I arrived London Heathrow. Uneventful. Of course you don’t expect anything peculiar to happen once you’re out of Africa.. so I’m getting back to the ‘safe zone’ where things are operating in a timely and predictable manner, and even if things get out of control you can always put things back in ‘order’ by, for example, complaining.
Oh ya I am back to the UK.
I brought back two checked in baggage because Ethiopian Airlines is so generous to allow 2 pieces of checked luggage each weighs 23kg maximum. So I tried to make the best out of such generosity. But you know I forgot to factor in an important consideration – i.e. nobody is going to help me with the luggage. I have been so spoilt with helpful people around for three months. I forgot that I had to do things all by myself once I step on the land of a ‘developed’ nation.
So I was just standing in front of the ticket barrier – I can assure you that I really looked helpless with two massive baggage. But the huge walkie talkie ticket man standing idly at the barrier didn’t even bothered to take a glance at me. Ok fine maybe I should just opened my mouth to ask for help. But ah ah.. (I learn this very African expression that means ‘no no’) the reply was simply ‘do it yourself’ (I am too busy being idle! – ah this expression I added it myself of course). I later had to ask help from many other passers by to carry one of the suitcases when I needed to get through the escalators. And people only helped up the extent which is convenient to them. I’ve lost my African people who would take a big detour just to help you to your destination. That’s why I needed to ask help again and again.
At that moment I just wished to turn back and take the next flight back to Malawi. I definitely do not wish to spend too much time in a place where people are too cautious and too busy to even take a glimpse at other human beings.
I am going to miss you, all of you, for as long as I don’t see you..
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Goodbye my love 12/08/10
I’m now sitting at Kamuzu International Airport departure lounge. I’m indeed exhausted. So tired because I had slept very little for two days. I dozed off standing while waiting in the queue for checking in luggage (ah if you know me you know I can do this..!). For two days it was frantic as I wanted to spend each and every minute with the wonderful people I have met. There was no time wasted on sleep..
On the way to the airport I again was greeted with a truck load of people, singing happily together despite having very limited space which probably made their seats very uncomfortable. I could see and hear them clearly from the front seat. I smiled and showed the ‘schup’ sign to them and of course they returned it with lots of schups.. God knows when I will have the next chance to see such lovely people again..
It’s indeed very difficult for me to leave. To leave you, and you, and you.. If only I didn’t make the choice to do a PhD, didn’t make the choice to jump into this project, didn’t make the choice to get to Malawi, didn’t make the choice to take the risk, didn’t make the choice to.. you know there were hundreds of choices I had gone through before I met you. We could miss each other very easily if only any of us made a choice not to keep to the appointment. There’re hundreds of ways if we want to connect to people; but there’re hundreds too if we don’t want to. I have chosen to want to connect with you and I thank you for choosing the same.
For all the people who have helped me, loved me, inspired me – I thank you for making this period of time one of the most wonderful time in my life. Even for those who gave trouble to me, annoyed me, discouraged me – I thank you for challenging me. This trip is just wonderful – too wonderful I have no words to put an end to it.. and indeed I don’t want to put an end to it. I had laughed and cried; had been smart (sometimes) and silly (most of the time..); had been puzzled and then started to understand.. had loved and hated.. had got angry, very angry, then calmed down.. had.. ohhh I just can’t put them in one sentence.. this is indeed a very short trip that is packed with too many ingredients in it.
Thank God. Thank you friends. Thank you enemies. Thank you everyone here in Malawi, and those who have helped me to come. I can’t be more grateful. This is just fantastic. But this is just so sad now to leave. I will come back again. Amitabha.
On the way to the airport I again was greeted with a truck load of people, singing happily together despite having very limited space which probably made their seats very uncomfortable. I could see and hear them clearly from the front seat. I smiled and showed the ‘schup’ sign to them and of course they returned it with lots of schups.. God knows when I will have the next chance to see such lovely people again..
It’s indeed very difficult for me to leave. To leave you, and you, and you.. If only I didn’t make the choice to do a PhD, didn’t make the choice to jump into this project, didn’t make the choice to get to Malawi, didn’t make the choice to take the risk, didn’t make the choice to.. you know there were hundreds of choices I had gone through before I met you. We could miss each other very easily if only any of us made a choice not to keep to the appointment. There’re hundreds of ways if we want to connect to people; but there’re hundreds too if we don’t want to. I have chosen to want to connect with you and I thank you for choosing the same.
For all the people who have helped me, loved me, inspired me – I thank you for making this period of time one of the most wonderful time in my life. Even for those who gave trouble to me, annoyed me, discouraged me – I thank you for challenging me. This trip is just wonderful – too wonderful I have no words to put an end to it.. and indeed I don’t want to put an end to it. I had laughed and cried; had been smart (sometimes) and silly (most of the time..); had been puzzled and then started to understand.. had loved and hated.. had got angry, very angry, then calmed down.. had.. ohhh I just can’t put them in one sentence.. this is indeed a very short trip that is packed with too many ingredients in it.
Thank God. Thank you friends. Thank you enemies. Thank you everyone here in Malawi, and those who have helped me to come. I can’t be more grateful. This is just fantastic. But this is just so sad now to leave. I will come back again. Amitabha.
A (half) day off at Chitimba.. another good spot to enjoy Lake Malawi :) 07/08/10
Today I allowed myself a day off. A COMPLETE day off. I’ve got my day off every weekend, but that were always almost a cheat because my mind was always working, processing my research data, and I had to keep on communicating with people and continue to plan, make calls and think, think, THINK....
I got a lift from the Livingstonia University vehicle, accompanied by MM – he was so kind to accompany me down the hill. Africans are good host, very good host: they are very polite, and think they should always make you comfortable, always accompany you for everything – meals, walks, TV, chat.. I think you’ll be left alone only when you take your shower!
So I was at the beach, wanted to stop thinking for just about 24 hours – felt like stealing time! I allowed myself to check in a touristic looking lodge for the first time since I came – never did that due to tight budget.. but to allow peace of mind, just let me do it for once.. and it wasn’t too expensive for a dorm bed that’s why. After sleeping for an hour on the couch, without slight care about my weird sleeping position in a public place, I headed for the moment I had waited for a long, long time since three months ago..
I was lying on the beach (no, correction: it does look like beach but in fact it is lakeshore – Malawi doesn’t have coastline but only a huge, beautiful lake). Listening to the wave of the lake. And watching the wave coming from all directions. Alone. Just by myself. Oohhh it’s so so so therapeutic..! I couldn’t ask for more things at that moment. And I didn’t have to care for just anything. Nothing. Just myself. The lake. The wind. The wave. The sand. Nothing. Not even a thought.
Then in the middle of my dream I was awaken by some weird sound – I opened my eyes to.. hahaha.. bull eyes!!! You know there’s perhaps one of the last things you would expect yourself to wake up to.. those big, round, idle eyes – they weren’t aggressive but rather inquisive as if asking me ‘hey what are you doing here..?’ well then only I realise I was sitting among their food (i.e. the thatch grass)!!! Some of them had those horns which I imagined could be used to throw me out of their food zone..!
Well luckily I was spared. But my moment of peace didn’t last very long. A 12-year old looking boy tried to convince me he was 17 and asked a string of questions. I took the opportunity to ask him where to get cheaper food. So he took me to his ‘village’ (well in the end it happened to be just another shop by the roadside, but of course it’s fine because it saved me from buying food that is three times more expensive in the lodge) to some food as the food at the lodge I stayed at was just too expensive for me. On coming back from his ‘village’, we bumped into a group of kids who, again, asked money from me. And when I refused to give, they shouted F... you! (as if in chants) to me – to my shock of course because I was asked for money but not even once I was cursed with the f words. Perhaps these kids are living too close to touristic areas and receiving too much ‘information’ from outside world.
Well after all the special encounters I lied down again on the sandy shore to enjoy the last peaceful moments before it got dark. Hmm guess what again you never will be ensured of getting what you actually want in Africa – this time I opened my eyes to four naked boys who shouted ‘give me pen! Give me pen!’ hahaha.. oh my!! While extending one of their hands to get a pen from me, another hand covered their private parts.. you could image how funny the scene was..! Amused, I gave them a pen which sent them all chasing after the friend who successfully grabbed the pen from me.. hahaha!
Africa is so funny. So interesting. Even a simple holiday could induce so much excitement beyond imagination!
I got a lift from the Livingstonia University vehicle, accompanied by MM – he was so kind to accompany me down the hill. Africans are good host, very good host: they are very polite, and think they should always make you comfortable, always accompany you for everything – meals, walks, TV, chat.. I think you’ll be left alone only when you take your shower!
So I was at the beach, wanted to stop thinking for just about 24 hours – felt like stealing time! I allowed myself to check in a touristic looking lodge for the first time since I came – never did that due to tight budget.. but to allow peace of mind, just let me do it for once.. and it wasn’t too expensive for a dorm bed that’s why. After sleeping for an hour on the couch, without slight care about my weird sleeping position in a public place, I headed for the moment I had waited for a long, long time since three months ago..
I was lying on the beach (no, correction: it does look like beach but in fact it is lakeshore – Malawi doesn’t have coastline but only a huge, beautiful lake). Listening to the wave of the lake. And watching the wave coming from all directions. Alone. Just by myself. Oohhh it’s so so so therapeutic..! I couldn’t ask for more things at that moment. And I didn’t have to care for just anything. Nothing. Just myself. The lake. The wind. The wave. The sand. Nothing. Not even a thought.
Then in the middle of my dream I was awaken by some weird sound – I opened my eyes to.. hahaha.. bull eyes!!! You know there’s perhaps one of the last things you would expect yourself to wake up to.. those big, round, idle eyes – they weren’t aggressive but rather inquisive as if asking me ‘hey what are you doing here..?’ well then only I realise I was sitting among their food (i.e. the thatch grass)!!! Some of them had those horns which I imagined could be used to throw me out of their food zone..!
Well luckily I was spared. But my moment of peace didn’t last very long. A 12-year old looking boy tried to convince me he was 17 and asked a string of questions. I took the opportunity to ask him where to get cheaper food. So he took me to his ‘village’ (well in the end it happened to be just another shop by the roadside, but of course it’s fine because it saved me from buying food that is three times more expensive in the lodge) to some food as the food at the lodge I stayed at was just too expensive for me. On coming back from his ‘village’, we bumped into a group of kids who, again, asked money from me. And when I refused to give, they shouted F... you! (as if in chants) to me – to my shock of course because I was asked for money but not even once I was cursed with the f words. Perhaps these kids are living too close to touristic areas and receiving too much ‘information’ from outside world.
