Welcome to 1986!!

Malawi just got its first MRI machine and Africa got its second!! Looks like I'll be cancelling my trip to South Africa to check out that infection my my spine.


--Malawi has for the first time acquired a Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine worth U$1.3 million courtesy of Michigan State University. Speaking at the handover ceremony in Blantyre, Health Minister Khumbo Kachali said the machine will help government reduce expenses incurred when sending patients to South Africa for the service. He thanked the Michigan State University and the United States Embassy in the country for the donation. The machine is used to diagnose brain and spinal chord infections.

http://blogs.do-online.org/dailyreport.php?itemid=9251

TIA = This is Africa!!

(Caution: This blog post got a little long, but I had a lot to fit in. So feel free to take breaks while reading through it [I've provided resting points in the form of paragraphs, and there are pictures to keep you entertained]. Also be sure to drink plenty of water and take a walk at least once every two hours. And yes, the lake pictures are here to make you extremely jelous.)

Thanks to the movie Blood Diamonds (which stars Leonardo Dicaprio as a swashbuckling ex-mercenary – yeah, right) the phrase TIA, “This Is Africa” has become a popular way to explain why crazy things happen in Africa. As if only crazy things happen in Africa. I think it fits in with the dominant view that people have of Africa where the four horsemen of the apocalypse (war, famine, pestilence, and death) dominate the only headlines that escape the black hole of information that envelops the continent. It’s a trite and hackneyed statement that could be used to capture so much more…as I found out this weekend.

To me this weekend felt like a 30-minute sitcom sort of situation where so much emotion is packed into such a short time that it hardly resembles reality. You know how a major problem is introduced and 21 minutes later it gets resolved. Yeah, that’s kind of how the weekend was.

My week ended on a down note emotionally. A couple of things came to a head on Friday. The first is that I finally made it out to a market to buy some gifts for back home. One of the really difficult things about Africa is that a white person can’t go anywhere without having a thousand hands held out palm up asking for money. It makes it really hard to be a tourist, but at the same time, isn’t that what I came to see? In the moment, though, I struggle with how to deal with it and usually just mutter a “Sorry” and try not to make eye contact. As if making eye contact obligates me to stop or maybe just makes the encounter more personal. Sometimes I take advantage of the attention and stop to discuss their lives to get a first-hand account. I’ve had the best conversations through such encounters, but they always end up the same way. Just as I think I’ve made a friend in Africa, they ask me to come check out their booth or buy some of the necklaces. It feels like to them I will always be a dollar sign.

So obviously this gets magnified when a muzungu (white person) voluntarily enters a market, which I did on Friday. This time, however, with the intent to buy. Of course in these market situations they always start with an exorbitant price and hope that the muzungu doesn’t try to barter down. In these situations my competitive instinct always comes out. I ended up bartering down to some extremely low prices for some pretty nice carvings which they had done themselves, probably in the last day or two. Afterwards I ended up feeling terrible and overcome with guilt. This is the only money that these guys were going to make that day probably and I talked them out of something like $1.50. Did I really need that $1.50 more than they did? Of course not. So now even when I do give them money I felt bad. I wondered if this is how Africa would always be for me. That there would always be a barrier between me and the potential beneficiary of my perceived wealth. The outgoing American Ambassador of Malawi said as much to me. He told me that everywhere he goes people ask the US for money through him. He hardly had any Malawian friends because it was so hard for him to break through. TIA=This is Africa

The second thing weighing on me had to do with one of my security guards named Frank. One night after work I came through the gate and asked him how he was. This is usually a formality in Malawi where whenever you see someone you ask them how they are and it’s usually just a string of platitudes from there. But this time Frank said that he wasn’t doing okay. I asked him why and he showed me an insect bit on the back of his neck. Through broken English he said it was giving him a bad headache and making his whole body sore. He didn’t have any money for a doctor and he definitely couldn’t afford to miss a shift. So he was forced to come to work for his 12 hour over-night shift feeling terrible. The guards don’t even bring food for the shifts because they can’t afford it. I looked through my medicine travel kit and all I could find was some ibuprofen to give him. I gave it to him with some water and a banana and wished him well as I went to bed. The next evening I saw him again and again he wasn’t feeling great. The bite mark had gotten bigger. I gave him 2 more ibuprofen. A couple of hours later he knocked on my door and said that the medicine had helped him so much that he wondered if he could have more. My heart broke that this proud Malawian would be in such pain that he would break the rules of his job to come beg for some more medicine. I gave him enough to last through the night, but knew it wouldn’t solve the problem. This was the same week in which my other security guard told me that his 10 month old daughter had contracted malaria but had recovered, and even the computer technician at work had come down with malaria. And these are the people who actually have jobs and live in a relatively developed city. It all just became so heavy for me thinking about the 11 million people in this country who live in much worse situations. TIA=This is Africa

With all of that on my mind I headed out to visit Lake Malawi for the first time. Lake Malawi is third largest lake in Africa and is formed between the thousands of hills created by the escarpments of the Great Rift Valley. It’s supposed to be most endearing parts of “The Warm Heart of Africa”. It ended up being one of those instances in life where reality surpassed the hype. I took public transport to get there which allowed for some new forms of travel for this Texan wandering across the open plains of southern Africa. I left Lilongwe in a mini-bus with 17 other people and a sign on the back that said “No Fear”. Not a comforting sign when your crammed in like a sardine to the back seat. They call mini-buses “matolas” here in Malawi. Matola is Chichewa for “Close your eyes around corners!” Just kidding. It means mini-bus. The matola ride took 40 minutes to start as we waited for people to pile in. After two hours of driving we ended up in Salima which is about 20 km from the beach. From there I hopped on the back of a kid’s bike – a Malawian taxi. So add to my previous list of things on Malawian’s bikes a 182 pound Texan with a 40 pound rucksack in tow. It took him awhile to get going which drew laughs from the on-lookers. Then I loaded into the bed of the smallest Toyota pickup truck I had ever seen. There were 16 of us crammed in there along with two large baskets of tomatoes. Hold on to something!! This was a 40 minute drive to the beach. TIA=This is Africa!!

