lifted the floor board to find the battery on fire.
6) Usually, the shocks are dead, and you will hear metal upon metal throughout a drive over bumpy streets. Sometimes, you wonder how its possible that the bus makes the trip.
7) Often, in less policed areas, conductors will load up the buses to hold 18, sometimes 20 people.
8) The windows of some buses are missing and tape is used to act as a window.
9) One thing that is unbelieveably common, I'd say as high as 20% of the minibuses. The starter doesn't work. This applies to many taxis as well. So, daily you will see people get out and push minibuses/taxis and then jump in when they pop the clutch. This happens a lot! One consequence of this is that you have to add fuel while the vehicle is still running. A big no-no in Canada and the US.
10) Most conductors and drivers only use about 5 -10 litres of fuel at a time to keep costs low. They will usually have a 4 litre oil container filled with petrol in their vehicles.
11) One time, I was on a bus and noticed a 4 litre container behind the driver's seat with some tubes sticking out. I asked the driver what this was, and he explained to me that his fuel tank was eroded so now they used this 4 litre container to store their fuel.
12) Probably the most unbelieveable thing about all of this is that these vehicles all have fitness certifications on their windows (a requirement of all vehicles). Some are obvious frauds, and once in a while you will see a non-corrupt police officer at the side of the road and there will be 11 minibuses stranded. That's probably when the cops go on a safety blitz.
Its an interesting experience to say the least. They do serve a purpose as they provide the only affordable means of getting around though, for most people in the country. They're running condition may be a function of either greedy owners or that people can't afford to pay more so maintenance is left to a minimum.
All minibuses in Malawi have 2 employees running it. One is the driver (essential) and the other is the conductor (sort of essential, at least he lets the driver focus on driving). The conductor yells at you as you're walking by, trying to coax you into getting on the minibus. He's (i have yet to meet a female conductor or driver for that matter) likely to tell you things that are not always true. "Yes, we leave at 5 am sharp." "Yes, this bus goes to Salima." Then went you get to Dwangwa (half way to Salima), they stop the bus and he refunds you part of the trip, though he likely never had any intention of going the full distance.
Typicall mini-buses are in horrible shape. This is a small sum up of some minibus experiences.
1) The sliding door falls off - has happened many times
2) One 2 different minibuses the back of the seat fall off when I leaned against it.
3) I've been in a bus that has been chased by police, while I was in it.
4) Some buses have had live animals inside like chickens, or had fish hanging by the sideview mirrors. How else are going to transport these goods?
5) Once, I was sitting in my seat and noticed that the floor underneath me was smoking. As the driver and conductor jumped out and pushed me out of the way, they lifted the floor board to find the battery on fire.
6) Usually, the shocks are dead, and you will hear metal upon metal throughout a drive over bumpy streets. Sometimes, you wonder how its possible that the bus makes the trip.
7) Often, in less policed areas, conductors will load up the buses to hold 18, sometimes 20 people.
8) The windows of some buses are missing and tape is used to act as a window.
9) One thing that is unbelieveably common, I'd say as high as 20% of the minibuses. The starter doesn't work. This applies to many taxis as well. So, daily you will see people get out and push minibuses/taxis and then jump in when they pop the clutch. This happens a lot! One consequence of this is that you have to add fuel while the vehicle is still running. A big no-no in Canada and the US.
10) Most conductors and drivers only use about 5 -10 litres of fuel at a time to keep costs low. They will usually have a 4 litre oil container filled with petrol in their vehicles.
11) One time, I was on a bus and noticed a 4 litre container behind the driver's seat with some tubes sticking out. I asked the driver what this was, and he explained to me that his fuel tank was eroded so now they used this 4 litre container to store their fuel.
12) Probably the most unbelieveable thing about all of this is that these vehicles all have fitness certifications on their windows (a requirement of all vehicles). Some are obvious frauds, and once in a while you will see a non-corrupt police officer at the side of the road and there will be 11 minibuses stranded. That's probably when the cops go on a safety blitz.
Its an interesting experience to say the least. They do serve a purpose as they provide the only affordable means of getting around though, for most people in the country. They're running condition may be a function of either greedy owners or that people can't afford to pay more so maintenance is left to a minimum.
Has it been this long since my last post. Apologies.
I'm trying to recount what has happened to me in the last month, but everything has been coming up blank. Work has been slow. The reason is that we have no money. The reason is that the government hasn't passed the budget. The reason the government hasn't passed the budget is because the opposition is convinced that members of government have broken Section 65 of the constitution. They have refused to pass the budget for 2 months, all the while trying to bring up this issue. Every day in the newspaper, you read, from a member of the government. "The opposition doesn't care about the poor in the country. They don't want the budget to be passed. They need to remember that they are here for the people." Then you will read a statement from the opposition saying, "The government is trying to erode democracy. We need to discuss Section 65. This is not about not wanting to pass the budget. Its about democracy. We can't allow democracy to be eroded." Around and around the merri-go-round we go. (You can also use a ferris wheel for that analogy, if it suits you better.) This has literally been occuring in the newspaper every day. Front page news everyday! And you thought American politics was ridiculous...