Well after all the special encounters I lied down again on the sandy shore to enjoy the last peaceful moments before it got dark. Hmm guess what again you never will be ensured of getting what you actually want in Africa – this time I opened my eyes to four naked boys who shouted ‘give me pen! Give me pen!’ hahaha.. oh my!! While extending one of their hands to get a pen from me, another hand covered their private parts.. you could image how funny the scene was..! Amused, I gave them a pen which sent them all chasing after the friend who successfully grabbed the pen from me.. hahaha!
Africa is so funny. So interesting. Even a simple holiday could induce so much excitement beyond imagination!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Livingstonia Missionary Hospital 06/08/10
I came with a question of why and how people travel all the way up such bad route just to get treatment whilst there are other hospitals or health centres around.
The ambulance goes down the hill to the lakeshore to collect patients 3 times a week – Monday, Tuesday and Friday. On coming up the hill, the patients need to bring along their food for the period of stay they anticipate. There’s no catering service in the hospital so sometimes if they’re really ill, they also have to bring along their guardians who can cook for them. So the ambulance takes not only patients, but also luggage and patients’ family members.
But still they come. Even though it’s much more convenient and free of charge if they go for government health facilities near the shore. People really go for good service. At least at missionary hospitals the staff try their best and they treat you as ‘patients’ (not as ‘cases’), as I heard. At government health facilities, what I gathered from patients was that the prescription could be written even before you finish elaborating their problems. ‘They just want to clear the queue’.
If only we can do our job with a little bit compassion, we really can make this world a better place no?
The ambulance goes down the hill to the lakeshore to collect patients 3 times a week – Monday, Tuesday and Friday. On coming up the hill, the patients need to bring along their food for the period of stay they anticipate. There’s no catering service in the hospital so sometimes if they’re really ill, they also have to bring along their guardians who can cook for them. So the ambulance takes not only patients, but also luggage and patients’ family members.
But still they come. Even though it’s much more convenient and free of charge if they go for government health facilities near the shore. People really go for good service. At least at missionary hospitals the staff try their best and they treat you as ‘patients’ (not as ‘cases’), as I heard. At government health facilities, what I gathered from patients was that the prescription could be written even before you finish elaborating their problems. ‘They just want to clear the queue’.
If only we can do our job with a little bit compassion, we really can make this world a better place no?
Amazing Race up to Livingstonia 05/08/10
I had been quite hesitant in getting to Livingstonia because the only way up is through hitch hiking a vehicle and you need to get through 20 bends through very bad roads.
But in the end I decided to go because I was really curious about how people could build a town up the hill without getting the road done? Why would we have schools, university and hospital so high up even though there is no good route access? What attracted people, for example university students, to travel to a place like this – is this something about the missionary so mysteriously wonderful that I couldn’t understand?
People told me I needed to take a minibus from Mzuzu to Chitimba then from Chitimba roadblock I should get a lift from just anybody who wants to drive up there. If I am lucky I shall wait no longer than 2 hours. But if I am unlucky I could spend 2 days waiting. Opps. But ahhh. I took the risk. I said to myself if I didn’t manage to get a lift by 3pm I would just walk up the hill I don’t believe I couldn’t get there in two hours. Well could be hard with my luggage but if the Malawians can do that, why can’t I?
One thing you shall be very careful about Malawians is the length of time they told you about travelling. Well the information I had got was it should take about 2 hours from Mzuzu to Chitimba. Hmm in reality it took double of that. However I was just super lucky today. I got to Mzuzu bus depot just 3 minutes before the bus left for Karonga (Chitimba is half way from Mzuzu to Karonga). And the minute I got down from the bus, there was already a car which was just about to leave to climb the hill.
But that was a frustrating scene. There were already 15 people waiting to get into the 4x4, which probably (according to ‘normal’ standard) could take only half of these people, I mean without luggage. But we had piles of luggage here. Ahhh.. I thought perhaps I should just wait for the next vehicle, there was just NO WAY I could get into the car.
I ran toward the front seat, pleaded to the driver to take me in. He glanced at me, nonchalantly, while pointing his finger to the back of the car ‘if you can get in there, ok’.
I went back to look at this impossible mission of squeezing 15 people into such a small space. I suddenly thought of Chinese acrobat, or some contortionists, the one that involved bending one’s joints to some impossible angles to squeeze into a small bottle or something.. well UNLESS we could do that, there was no way to fit everybody inside.
But miracle always happens in Africa. I don’t know how but somehow they squeezed everybody in. And all the luggage too. Thank God there was no chicken or pigs or any other animals today.. Of course everybody was in different sitting, squatting, hanging, etc.. positions. There was not even 1 inch of empty spaces wasted. The driver came over to push everybody in just like pushing chicken into a cage.. lol!
I was about to turn away before a local person stopped me – ‘if you don’t get in this, you may not get another vehicle’. Ahhh.. well...
I glanced at the driver – he held his hands up signalling there was nothing he could do ‘no, look at this – NO’.
I got another idea. I went back to the front seat. There was just one guy sitting at the passenger seat – so why not I just squeeze in.. hey I am just size 8!
‘Can I squeeze in?’ – and this time I was lucky.. ‘Ok jump in – we’re going to charge you 500kwacha’.
Ahh well I think they purposely didn’t allow me to get into the back seat so that they could take 500kwacha because of ‘special VIP seat’ at the front. The rest pays 300kwacha. But yay I was lucky! At least I didn’t have to wait for 2 days! And 500kwacha for a lift up the hill is indeed cheap!
The road was soooo bad that people were throwing up throughout the drive. It was one sharp turn after another. No tarred road at all – all rocky, bumpy road. Any slight mistake could really cost your life!
Half way up the hill we had to stop the car because one of the passengers couldn’t stand it anymore. It was a relief for everybody to just come down from the stuffy condition even for just a few minutes. However it was lucky for us to stop because we spotted one of the tyres was already punctured. Phew.. that was a close call – imagine what could happen if we continued driving with a flat tyre..!
After the spare tyre was replaced we continued the second half of the torturous journey. But this time I volunteered to sit at the back because I think the girl (who threw up badly) should deserve the VIP seat at the front. I didn’t know how to just plunged myself into the crowd so I waited until everybody was in – and that actually wasn’t very wise because the later you get in the worse ‘seat’ (well there wasn’t seat but I mean ‘position’) you get. So I ended up having a very small space where I could barely squat. I had to half squat, half sit, half stand.. I don’t even know how to describe that – so in the end I found myself half rested on somebody’s feet and partly on my own shoes; and somebody’s knee was on my shoulder and somebody’s arm around my neck.. it got worse when the car moved I was thrown into different positions but found no grip to stabilise myself.. I was seated very close to the rear of the car – the back window wasn’t close so when the road got really bumpy I felt I could be thrown out of the car any minute..!
Anyhow I found this quite amusing – can you believe some people actually dozed off in such condition, while having another person throwing up beside them! Most were just chatting and looked amazingly calm and easy.. well you know after three months here I somehow learned to stay cool no matter how bad the situation is. So I still managed to snap some pictures, very bad ones of course, despite having to constantly balance myself from flying out of the vehicle! Talking about the spirit of paparazzi! Yay!
And I am now very lucky to be alive to tell the story. He he.
But in the end I decided to go because I was really curious about how people could build a town up the hill without getting the road done? Why would we have schools, university and hospital so high up even though there is no good route access? What attracted people, for example university students, to travel to a place like this – is this something about the missionary so mysteriously wonderful that I couldn’t understand?
People told me I needed to take a minibus from Mzuzu to Chitimba then from Chitimba roadblock I should get a lift from just anybody who wants to drive up there. If I am lucky I shall wait no longer than 2 hours. But if I am unlucky I could spend 2 days waiting. Opps. But ahhh. I took the risk. I said to myself if I didn’t manage to get a lift by 3pm I would just walk up the hill I don’t believe I couldn’t get there in two hours. Well could be hard with my luggage but if the Malawians can do that, why can’t I?
One thing you shall be very careful about Malawians is the length of time they told you about travelling. Well the information I had got was it should take about 2 hours from Mzuzu to Chitimba. Hmm in reality it took double of that. However I was just super lucky today. I got to Mzuzu bus depot just 3 minutes before the bus left for Karonga (Chitimba is half way from Mzuzu to Karonga). And the minute I got down from the bus, there was already a car which was just about to leave to climb the hill.
But that was a frustrating scene. There were already 15 people waiting to get into the 4x4, which probably (according to ‘normal’ standard) could take only half of these people, I mean without luggage. But we had piles of luggage here. Ahhh.. I thought perhaps I should just wait for the next vehicle, there was just NO WAY I could get into the car.
I ran toward the front seat, pleaded to the driver to take me in. He glanced at me, nonchalantly, while pointing his finger to the back of the car ‘if you can get in there, ok’.
I went back to look at this impossible mission of squeezing 15 people into such a small space. I suddenly thought of Chinese acrobat, or some contortionists, the one that involved bending one’s joints to some impossible angles to squeeze into a small bottle or something.. well UNLESS we could do that, there was no way to fit everybody inside.
But miracle always happens in Africa. I don’t know how but somehow they squeezed everybody in. And all the luggage too. Thank God there was no chicken or pigs or any other animals today.. Of course everybody was in different sitting, squatting, hanging, etc.. positions. There was not even 1 inch of empty spaces wasted. The driver came over to push everybody in just like pushing chicken into a cage.. lol!
I was about to turn away before a local person stopped me – ‘if you don’t get in this, you may not get another vehicle’. Ahhh.. well...
I glanced at the driver – he held his hands up signalling there was nothing he could do ‘no, look at this – NO’.
I got another idea. I went back to the front seat. There was just one guy sitting at the passenger seat – so why not I just squeeze in.. hey I am just size 8!
‘Can I squeeze in?’ – and this time I was lucky.. ‘Ok jump in – we’re going to charge you 500kwacha’.
Ahh well I think they purposely didn’t allow me to get into the back seat so that they could take 500kwacha because of ‘special VIP seat’ at the front. The rest pays 300kwacha. But yay I was lucky! At least I didn’t have to wait for 2 days! And 500kwacha for a lift up the hill is indeed cheap!
The road was soooo bad that people were throwing up throughout the drive. It was one sharp turn after another. No tarred road at all – all rocky, bumpy road. Any slight mistake could really cost your life!
