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!