A dual celebration!

Today is my dad's 70th birthday. I wish that I could be home to celebrate this important birthday with him. Days like this make me feel far far away. But, instead of being home, I organized a group from work to sing and dance.

OK, so today was also the Lighthouse Day Celebration, but a festival is a festival!!!

Happy 70th Birthday, Dad!

Red Dog’s new pack

This week, I received the following message, accompanied by several amusing photos.
Red Dog’s cousin, Kobe, is visiting my folks for 2 weeks while my sister and her family are at summer camp. Of all the attractive chewable things in the house (pillows, kid's toys, even stuffed animals), my mom told me that Kobe pulled Red’s entire toy basket off the top of the crate and went to work. As you can see, the toys are disemboweled and eviscerated, not gently squeaked as intended. Of course, he did not touch anything else...nothing! My mom’s newest research project: analysis of Kobe’s brain. I say, jealous much, Kobe? She (my mom, not Red) noted that these pictures spoke the legendary “1000 words”. She also mentioned that last night, after Red and Kobe went to bed, Tucker (my folks’ geriatric dog) started crying downstairs. Both dogs bolted up, ran down to the closed den door, and waited until my mom could get down there to open the doors. Then all three headed outside before everyone quieted back down and went to sleep. They have definitely created a pack. Otherwise, the report is that Red and her cousins have been playing very nicely, chasing each other around the house and yard, and causing the usual amount of multi dog havoc.
The price of dog boarding? 10 new squeaky toys for Red dog.

Thanks, mom, for the update!

Where oh where could our belongings be???

Back in April, Jon helped me pack up about 1000 pounds of random stuff (toiletries, some food, mattress, TV, clothes, shoes, and some board (bored) games) into an elevator-sized wooden crate. I itemized all the boxes, insured it all against theft and destruction, crossed my fingers and sent it off on its journey to Malawi. The expected arrival date was June 4th.

A few weeks ago, I contacted the un-named shippers for an estimate of the arrival date and was told June 18th! Hallelujah! I could use some soap and good toothpaste right about now, and some new-to-here clothes would be welcome. Not surprisingly, my things are not here. In fact, they are not in the country. Or, are they? I can’t possibly do it justice, so here are some quotes from the myriad emails exchanged this week with the shippers involved in this complicated and opaque process:

June 22, 2010:
“All I was able to find out was that your household goods left Charleston April 20 aboard the Bonn Express bound for Antwerp. I was also able to confirm that the vessel docked in Antwerp May 3rd. My contact at the steamship line here in the States emailed its counterpart in Europe to get transportation details of your household goods Antwerp to Lilongwe. That is the last piece of the puzzle missing and as soon as I find it, I will let you know.”

June 20, 2010:
“”The container which carried your shipment is still in Durban not destuffed yet, according to the agent in RSA she said may be it will be offloaded next week Thursday, after that it’s when they will prepare the documentation for it to embark on road transport to Malawi but she doesn’t know when it will leave Durban to Malawi.”

June 18, 2010:
“I tried to get in touch with Ecu-Line South Africa to get an update on your household goods, but the line was constantly busy.”

June 18, 2010:
“According to the information we received late today, your household goods are already in Lilongwe. I was not able, however, to confirm exactly where. I will call the steamship line tomorrow morning @ 9 am & speak with the Traffic Department Manager and get an exact address of the location of your household goods.

June 17, 2010:
“We received all the documents for clearing but this shipment it’s very difficult to track because it’s an LCL shipment and we don’t know whether it is Johannesburg or Malawi because the agent in RSA is not responding to my branch e-mails .”

Home Sweet Home, part 2: The Money Pit

I know this shows my age, but who remembers that old Tom Hanks movie, The Money Pit? He and his partner buy an old gorgeous home, and from the minute they purchase it, it begins falling apart. You see where this is going? The good news: I found a new house and will, hopefully, move in sometime before July 1. The bad news? Well, let’s begin:

I found this beautiful home on Lilongwe Chat, a Craigslist mostly for ex-pats in Lilongwe. It is an old government home from the 1950’s in a great location, has a gorgeous yard with fruit trees (football size!), and it is more than ample size for my short-term and long-term guests. It also has staff “quarters” and guard posts, but that will be for another blog posting. The owner of the home is the Minister of XXXXX (a muckidy muck who shall remain nameless for propriety’s sake). He is, not surprisingly, rather hard to reach (it’s hard to visit all your homes, fly to the World Cup, and constantly drive around with police escort between Parliament appearances). To make his hard life easier, Minister hired the past renter, Betsy (not her real name), to help him find a new tenant, a process that seems straightforward. Hah! To make a long story short, Betsy is your quintessential hippie ex-pat – a true “blowing in the wind” type of person. She has no common sense, no legal experience in writing leases, no spelling skills, and could not get in touch with the Minister to actually discuss the details. I believe we met approximately 23 times, had 141 phone calls, and exchanged 264 emails in a convoluted process that included her trying to get me to exchange foreign currency with her; pay her the deposit in cash; ignore the misspellings of my name; and put me on the hook for the damages she made to the home. It got so nasty for me (while maintaining a calm, kind, and patient exterior) that we actually took the lease to an attorney (the same one that Madonna uses in Malawi!).