Half way up the hill we had to stop the car because one of the passengers couldn’t stand it anymore. It was a relief for everybody to just come down from the stuffy condition even for just a few minutes. However it was lucky for us to stop because we spotted one of the tyres was already punctured. Phew.. that was a close call – imagine what could happen if we continued driving with a flat tyre..!
After the spare tyre was replaced we continued the second half of the torturous journey. But this time I volunteered to sit at the back because I think the girl (who threw up badly) should deserve the VIP seat at the front. I didn’t know how to just plunged myself into the crowd so I waited until everybody was in – and that actually wasn’t very wise because the later you get in the worse ‘seat’ (well there wasn’t seat but I mean ‘position’) you get. So I ended up having a very small space where I could barely squat. I had to half squat, half sit, half stand.. I don’t even know how to describe that – so in the end I found myself half rested on somebody’s feet and partly on my own shoes; and somebody’s knee was on my shoulder and somebody’s arm around my neck.. it got worse when the car moved I was thrown into different positions but found no grip to stabilise myself.. I was seated very close to the rear of the car – the back window wasn’t close so when the road got really bumpy I felt I could be thrown out of the car any minute..!
Anyhow I found this quite amusing – can you believe some people actually dozed off in such condition, while having another person throwing up beside them! Most were just chatting and looked amazingly calm and easy.. well you know after three months here I somehow learned to stay cool no matter how bad the situation is. So I still managed to snap some pictures, very bad ones of course, despite having to constantly balance myself from flying out of the vehicle! Talking about the spirit of paparazzi! Yay!
And I am now very lucky to be alive to tell the story. He he.
Can't believe I'm leaving.. 03/08/10
Everyday I am trying to do more, see more, feel more.. I am trying to grasp the last bit of Malawi before I fly back to the UK next Thursday.
Gosh. I really don’t want to leave.
Today I visited a missionary hospital and a college of nursing attached to it. By the end of it I found myself not looking at my interview agenda but at the working environment around.. haha.. I’m subconsciously checking out possible working opportunities here..
I am really happy here, though I don’t enjoy many things including the basic ‘necessities’..
I am very motivated to work here everyday. Never felt so motivated to work before in my life. Everyday I wake up to the sunlight with a purpose in my life – you know what I mean, it’s not about ‘going to work’, but it’s about ‘doing another bit’ that draws me closer to a mission.
In fact I can’t really explain why I am so happy here, though I stay detached to most people here. I don’t have my family here. I don’t have my culture here. I don’t have my favourite TV channels here. But somehow I feel very, very contended here.
I am just happy to see people walking around, with smiles on their faces – with warm greetings (even shouting ‘China! China!’ or ‘Japan! Japan!’ is ok with me now!) and warm handshakes..
I am just happy to walk very long way to find just one person (i.e the interviewee). Because along the way I can talk and interact with many. And I never can expect what happens in the next minute, which could be extremely ridiculous or completely incomprehensive – which makes me laugh or cry or whatever..
I don’t have frequent access to internet or news here. At first I feel I must be so depressed because I would be so disconnected from the outside world. But now I don’t know – is that really necessary for me to read all the depressing news around the world? Is that really important for me to check emails everyday? What does computer and internet bring us? More information, yes – but more joy in life?
These people, these ‘backward’ people in one of the ‘poorest’ nations in the world – they are so rich, so rich at heart. They have something that we already lost. They look so ‘pathetic’ in our eyes, but you know, perhaps we too look so pathetic in their eyes. Whilst the whole world is busy reporting on how high HIV prevalence is in Malawi, we forget to report how high the prevalence of depression, work stress, life pressure.. etc etc in our world.
Frankly I don’t feel stressed at all. First time in my life where I am completely free of stress for as long as three months. Well in the past I could go for holiday and forgot about work for a few days. But now I am working and I am still stress free, completely – I really can’t explain why.
Many here have asked me if I will come back to Malawi. In the first month I said no; the second month I said hmm maybe; and now, I say YES.
Gosh. I really don’t want to leave.
Today I visited a missionary hospital and a college of nursing attached to it. By the end of it I found myself not looking at my interview agenda but at the working environment around.. haha.. I’m subconsciously checking out possible working opportunities here..
I am really happy here, though I don’t enjoy many things including the basic ‘necessities’..
I am very motivated to work here everyday. Never felt so motivated to work before in my life. Everyday I wake up to the sunlight with a purpose in my life – you know what I mean, it’s not about ‘going to work’, but it’s about ‘doing another bit’ that draws me closer to a mission.
In fact I can’t really explain why I am so happy here, though I stay detached to most people here. I don’t have my family here. I don’t have my culture here. I don’t have my favourite TV channels here. But somehow I feel very, very contended here.
I am just happy to see people walking around, with smiles on their faces – with warm greetings (even shouting ‘China! China!’ or ‘Japan! Japan!’ is ok with me now!) and warm handshakes..
I am just happy to walk very long way to find just one person (i.e the interviewee). Because along the way I can talk and interact with many. And I never can expect what happens in the next minute, which could be extremely ridiculous or completely incomprehensive – which makes me laugh or cry or whatever..
I don’t have frequent access to internet or news here. At first I feel I must be so depressed because I would be so disconnected from the outside world. But now I don’t know – is that really necessary for me to read all the depressing news around the world? Is that really important for me to check emails everyday? What does computer and internet bring us? More information, yes – but more joy in life?
These people, these ‘backward’ people in one of the ‘poorest’ nations in the world – they are so rich, so rich at heart. They have something that we already lost. They look so ‘pathetic’ in our eyes, but you know, perhaps we too look so pathetic in their eyes. Whilst the whole world is busy reporting on how high HIV prevalence is in Malawi, we forget to report how high the prevalence of depression, work stress, life pressure.. etc etc in our world.
Frankly I don’t feel stressed at all. First time in my life where I am completely free of stress for as long as three months. Well in the past I could go for holiday and forgot about work for a few days. But now I am working and I am still stress free, completely – I really can’t explain why.
Many here have asked me if I will come back to Malawi. In the first month I said no; the second month I said hmm maybe; and now, I say YES.
Counter cultural shock..? 31/07/10
I’ve just arrived Mzuzu. I’ve found a place to stay via one Taiwanese friend whom I met in Lilongwe. On arrival to the house, I was introduced to another five Taiwanese. So there are seven Chinese (Chinese by ethic group I mean), including me, staying under one roof.
Suddenly I can speak the language I need less effort to find the right words. But strange enough, I found myself lost.
I found myself sitting on a table with the other four – two playing PSP; and another two looking at the screens of their laptops. I was trying to initiate some conversations but I’ve only got intermittent replies when they caught a second in between their virtual worlds to answer me.
I felt I was dragged from Africa back to the reality, which I am going back to again in less than two weeks.
At this moment, I know I am going to miss Malawi, terribly, when I leave.
I am going to miss you FM and IM – and your baby who is coming to this world soon. I’m so glad I found you, which I never would if I ever got a chance to check my emails (which allowed me access to ‘better’ choice of accommodation, instead of your house which is an inconvenient location) before I got to Lilongwe. You were the only one who texted me instead of emailed and that brought me to you. You had given me such wonderful friendship. We spent so little time together but I felt I had been looking for friends like you for a long time. Thank you for taking me like a sister, you are my brother and sister too.
And I definitely am going to miss you TM. You are so inspirational yet so humble. I can’t say more good things about you. As I said, you ever have any fan club, I would be the first one to sign up. I’m so blessed to have met you. You know when we talked about your vision I almost cried. Even now when I thought about our conversation tears come into my eyes. Strange indeed, we actually had talked only twice, but both times were real talks. The second time you know it was so powerful for me as if I had been waiting to hear these for a long time. I too thank you for your friendship you crossed my path for such a short time but left such a great impact.
PM, saying I am going to miss you doesn’t measure up to what I actually feel. Meeting you is indeed the highlight of my trip. I wish I could have met you earlier. Your music has accompanied me for three months. I had loved it even before I learned about what the songs meant. I loved it even more after I learned how you put your heart and soul into bringing change to the society via your music. It’s not just music, you’re delivering civic education. This is exactly what is lacking here in Malawi – very less people cares but you do. I really admire you for your hard work, courage, passion and vision. Am I going to see you again? I doubt so. But I will continue to pray for your success.
In less than two weeks, I am going back to the world where no stranger will come forward with a grin to say ‘hi how are you?’; nobody will come shake hand with me the Malawian way; nobody will throw me that kind of innocent smile which really melts my heart; nobody will sit around the table and chat with me for hours.. nobody will........ the list goes on......
I didn’t expect I would ever get so emotionally attached prior to this field trip. My initial intention was just to quickly collect some data then leave as soon as possible. Now leaving seems to be so difficult. Many have asked me if I will come back – yes, the answer is yes; I don’t know when but yes.
I think I have fallen in love with Malawi. I am in love. Haha. I am. Indeed.
Suddenly I can speak the language I need less effort to find the right words. But strange enough, I found myself lost.
I found myself sitting on a table with the other four – two playing PSP; and another two looking at the screens of their laptops. I was trying to initiate some conversations but I’ve only got intermittent replies when they caught a second in between their virtual worlds to answer me.
I felt I was dragged from Africa back to the reality, which I am going back to again in less than two weeks.
At this moment, I know I am going to miss Malawi, terribly, when I leave.
I am going to miss you FM and IM – and your baby who is coming to this world soon. I’m so glad I found you, which I never would if I ever got a chance to check my emails (which allowed me access to ‘better’ choice of accommodation, instead of your house which is an inconvenient location) before I got to Lilongwe. You were the only one who texted me instead of emailed and that brought me to you. You had given me such wonderful friendship. We spent so little time together but I felt I had been looking for friends like you for a long time. Thank you for taking me like a sister, you are my brother and sister too.
And I definitely am going to miss you TM. You are so inspirational yet so humble. I can’t say more good things about you. As I said, you ever have any fan club, I would be the first one to sign up. I’m so blessed to have met you. You know when we talked about your vision I almost cried. Even now when I thought about our conversation tears come into my eyes. Strange indeed, we actually had talked only twice, but both times were real talks. The second time you know it was so powerful for me as if I had been waiting to hear these for a long time. I too thank you for your friendship you crossed my path for such a short time but left such a great impact.