And finally, the beach. Boy, was it a sight for sore eyes. What an incredible view to behold in the middle of this dry continent. I camped out for the night and saw one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen (pictured to the right). The powder blues and magentas of the sky overlooked the silvery water which seemed like an ocean of mercury. As I sat there in the cool night air I felt a thousand miles away from the crowded cities I had spent too much time in while in Africa. This ended up being the first time that I felt at home since I got here. Finally there were no people asking me for handouts. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind. Even in this moment I couldn’t shake the emotional rollercoaster of the end of the week. But at the very least I felt like this great continent was reaching its giant arms around me and embracing me like a native son. As I looked out over the water I remembered Jodie Foster’s line at the end of the movie Contact where she’s supposedly overlooking all of the mysteries of the universe and she says “They should have sent a poet”. I felt like the most beautiful part of Africa was revealing itself to me in that moment. Suddenly all of the travel and fatigue was worth it. I was finally home. TIA=This is Africa.

One of the things I noticed while lying out on the lake enjoying some good books is how empty the skies are in Africa. I never really noticed it back home, but our skies are so cluttered with aircrafts. Maybe it’s because I only look up when I see planes flying. Maybe it’s because I lived right next to an airport and air bases in DC for the last year. But it feels rare to look up in the sky in the States and not see aircrafts, no matter how far out we are. Take a second to look up at the sky today and tell me what you think. But in Africa there is nothing above us. It’s a completely virgin sky…so natural. TIA=This is Africa.

At the same time, while I looked out over the pristine waters of Lake Malawi with fisherman busy at their vocation I was reading a book about some of the greatest tragedies that have befallen Africa in the last twenty years. In Central Africa there has been one genocide after another, and each time they dump the bodies in the rivers. As a result these waters are almost permanently stained, at least in the minds of those who witnessed the atrocities. It’s made it hard to look at waters in Africa and not think about the evil side of the continent. 300,000 killed in Burundi. 1 million murdered in Rwanda. 4 million dead in Congo. Each time the rivers ran red. This is the Africa that too often people choose to think about. And all the while Malawi has gone centuries without any major conflicts. This water has remained clean. TIA=This is Africa.

Even after such a beautiful experience, Africa was not finished revealing itself to me this weekend. Still a little heavy hearted after catching one of the most beautiful sunrises I have ever seen (pictured to the left) I decided to head out on the arduous journey back to Lilongwe. As I was packing up my tent and leaving the campsite I ran into one of the venders who had come up to talk to me at the restaurant I ate at the night before. It was another conversation where I felt like we really got to know each other. We even realized that we shared the same name and had a good laugh over it. We called each other brothers – African Mike and American Mike. But at the end of it he invited me back to his shop to look at his key chains on which he could carve anybody’s name. I told him maybe in the morning on my way out just to get out of the situation. So on the way out that morning I had to walk back by his shop. I thought about trying to hitch a ride just to avoid another time when I had to disappoint him. But I kept walking and sure enough he was there waiting for me. African Mike greeted American Mike wearing a Houston Astros shirt he had found somewhere. I was in my Spurs shirt so we were in full Texas regalia. He told me to have a safe journey and then pulled out a key chain holder on which he had carved my name on one side and a rhinoceros on the other. I thanked him for it and asked him how much he wanted for it since I felt obliged to buy it now. He looked disappointed and said he didn’t want any money. I thought he was trying to get a pity donation, but he wouldn’t take any money. I practically tried to throw 500 kwatcha (~$3.50) at him but he wouldn’t take it. He just wanted me to have something to remember him by. So I took a picture with him (below) and headed down the road, almost emotionally overcome by my new African brother. TIA=This is Africa.

I kept walking down the road and all the little kids were yelling at me, saying “Hello! Hello! Hello!” This happens everywhere I go as if they just want to make contact with the outsider. At the same time they always keep their distance as if they don’t want to get THAT close to me. But for the first time since I arrived on the continent a little kid who must have been about 3 years old walked all the way up to me and grabbed my hand with the biggest smile on his face. And for about 100 meters we walked hand in hand as he kept saying over and over “Hello, hello, hello!” He seemed so proud to walk through his little village hand in hand with a giant mazungu. TIA=This is Africa.

I was going to write some snappy conclusion to this post. Something like, "For all it's problems there's still so much beauty in Africa". But that seems like such a hopeless way of summing up the weekend. All I can say for now is that I've got 8 more weeks here to try to learn a little more about Africa.

Lilongwe from home

This week I was finally able to get out of the office and head to the field. Some USAID officials were visiting projects and I got to tag along. So I thought I’d detail the projects and give you a better idea of how your tax money is being spent abroad. If you didn’t know, everything that USAID gives to poor countries is tagged with the motto, “From the American People”. And, at least in Malawi, people seem to recognize some of the good work that the US is doing.

The first project I visited is where I took the above picture. Everyone in the picture is infected with HIV/AIDS. USAID supports a consortium of organizations which does a lot of work with HIV/AIDS in Malawi – both treating victims and preventing the spread of the disease. Malawi has one of the highest rates of HIV/AIDS in the world, so this is one of the biggest programs we do. In this case the consortium, called I-LIFE, was distributing free cornmeal and pinto beans to 120 rural farmers infected with HIV/AIDS. I got a chance to interview a few of them after the project. As I was interviewing others jumped in and wanted to tell me how much they appreciated the grain and how important it was to them. One said the grain was 50% of the food their family eats in a month. Another said the grain would last three weeks. One lady said that she had 8 children and without the grain shipment she would not be able to feed them for the month.