Finally, yesterday, the government passed the budget, but only after the opposition forced them to sign an agreement that Section 65 will be dealt with. If it is (they agreed to this before, but the government balked. That was last year), then the government might lose most of its seats. I don't know if this actually means anything, since Malawi is going to elections next year. The question I have now is, what will the newspapers write about now?...
One more comment, Malawi employs a British style government. Thus if the budget is not passed, theoretically, they should have a vote of confidence and go to elections. But in a country that can't afford to go to elections, except every five years with some funding from donors, I'm not sure if the system can work...
I'm trying to recount what has happened to me in the last month, but everything has been coming up blank. Work has been slow. The reason is that we have no money. The reason is that the government hasn't passed the budget. The reason the government hasn't passed the budget is because the opposition is convinced that members of government have broken Section 65 of the constitution. They have refused to pass the budget for 2 months, all the while trying to bring up this issue. Every day in the newspaper, you read, from a member of the government. "The opposition doesn't care about the poor in the country. They don't want the budget to be passed. They need to remember that they are here for the people." Then you will read a statement from the opposition saying, "The government is trying to erode democracy. We need to discuss Section 65. This is not about not wanting to pass the budget. Its about democracy. We can't allow democracy to be eroded." Around and around the merri-go-round we go. (You can also use a ferris wheel for that analogy, if it suits you better.) This has literally been occuring in the newspaper every day. Front page news everyday! And you thought American politics was ridiculous...
Finally, yesterday, the government passed the budget, but only after the opposition forced them to sign an agreement that Section 65 will be dealt with. If it is (they agreed to this before, but the government balked. That was last year), then the government might lose most of its seats. I don't know if this actually means anything, since Malawi is going to elections next year. The question I have now is, what will the newspapers write about now?...
One more comment, Malawi employs a British style government. Thus if the budget is not passed, theoretically, they should have a vote of confidence and go to elections. But in a country that can't afford to go to elections, except every five years with some funding from donors, I'm not sure if the system can work...
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Simple Everyday Choices...how you can help the world’s poor…
Sounds crazy right? Who the heck would want to pay more for gasoline? I agree. I sure wouldn’t. But, by paying more, we will reduce consumption in our country and leave more opportunity for those in developing countries.
It works like this. Oil is a global commodity. It trades all over the world. Its price is based on fundamentals like supply and demand. That means that there is more consumption in the world than there is production, the price of oil will rise. If there is more production than consumption, the price will fall. At this point, almost all of the world’s consumptions is growing while production has stagnated. The supply curve is not the same to the one we saw in Economics 101. That is because at some point, no matter how high the price goes, there are physical limits to how much oil we can produce, at least in the short term. In the long term, we can develop new wells and new technologies, but this takes time.
Recently, the demand curve for oil and energy in general has been increasing. There are thousands upon thousands of people increasing their standard of living in developing countries like China, India and Brazil. This has caused a strain on the supply of oil and it is becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with this new demand. The purple lines show demand, as average wealth increases, the demand curve shifts to the right. Now there are more people able and willing to pay for fuel. This is happening because people in China, India, and Brazil are using more and more fuel as their standard of living increases. Thus the demand curve shifts.
This increased price has a tremendous strain on the poor of the world.
Canada consumed almost 40 billion litres of fuel last year. If we were to put a tax on fuel of, oh I don’t know, say 10 cents per litre, then this would drive demand down in Canada. Then, because it is more expensive, people will start to drive less. They will take public transport. The government can then increase the amount spent on public transport and improve services. So, its good for the environment, and good for the city that you live in. Its also good for countries like Malawi. Think about it. In Canada, the GDP per person is $38,700. In Malawi, it’s $800. Okay, you say, but things are cheaper in Malawi, and yes I agree but these are PPP numbers so it takes that into account. You can also argue that GDP numbers don’t reflect average income and that money is not distributed equally, but if we compare Gini coefficients, we see that Canada has a Gini of 32.1 and Malawi a Gini of 39. (Gini coefficient is a measure of income distribution, a Gini of 100 means that 1 person owns everything, a Gini of 0 means that there is perfect distribution of wealth). That means that the poor in Malawi are much worse off than the $800 per person would indicate, and that income distribution is even worse for the poor than it is in Canada. Now, think about cars, gasoline, oil etc. These are the same prices the world over. To operate a car in Malawi, costs exactly the same as it does in Canada. To transport goods in Malawi, the cost (with the exception of labour) is the same because parts, fuel, the vehicle, all cost the same. I’ll give you an example. My mini-bus fair is MK100 (about $0.75 CAN) each way. That’s MK200 a day. Now, you might think that a $1.50 is not that much, but consider that most Malawians earn less than $2 per day. As Malawi continues to grow, access to energy becomes absolutely necessary, so that people can take of the efficiencies and increases in production that energy brings. For example, my friend Mary is volunteering in Ghana, where their energy requirements are increasing by 10% per year. If Ghana is to keep growing, and if its citizens are going to lift themselves out of poverty, then access to energy is a must.