PM, saying I am going to miss you doesn’t measure up to what I actually feel. Meeting you is indeed the highlight of my trip. I wish I could have met you earlier. Your music has accompanied me for three months. I had loved it even before I learned about what the songs meant. I loved it even more after I learned how you put your heart and soul into bringing change to the society via your music. It’s not just music, you’re delivering civic education. This is exactly what is lacking here in Malawi – very less people cares but you do. I really admire you for your hard work, courage, passion and vision. Am I going to see you again? I doubt so. But I will continue to pray for your success.
In less than two weeks, I am going back to the world where no stranger will come forward with a grin to say ‘hi how are you?’; nobody will come shake hand with me the Malawian way; nobody will throw me that kind of innocent smile which really melts my heart; nobody will sit around the table and chat with me for hours.. nobody will........ the list goes on......
I didn’t expect I would ever get so emotionally attached prior to this field trip. My initial intention was just to quickly collect some data then leave as soon as possible. Now leaving seems to be so difficult. Many have asked me if I will come back – yes, the answer is yes; I don’t know when but yes.
I think I have fallen in love with Malawi. I am in love. Haha. I am. Indeed.
Meeting PM - another highlight of my trip 29/07/10
I am not a person who chases after stars. But I really like PM’s music. The first time I saw him on stage my jaw dropped when he played. Perhaps I didn’t expect it to be so good, after getting fed up waiting for two hours – I was getting impatient and didn’t think anything good of the band. But all long wait was worth it when he played.
After that for two months I have been playing his CD, though not understand even a word of it.
I grew fonder of his music after a friend explained to me what the lyrics actually mean. I was so glad to learn somebody is doing something right here in Malawi. Somebody is doing something to try to improve things. Somebody is speaking for the under-privileged. Somebody is giving education through music.
Nearing to the end of my trip, I got his number by chance from one of his close friends. I texted him to ask if I could ever get an autograph (well of course autograph was just an excuse of course.. haha..) but received no reply perhaps he thought I was some kind of nuisance. Ah well doesn’t matter as long as he knows somebody likes his music even though not understanding a word of it so this should encourage him.
But lucky star shines on me after a few days he texted me back! Oh gosh I was so happy – and this time instead of an autograph, I asked for an interview.. (NOT to the information to my supervisors please...LOL!) – of course again interview was just a camouflage. I really wanted to know what motivates this person and how he could think differently amidst so many who don’t!
There was some hassle before we could meet as we both were extremely busy. We finally agreed to squeeze some time between work to meet up. I was so stupid not even to google him before meeting up. I actually didn’t know how he looked like! Well I had seen him performing but he was too far away for me to have a good look. What I knew was just his voice. But thank God he’s cute – with a boyish smile, which you can’t tell belongs to a star!
Well I am blind to looks most of the time – what matters most is what contains at heart. And gosh – he’s really BEAUTIFUL at heart! We spoke about his music, how he came to play and compose, how he was brought up, how he spoke against the politicians, how he worked through numerous nights to create songs for people (note: FOR people).. we saw his studio, his house, even his four pet dogs. I was really impressed. Really impressed. I had done more than 100 interviews. No interviewees aged below 40 could speak with such vision and passion. He’s so sure of what he wants to do; so passionate about people; so determined to become the teacher (via songs) to the fellow Malawians despite not selling his albums as good as others who sell love songs.. these were not just words. After talking to so many Malawians, I could really tell when people are just talking but don’t mean to do what they talk. This guy is amazing. He has such wisdom. I think those professors in the universities have to learn from him.
You must think I’m falling in love with this guy – oh yes, but not romantically as you thought. There wasn’t such chemical but I really admire him. If there’s anything I would say I gain so much from this trip, that’s meeting him and his music. It speaks right into my heart. I guess the timing was good – if I were to meet him the first month after I arrived, I wouldn’t have felt and shared so much.
And yeah, I love PM.
After that for two months I have been playing his CD, though not understand even a word of it.
I grew fonder of his music after a friend explained to me what the lyrics actually mean. I was so glad to learn somebody is doing something right here in Malawi. Somebody is doing something to try to improve things. Somebody is speaking for the under-privileged. Somebody is giving education through music.
Nearing to the end of my trip, I got his number by chance from one of his close friends. I texted him to ask if I could ever get an autograph (well of course autograph was just an excuse of course.. haha..) but received no reply perhaps he thought I was some kind of nuisance. Ah well doesn’t matter as long as he knows somebody likes his music even though not understanding a word of it so this should encourage him.
But lucky star shines on me after a few days he texted me back! Oh gosh I was so happy – and this time instead of an autograph, I asked for an interview.. (NOT to the information to my supervisors please...LOL!) – of course again interview was just a camouflage. I really wanted to know what motivates this person and how he could think differently amidst so many who don’t!
There was some hassle before we could meet as we both were extremely busy. We finally agreed to squeeze some time between work to meet up. I was so stupid not even to google him before meeting up. I actually didn’t know how he looked like! Well I had seen him performing but he was too far away for me to have a good look. What I knew was just his voice. But thank God he’s cute – with a boyish smile, which you can’t tell belongs to a star!
Well I am blind to looks most of the time – what matters most is what contains at heart. And gosh – he’s really BEAUTIFUL at heart! We spoke about his music, how he came to play and compose, how he was brought up, how he spoke against the politicians, how he worked through numerous nights to create songs for people (note: FOR people).. we saw his studio, his house, even his four pet dogs. I was really impressed. Really impressed. I had done more than 100 interviews. No interviewees aged below 40 could speak with such vision and passion. He’s so sure of what he wants to do; so passionate about people; so determined to become the teacher (via songs) to the fellow Malawians despite not selling his albums as good as others who sell love songs.. these were not just words. After talking to so many Malawians, I could really tell when people are just talking but don’t mean to do what they talk. This guy is amazing. He has such wisdom. I think those professors in the universities have to learn from him.
You must think I’m falling in love with this guy – oh yes, but not romantically as you thought. There wasn’t such chemical but I really admire him. If there’s anything I would say I gain so much from this trip, that’s meeting him and his music. It speaks right into my heart. I guess the timing was good – if I were to meet him the first month after I arrived, I wouldn’t have felt and shared so much.
And yeah, I love PM.
Zomba Plateau 25/07/10
Today I walked continuously for 9 hours. Yes, NINE hours.. by the end of the journey I think my right feet started to get muscle twitch.. you know we had got such a professional tour guide, so professional.. that I think he got so motivated to show us as much as possible despite receiving so little pay..! He only asked for 500kwacha (about £2) for NINE-hour walk imagine!!! We didn’t know we were dragging ourselves into such strenuous exercise at the start of the journey as 500kwacha should only pay for walk for an hour or so... but who knows this tour guide was so niceeee – that’s the thing I really like about Malawians – not all –but some, they’re so genuine, so naive, so free of bad will you know. They just work, and don’t know how to ask for pay that is worth for their work. And it makes me extremely angry when I see others who come in to exploit all these people with the purest hearts in the world. Of course by the end of the journey we paid much more than 500kwacha.
I went with two friends, who work at Zomba District Hospital, whom I got to know some time ago. They were good companies. Probably because we’re about the same age. And I also got a chance to listen to their life stories, which again involves a lot of hardship I once only read from books. Now it became so real to me. sometimes I think this trip has touched me so much, not because I am learning anything ‘new’, but because I am re-learning something I already knew.. you know sometimes you know something but you don’t ‘realise’? and that’s what happening to me now – I saw documentaries, read books about Africa before I came. I know how hard life could be; how cruel the reality could be – but when the facts hit my face, it sometimes paralyses me.. to me everything becomes too ‘real’ that I found it hard to swallow the reality..
Anyway, back to Zomba plateau.. oh she really is a beauty. BEAUTY.
If people admire Scotland and Switzerland so much, why not Malawi? Indeed Malawi has so many nice places, including Zomba, that don’t receive as much publicity as others who could afford the advertisements. You get a chance to stand on top of a cliff, overlooking the whole city; admiring the contour of the earth created by mountains, rivers – unspoilt by modern development; and standing on top of the cloud that you could actually see the shadow of the cloud.. breath-taking beauty!!!
And every night, I mean EVERY night – you don’t have to go away from the cities, you don’t have to drive very far to get to the outskirts or beaches, you just need to look up in the sky – you see beautiful stars... so beautiful....... as there isn’t light pollution, not even in the cities. People don’t waste electricity unnecessarily. There isn’t street light even at the posh-est residential areas. As most people stay home, with families, after dark. Then people retire to bed early so that tomorrow they can wake up early. No late night movies. No facebooking. No wild parties. Just simple life. Simple joy. You call that dullness? What good you get from all these fancy technologies? Does it make you happy, or a better person? I don’t know.
Well to me, I call that life.
I went with two friends, who work at Zomba District Hospital, whom I got to know some time ago. They were good companies. Probably because we’re about the same age. And I also got a chance to listen to their life stories, which again involves a lot of hardship I once only read from books. Now it became so real to me. sometimes I think this trip has touched me so much, not because I am learning anything ‘new’, but because I am re-learning something I already knew.. you know sometimes you know something but you don’t ‘realise’? and that’s what happening to me now – I saw documentaries, read books about Africa before I came. I know how hard life could be; how cruel the reality could be – but when the facts hit my face, it sometimes paralyses me.. to me everything becomes too ‘real’ that I found it hard to swallow the reality..
Anyway, back to Zomba plateau.. oh she really is a beauty. BEAUTY.
If people admire Scotland and Switzerland so much, why not Malawi? Indeed Malawi has so many nice places, including Zomba, that don’t receive as much publicity as others who could afford the advertisements. You get a chance to stand on top of a cliff, overlooking the whole city; admiring the contour of the earth created by mountains, rivers – unspoilt by modern development; and standing on top of the cloud that you could actually see the shadow of the cloud.. breath-taking beauty!!!
And every night, I mean EVERY night – you don’t have to go away from the cities, you don’t have to drive very far to get to the outskirts or beaches, you just need to look up in the sky – you see beautiful stars... so beautiful....... as there isn’t light pollution, not even in the cities. People don’t waste electricity unnecessarily. There isn’t street light even at the posh-est residential areas. As most people stay home, with families, after dark. Then people retire to bed early so that tomorrow they can wake up early. No late night movies. No facebooking. No wild parties. Just simple life. Simple joy. You call that dullness? What good you get from all these fancy technologies? Does it make you happy, or a better person? I don’t know.
Well to me, I call that life.