I think the thing I noticed most about these victims of HIV is that they weren’t the emaciated faces with swollen bellies that you see on tv. They were relatively well-fed (for Malawians) and strong enough to carry 55 pound bags of grain on the tops of their head. I wondered if that really was thanks to the program of the US government. We picked this area because of its extra high HIV prevalence. So they were lucky enough to receive the rations of grain. But we only picked 8 out of 20+ districts in Malawi to give the extra food. So I wondered what the HIV victims in other district looked like. Maybe I’ll see them in the future.

The second project I saw was a hand-over ceremony for scientific equipment. It was at the Natural Resources College just outside of Lilongwe. This is one of the two main agricultural colleges in Malawi. USAID donated about $50,000 worth of mushroom spawning equipment. Yep, mushroom spawning equipment. You know, for spawning mushrooms…

The look on your face is the same one that was on my face when they told me why we were there. But it turns out that it’s actually very practical for small rural farmers. All across Malawi people are cutting down trees which they burn and turn into charcoal to be sold in cities or they simply use to cook their meals. They do this because it’s the only way to make money during the “Hungry Season” – the part of the year in between harvests when no more money is coming into the home. To prevent continued degradation of forest land donors are trying to come up with new income sources for rural Malawians. And one of the most profitable new sources of income, strangely enough, is mushroom farming (no, not those kind of mushrooms). As I learned, mushrooms can be grown in bags inside small houses (like the one pictured below) that act as humidifiers. The great part is that mushroom plants continue to grow and produce mushrooms providing a steady source of income for almost no work (which is great for HIV victims who tend to have very little energy). The thing is that you have to have quality spores (basically seeds) to buy. But thus far Malawi hasn’t been able to produce quality spores. Thus the US government donated the machinery to produce mushroom spores, which then go to produce a sustainable source of income for some of the poorest and vulnerable Malawians. Very interesting stuff I’d say.


Beyond that getting out on the road afforded me the opportunity to notice a few more things about Malawi, such as:

-It’s very common for men to walk around with machetes in Malawi (something I got used to seeing in Central America), but it’s just as common to see people walking around Malawi with big stalks of sugar cane. They peal away the bark and gnaw on the sugar inside. Cheap snack.

-At the HIV site I noticed that when the audience applauded, they did so in synchronized fashion. It was really impressive. There was no cue for them. It was just that when it was time to applaud they all found the same beat at the same time. Then I was told what they were doing when a guy got up and asked them not to clap like that. As my interpreter told me, the synchronized clapping is reserved for chiefs and special guests (me). But the unsynchronized clapping that we’re used to hearing is how they clap normally.

-There’s a main highway in Malawi called the M1. It turns out that it’s really just a road with one lane going in each direction and no shoulder. And while you’re driving the M1, just like any other road in Malawi, you must keep a weather eye for obstacles such as goats, kids, bikes with incredible loads (see next bullet), and slow cars with way too many people in them for safety. There is never a relaxing moment for drivers in Malawi.

-One of the most noticeable things about traveling around Malawi is the role that bikes play in life. Bikes have really turned into the beasts of burden for Malawians. Each bike has a platform behind the seat for carrying loads such as: firewood literally piled 7 feet high which must weigh easily over one hundred pounds, sugar cane also stacked high, 40 gallon barrels, boxes of vegetables going to and from market, pots and pans, men riding behind and women riding side-saddle, goats, chickens, sides of beef, and 55 pound bags of USAID-stamped grain rations. And this is just in my first two weeks.

-Another interesting thing I noticed about Malawi is that I have only seen one woman riding a bike. But women are carrying just as many loads as men. Unfortunately for them, they carry their loads on their heads. I saw these two older women carrying 8 foot long bundles of limbs three feet in diameter. When I asked some Malawians about this they didn’t really know why women don’t use bikes. They said it wasn’t taboo or anything, it’s just something that women don’t do. One guy told me “Men come from very far, women, however, only travel a short distance”. I guess.

-Another fun fact about my life in Malawi is that the house I’m staying at doesn’t have satellite tv, instead it has The Armed Forces Network – the same programming offered to the military. The most interesting thing about AFN is that they don’t have any commercials. But since there are still breaks in shows they have to fill, they have produced public service announcements for all the military folks watching around the world. These are fun and very patriotic. For instance, they tell us that it’s no longer legal to bring back treasures from wars, the difference between general vs. special powers of attorney, how to get citizenship for your new wife, be sure to check your tire pressure, obey local laws, the history of the military, the origin of simper fi, and my favorite – Be sure to vote in November!! The Republicans need you!!!

Why is everyone screaming?!

Two posts in one day? What could possibly merit such blatant disregard for my free time? And why was everyone screaming??!! Read on and find out.

Have you ever woken up in the morning in a new place and had no idea where you were? That happend to me this morning. You can imagine my surprise when my mind finally tripped upon the realization that I'm in Africa.

Anyways, I thought it was a crazy moment. Today I was taken to a sailing club with my boss. It was the first time I had ever gone sailing. It was such a free-ing experience. Out on the open water, no motor to propel you. I hadn't been on the boat for ten minutes before Curt let me "man the tiller". It was a cool afternoon, and the best part was that we didn't capsize even once. Then I got to head out on a kayak and see fisherman up and down the water in search of dinner.