So, you can help, by increasing the price, by driving less, or when changing your car, getting a more fuel-efficient vehicle. When you conserve less fuel, the demand curve shifts to the left, and, assuming supply stays the same, the price will drop. This will make fuel cheaper for developing countries, and allow them to develop more quickly. It will allow the poor of the world to get access to fuel for lighting, for transportation so that they can get their goods to the market. We’ve already seen that gasoline consumption has dropped due to higher prices. Yes, its good for the environment, but its also good for the world’s poor. Higher prices might be a good thing.
Things like oil prices show how choices we make in our everyday lives affect the rest of the world. It shows that we are all connected in some way. No man or woman is an island. So, to make a difference and to help the poor, ask your MP to raise taxes on fuel. Buy a more fuel efficient vehicle. Drive less. We in Canada will feel some pain for it, but you know what they say, “no pain, no gain.”
It works like this. Oil is a global commodity. It trades all over the world. Its price is based on fundamentals like supply and demand. That means that there is more consumption in the world than there is production, the price of oil will rise. If there is more production than consumption, the price will fall. At this point, almost all of the world’s consumptions is growing while production has stagnated. The supply curve is not the same to the one we saw in Economics 101. That is because at some point, no matter how high the price goes, there are physical limits to how much oil we can produce, at least in the short term. In the long term, we can develop new wells and new technologies, but this takes time.
Recently, the demand curve for oil and energy in general has been increasing. There are thousands upon thousands of people increasing their standard of living in developing countries like China, India and Brazil. This has caused a strain on the supply of oil and it is becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with this new demand. The purple lines show demand, as average wealth increases, the demand curve shifts to the right. Now there are more people able and willing to pay for fuel. This is happening because people in China, India, and Brazil are using more and more fuel as their standard of living increases. Thus the demand curve shifts.This increased price has a tremendous strain on the poor of the world.
Canada consumed almost 40 billion litres of fuel last year. If we were to put a tax on fuel of, oh I don’t know, say 10 cents per litre, then this would drive demand down in Canada. Then, because it is more expensive, people will start to drive less. They will take public transport. The government can then increase the amount spent on public transport and improve services. So, its good for the environment, and good for the city that you live in. Its also good for countries like Malawi. Think about it. In Canada, the GDP per person is $38,700. In Malawi, it’s $800. Okay, you say, but things are cheaper in Malawi, and yes I agree but these are PPP numbers so it takes that into account. You can also argue that GDP numbers don’t reflect average income and that money is not distributed equally, but if we compare Gini coefficients, we see that Canada has a Gini of 32.1 and Malawi a Gini of 39. (Gini coefficient is a measure of income distribution, a Gini of 100 means that 1 person owns everything, a Gini of 0 means that there is perfect distribution of wealth). That means that the poor in Malawi are much worse off than the $800 per person would indicate, and that income distribution is even worse for the poor than it is in Canada. Now, think about cars, gasoline, oil etc. These are the same prices the world over. To operate a car in Malawi, costs exactly the same as it does in Canada. To transport goods in Malawi, the cost (with the exception of labour) is the same because parts, fuel, the vehicle, all cost the same. I’ll give you an example. My mini-bus fair is MK100 (about $0.75 CAN) each way. That’s MK200 a day. Now, you might think that a $1.50 is not that much, but consider that most Malawians earn less than $2 per day. As Malawi continues to grow, access to energy becomes absolutely necessary, so that people can take of the efficiencies and increases in production that energy brings. For example, my friend Mary is volunteering in Ghana, where their energy requirements are increasing by 10% per year. If Ghana is to keep growing, and if its citizens are going to lift themselves out of poverty, then access to energy is a must.
So, you can help, by increasing the price, by driving less, or when changing your car, getting a more fuel-efficient vehicle. When you conserve less fuel, the demand curve shifts to the left, and, assuming supply stays the same, the price will drop. This will make fuel cheaper for developing countries, and allow them to develop more quickly. It will allow the poor of the world to get access to fuel for lighting, for transportation so that they can get their goods to the market. We’ve already seen that gasoline consumption has dropped due to higher prices. Yes, its good for the environment, but its also good for the world’s poor. Higher prices might be a good thing.
Things like oil prices show how choices we make in our everyday lives affect the rest of the world. It shows that we are all connected in some way. No man or woman is an island. So, to make a difference and to help the poor, ask your MP to raise taxes on fuel. Buy a more fuel efficient vehicle. Drive less. We in Canada will feel some pain for it, but you know what they say, “no pain, no gain.”