3 weeks later, the house is mine, but we are ironing out a few outstanding (astounding) issues. First “funny” thing: Betsy took all the keys to the doors, except 1. She may actually have them, but she is in England which is not so convenient. With the key she left, I was able to open half the 2-part door (like a barn door), and get in and out through the bottom. However, I did misestimate the height of the door once and completely scalped myself – leaving a nice chunk of hair and head on the door and leaving a lovely scab in its wake (see scene of scalping in car port, below). Second “funny” thing: renters are actually responsible for inside repairs in the homes they rent – it’s in the typical Malawi lease -- including all new door locks, painting, tile replacement, etc. Somehow through my Chichewa interpreter and my pleading smile, I did get the Minister’s repairman to make some concessions– a miracle and a much-needed break. Third “funny” thing: Betsy took the drapes to the windows – all 23 windows. I like natural light; but, no one needs to be blinded by my white bottom, and the housekeeper, gardener, and guards do not need Peeping Tom encouragement. Cost for curtains: $300. Isn’t this a developing country? And, lastly (for brevity’s sake), I have been paying to live there since the 15th, but the house won’t be ready for until the end of next week. Silver lining: the delivery folks managed to get in a fridge, stove, and washing machine (you’re welcome, Jon) through the half door, and the outside is being repainted on the Minister’s dime right now.

Deep breath.

This, too, shall pass. The house is really lovely. Jon will love it. We will make it a beautiful place and inviting space. And, as soon as I finish these next 2 weeks of hellacious housekeeping tasks, it will all be worth it. Optimism activated!

On buying, and driving, an SUV…

Well, I did it. I am a little embarrassed, but I am now the reluctant owner of a Toyota Rav4 – the McDonald's of Malawi cars. The owner actually never signed it over to me, so I took things into my own hands and faked the transfer of ownership, her signature, and the bill of sale. Four trips to the Malawi Department of Motor Vehicles (each time getting a different, “last” form); three trips to the insurance (one to purchase, another for a sticker, another for the correct sticker); one certificate of fitness (pay a man on the side of the road to eyeball your vehicle); and one trip to buy and install plates. Voila! The car is mine. Five doors, 1997, automatic, CD player, working AC, radio to 88fm (Japan’s highest FM bandwidth), and glistening white – just like its conspicuous owner. I have no idea how many “real” kilometers it has on it – the dealers and importers around here are notorious for rolling back the odometers – but it has 45,000 km on the dial. It seems in pretty good shape, and it should withstand an impact (important in the context of Malawi driving).

As for driving in Malawi, it is a nightmare. As many of you know, I already hate to drive, and this place will not alter that reality. There are road rules: you are supposed to drive on the left side; you are supposed to stop at red lights; you are supposed to have working headlights; you are supposed to know how to drive in a traffic circle; you are supposed to have a license. In actuality, these things are optional.

Here are my lessons from my first weeks on the road:
1. Never go through a green light without slowing. As a corollary: always wait a good 5 seconds when starting after red lights turn to green. Lights are new here, and no one seems to pay attention. Cars regularly just drive on through even in “rush hour.” Most lights don’t work anyway. Note the photo of the major downtown intersection with broken lights!
2. Never stop at traffic lights at night. Slow and go.
3. Never drive on weekends (or weeknights) after midnight (or really, after dark). A friend of mine here regularly goes out on Saturday or Sunday mornings to add to her collection of photos of cars that crash landed in the middle of the roundabouts. Drunk driving appears the rule not the exception.
4. Cars might rule the roads, but you must share with people, goats, bicycles, wheelchairs, dogs, hyenas (even in the “city”), and dozens of other obstacles. Cars are still relatively new as are paved roads. Everyone and everything wants to be on them, but no one is really very driving or car savvy. Check out the photo from a local Lilongwe road.
5. Potholes can swallow your car and people will drive on sidewalks or on the wrong side of the road to avoid them.

6. You should drive on the left. People overtaking on blind curves or 2 lane streets seem to forget this. Not fun.

7. No streetlights make for dark driving. No street names make for confusion. Everyone driving with their brights on all the time makes for blindness. Add to the mix trucks that are driven without headlights, and you have disasters.

And those are enough reasons to explain my road-induced paranoia. I am happy to have 5 seat belts, airbags, and exist in a constant state of hyper vigilance. Mixed with some skill and luck, I anticipate being just fine here. So, I’ll suffer your SUV slurs and feel just a little bit safe. Don’t worry: I regret it every time I fill my tank for $80…

Ps: I can’t wait for Jon to get here so that he can drive and I can just ride along nervously clutching the dash and using my “air brake”

World Cup: African style!