But it wasn't until we started back home that the day got really interesting. As we were driving back through a suburb of Lilongwe called Likuma. Curt and I were startled by a group of about 50 Malawian youths running out of the bush and alongside the road. They were all screaming and waving a Malawian flag. As they continued down the street people started yelling at them and waving. As we continued down the road we saw older people jumping up and down. Some old women were shaking their arms chicken-dance-style in front of shops. One group of men were dancing jigs around a round of milk cartons. Cars that we passed were flashing their lights and honking.

At this point the mzungus (gringos/whites) in the car with me along with some Malawian kids we brought with us were dumbfounded. What was going on? This being Africa, the first thing my mind went to was a coup. Had the tense political battle in the country (which I'll explain someday) finally trickled over into violence? My next thought was that perhaps the brutal dictator next door in Zimbabwe, Robert Mugabe, had finally been toppled. This continued for our entire hour long ride through town. The entire city was literally in the streets dancing and screaming with huge smiles on their faces.

So what was it? Why was everyone so happy? It wasn't until I got home and asked my guard what was so important that we found out. It turned out the Malawian National Soccer Team (known as The Flames) had just beaten the number one soccer team in Africa -- the Egyptian soccer team. This is a HUGE upset. Malawi is, and always has been, one of the lowest ranked soccer teams in Africa because of its small size and limited resources. But by a score of 1-0 the Malawian soccer team was victorious, and lifted the spirits of an entire nation.

Life in Lilongwe

I've add some pics from the trip across Zambia on my Flickr site. If you haven't seen them, yet you can find them here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/27531054@N03/

Also, Cynthia gave me the good idea of creating a Google map of my little life in Lilongwe. You can find that here: http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&t=h&msa=0&ll=-13.960557,33.80373&spn=0.073633,0.105743&z=13&msid=113365185812763974101.00044f873997a4090858a

Click on some of the tabs to get their descriptions. You can zoom in a bunch and actually see the building. The information superhighway really is amazing. You'll see the USAID office building where I work is a weird curved building. The other fun thing to note are the trails through brush around the buildings. The thing you notice most about Malawi is how much everyone walks. This is especially true in the morning and late afternoon hours when everyone is either walking to or from work. They walk so much that all of the grassy areas have well-defined trails that look as though they've been there for centures. Which they probably have.

So I thought I'd use this blog space to explain to folks back home why I'm here and what I'm doing. WHY?: As you could probably guess, Malawi is one of the poorest countries in the world. But really I think ranking poor countries is a dumb, useless thing to do. They're poor. Do you really need to compare who's the poorest of them all? I mean, does it matter that one country's citizens make about $300 a year and another country's citizens make about $500? The point is they're lacking a lot of the security we have in the US. So I won't say that Malawi is less developed than other areas. What I will say, though, is that Malawi has some big problems they need to overcome. Among those are a large HIV positve rate (about 15% of the population), high Malaria rates (One of the security guards at my house just took his 10 month old daughter to the hospital for Malaria. Thankfully she is doing better), tuberculosis, and poor economic opportunities.

The US government, along with other donors such as the UK, the EU, the UN, and China, are all working to improve life for ordinary Malawians. About 75% of the $100 million the US spends here goes into the health and education sector. The rest goes towards agriculture mostly. One of the things I've been asked to do within all of that is help come up with success stories for USAID projects. It's pretty helpful for me because it allows me to get in and see all of the projects being done. Soon I'll make trips out to the field to interview beneficiaries and get their side of the story. Also, I'm getting to do some analysis on effective ways to improve the Justice sector here and see how it can be improved. I got to meet the Solicitor General at a meeting this week where they were discussing Judicial reforms.

My day gets started around 7:30 and finishes around 5:00. This allows us to take half of Friday off, which I used today to play golf with some coworkers. Golf if cheap enough here for us to have a caddy, which I've never had before. My caddy was named Lewis (a 9 handicap in his own right for you golfers out there) and was from the central region of Lilongwe. As I talked to Lewis it was interesting to hear his perspective on politics. The political parties in Malawi are all based on what region you're from. The former dictator of Malawi, Hastings Banda, was from the Central region. When I asked Lewis about Banda, he quickly corrected me: "Do you mean Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda?". Oh yeah, that's the one I meant. Of course he thought Banda was great and all of the problems in Malawi have come from the people who replaced him. People from the other regions (and most of the outside world) think that Banda was a brutal dictator that ruled his country with an iron fist. Stories of Banda's strong rule are everywhere. He banned the book "Africa on a Shoestring" because it criticized his regime. He banned Malawian flags from being displayed for no apparent reason. And he changed his official title to President for Life Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda. Everyone thought that he would die in office. Instead he got kicked out at the ripe old age of 94 and ended up living to 101. Life is good when you're a dictator in Africa. They still celebrate Banda Day here in Malawi, and there's a huge Mausuleum/Monument dedicated to the man. I mean Jefferson Monument-sized monument.

I get to interact with some Americans, but mostly Malawians in my office. In my two meetings today, 7 of 10 in one meeting and 8 of 12 in another meeting were Malawian. So while I'm not exactly living with Malawians, I get to have a somewhat filtered perspective on life in Malawi through my co-workers. In my mind I think that I need to see poor people in order to get to the "real" Malawi. But I think that's unfair to Malawi. I wonder if it's because of my Western bias that I think that the "real" Malawi has to be poor. As if the folks I'm working with are somewhat less African or less Malawian because they've got steady jobs and aren't pushing bananas or cell phone minutes on me on the street. The truth is that it's all Africa. It's all Malawi. Some are doing better than others, and hopefully in the future all Malawians will have the chance to have such jobs if they so choose.

So that's a little on my work here in Malawi. The other aspect is that there's really a tight ex-pat community here that really tries to fill up social calendars. I didn't spend a single evening at home this week until now because I've been invited to so many events. Not to brag (well, okay, to brag a little), but one of the events was a poker night with my bosses, the heads of the USAID mission, where I ended up walking away with most of their money. I'm not sure if this was the best way to start off my internship here, but as a Texan I felt obliged to show these northerners exactly how it's done. God Bless Texas.

