Eng Conference

I spent the last few days in Mangochi.  I was attending an engineering conference.  Funny thing, engineering conferences are boring here too.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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...