Lonely nights at Zomba.. 23/07/10
This is the second night I shut myself up in the hostel room after work. There’s nowhere I can go after it gets dark. And there’s nothing in the room. Sometimes not even electricity. No hot water definitely because it’s just a budget hostel in fact I am really glad to get a toilet that flushes properly. The only thing that is broken is the door knob so I am really lucky this time. Well I have to take shower immediately once I get home in order to retain as much (body) heat as possible. If I sit down I will start feeling cold then it’s even more difficulty to take a cold shower. There’s one thing that motivates me to get into the cold shower – the thought of ‘if other people can do this every single day in their lives, why can’t I do this just for today?’. Trust me you really need to chant this through the shower and keep telling yourself this isn’t cold this isn’t cold..
In fact tonight I really want to go see a concert. But I had no transport to get there. And cabs are too expensive. So I can’t go. The guy who was supposed to go with me also has no car. So we both poor people can’t go anywhere just because it’s night and it’s not safe to move around at night. How I miss the excellent transport in the UK which allows me to move around freely.. ahh the concert is starting in 15 minutes and here I sit idly in my room writing reflection notes of today’s interviews..
Now probably you understand a little why I sometimes jump on some invitations even though I know this isn’t right. There was this doctor who is really cute and I saw him a few times. Well apart from the fact that he’s cute, I was curious and I thought probably he could tell me the truth as we are about the same age. So the last time we saw I asked him directly why he asked me out whilst he was already married. I don’t know how to describe the shock in his face haha.. apparently no girls had asked him this peculiar question. I just want to know. All the explanations I could think of were merely ‘secondary data’ which I extrapolate from my observation and from other people’s explanation. But I want to hear from the first person who actually does this. He paused for a full minute. Probably trying to find a reason, or to find some words. Then he said ‘when I travelled to the US.. I was alone. In the weekends or after work everybody went home. And you know.. I stay alone.. I had to figure out how.. and where.. just to go get some food or something.. then after the weekend people will ask me ‘how was your weekend?’.. but they.. never call.. or ask you if you need help.. then they ask you how your weekend was.. how are you.. then you say ahh good.. what is this..? haha.. you know.. sometimes.. when we travel.. we are very lonely..’
At that moment I was the one who froze. How true. How TRUE.. yes so many have asked how I am doing whilst they don’t really care how actually I am doing. I went through weekends facing my laptop then I had to pretend I had a very good one.. To me saying how are you is just another way of saying hi. And I start doing the same too as I also do not actually care how other people are doing. And it’s so true that I am so lonely, so horribly lonely. Although my heart and soul is full with passion for the research data I’ve got. But you know I really lack somebody to share this with. Or to explore things together. Or you know.. just anything. At that moment I didn’t want to differentiate whether he was making up an excuse or telling the truth. I just wanted to believe the latter was true.
Anyway he stopped calling after my confrontation. I guess I satisfied my curiosity but I lost a friend. Well whether he told me the truth or not I don’t at all attempt to analyse. Because having somebody to understand you, though for just one minute, is just so precious. It’s funny to think about how serious I am when facing my research data – trying very hard to be rationale. And how irrational I could be at this very moment.. I’m trying to justify for somebody who tries to fool me..
In fact tonight I really want to go see a concert. But I had no transport to get there. And cabs are too expensive. So I can’t go. The guy who was supposed to go with me also has no car. So we both poor people can’t go anywhere just because it’s night and it’s not safe to move around at night. How I miss the excellent transport in the UK which allows me to move around freely.. ahh the concert is starting in 15 minutes and here I sit idly in my room writing reflection notes of today’s interviews..
Now probably you understand a little why I sometimes jump on some invitations even though I know this isn’t right. There was this doctor who is really cute and I saw him a few times. Well apart from the fact that he’s cute, I was curious and I thought probably he could tell me the truth as we are about the same age. So the last time we saw I asked him directly why he asked me out whilst he was already married. I don’t know how to describe the shock in his face haha.. apparently no girls had asked him this peculiar question. I just want to know. All the explanations I could think of were merely ‘secondary data’ which I extrapolate from my observation and from other people’s explanation. But I want to hear from the first person who actually does this. He paused for a full minute. Probably trying to find a reason, or to find some words. Then he said ‘when I travelled to the US.. I was alone. In the weekends or after work everybody went home. And you know.. I stay alone.. I had to figure out how.. and where.. just to go get some food or something.. then after the weekend people will ask me ‘how was your weekend?’.. but they.. never call.. or ask you if you need help.. then they ask you how your weekend was.. how are you.. then you say ahh good.. what is this..? haha.. you know.. sometimes.. when we travel.. we are very lonely..’
At that moment I was the one who froze. How true. How TRUE.. yes so many have asked how I am doing whilst they don’t really care how actually I am doing. I went through weekends facing my laptop then I had to pretend I had a very good one.. To me saying how are you is just another way of saying hi. And I start doing the same too as I also do not actually care how other people are doing. And it’s so true that I am so lonely, so horribly lonely. Although my heart and soul is full with passion for the research data I’ve got. But you know I really lack somebody to share this with. Or to explore things together. Or you know.. just anything. At that moment I didn’t want to differentiate whether he was making up an excuse or telling the truth. I just wanted to believe the latter was true.
Anyway he stopped calling after my confrontation. I guess I satisfied my curiosity but I lost a friend. Well whether he told me the truth or not I don’t at all attempt to analyse. Because having somebody to understand you, though for just one minute, is just so precious. It’s funny to think about how serious I am when facing my research data – trying very hard to be rationale. And how irrational I could be at this very moment.. I’m trying to justify for somebody who tries to fool me..
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Shame on being a chinese 15/07/10
The coming in of Chinese government (after kicking the Taiwanese off in 2008) in Malawi is a controversial one. Some said they’re good – because they’re showering the Malawi government with lots of gifts – and the latest one being the construction of a five-star hotel, an international conference and Karonga-Chitipa motorway. Some said the gift benefits only the government as the goodness doesn’t flow down to the grassroots. Others said Chinese = no quality, as there’re plenty of low quality Chinese made products flooding the market. You can’t believe how bad the goods are – I can guarantee you any made-in-China batteries you buy in Malawi run out of batteries in less than five minutes. No joke. I didn’t believe it myself and tried 6 batteries – so I can testify it was not mere bad luck to get empty batteries! And a bag I bought had its handle broken just after one day. My landlady bought an extension cord that spoilt a few of her electrical devices. The Malawians complain a lot about the slippers, which could just give away in less than a month. Well the list goes on.. what I want to say is it’s ok if the price is low then you deserve low quality goods. Just like in the UK or Malaysia or anywhere else, we get Chinese goods everywhere and in a wide range of prices. If you pay more, you get better goods. That’s fair. But things aren’t the same here in Malawi. unscrupulous traders bring in low quality goods and sell at high prices. As this is the first wave of Chinese goods hitting local market, and they ‘look’ perfectly fine, many are selling good. And sometimes the local people have no choice. Many things aren’t manufactured locally so they have to buy imported goods. So for those who can’t afford expensive imports, they just have to turn to such low quality goods. To me, it is just another way to bully poor people.
I never said I’m a Chinese here. Because I can’t agree with many things the Chinese do here. First, it is about the bad quality goods they bring into such a poor country. You know you actually make people poorer by selling these goods although they’re much cheaper than other goods. Secondly, the Chinese don’t mingle with the local, or the expatriates, or just anybody else. Even I find it hard to communicate with them. I have a few Chinese neighbours who never seem to be interested to start a conversation with anybody else. I only had one chance to talk to them. And they thought it was ‘unbelievable’ (derogatively) for me to take minibuses.
There was during one of the interviews I went to a suburban area to talk to somebody who plays an important role in the society of traditional medicine in Malawi. His vision was to make Malawian traditional medicine as marketable as the Chinese traditional medicine. I do not disagree with his ambition because I do think how TCM is practised, regulated and marketable does worth learning from. However I do disagree very strongly with his approach as to how this should be done. He wants to ‘talk to the President’ (I sometimes think the President of Malawi is somehow equivalent to the Emperor!) to bring in as many Chinese doctors as possible in order to open clinics at rural areas ‘to give service to the people at rural areas’. And these doctors too could teach our local traditional practitioners in Malawi. Oh gosh. He really thinks all Chinese are angels. I spent one hour trying to explain to him why language can be a problem and why not everybody is well intentioned. You know that’s the beauty of the Malawian hearts I saw here. Which really makes my heart melt. They are so genuine. Perhaps too naive to be true when the rest of the world has become so.. hmm vicious (well I could use the word vicious, if to think relatively to the naivety among Malawians). They are just so kind and so.. pure.. I don’t know how to describe.. like babies whom you feel it’s your responsibility to protect them. And it makes me extremely angry when others come in to bully these innocent people. And indeed it makes me even more furious to learn the local Malawians (especially politicians) try to bully their own people. You know those looks – those LOOKS, in the eyes of the children, the women, the men, everybody – it’s completely free of viciousness.. those grins, those smiles – so genuine, so kind, so pure.. I just have no words for these.. it makes me teary whenever I think of these kind gestures..
After a few days I visited one of the Chinese clinics in town. Just out of curiosity whether they’re indeed so ‘saint’-like as described by the traditional healer leader. The moment I pushed open the door of the clinic, what greeted me was just completely out of what I had expected. There was no Chinese doctor. There was only one Malawian ‘doctor’ – I said doctor because he had a stethoscope with him. And a bed, probably for acupuncture. Simple furniture. And a poster on the wall showing the entry points for acupuncture. I asked if he was the doctor. Shyly he replied yes. I said I actually was expecting a Chinese doctor because the signboard outside of the clinic was written in Chinese. He said ah no, the Chinese doctor was taking care of another clinic in town.
‘Do you see patients? And give them treatment?’ Yes.
‘How and where did you get your training?’.. ‘ahh.. Dr xxx trained me for two years..’
‘How.. and where were you trained..?’ ... ‘just here.. in Lilongwe.. Dr xxx wants a boy.. so he took me..’
So this Dr xxx wanted to train a male TCM doctor. That’s great.
And I asked what was his background qualification before embarking on ‘training’ (note: this training actually was apprenticeship, where he observed and learned what the Chinese doctor did for two years). He said ‘ahh.. no.. ‘ I asked ‘MSCE?’ (that’s equivalent to O level or MCE). Again he said ‘ahh.. no..’
So where did you work before Dr xxx took you for training?
‘ahh.. I was working in a bakery..’
Oh God. Oh great.