This weekend I'm heading off to a sailing club with my Mission Director and will visit one of the Malawian churches for some cultural exchange. Next weekend I hope to hit Lake Malawi which is supposed to be one of the most beautiful places in Africa. I'll be sure to snap lots of pictures.

Pictures...finally!!!

Finally got some time/internet speed to post some pictures. These are from my first night in Joburg and my trip to Victoria Falls. More to come...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/27531054@N03/

Hot off the press...

Just caught this story in one of Malawi's main newspapers today ( http://www.dailytimes.bppmw.com/article.asp?ArticleID=9889 )...

Witch crashes to death

BY CAROLINE KANDIERO

09:26:45 - 11 June 2008
Angry villagers from William Village in Traditional Authority Kasisi in Chikwawa Tuesday morning demanded instant justice for a 62-year-old woman whose witchcraft plane crash-landed early Monday morning.According to Chikwawa Police spokesman Sunday Ngulube the old woman, identified as Selinia January, crash-landed at around 1 am at the Misiyasi family home.“The woman said she was coming from Mitekete heading to Tsapa but could not give more details as to what her mission was or whether she had company in the ‘plane’,” said Ngulube, adding that the woman was badly hurt from her fall as she had bruises all over her face.Ngulube said the Misiyasi family was awakened around 1 am when they heard a loud bang on their roof, and when they went out to inquire, they found the old lady.He further said January only talked for a few minutes and thereafter started making pig-noise sounds, when a mob that had gathered demanded an explanation from her.“Since she was just making the pig-noises, the mob became angry and wanted to stone the woman to death but the owner of the house hid her in the house,” said Ngulube.According to Ngulube after assessing the situation at the house, group village headman William informed the police who came to control the situation.Ngulube further said when the police took the woman for questioning she still could not talk and they took her to Chikwawa Hospital for treatment, where she died later in the evening.According to Ngulube if January had lived, she was expected to answer charges of pretending witchcraft.

Finally in Lilongwe!!

Thanks for all the fun comments people have been leaving. I'm glad some of you are enjoying the blog. I've enjoyed relating my travel stories as if I'm some sort of important person reliving moments from my life for a biography or something. "Behind The Music: The Michael Bardgett Story".

I'd like to reply to some of the comments, but I'm not sure what the protocol is. Do I comment back on the comment board? Do I comment in another blog? Do I send a personal e-mail? I'm new to all of this, so please let me know the protocol!!

So as the subject line reads, I am finally nestled away in the sleepy hamlet known as Lilongwe, Malawi. It's the nations's capitol city, but not really the country's main city. That title belongs to Blantyre in the South. Lilongwe is only about 100 years old so it's not really the typical ancient trade route-type capitol of other places. As a result I don't think it really has the mystique of other African capitols such as Cairo, Nairobi, or Accra (bonus points if you can name the countries those belong to. Are you smarter than a 5th grader?).

At this point I've got too many thoughts rolling through my head as I try to take in all of my surroundings, which will be my home for the next two months. I'll try to give you some of the highlights here.

To get into Malawi from Zambia I had to get a taxi from the hostel where I was staying. I ended up sharing it with two Polish-Canadians college students that are traveling from South Africa to Tanzania. We were dropped off at the border where we went through Zambian customs. Then "crossed the border" (or the dirt lot) the 500 meters to the Malawian immigration office. It was crowded with Zambians and Malawians. I stood in the “line” with my two fellow anglos. As I stood there the line doubled in size in front of me.

I had heard that Africans don’t have “lining up” in their culture and now I had proof. A lady tapped me on the shoulder to say excuse me. Then she cut in line right in front of me. This happened several more times. Finally the three of us created a wall with our bodies and bags so that nobody else could pass. But in front of us more people queued up unannounced. I finally got the idea that I would have to shove my passport up to the agent if I wanted to get through. Just as I did this the immigration official yelled at everyone to line up. We all looked at him with blank stares and nobody moved. The Malawians looked at him like he had just told them to stand on their heads. But the agent persisted and finally we created a line. Just as I was about to get up to the window a sweet little nun jumped in front of me to take my spot.

Once I finally got through we shared another taxi to the first Malawian town near the border – Mchinji. First I had to change my Zambian kwacha into Malawian kwacha. The first guy I saw gave me an exchange rate of 25 Zambian kwacha to 1 Malawian kwacha. Since I had no idea of the exchange rate at this point, I had to take it. Even though it was the "black market" it turned out that it was better than what the banks were offering. I ended up asking about his business which gave me an informative look at small enterprises in Malawi. Then 19 of us piled into a minibus about the size of an old Volkswagon bus for the hour and a half trip to Lilongwe.

My first impressions of Malawi are that it’s much more scenic than Zambia. It was greener than Zambia and the trees were a little different. Fewer acacia trees and more trees with bulbous tops. It's more developed in this part of the country. It was less bush and more plantations growing maize and other crops Icouldn’t identify. The houses were also different. In Zambia the houses were smaller – about 8-10 feet in diameter. Sometimes cylinders, sometimes squares. The roofs were always cones made of thatch. In Malawi the villages were made up of more western-styles houses with slanted roofs also made of thatch. My theory is that Zambia was never settled by whites to the extent that Malawi was. As a result the white/western influence was greater in Malawi, while Zambia didn’t change as much thus creating western-style housing in Malawi.

The USAID officials I'm working with picked me up from downtown and showed me my palacial estate I'll be residing at while I'm here. The US government officials live like kings here and are cloistered behind giant walls with spikes sticking out. I have satelite tv and wireless internet in the house. At this point my friends who lived in rural villages in Chad and Sudan are glaring at me from across the ocean.