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Economics 101
I am going to call this section Economics 101. It will serve as a base page where I can reference back if its been a long time since you took economics.
This is a standard supply curve. Basically what it suggests is that as the price of a good increases, more people will be willing to produce that good. So, as we move up the price scale, the amount of units produced will increase, moving to the right. If we were to think about this as a bottles of cola, well, if the price were low, say 10 cents, then only a few companies would be able to participate (the most efficient, or lowest cost) and thus the amount of bottles produced would be low. If the price were high say $100, then more companies would be able to cover their costs and the amount of bottles produced increases.
Next we have a demand curve. It is the opposite of the price curve. What the demand curve suggests
is that as the price of a good goes down, the demand for that curve will increase, thus the graph goes to the right. What this means is that when the price goes down, more people can afford to buy it and do so. Again, think about this as if it were a bottle of cola. If a bottle cost $100, you probably wouldn’t buy it. Probably only a handful of people would (those that have a lot of money and really love cola), so we’re at the upper left corner of the graph. But if you were to bring the price down, say to 10 cents, then a lot of people would buy it. They would probably buy lots of it because its so cheap (the bottom right).
But you can’t sell cola at 10 cents because that is more expensive then it costs to produce, so now we are limited by the supply curve.
So, if the c
ost is high, then companies will be able to produce but no one will be able to buy. If the cost is low, then everyone will be want to buy but very few will be able to produce. So the answer is that when we put the two lines together, their point of intersection is where the price makes the demand (price is low enough that people buy) equal the supply (price is high enough that enough groups produce). Thus the market will find a natural price point for any good or service. If the price is too low, then demand will outstrip supply, and the price will increase until they equal. Vice versa, if the price is too high, supply will outstrip demand, and the price will drop until some supply drops off and the two lines meet.
So, what happens when the price is too low? Well, the demand will be much higher than the supply creating excess demand. That's when you'll see store shelves empty and people won't be able to get enough cola. So, what happens now? The price is raised such that the excess demand is reduced, both as a function of increased supply and decreased demand. (the middle graph, the green dot moves up along the demand curve). Eventually, the price keeps rising until the supply equals demand.
And that is the end of economics 101.
This is a standard supply curve. Basically what it suggests is that as the price of a good increases, more people will be willing to produce that good. So, as we move up the price scale, the amount of units produced will increase, moving to the right. If we were to think about this as a bottles of cola, well, if the price were low, say 10 cents, then only a few companies would be able to participate (the most efficient, or lowest cost) and thus the amount of bottles produced would be low. If the price were high say $100, then more companies would be able to cover their costs and the amount of bottles produced increases.Next we have a demand curve. It is the opposite of the price curve. What the demand curve suggests
is that as the price of a good goes down, the demand for that curve will increase, thus the graph goes to the right. What this means is that when the price goes down, more people can afford to buy it and do so. Again, think about this as if it were a bottle of cola. If a bottle cost $100, you probably wouldn’t buy it. Probably only a handful of people would (those that have a lot of money and really love cola), so we’re at the upper left corner of the graph. But if you were to bring the price down, say to 10 cents, then a lot of people would buy it. They would probably buy lots of it because its so cheap (the bottom right).But you can’t sell cola at 10 cents because that is more expensive then it costs to produce, so now we are limited by the supply curve.
So, if the c
ost is high, then companies will be able to produce but no one will be able to buy. If the cost is low, then everyone will be want to buy but very few will be able to produce. So the answer is that when we put the two lines together, their point of intersection is where the price makes the demand (price is low enough that people buy) equal the supply (price is high enough that enough groups produce). Thus the market will find a natural price point for any good or service. If the price is too low, then demand will outstrip supply, and the price will increase until they equal. Vice versa, if the price is too high, supply will outstrip demand, and the price will drop until some supply drops off and the two lines meet.
So, what happens when the price is too low? Well, the demand will be much higher than the supply creating excess demand. That's when you'll see store shelves empty and people won't be able to get enough cola. So, what happens now? The price is raised such that the excess demand is reduced, both as a function of increased supply and decreased demand. (the middle graph, the green dot moves up along the demand curve). Eventually, the price keeps rising until the supply equals demand.And that is the end of economics 101.
Simple everyday choices... how you can help the world's poor...
The problem of over 1 billion poor people throughout the world seems to be an intractable problem, one that is unsolvable, unthinkable, out of reach for most of us. However, we are all linked. Our actions, or inactions, our choices shape the world for the 6 billion people in the world. Likewise, they do the same. For the next few blogs, I am going to try and link how we are connected in some small ways, and how, you through various choices you make can help the poor throughout the world.
