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.