On Saturday night, my first day here, I hung out with about 20 Peace Corps Volunteers from across the country that were in the capitol for meetings. They gave me some great tips on Malawi and were very helpful in helping me get adjusted. Then, on Sunday, the exiting Ambassador through a BBQ at his residence in which every American in Malawi was invited. Hamburgers, hot dogs, apple crisp, banana pudding, carrot cake, and, of course my favorite, real chocolate cake! American flags were everywhere and we sang the Star-Spangled Banner, America, the Beautiful, and Carolina on my Mind, and Born in the USA. What a surreal experience for my second day in Malawi.

Started work to day and finally got hooked into the computer system, so my internet access should be more consistent. Hopefully I'll be able to be more consistent with my postings and replies. The also hooked me up with a cell phone while I'm here. They have given me quite a large workload here which should occupy my days. In my next post I'll try to give you an idea of what I'll be doing and what the office is like, which I think are both very interesting.

Until then, here's a little tidbit from the book I referenced before by Paul Theroux which he wrote as he entered Malawi. I figured some of my fellow African travelers would be able to change the word Malawi for whatever other countries they've visited:

You know you're in Malawi when...

-the firest seven shops you pass are coffin makers' shops. (because of the prevalence of HIV/AIDS, TB, and Malaria)
-an old man on the road i swearing a women's fur-trimmed pink housecoat from the 1950's.
-the rear rack of a bike is stacked with ten incured cow hides. (this grossed me out just a little bit and almost turned me into a vegeratin during my stay here.)
-a roadblock is a bamboo pole across two barrels, and the official manning it is wearing a T-shirt lettered "Winnipeg Blue Bombers".
-two policemen stop your minibus for no reason and at gunpoint force the fourteen passengers to pile out in the dark.
-the smooth tarred road abruptly becomes a rutted muddy track that is barely passable.
-people say, apropos of nothing, "The day the old woman disappears is when the hyena shits gray hair."
-on the day the minister of finance announces his national austerity plan, it is revealed that thirty-eight Mercedes-Benzes have just been ordered from Germany.

TIA=This Is Africa!!!
Too much fun!

Traveling Zambia

6-6-2008 – Chipata, Zambia

As I write this it’s the dead of night (or as I used to call it, 7:30pm) and I am deep in the African bush. One of the things my African friends failed to mention to me before my arrival on the continent was the hours of sunlight here, or lack thereof. Because I am so close to the equator, and it’s winter, the day is evenly divided between light and dark – 12 hours for each. The sun came up this morning about 6:00, and by 6:00 this evening darkness was spreading across the horizon. I spent most of that time…check that, all of that time on an eastbound bus through Zambia, inching toward the Malawian border. The whole time I had one thought in my head: “Would my luggage arrive with me at the border?” That question was answered at about 7:15 this evening as the bus pulled into its destination in the town of Chipata. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me put the day in reverse so that you can understand better my travels today.

I started today in Lusaka, the capitol of Zambia. I would describe Lusaka as a utilitarian city built in the Soviet style to provide for the basic needs of the population and nothing more. There is not architecture, only Soviet-style block housing and office buildings. There is one street that contains everything you might need to buy. The guide books all suggest that you find anywhere to stay besides Lusaka. So why did I leave the comfortable surroundings of Livingstone to stay there?

Basically I just got tired of being a tourist in Africa. I think that Paul Theroux explains it well in his book “Dark Star Safari”: “It was in Africa that I began my lifelong dislike of Ernest Hemingway. The Hemingway vision of Africa begins and ends with the killing of large animals, so that their heads may be displayed to impress visitors with your prowess. That kind of safari is easily come by. You pay your money and you are shown elephants and leopards. You talk to servile Africans, who are generic natives, little more than obedient Oompa Loompas. The human side of Africa is an afternoon visit to a colorful village.”

Livingstone is a great place to catch your breath and see something incredible at Victoria Falls. But it’s a tourist trap. You can bungee jump and white water raft, and talk to a bunch of white people from all over the world. I conversed with these folks for two days before it wore very thin on me as I longed to see the Africa out on the streets. Unfortunately all I was to them was another tourist. I engaged in lots of conversations with them about Africa and development. I learned a lot from them, but at the end of the day they just wanted me to buy one of their copper bracelets or jump in their taxi.

Anyways, I hopped aboard a bus from Livingstone to Lusaka. It actually ended up being a good experience in spite of the stories I’d heard about travel in Africa. The bus left promptly, there were free drinks and snacks, we only made four stops on the way, and got there by early afternoon.

The bus from Lusaka to Chipata was not so great. Here’s a running diary I kept of the trip:

6:00—wake up to catch my 8:30 bus. I was told to report for the bus an hour and a half early at 7:00. I put my bag underneath the bus and wonder if it is the last time I will see it.

6:50—I find the last window seat. I wonder how long I will be in this position. There’s already a baby crying and the lady across from me is blaring a portable stereo she brought. Later this evening the owner of the guest house told me that this is an aspect of African culture. Apparently if you have music, it would be rude to not share it with everyone else. Try that on the metro back in DC. She stumbles upon a Western station and Keith Urban is singing. People walk up and down the aisles trying to sell us chocolate, fruit, CDs, fabric, watches, radios, flashlights, cell phone chargers, etc. I’ve heard the trip can take 8 hours. That sounds manageable.

8:45—(15 minutes after “scheduled” departure time) Still waiting patiently in my seat. The bus is almost full. It isn’t even turned on. Man comes around to check tickets.