One Hand Waving Free - Good days and bad days
You know, I've received a lot of emails from people telling me that they're proud of me or that they really respect what I'm doing or that I'm brave and the like. I like these emails. On my bad days they keep me going, but the truth is... they're all false statements. Well maybe 'false' is the wrong word, but the truth is that I am none of these things, at least in the sense of my placement with EWB. What have I done except act when I had the means to do it? When I could give of my excess?
Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny.
Calling the disciples to him, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything-all she had to live on. (Mark 12:41-44)
I have seen so many instances of people, here in Malawi, who give and give and give, when they have nothing to give in the first place, and it is humbling. They have even given to me (who in monetary terms have infinitely more than they do), beans, rice, chickens, and when I protest, they ignore my protestations.
Come to think of it, I have seen instances of ultimate giving in Canada, in my family, in my friends, in strangers...
I remember, sitting on a plane from Edmonton to Toronto heading to EWB training. I was sitting beside this girl and, in between her sporadic vomiting into barf bags, we had a very nice conversation. I asked what she was doing (she was/is? a hearing specialist) and she asked what I was doing. I told her about my EWB placement. At this point, people usually say things like, "Wow, that's great. Good for you.", things of that nature. As I awaited for the glowing accolades, the standing ovations, I was greeted with the saying, "Wow, you're lucky that you have the opportunity to do something like that". I realized, then and there, how right she was. I am lucky. I am lucky that I can take a year off of work, a privilege many do not have. I am lucky that I get to experience this. I am lucky to be in Malawi.
I have been told that I am brave, good, thoughtful. Most days I feel weak, useless... There are some days that I feel like I'm not doing any good, that I'm just wasting my time, wasting Malawian's time, that I should be back in Canada working, making money...
When I first signed up, I had pictures in my head that I would come in here and instantly make things better. Now, more sober from my drunken ignorance, I see that this is going to be an enormous task, and it isn't going to be making the difference. It's going to be Malawians. Also, it is going to be you, in the western world, through the choices you make, the government you elect, to create conditions that support growth for the poor of the world.
I lived well in Canada. The truth is that I live well over here. I probably, no, I do live better than most Malawians, than most people in the world. In Canada, I lived an easy life. I lived well. Here, I live an easy life. I live well. So, while I wish to thank you for the nice and heart-warming emails and letters I receive, the truth is that they are misplaced. They make me feel great, not in the sense that I believe that about myself, but because I know that people care, so again thank you. On my good days, I am happy to be here, to work at this, to try and make some impact. On my bad days, I feel useless, weak, tired, I have no idea what possessed me to come here in the first place, and I want to return to Canada. It won't be me who will make a difference. It will be you...
Mother Teresa once said that being poor is not the worst kind of poverty. Loneliness, feeling unwanted, unloved, these are the worst kind.
Reach out to people... over here... at home... every day... one of life's great contradictions is that giving fills you up...
Life is walked, not in large leaps, but in small steps...
Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny.
Calling the disciples to him, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything-all she had to live on. (Mark 12:41-44)
I have seen so many instances of people, here in Malawi, who give and give and give, when they have nothing to give in the first place, and it is humbling. They have even given to me (who in monetary terms have infinitely more than they do), beans, rice, chickens, and when I protest, they ignore my protestations.
Come to think of it, I have seen instances of ultimate giving in Canada, in my family, in my friends, in strangers...
I remember, sitting on a plane from Edmonton to Toronto heading to EWB training. I was sitting beside this girl and, in between her sporadic vomiting into barf bags, we had a very nice conversation. I asked what she was doing (she was/is? a hearing specialist) and she asked what I was doing. I told her about my EWB placement. At this point, people usually say things like, "Wow, that's great. Good for you.", things of that nature. As I awaited for the glowing accolades, the standing ovations, I was greeted with the saying, "Wow, you're lucky that you have the opportunity to do something like that". I realized, then and there, how right she was. I am lucky. I am lucky that I can take a year off of work, a privilege many do not have. I am lucky that I get to experience this. I am lucky to be in Malawi.
I have been told that I am brave, good, thoughtful. Most days I feel weak, useless... There are some days that I feel like I'm not doing any good, that I'm just wasting my time, wasting Malawian's time, that I should be back in Canada working, making money...
When I first signed up, I had pictures in my head that I would come in here and instantly make things better. Now, more sober from my drunken ignorance, I see that this is going to be an enormous task, and it isn't going to be making the difference. It's going to be Malawians. Also, it is going to be you, in the western world, through the choices you make, the government you elect, to create conditions that support growth for the poor of the world.
I lived well in Canada. The truth is that I live well over here. I probably, no, I do live better than most Malawians, than most people in the world. In Canada, I lived an easy life. I lived well. Here, I live an easy life. I live well. So, while I wish to thank you for the nice and heart-warming emails and letters I receive, the truth is that they are misplaced. They make me feel great, not in the sense that I believe that about myself, but because I know that people care, so again thank you. On my good days, I am happy to be here, to work at this, to try and make some impact. On my bad days, I feel useless, weak, tired, I have no idea what possessed me to come here in the first place, and I want to return to Canada. It won't be me who will make a difference. It will be you...