Dr xxx was too busy to take care of more than one clinic. So he wanted a ‘boy’ to do that for him. And that’s why the training.
‘Let me show you some medications’.
Then he took me to the shelf with some very simple OTC Chinese medications and some herbs.
‘If the patient has stomach problem, take this. pain in the knee, this; headache, this; cough, this;.....’
The list goes on. He has learned how to ‘diagnose’ (by taking information from patients, so basically patients are diagnosing themselves) and prescribe. Just matching list A to list B. As simple as that.
Not only that. He even showed me a plastic bag full of Viagra and ARVs imported from China. Oh god he’s so naive. He didn’t even know he was showing me something that was illegal. And it happened that the sale for Viagra is very good. So good that the money he can make from Viagra per day is even higher than his one month salary. Oh so how much is his monthly salary?
‘Six thousand kwacha..’ (I felt a pinch in my stomach - £24 a month?!?)
‘How much did you earn when you worked at the bakery?’
‘Fifteen thousand kwacha’ (that’s £60 a month)
‘That’s too low for your job now. Don’t you think so?’
‘Ahh.. nah.. it’s ok (grin, the grin that really makes me ache). Many of my friends now have no job. And Dr xxx will take me to China one day.. I will learn there..’
By this moment I couldn’t look into his eyes anymore. A live example of how Chinese cheats stand in front of my eyes. The Chinese doctor just wants somebody to man his shop, so that he could sell his goods – he doesn’t care about patient safety; he’s not bothered about paying his employee fairly; he’s not even ashamed of giving false hope to this poor young man about ‘taking him to China’.
What I want to say was just ‘I’m sorry’ but I couldn’t find my words.. and I couldn’t say this because he definitely didn’t understand.. in the end I asked him to go back to school to at least get a MSCE so that he could enrol into medical school to become a real doctor.
I made the conversation quick so that I could leave the clinic before my eyes got watery again. I can’t bear the thought how people come into this country to exploit the local people. I can’t bear it even more when this is done by somebody who shares the same culture with me. When a white man does it, I could somehow console myself ‘ahh those hypocrite donors..’ but when a Chinese does that it makes me extremely embarrassed..! I’m sorry – I want to say I am sorry, I am sorry we have caused you so much pain.. I’m so sorry a Chinese has done that..
I never said I’m a Chinese here. Because I can’t agree with many things the Chinese do here. First, it is about the bad quality goods they bring into such a poor country. You know you actually make people poorer by selling these goods although they’re much cheaper than other goods. Secondly, the Chinese don’t mingle with the local, or the expatriates, or just anybody else. Even I find it hard to communicate with them. I have a few Chinese neighbours who never seem to be interested to start a conversation with anybody else. I only had one chance to talk to them. And they thought it was ‘unbelievable’ (derogatively) for me to take minibuses.
There was during one of the interviews I went to a suburban area to talk to somebody who plays an important role in the society of traditional medicine in Malawi. His vision was to make Malawian traditional medicine as marketable as the Chinese traditional medicine. I do not disagree with his ambition because I do think how TCM is practised, regulated and marketable does worth learning from. However I do disagree very strongly with his approach as to how this should be done. He wants to ‘talk to the President’ (I sometimes think the President of Malawi is somehow equivalent to the Emperor!) to bring in as many Chinese doctors as possible in order to open clinics at rural areas ‘to give service to the people at rural areas’. And these doctors too could teach our local traditional practitioners in Malawi. Oh gosh. He really thinks all Chinese are angels. I spent one hour trying to explain to him why language can be a problem and why not everybody is well intentioned. You know that’s the beauty of the Malawian hearts I saw here. Which really makes my heart melt. They are so genuine. Perhaps too naive to be true when the rest of the world has become so.. hmm vicious (well I could use the word vicious, if to think relatively to the naivety among Malawians). They are just so kind and so.. pure.. I don’t know how to describe.. like babies whom you feel it’s your responsibility to protect them. And it makes me extremely angry when others come in to bully these innocent people. And indeed it makes me even more furious to learn the local Malawians (especially politicians) try to bully their own people. You know those looks – those LOOKS, in the eyes of the children, the women, the men, everybody – it’s completely free of viciousness.. those grins, those smiles – so genuine, so kind, so pure.. I just have no words for these.. it makes me teary whenever I think of these kind gestures..
After a few days I visited one of the Chinese clinics in town. Just out of curiosity whether they’re indeed so ‘saint’-like as described by the traditional healer leader. The moment I pushed open the door of the clinic, what greeted me was just completely out of what I had expected. There was no Chinese doctor. There was only one Malawian ‘doctor’ – I said doctor because he had a stethoscope with him. And a bed, probably for acupuncture. Simple furniture. And a poster on the wall showing the entry points for acupuncture. I asked if he was the doctor. Shyly he replied yes. I said I actually was expecting a Chinese doctor because the signboard outside of the clinic was written in Chinese. He said ah no, the Chinese doctor was taking care of another clinic in town.
‘Do you see patients? And give them treatment?’ Yes.
‘How and where did you get your training?’.. ‘ahh.. Dr xxx trained me for two years..’
‘How.. and where were you trained..?’ ... ‘just here.. in Lilongwe.. Dr xxx wants a boy.. so he took me..’
So this Dr xxx wanted to train a male TCM doctor. That’s great.
And I asked what was his background qualification before embarking on ‘training’ (note: this training actually was apprenticeship, where he observed and learned what the Chinese doctor did for two years). He said ‘ahh.. no.. ‘ I asked ‘MSCE?’ (that’s equivalent to O level or MCE). Again he said ‘ahh.. no..’
So where did you work before Dr xxx took you for training?
‘ahh.. I was working in a bakery..’
Oh God. Oh great.
Dr xxx was too busy to take care of more than one clinic. So he wanted a ‘boy’ to do that for him. And that’s why the training.
‘Let me show you some medications’.
Then he took me to the shelf with some very simple OTC Chinese medications and some herbs.
‘If the patient has stomach problem, take this. pain in the knee, this; headache, this; cough, this;.....’
The list goes on. He has learned how to ‘diagnose’ (by taking information from patients, so basically patients are diagnosing themselves) and prescribe. Just matching list A to list B. As simple as that.
Not only that. He even showed me a plastic bag full of Viagra and ARVs imported from China. Oh god he’s so naive. He didn’t even know he was showing me something that was illegal. And it happened that the sale for Viagra is very good. So good that the money he can make from Viagra per day is even higher than his one month salary. Oh so how much is his monthly salary?
‘Six thousand kwacha..’ (I felt a pinch in my stomach - £24 a month?!?)
‘How much did you earn when you worked at the bakery?’
‘Fifteen thousand kwacha’ (that’s £60 a month)
‘That’s too low for your job now. Don’t you think so?’
‘Ahh.. nah.. it’s ok (grin, the grin that really makes me ache). Many of my friends now have no job. And Dr xxx will take me to China one day.. I will learn there..’
By this moment I couldn’t look into his eyes anymore. A live example of how Chinese cheats stand in front of my eyes. The Chinese doctor just wants somebody to man his shop, so that he could sell his goods – he doesn’t care about patient safety; he’s not bothered about paying his employee fairly; he’s not even ashamed of giving false hope to this poor young man about ‘taking him to China’.
What I want to say was just ‘I’m sorry’ but I couldn’t find my words.. and I couldn’t say this because he definitely didn’t understand.. in the end I asked him to go back to school to at least get a MSCE so that he could enrol into medical school to become a real doctor.
I made the conversation quick so that I could leave the clinic before my eyes got watery again. I can’t bear the thought how people come into this country to exploit the local people. I can’t bear it even more when this is done by somebody who shares the same culture with me. When a white man does it, I could somehow console myself ‘ahh those hypocrite donors..’ but when a Chinese does that it makes me extremely embarrassed..! I’m sorry – I want to say I am sorry, I am sorry we have caused you so much pain.. I’m so sorry a Chinese has done that..
The concept of ‘wealth’ in Malawi – it isn’t about money!
It really takes me a long time to get my head around this issue – actually the puzzle didn’t start with ‘how do they define wealth?’ as I previously ASSUME (yes – lots of assumptions!!) they perceived wealth the same way as I do. In westernised context, wealth = accumulation of personal belongings that could be measured in money terms. And because we all are capitalist, that means we believe there’re limited capital out there which everybody wants to have a share from. Of course the stronger ones will win and become ‘rich’, or ‘wealthy’.
So the difference is, in Malawian (I’m not sure if it applies to all Africans?) terms – ‘wealth’ accumulates in the same way (where you need to fight for it) BUT it isn’t money – it’s social status. Whilst there’s rat race in westernised societies for money, there is rat race in Malawian society for social status. But how do you measure social status? Well it’s not as straight forward and quantifiable as in money terms. You’ll be wealthier if more people look up to you or admire you – so in order to do that, you need to give some sort of assistance to as many people as possible. That’s why the concept of extended families works in Africa but not in our society – because people value good reputation over accumulation of personal wealth. And in fact you don’t possibly have a good name if you are too rich – that’s an implication of you do not share your wealth.
Sometimes social status can be lifted when you’re associated with some important people. It’s not necessary for you to have lots of money to enjoy admiration from others but merely associating yourself with people who have lots of money gains admiration. That’s why we say Africans are very communal – they do gathering all the time. And that’s why you hear people attending weddings, funerals, or any other social events ALL the time – to the extent employers find them seriously affecting work productivity lol! Very sociable – and that’s the thing we’re missing in a society that values money more than anything else. The motivation for a westernised society to connect with other people is lost – as what matters most is building up your personal wealth. On the contrary, the motivation for connecting with others is very high in African society. Although I’m trying to explain as if they have motive to make friends but the outcome of it isn’t just about lifting a person’s social status. You get happiness, you get friends, you gain something people in the ‘modern’ society are losing – that’s why you don’t hear people are ‘depressed’, ‘stressed’, or suffering from mental illness.. people gain reassurance of themselves from others. Actually we human beings are inherently sociable creature – we have the need to be socially accepted. We inherently want to be part of the society so we strive to do what the majority are doing. Only when we think we aren’t the ‘weird’ ones out in the society (or in any type of social space, not limited by physical boundary), we’re assured of ourselves and therefore not ‘depressed’ or ‘stressed’. So people here in Malawi do it by talking (or gossiping, most of the time!) and finding their niche in the society. They gain self assurance through their daily connection with others, which spend a lot of time (and therefore deemed ‘inefficient’ at work by us!) yes, but perhaps that’s the best remedy/prevention for depression. Hmm in fact I think, if the west is scared of high HIV rate in countries like Malawi, the Malawians should be afraid of high depression rate in the west! You gain one, you lose the other one – that’s what we call ‘fair trade’ LOL!!!