9:00—Still waiting for bus to start…

9:30—still waiting…Preacher gets on the bus and screams fire and brimstone at us. Then he prays for the safety of the bus and his passengers. I decide it would be a good idea to join him in this prayer. There are no atheists in a fox hole.

9:38—Bus starts!!! Preacher walks around to collect donations. Just about everyone pays up.

9:52—Bus finally pulls out. There’s one more person than seats, so they give him a stool to sit on in the aisle. It turns out that the bus would not leave until it had enough people in spite of the fact that this is a chartered bus in which people may only be seated. People yell at the drive in the back about it. Bus driver blares his own CDs over the PA system.

10:15—Bus stops frequently leaving Lusaka so that more people can get on. The aisle is filled with people who will stand all day waiting for their stop. Soon we are out in the African bush on a one lane road called The Great East Road. We pass by little villages with brick walls and thatch roofs. I wonder if their world is any different from when David Livingstone first happened upon them in the 1850s. There are little fires started which serve as their morning heat and cooking fuel. In the distance I can see fires started as far as the horizon. I wonder what their lives are like.

The other thing I notice about the bush is that there are no fences anywhere. There are no places like that in the US. Property has a completely different meaning here. I see cacti that are 40 feet tall and ant hills that are taller than any of the mud huts.

12:20—We stop on the side of the road for our first bathroom break. Men to the left, ladies to the right. Find the nearest tree. Sorry ladies. I had been sitting in that position for five hours. I am now really glad I decided to buy some extra bread rolls the night before for the trip. I really wish I had bought more than one water bottle, though. It’s starting to get hot. I realize that I am the only white person on the bus. I enjoy that. I’m not sure why. Maybe it reminds me of San Antonio. Maybe it’s the adventure. Not sure. Terrain has gotten more hilly now with more trees.

1:20—The bus stops so that a little girl can use the bathroom. She squats down right in front of my window as her mom braces her. Trees are changing colors. More 40 foot cacti and 10 foot ant hills and mud huts and campfires. I must be pre-med because I’m still nursing my water bottle. Could really use a refill.

2:00—The guy in front of me just closed the window which is my only ventilation. Suddenly the stench of human sweat fills my nostrils. It’s pungent like ammonia. Most of it probably from me, but still, it isn’t pleasant. Later on someone opens an orange and deodorizes the whole place. It’s getting very hot outside. Probably high 90’s. No a/c on the bus.

2:30—Stop at the roadside to let someone off and pick others up. This would continue every 15-30 minutes or so the rest of the afternoon. As we stop the guy next to me buys some bananas out the window and gives me one. I enjoy it, but now my mouth is dry. Gotta drink the rest of the water. I have this weird feeling about my bag underneath the bus. I really wish it had not left my sight.

2:40—The road gets much worse and we slow to a crawl across the bush. I realize that I am in the “darkest” part of the continent according to the Europeans of the 1800s. This was the vast uncharted territory that they usually left as a big white mass on the map. The first European didn’t even see it until 1855. And now I’m strolling across it in a chartered bus filled with Zambians on the move. Little kids are playing soccer in one of the fields a hundred miles from the nearest town.

5:31—Pass one more town. Katate. Is this the last before Chipata? Vendors run up to the side of the bus to sell things. FINALLY I buy two bottles of water and dispatch of them in minutes. Ahhh, relief. The sun is already starting to dip below the horizon.

6:14—We are now dropping people off in the middle of the bush in complete darkness. I start to wonder how they even know where to stop. There are no landmarks out here.

6:50—12 hours of sitting on this bus. My butt is complete agony. Will this trip ever end? We stop to let another person off.

7:05—Finally pull into Chipata and the bus grinds to a halt. People crowd the aisle and it takes 5 minutes for me to get out of the bus to see if my bag is still there. I finally get to the luggage compartment as they start pulling out bags amassed along the way. Don’t see it. More bags are pulled. Still don’t see it. I start to think about the laptop that I stupidly left in there instead of carrying it on. My malaria pills are in there. The diamonds and drugs I am smuggling over to Malawi. What will my dealer say if I lose them? Then, one of the last bags is pulled out and my heart skips a beat. My bag!! I have had no greater joy in life. Jump in a taxi and head over to Dean’s Hill View Lodge for a well deserved rest. Tomorrow I hop the border to Malawi…

Livingstone, Zambia (Victoria Falls)

(Note: Survivor Palau spoiler alert! Don't read the last section if you think Survivor is real!)

It's been a very eventful two days in the "real" Africa. I am staying within walking distance (though walking is discouraged because of muggers in the bush) from Victoria Falls. (Un)fortunately, though, I haven't even seen the falls yet because I've found some other things to do.

Day 1 in Zambia was mostly about walking the streets and getting adjusted. I've found that the first thing I do in a new country is immediately compare it to past places I've visited. In that vain, Zambia reminds me a lot of El Salvador when I visited about 5 years ago. A nice Zambian about my age on the airplane wearing a Red Sox jersey told me that Livingstone is the "Miami Beach" of Zambia. Thankfully they left out the fat guys in speedos. First impressions were: 85-90 degrees, the red dirt of the continent made up the streets. The currency is called the Kwacha which, because of inflation, totals K3500 to 1 US$. It can get very complicated without a calculator. Quick, how many dollars is K10,000?

No, seriously, can you tell me? I'm still trying to figure it out. Also, they drive on the wrong/left side of the road here, British style. You wouldn't think that would be confusing for me since I'm not driving, but it is. I keep looking the wrong way (to the left) when i want to cross the street. Plus, people pass you on the sidewalks on your right, which is also different than the States. I keep running in to people like the big arrogant American that i am. Also met a Zimbabwean refugee who's been here for 2 years. He spoke to me about his country as he was begging me for food. He described going back to Zim as like "Going from Sarajevo into a gas chamber". He was also very educated and spoke to me about America's prohibition and the Causa Nostra.