Mother Teresa once said that being poor is not the worst kind of poverty. Loneliness, feeling unwanted, unloved, these are the worst kind.
Reach out to people... over here... at home... every day... one of life's great contradictions is that giving fills you up...
Life is walked, not in large leaps, but in small steps...
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Bargaining in Malawi
So you want to bargain and buy things in Malawi, eh? Let me relate a story that happened to me recently. In Malawi, there are many instances where being an 'Azungu' or foreigner carries specific benefits. Trying to buy goods in the market is not one of those instances. Right away you are seen as having money, which is usually accurate, at least more than them. Before I begin, let me warn you that I am horrible at bargaining and usually overpay, for a couple of reasons.
1) I usually wait until the last minute to buy what I need and thus don't have time to shop around
2) When shopping, because I am in a hurry (see point 1), I usually don't like to take the time to bargain
3) I just don't like shopping
Yesterday, I took a taxi (grossly overpriced) to the area 2 market to buy a suit jacket. You kind of need a suit jacket to attend high level meetings and since I have one today (actually had, it was kind of, sort of cancelled which is why I have time to write this blog) I needed a suit jacket yesterday.
I got out of the taxi and limped (see previous post) to the market. There are suit jackets hanging everywhere. I start asking to see some but most are either too large or too small. I wonder at this because I am the typical size of a Malawian man, so they must all have a hard time finding jackets. I try a few more market stalls and finally find a jacket that fits well and whose style is somewhat pleasing to my and I hope, while I'm wearing it, other's eyes. I ask the vendor for the price. He quotes me MK3800. That price is ridiculous. I do my fake, choking, disbelieving look/noises but he is not impressed. They usually aren't. They're pretty good at this.
I tell him the price is too much. He says we can negotiate and tells me MK3600. Oh, at this point I should let you know that I had asked the cab driver, as he was dressed well, what the price of a suit jacket should be. He told me between MK600 and MK1000. This is a good idea. Always do some research first. Although there is always the possibility that they could be wrong. Another good idea is to go into a store and look at the price there so you can get your BATNA (a negotiating term, Best Alternative To Negotiated Agreement).
So, I'm at this vendor with this jacket that I like and he has offered me MK3600 as his best offer. I know this price is ridiculous as most Malawians can't afford to pay that much for a suit jacket. I say 'No, no, don't give me the 'azungu' price. I want the Malawian price'. This usually never works, so don't bother. All you will get is assurances that you are getting the Malawian price. Then he tells me that prices have gone up etc. etc. yadda yadda yadda. He asks me for an offer. So, now is your chance... don't get anchored (another negotiation term) by his initial quote. Just go for what you think is the right price. What's he gonna do, laugh? Another approach is to tell him what the price should be from the get-go, like, "Hey, I'll give you MK600 for that jacket." This is probably better, but as I said before I'm not the best at this.
So, I offer MK600. He starts to laugh and there is laughter by those all around me. Don't get fooled by this ploy! They love to do this one. They all laugh as if what you have offered is the most ridiculous price. You look around and everyone is laughing as if you have told the most fantastic joke in the world. Trust me, you'll get laughed at a lot. But stand your ground. Winston Churchill would have! Don't ask where that came from, I have no idea, but I could tell you this cool story about Winston Churchill negotiating with Italy (or was it Germany?) over the fate of five countries including Malta (where my parents are from) during WWII. I'm not at all sure if it is true but his stance definitely put him in a positive light in my eyes. He rejected Italy (Germany?)'s offer by the way...
The vendor rejects my offer, then shows me the suit jacket lining, and brand name, and says that this is quality. I ask what is the price difference then between this one and all the others. He replies that they are all the same, which makes no sense, since some of these jackets are horrible looking, some seem to belong in a marching band (forgiveness, please, if you love marching band jackets, but really now...). I then see a small paper pinned to one of the jackets that says "600". I ask, if they are all the same price, well that one says 600, so they must all be 600. He replies that 600 actually refers to British pounds. So apparently, in this market stall in Malawi, in Area 2, this marching band suit jacket costs 600 British pounds, which is equivalent to 1200 Canadian dollars, also equalling 168,000 Malawi kwacha, which given the disposable income of most professional Malawians (who would be in the market for a suit jacket but probably not a marching band suit jacket) would require them to save up for about 8 months to buy this thing, if they didn't buy anything else within that time period.
"Really? 600 british pounds?"
"yes"
"Pounds? you're serious..." (said in a sarcastic, kind of suave-like manner)
"Yes"
"Do you know how much kwacha that is?"
"---" thinking...
"Its about 180,000 kwacha"
"Yes, that is the price"
"So, if thats the price, and they're all the same price, why are these only MK3600?"