So the difference is, in Malawian (I’m not sure if it applies to all Africans?) terms – ‘wealth’ accumulates in the same way (where you need to fight for it) BUT it isn’t money – it’s social status. Whilst there’s rat race in westernised societies for money, there is rat race in Malawian society for social status. But how do you measure social status? Well it’s not as straight forward and quantifiable as in money terms. You’ll be wealthier if more people look up to you or admire you – so in order to do that, you need to give some sort of assistance to as many people as possible. That’s why the concept of extended families works in Africa but not in our society – because people value good reputation over accumulation of personal wealth. And in fact you don’t possibly have a good name if you are too rich – that’s an implication of you do not share your wealth.
Sometimes social status can be lifted when you’re associated with some important people. It’s not necessary for you to have lots of money to enjoy admiration from others but merely associating yourself with people who have lots of money gains admiration. That’s why we say Africans are very communal – they do gathering all the time. And that’s why you hear people attending weddings, funerals, or any other social events ALL the time – to the extent employers find them seriously affecting work productivity lol! Very sociable – and that’s the thing we’re missing in a society that values money more than anything else. The motivation for a westernised society to connect with other people is lost – as what matters most is building up your personal wealth. On the contrary, the motivation for connecting with others is very high in African society. Although I’m trying to explain as if they have motive to make friends but the outcome of it isn’t just about lifting a person’s social status. You get happiness, you get friends, you gain something people in the ‘modern’ society are losing – that’s why you don’t hear people are ‘depressed’, ‘stressed’, or suffering from mental illness.. people gain reassurance of themselves from others. Actually we human beings are inherently sociable creature – we have the need to be socially accepted. We inherently want to be part of the society so we strive to do what the majority are doing. Only when we think we aren’t the ‘weird’ ones out in the society (or in any type of social space, not limited by physical boundary), we’re assured of ourselves and therefore not ‘depressed’ or ‘stressed’. So people here in Malawi do it by talking (or gossiping, most of the time!) and finding their niche in the society. They gain self assurance through their daily connection with others, which spend a lot of time (and therefore deemed ‘inefficient’ at work by us!) yes, but perhaps that’s the best remedy/prevention for depression. Hmm in fact I think, if the west is scared of high HIV rate in countries like Malawi, the Malawians should be afraid of high depression rate in the west! You gain one, you lose the other one – that’s what we call ‘fair trade’ LOL!!!
The average age of my ‘boyfriends’ in Malawi? – 55!
That was the joke from my housemate M which when you think about that – isn’t funny at all.. men, especially successful, rich men, having more than one family is very common. Initially I was quite annoyed at how these men shamelessly wooing young unmarried ladies despite having 3, 4, 5 children. I personally had a few encounters with them which puzzled me a lot – we could talk about how many children he had just 1 second before he invited me for an overnight trip at the lake. I really didn’t understand this logic – so in the end I couldn’t resist asking ‘are you sure you don’t have to get permission from your wife for going out with a girl?’ guess what’s the response..?? Laugh! Very loudly! I mean it was not to shield his embarrassment at attempting extra-marital affairs –but that HEY YOU MUST BE KIDDINGME! kind of laugh!! As if this question was so ridiculous!
It was not until very recently that I gained understanding about this ‘logic’ – this is a socially accepted practice when successful men should spread his ‘wealth’ (a concept I will need another piece of writing to explain it.. this isn’t as simple as the ‘wealth’ we interpret in the western context). By practising polygamy, he is seen as doing good for the society as he’s not selfish to share his ‘wealth’. And girls, on the other hand, appreciate this goodness and therefore no reason to reject such kindness. People actually dislike rich men who don’t ‘share’ therefore whatever I encountered so far is merely a way of ‘expressing goodwill’. Ah – now I understand how UNGRATEFUL I am!!
However don’t worry about my safety here as these men aren’t ‘dangerous’ – they’re merely trying their luck out on a mzungu girl. Mzungu girls are generally more difficult to court and you need more money and social status to be successful (and therefore having to receive so many ‘invitations’ doesn’t mean I am particularly attractive – it’s merely my identity as a ‘mzungu’) therefore if you have a mzungu girlfriend you must be a very successful guy. Malawians are very polite and that’s what I like about them. Some people (non-Malawian Africans) say they’re too reserved and I think this actually is very good for doing my fieldwork here. People do not dare to do ‘big’ thing – that’s why you don’t hear much about robbery but just a lot of petty thefts. And men could take ‘no’ anyhow there’re plenty fish out in the sea where they could easily fish somewhere else.
Too bad there aren’t invitations from young handsome bachelors – the average age of my interviewees is perhaps 50.. ahh perhaps this is the biggest mistake in my fieldwork! LOL!
It was not until very recently that I gained understanding about this ‘logic’ – this is a socially accepted practice when successful men should spread his ‘wealth’ (a concept I will need another piece of writing to explain it.. this isn’t as simple as the ‘wealth’ we interpret in the western context). By practising polygamy, he is seen as doing good for the society as he’s not selfish to share his ‘wealth’. And girls, on the other hand, appreciate this goodness and therefore no reason to reject such kindness. People actually dislike rich men who don’t ‘share’ therefore whatever I encountered so far is merely a way of ‘expressing goodwill’. Ah – now I understand how UNGRATEFUL I am!!
However don’t worry about my safety here as these men aren’t ‘dangerous’ – they’re merely trying their luck out on a mzungu girl. Mzungu girls are generally more difficult to court and you need more money and social status to be successful (and therefore having to receive so many ‘invitations’ doesn’t mean I am particularly attractive – it’s merely my identity as a ‘mzungu’) therefore if you have a mzungu girlfriend you must be a very successful guy. Malawians are very polite and that’s what I like about them. Some people (non-Malawian Africans) say they’re too reserved and I think this actually is very good for doing my fieldwork here. People do not dare to do ‘big’ thing – that’s why you don’t hear much about robbery but just a lot of petty thefts. And men could take ‘no’ anyhow there’re plenty fish out in the sea where they could easily fish somewhere else.
Too bad there aren’t invitations from young handsome bachelors – the average age of my interviewees is perhaps 50.. ahh perhaps this is the biggest mistake in my fieldwork! LOL!
‘YOU take minibuses?!?!?’
I was waiting for my radio broadcaster friend outside of British Council at the City Centre when a boy (about 15 years old) came up to me to ‘practise his English’. Oh I was glad to help as I had nothing to do anyway why not just have a chat.
But practising English was just a camouflage – within 3 minutes he asked for 100kwacha (about 40p) from me for his ailing ‘neighbour’. Hmm that’s interesting – usually people just ask for money by extending their hands ‘money, money, give me money’; but this one was ‘professional’ – he had special tactic.. usually I would just ignore them (giving money is BAD practice – never do so as this will create more dependency on mzungus to bring more money.. I will write about this soon) but this time I had time so I chose to continue the conversation instead.
‘Hey young man, listen here, you’re smart, you speak good English, you can get a job and you can earn money for your family. If today I give you money, what do you do tomorrow? Ask for more money from me?’
Now he was confused. Perhaps he never thought I would speak to him this way. And perhaps he thought I didn’t understand his request so he repeated what he wanted – well it was merely 100kwacha from a rich mzungu (and why bother to argue!!)!
But I think he didn’t understand me – so I repeated what I said by stressing on ‘you speak GOOD English’ (as I’m not sure if he’s smart or not, speaking good English was the only fair judgement I could give). And this time he blinked at the statement – ‘I speak good English? You CAN understand me??? YOU CAN UNDERSTAND ME???’
Of course I can understand you! Oh my god! And I took it further to reason with him –
‘Young man (as if I am so old!), you see, not all mzungus are rich – I’m also like you, I also take minibuses – look at my shoes (I pointed to my sport shoes which were full of dust – which is something you don’t see on people who use only cars), I also walk like you; I am NOT different from YOU!’
And he was stunned for 2 seconds. ‘You take minibus? YOU take minibus?! YOU.. TAKE.. MINIBUS??!??’
I am not exaggerating – he repeated the question THREE times. As if I am from Mars.
Oh then I seized the opportunity – I am desperate at making these people realise they’re not of any lower status than the mzungus! The reason why poor countries continue to be poor is because we never have the confidence that we are as good as the rich ones! This is so wrong!
‘YES! I TAKE MINIBUSES! You see, we are the same! If I work to get money, you also can do this – you see, you speak good English, you can get a job and you can earn money! One day you’ll be successful! And how rich you are is not about how much money you earn, if I earn 50,000kwacha a month I still can be poorer than you even if you earn 5,000kwacha a month – it’s about how you spend your money!’
Unfortunately this interesting conversation was interrupted by my friend who wasn’t patient enough for me to continue preaching. I was dragged away before I finished my preaching – and the boy was desperate.. I think he re-gained his ‘consciousness’ (which was to get money, not preaching from me) and went back to his begging mood ‘100kwacha! Madam! 100kwacha!’
Aaarrrrgghh!!
But practising English was just a camouflage – within 3 minutes he asked for 100kwacha (about 40p) from me for his ailing ‘neighbour’. Hmm that’s interesting – usually people just ask for money by extending their hands ‘money, money, give me money’; but this one was ‘professional’ – he had special tactic.. usually I would just ignore them (giving money is BAD practice – never do so as this will create more dependency on mzungus to bring more money.. I will write about this soon) but this time I had time so I chose to continue the conversation instead.
‘Hey young man, listen here, you’re smart, you speak good English, you can get a job and you can earn money for your family. If today I give you money, what do you do tomorrow? Ask for more money from me?’
Now he was confused. Perhaps he never thought I would speak to him this way. And perhaps he thought I didn’t understand his request so he repeated what he wanted – well it was merely 100kwacha from a rich mzungu (and why bother to argue!!)!
But I think he didn’t understand me – so I repeated what I said by stressing on ‘you speak GOOD English’ (as I’m not sure if he’s smart or not, speaking good English was the only fair judgement I could give). And this time he blinked at the statement – ‘I speak good English? You CAN understand me??? YOU CAN UNDERSTAND ME???’