To finish off Day 1 I headed out to try some local African fare and ended up at "Da Fusion" a mixture of foods from around the world. I ordered the chicken curry and had the choice of pairing it with rice or the native Zambian side "Nshima". Similar to other African countries, Nshima is a doughey, starchey substance similar to mashed potatoes but spongier. For the other inexperienced Africans out there, you scoop the Nshima with your hand and then scoop up the other dish, in my case 2 small chunks of curried chicken and cabbage. It was actually very flavorful and the waitresses got a kick out of watching this dumb Texan try the maneuvers for the first time. Finally one of them came over to me and whispered softly in my ear "You're supposed to scoop the Nshima first and then the meat." So, blushing a little, I followed the native tradition rather than my Texan remix for the rest of the meal. Overall not a bad experience.

Day 2 found me crossing the border to Botswana to Chobe National Park to "safari" (the non-shooting animals kind). Once I put pictures up I'll say more about it, but without them it's pretty worthless. But it was awesome and filled with hippos, elephants, giraffes, buffaloes, baboons, crocodiles, lizards, etc.

The fun part for me, though, was crossing the border. The border crossing is at the nexus of the Chobe and Zambezi rivers which creates the border between four countries: Zambia, Namibia, Botswana, and Zimbabwe. Unfortunately for political reasons (which the Botswanans blame on Mugabe) a bridge has not been built to span the rivers. So one single ferry takes one single 18-wheeler across which takes about 10 minutes. So the line of trucks waiting to cross stretches for miles and can take them up to a week. Yep, I'm in Africa.

So tomorrow I'm off to finally see Victoria Falls, or as the locals call it, "The Smoke that Thunders". I'm thinking that since David Livingstone got to name it just because he was the first European, I might go ahead and name it since i'm likely to be the first Texan to see it...or at least the first San Antonian...or at least the first person from my high school class. I'm thinking of calling it "Big Spit" or "Don't slip!" I'll keep you posted so that you can correct your maps back home.


Fun travel notes:
1) On the ferry crossing the rivers a couple of guys came up in a canoe and started unloading beer cases that were on the boat. Apparently they were trying to avoid customs. I watched them for awhile then watched other things. Suddenly everyone was screaming and running to the back of the ferry. So of course I followed, looking for a good story. When i got to the back of the boat I saw that the canoe with beer cases had cap-sized and all the beer was floating down the Zambezi to Zimbabwe. One of the canoe's competitors raced to catch up to the floating party and scooped up their rewards. Everyone on the ferry laughed about it for 5 minutes and told everyone on the shore what had happened, who then laughed about it for 10 minutes and kept spreading the story. Who needs tv?

2) On the plane trip up to Zambia I sat next to a 19 year old British girl named Tabitha who was in Zambia for a month to build mud huts in rural villages for the elderly. It turns out that she was a stunt double on the show Survivor:Palau. She called herself a 'dream-teamer'. Apparently every contestant on Survivor has a 'dream-teamer' who performs all of the stunts beforehand on a separate island to make sure they're safe. She was the 'dream-teamer' for Amanda. Basically her job was to live in a tropical island for 4 months, do fun stunts and games for the show, and sunbathe. I learned lots more about the inner workings of Survivor which I'll share with you on another date if you wish. Needless to say, i'm totally taking her story and making it my own. Good times!

Arrival

I have arrived safely in Johannesburg. Or as we call it, Jo’burg. It’s about 70 degrees outside, or 20 degrees C. Lots of sun, but it’s already starting to fade and its only 4:30 local time. That puts me 6 hours ahead of DC and 7 hours ahead of Texas. Yes, I am now a time traveler. Wait until you see what happens at 12:30 today for you guys.

The flight wasn’t as bad as I thought it could be, except that my butt was crying for relief about halfway through. Next time I’ll try to put some more weight on before I come.

Some items of note from the trip over:
It’s been 5 years since I’ve been on an international flight. They now put a camera on the fin of the airplane so that you can watch the plane taxi. The sad part is that we were all enthralled by this experience. Seriously, you can put anything on tv and we’d probably watch it.
I ended up with exit row/window seat. I had to bribe the flight attendant for this honor. Just kidding...as far as you know.
The safety video was equal opportunity and featured two main characters that looked eerily similar to F.W. de Clerk and Nelson Mandela. It was pretty entertaining to see de Clerk demonstrate how to properly inflate the seat bottom cushion.
I was disappointed at the lack of Africans on the flight over. It was almost all Americans as far as I could tell. There was one black African family, and a smattering of white Africans as well. Beyond that there were just a whole mess of folks with southern accents. I overheard a bunch talking about their homes back in Texas. At least the US is sending over its best and brightest as tourists now.
The other interesting thing about the flight is that aside from some honeymooners, I think every person on the flight was here to hunt game. They call it “safari”. That’s kind of unfortunate because in Swahili, “safari” means “journey”, not “kill a bunch of animals with high-powered rifles”. But I did hear some entertaining stories of hunting buffalo on the open range. I think all of the hunters on the plane had mustaches. They would have worked great as characters in a novel. Right down to the khaki clothing and Indiana Jones hats. One of them said that they were looking forward to hunting in “their own Jurassic Park”. But wait, didn’t that turn out bad for the hunter? Hmm…
When my butt wasn’t hurting me, I slept some with the aid of Nyquil and “There Will Be Blood”, which was a good movie, but definitely helped send me off to sleep.

Haven’t seen much of Jo’burg yet because my hostel is right next to the airport. I’ve got a flight that leaves for Livingstone, Zambia tomorrow morning at 10:40am. So by tomorrow afternoon I should be gazing upon Victoria Falls. Until next time, Adios!