Although I wish I could be in South Africa, just being on African soil makes the World Cup feel so much more real. What a great time to be in Malawi! People here have gone so completely crazy, you’d think Malawi was actually playing. I’ll try to bring my camera out over the next few days to capture the flags draping off people’s cars, the dressed up bartenders, the hordes of people wandering around (inside and out) blowing those enormous plastic horns (deafening, but no one else seems to notice). I did capture an amusing newscast from South Africa with reporters wearing their home team pride!

So, as you all now know, Friday was the beginning of the Cup. It also marked the beginning of a strange illness spreading through work that seemed to infect people at exactly 3pm, coincidentally about 60 minutes before kick-off for the South Africa vs. Mexico game. It was like a ghost town at the clinic, and obviously a bad time for any Malawian to need HIV treatment or care. I made it to about 3:45 and then followed my work mates’ example and jumped ship. When in Rome…

Watching the opening game at Alexander’s Bar (named “home of football”) was exhilarating! It was packed, everyone (sadly, but me) was wearing a South Africa football jersey, and the crowd was hanging on every second of play. The atmosphere was intense – people blowing horns, slugging countless beers, and singing the South African World Cup theme song spontaneously at points in the game. When South Africa scored its only goal of the game, the place exploded: horns; high-5s; the official Bafana Bafana dance (you have to see it to visualize it); and mad screaming! The two brief power outages and the 2 additional satellite malfunctions threatened to damper spirits, but nothing could have moved people from their positions in front of the dark screens. The draw score of 0-0 was not the best possible outcome, but everyone was thrilled to see South Africa play well and start the tournament off with a respectable performance.

I also saw USA’s less than stellar performance on Saturday. Jon would be pleased to know that I actually rooted for USA and wore my red and white; it is not my fault that USA wore blue and England wore white! Just for the record: I am rooting for Brazil as #1 and would be happy to see any African team make the semi finals.

How do you spell happiness?

P-U-P-P-I-E-S!!! When I arrived in Lilongwe a few weeks ago, I volunteered to be a foster home for the Lilongwe Society for the Protection of Animals. They have many dogs and few facilities, so they look for temporary homes until they can place dogs and cats with families. Of course, this is just perfect for me since I am not, I repeat NOT, going to adopt a dog while I am here. Don’t worry Red Dog, I still love you most of all. But, if I can’t have the best, I might as well take some temporary substitutes. I’ll be fostering 2-3 dogs for periods of two weeks or more – sometimes, I hear, much more.

My first shipment arrived today: meet Tomato and Sapato (Chichewa/Portuguese for shoes). I prepped my house with papers, dog bowls, and some tied up some old cloths to make some makeshift toys. I also bought them blankets and dog beds made from local grasses (don’t worry Red: I already ordered one for you for Hanukah!). They arrived around noon, I fed them some Likuni Phala porridge (a malnutrition food for children) and gave them baths. It is quiet downstairs now, so I will hope that they are sleeping and not silently munching on the couch.

Strangely, I guess puppies cannot survive on porridge alone, so tomorrow they will eat some meat. I told Jon that I would never cook meat for him, and I won’t cook for these mutts either. But the housekeeper fell in love with them today and will take care of their noon-time meaty meals. I am sure they will be fed and cared for better than many of their human counterparts in the city. If the housekeeper likes Jon too, I am sure she will make chicken and beef for him as well.


Update: who knew how much puppies pee and poop? I have a stack of papers, but that might not be enough to keep cleaning the house. That's the down side, I guess. Small by comparison!

Closing a chapter: bye bye Carrboro!

Recession, be damned! I completed the sale of my house and car last week, and I am officially free of my financial tethers to the USA. It is an odd feeling: my sweet Carrboro townhouse and loved (dented) Civic with new owners. So many memories created in the house – all the fabulous roommates (Karie, Jill, Athena, Carla) and the not so great (the German whats-his-name); dinner parties with friends; girls nights; Whispering Hills winos; tearful fits of anti-academia; being part of the Carrboro community; hanging out with Red dog, etc. And, goodbye to my little Car that Could (and that I rarely drove until I met Jon and had to schlep to Durham). In the end, the process was so simple, so sterile, it was as if the last 4 years were erased with a few strokes of the pen. With their sale, I will be able to pay off some loans and buy some of the important things that I need here: fridge, stove, car, furniture. Thanks also to my folks who had to do the bulk of the home sale without me in country and to Jon and Danielle for dealing with my house, including the unfortunate break-in during the contract period. I think it is also appropriate to note that Barry Slobin at My Dog Tess was an incredible asset and went above and beyond his job as my realtor – I swear he deserves more than his commission!

Well, Carrboro, it was a fun run while it lasted. I guess now I am really here. I really should get on that house rental…