"---" grin on his face... his friend starts taking out his calculator to calculate the conversion of 600 british pounds to Malawi kwacha.
"600. British pounds. You're sure?"
"Yes".
Okay, at this point I walk away. I'm tired and I hate getting ripped off, and I'll just find someone else to buy a jacket from, which I eventually did, but still overpaid, but only paid about MK1000, which is at least reasonable. Now I thought about walking past that first vendor and showing him that he missed out on a sale and that he could have made some profit if he was reasonable, but then I think that this is petty and not very nice, besides vengefulness is not a very admirable quality. I mean... really, look how Captain Ahab turned out?
I 'kneed' to get better...
Sunday started as an ordinary day. My plan was to go to church, and then over to the golf club where our work was having a social gathering. I had Jeffrey in tow today. When I got to the golf club I found everyone sitting in a small room staring at the front. Apparently we were having a talk about something. Finally, the director walked in with a woman and they started talking about HIV/AIDS. I had no idea we were talking about it, and since I don't speak Chichewa, I still have no idea what was said. I just sat there and watched, but I think the whole point was to keep people in marriages faithful, as a means of preventing the spread of HIV/AIDS.
After the talk we all went outside to play sports. I was playing football (soccer) with everyone and was doing pretty well. I got the ball, and zigged, then zagged, actually managed to dribble by a few people. I was fast. Light as a feather. I was a pheonix rising from the ashes... and then BOOM!. I felt my knee cap kick out of place. I felt it dislocate and then pop back into place as I collided with one of my colleagues. I limped off the field and then had to sit down as I felt faint. The pain was excrutiating. Imagine having you insides turned upside down and twisted, hot coals applied to all parts of your body, having your knee poked with a thousand sharp knives and burned with a quadrillion hot irons, and...well it wasn't that bad but it still hurt a lot. Anyway, to shorten the story, right now, I'm incapacitated, went to the doctor. It looks okay but I'm still limping around. The doctor was actually inside the military barracks which was kind of cool to see. I was even saluted. Well, actually, I think the doctor was but I was with him, so it was still kind of cool. I had x-rays and the doctor thinks it will be okay. Thinks there is no muscle damage. Anyway, pang'ono pang'ono (little by little), we'll see how it goes...
After the talk we all went outside to play sports. I was playing football (soccer) with everyone and was doing pretty well. I got the ball, and zigged, then zagged, actually managed to dribble by a few people. I was fast. Light as a feather. I was a pheonix rising from the ashes... and then BOOM!. I felt my knee cap kick out of place. I felt it dislocate and then pop back into place as I collided with one of my colleagues. I limped off the field and then had to sit down as I felt faint. The pain was excrutiating. Imagine having you insides turned upside down and twisted, hot coals applied to all parts of your body, having your knee poked with a thousand sharp knives and burned with a quadrillion hot irons, and...well it wasn't that bad but it still hurt a lot. Anyway, to shorten the story, right now, I'm incapacitated, went to the doctor. It looks okay but I'm still limping around. The doctor was actually inside the military barracks which was kind of cool to see. I was even saluted. Well, actually, I think the doctor was but I was with him, so it was still kind of cool. I had x-rays and the doctor thinks it will be okay. Thinks there is no muscle damage. Anyway, pang'ono pang'ono (little by little), we'll see how it goes...
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Blog change
Hello, all. I've been having trouble with my blog software so have had to switch the blog to this page. Its a bit limited compared to what I was using before, but I'm able to access it from here. My old software was having trouble connecting due to the spotty internet here in Malawi.
Thanks! Enjoy!
JP
Drunk Man in Kabindiza
originally written July 14, 2008
I was standing by the hot-cast iron pan, blackened with years of use, placed above a fire surrounded by bricks. The guys were cooking up some chips (french fries) on the road just outside my house in Kabindiza village. My friend Kim (another EWBer) was sitting by the house talking with the children and women of the village. I was talking with Matapata, a health agent from the nearby clinic. We hadn't seen each other in a few months and we were catching up. Since most of the people in the village don't speak English, I gravitated toward Matapata as he is one of the few English speaking people in the village. As we chatted, a drunk man (and I mean drunk!) walked up the side of the rod and stumbled over to me. He started speaking very loudly (even though I was right in front of him), saying that I should feel free in Malawi. That I should not judge people on the colour of their skin. That I should consider Malawi my homeland. He went on and on like this as everyone else remained silent. He would jump into a fit of hysterical laughter in between every few sentences. He then said that I should challenge people in the area. "Challenge in what?" is what I replied. He didn't have an answer. There were times that his slurring was so bad that I couldn't understand his English. I just stood there with my arms folded. I make it a policy here not to encourage drunk behaviour and not to play along, because it is a big problem here, especially in the village. He continued on this line of discussion for about 20 minutes, repeating the same things over and over again. My patience was wearing thin.
He then started walking over to where the children were sitting with Kim. I stole a glance from Barrack and he looked worried. The drunk man was now laughing hysterically and yelling the same things at Kim as he did me, telling her to challenge the children to something. I walked over and said to him (I later found out his name was Kennedy), Tiyeni! Let's go! I walked him back to the street, and I tried to talk about where he lived and his family. He kept yelling at me and I was definitely annoyed at this point. After some time I thought he had left but I spotted him walking over to Kim again and yelling the same things. I walked over to him and was ready to tell him where to go! I was fed up. But something stopped me...
All of a sudden I got it. Here was a man who is obviously educated (he could speak English, which usually means he has graduated from high school, I later learned he used to be a teacher). Perhaps his alcoholism is related to the fact that he feels that his potential has been stifled at every turn by his surroundings. Now, obviously this is no excuse for anyone. But, I thought of myself in that situation, would I be any different from Kennedy? Perhaps not. And would I want someone pushing me away and yelling at me in front of all my neighbours without knowing my story? Without knowing what I had dealt with? With what I was dealing with? Probably not. ...but, I needed to get him out of there and away from Kim and the children. So I walked up to Kennedy and asked him if I could walk him to his house. He agreed. We started walking and he was spewing the same garbage about challenging and the like. I kept changing the subject, trying to discern how much alcohol he actually had. You know how after you no longer fear something, it appears ridiculous? Well, I now saw that Kennedy was harmless, and that his unpredictability was not fearsome, but was a tad ridiculous, and I felt sorry for him...
At some point I realized that his house was was further that I had originally thought, and it was getting dark. I stopped Kennedy at a point where I thought he would probably not come back to Barrack's house, at least tonight. Zikomo. Muyenda bwino. Thank you. Travel well. While still heavily intoxicated, Kennedy understood that I was no longer escorting him the whole way.
All of a sudden, it seemed as if his features cleared and he said to me, "Thank you for handling the situation the way you did." Then he fell back into his stupor and stumbled off. I was a bit surprised at what I heard. I smiled to myself and followed the dirt road back to Barrack's house, my heart a little lighter. The descending sun slowly elongated the shadows to my left, before it disappeared behind the mountains for another night.
Oh Canada!
originally written July 8, 2008
Every once in a while, here in Malawi, you'll encounter someone with a Mountain Equipment Co-op backpack. Or a bag with a Maple Leaf stitched into it. Even other ex-pats often comment... "there is something about you Canadians. You guys never seem to get ruffled" I remember talking with one british couple who owns a backpackers in Malawi. They said, "you know, if Canada wasn't so cold, we'd move there after here. Its just full of great people." And you know what? It is. Canada is a great country. Sure we have our problems, Sure we can be better, but I'm proud to be from the land of poutine, boring but good government, maple syrup, big sky country, rocky mountains, great lakes, freezing winters, blazing summers, lacrosse, veterans, english and french (though to my embarrassment, my french is horrible), tolerance, overt politeness (ever notice how WE apologize when someone steps on OUR feet?) and though we didn't invent it, we certainly put our stamp on it, hockey.
So to my fellow Canadians, I miss you. I love you. Thank you for being you which has allowed me to be me. God Bless. Happy Canada Day!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Walking the Streets of Blantyre
originally written June 22, 2008
As I continue walking, underneath the canopies of concrete balconies, passing stationary stores, hardware dealers, bakeries, I notice a boy walking toward me. He must be less than 5 years old, and even more striking is that he is alone. His attire is a direct contrast to the rest of our surroundings. He is wearing a parka, with the hood pulled over his head. It is cold this morning. His eyes catch mine. I expect a request for money, but the only word that escapes his lips are "Sharp!", a common greeting for children. A smile forms on my lips. As we pass, I look back, as he hurries forward with a determination that contradicts his age.
I cross the road again, negotiating a roundabout, looking for an opportunity to pass through the never ending parade of cars, trucks and minibuses. In the centre of the roundabout a clock stands alone, supported by some strange architect's nightmare. Its hands struggle to give accurate time, but its efforts are fruitless. It is frozen in time, a relic of the past.
I turn a corner and pass under a railroad bridge. The word 'Carlsberg' encompasses the entire side of the structure. Underneath, I pass a woman, sitting on the ground, huddled in a blanked, its warm cloth pulled over her such that her face is barely visible. She is shivering. My feet arrest my forward momentum, and then turn back towards the woman. The rest of my body follows. One hundred kwacha finds its way into my hand, then finds its way into hers. Is it enough? No. I continue up the road and see an abundance of minibuses, some idle, some revving their engines, their conductors yelling out destinations, "Chileka!", "Limbe!". I climb aboard the one I'm looking for. I fold down the seat and sit down. I am the last passenger. The door slides closed. The driver shifts into gear. The world passes by anew, in a flurry of colours blurred into homogeneity.
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