Of course I can understand you! Oh my god! And I took it further to reason with him –
‘Young man (as if I am so old!), you see, not all mzungus are rich – I’m also like you, I also take minibuses – look at my shoes (I pointed to my sport shoes which were full of dust – which is something you don’t see on people who use only cars), I also walk like you; I am NOT different from YOU!’
And he was stunned for 2 seconds. ‘You take minibus? YOU take minibus?! YOU.. TAKE.. MINIBUS??!??’
I am not exaggerating – he repeated the question THREE times. As if I am from Mars.
Oh then I seized the opportunity – I am desperate at making these people realise they’re not of any lower status than the mzungus! The reason why poor countries continue to be poor is because we never have the confidence that we are as good as the rich ones! This is so wrong!
‘YES! I TAKE MINIBUSES! You see, we are the same! If I work to get money, you also can do this – you see, you speak good English, you can get a job and you can earn money! One day you’ll be successful! And how rich you are is not about how much money you earn, if I earn 50,000kwacha a month I still can be poorer than you even if you earn 5,000kwacha a month – it’s about how you spend your money!’
Unfortunately this interesting conversation was interrupted by my friend who wasn’t patient enough for me to continue preaching. I was dragged away before I finished my preaching – and the boy was desperate.. I think he re-gained his ‘consciousness’ (which was to get money, not preaching from me) and went back to his begging mood ‘100kwacha! Madam! 100kwacha!’
Aaarrrrgghh!!
Security checks at an American NGO building
Even at Lilongwe International Airport you don’t get checked this way. There is no other building at Lilongwe that hires so many security guards. I felt I entered another world immediately after I entered the iron gate (which probably also was watching me if only it has eyes!..kidding..). you need to get through two security checks where your bag will be searched, and you will be scanned. When you finally arrived at the reception, your details will be recorded and you’ll be handed a visitor card if you are granted entrance. And you don’t have to worry you’ll be lost in the building as you won’t be allowed to wander around – you’ll be seated until a messenger comes over to take you straight to where you need to get to. No messing around, strictly business. No gossip groups as I usually see at other places. Nobody stands at reception to chat. Everybody is busy. An atmosphere that reminds you that you are at a ‘very efficient’ place.
I looked around idly. As nobody seemed to be interested to chat with me. So it was so boring I had to read the mission statement of the institution – one strong message is they want to bring democracy and ensure maintenance of human rights to developing countries. Hahaha.. you know what I was laughing at!!!
I looked around idly. As nobody seemed to be interested to chat with me. So it was so boring I had to read the mission statement of the institution – one strong message is they want to bring democracy and ensure maintenance of human rights to developing countries. Hahaha.. you know what I was laughing at!!!
Peter Mawanga Concert 27/06/10
Excellent!!! Thumb’s up!!
Actually we (I went with my house owners F and I) almost left because it took so long for the concert to start.. it was supposed to start at 2pm but because the sound engineer didn’t come so it took them almost two hours to tune the instruments.. arrgghh – tell me about ‘African time’!! however I am soooo glad we stayed otherwise I wouldn’t have chance to see Peter Mawanga – this band plays so well I would definitely say they deserve a concert at the London O2! I heard that they did have a concert somewhere in London some time ago so perhaps I’ll see them again in the UK!
There’re three things in Malawi I find most rewarding – people, music, and starry nights!
People – needless to elaborate more, super friendly. Although I do have difficulties to connect with those who don’t speak English but language isn’t the primary factor in friendship. They provide me with a very different outlook of life. Very different – that difference intrigues me and makes me wonder why I only see things one way and what possibly could other ways be.
Music – so far I’ve been to two concerts and both are amazing.. I find African music very communal – it naturally gathers people to sing/dance along a very popular example is the World Cup theme song This Time for Africa! Wow this song is just soooo popular – once you play this song you engage EVERYBODY, IMMEDIATELY! That’s also the one of the most popular songs (after waka waka) among local clubs nobody gets tired even if it was played continuously 2 or 3 times! They are particularly good with drums and you know how drums attract crowd. And you get drums everywhere you go they aren’t as expensive as violins, guitars; aren’t as massive as pianos; drums are musical instrument for the people.
And thirdly – starry nights! In the UK I only had ONE chance to see this – that was when I was at Lake District and that gained lots of wow WoW WOW from us! But here.. you get that EVERY NIGHT. Yes, EVERY night! Yeah! Every night it’s so pleasant to just sit outside and look at the sky..! unless there’s too much cloud, you don’t have light pollution to block you from this nature beauty! You have development, you lose the sky – yes this world is fair in this sense!
So now, my next mission is to get a Peter Mawanga’s CD!
Actually we (I went with my house owners F and I) almost left because it took so long for the concert to start.. it was supposed to start at 2pm but because the sound engineer didn’t come so it took them almost two hours to tune the instruments.. arrgghh – tell me about ‘African time’!! however I am soooo glad we stayed otherwise I wouldn’t have chance to see Peter Mawanga – this band plays so well I would definitely say they deserve a concert at the London O2! I heard that they did have a concert somewhere in London some time ago so perhaps I’ll see them again in the UK!
There’re three things in Malawi I find most rewarding – people, music, and starry nights!
People – needless to elaborate more, super friendly. Although I do have difficulties to connect with those who don’t speak English but language isn’t the primary factor in friendship. They provide me with a very different outlook of life. Very different – that difference intrigues me and makes me wonder why I only see things one way and what possibly could other ways be.
Music – so far I’ve been to two concerts and both are amazing.. I find African music very communal – it naturally gathers people to sing/dance along a very popular example is the World Cup theme song This Time for Africa! Wow this song is just soooo popular – once you play this song you engage EVERYBODY, IMMEDIATELY! That’s also the one of the most popular songs (after waka waka) among local clubs nobody gets tired even if it was played continuously 2 or 3 times! They are particularly good with drums and you know how drums attract crowd. And you get drums everywhere you go they aren’t as expensive as violins, guitars; aren’t as massive as pianos; drums are musical instrument for the people.
And thirdly – starry nights! In the UK I only had ONE chance to see this – that was when I was at Lake District and that gained lots of wow WoW WOW from us! But here.. you get that EVERY NIGHT. Yes, EVERY night! Yeah! Every night it’s so pleasant to just sit outside and look at the sky..! unless there’s too much cloud, you don’t have light pollution to block you from this nature beauty! You have development, you lose the sky – yes this world is fair in this sense!
So now, my next mission is to get a Peter Mawanga’s CD!
Resuming Research Work.. 24/06/10
So I’m starting another round of data collection. After one week of ‘holiday’ (wasn’t COMPLETELY holiday – most parts of it involved work!!) in Zambia. My mind still lingers around good places and people in Zambia but physically I am at Lilongwe which means I need to resume my research business. Bad thing is I have not been feeling well since coming back from Zambia, thanks to all the travelling hassle which deprived me of valuable sleeping hours (you know how much I need sleep...). Ahhh.. work... crazy crazy again.. huge task.. very much overwhelmed... Today I visited one of the top people in pharmacy, who has contacts with almost everybody I have to see in Lilongwe. And got the location of each institution I’m going to visit right. Gosh I have to run all over Lilongwe! To me Lilongwe is just too big, after coming from Blantyre, which has most things concentrated at one small area where I could easily access any place by foot. Now I think I will have difficult time finding directions and planning my interview schedule as one interview location could be very far from the next one.. and I heard Lilongwe is much ‘rougher’ than Blantyre (people kept telling me that before I left Blantyre). I think perhaps I need to move out of where I currently stay because it’s just too far from wherever I need to go for the following 3-4 weeks. I need to take at least 2 minibuses to get to where most interview venues are. But moving (again) makes me feel tired.. I’ve been dragging my suitcase from one place to the other for two weeks arrgghh the task of packing, unpacking, lifting and moving.. just thinking of these makes me tiiiiiireeeeddd... but that’s the thing about intensive fieldwork – I have no room to stop and think – I need to get into action, Action, ACTION! Quickly! Otherwise I lose time and money runs out!
Ahh I am just sooo tired..
Ahh I am just sooo tired..
Living with a Burundian-Italian Couple - another eye-opening experience 22/06/10
I think meeting Mr C and D opens up the door for me. I feel my life was flushed in with so many good people suddenly. I had no plans as to where to stay in Lilongwe (apart from a very expensive guest house which I didn’t wish to move into). Mrs F texted me one hour before I reached Lilongwe to ask if I was interested to look at their house. Well I send a group email to a group of potential landlords before I left Malawi a week ago but most of them replied me via emails (which I couldn’t access when I was in Zambia). Only F texted me. The price was much better than the ones from the guest house so I said yes right away. Again it was a risk – I didn’t know who they were, no idea where they live.. I just trusted my intuition which told me this was going to be alright.
My intuition didn’t fail me. It was indeed better than alright. Florisa and her husband T are very nice people. F is an Italian and T a Burundian. Interesting match isn’t it! I somehow felt this could be a romance started at refugee camps.. true enough – they actually met when he was living in the refugee camp in Malawi back in 2003. He is just 31 and had lived in refugee camps his whole life since birth up until he was 27! Can you imagine if you are put in refugee camps as long as 27 years! And it wasn’t just one refugee camp – he had to move from one to the other – not within one country – but a few countries, because when one becomes unstable you just have to run to the next one... gosh I don’t have words to describe how I feel toward this! T once told me at times he questioned where God was (he’s a Christian) – if He does exist, why there was so much suffering in his life..?!
Through him I change my perception toward what ‘refugee’ means. Previously I had little idea what it could mean – I only understand from the TV refugee camps seemed to be a place of hell where you put up temporary until things become stable then you go back to normal life. But NO, the reality is, one could live in refugee camps throughout his/her life! And life does go on within refugee camps – they do have schools, clinics, markets.. just like a neighbourhood – the difference is, they have no freedom like us. They have no passport to move freely. They can’t even do business outside of refugee camps because the government doesn’t allow them to – as a result of objection from local community that these refugees could possibly snatch business or job opportunities if they are allowed to. However when you think carefully, there’re many valuable sources of manpower from refugee camps – there’re doctors, nurses, educated people, businessmen.. who could possibly benefit the country because they’re also good brains to contribute to the country’s economy and development. When the local Malawians lament about not having enough job opportunities, having businessmen starting up any type of businesses actually provide jobs for the local people. And having doctors and nurses coming out of the camps to work in the hospitals surely benefit the health system.. what do we worry about..?!!? This world isn’t fair is it – just because you are born in Somalia, Burundi, Congo.. you’re robbed of basic human rights to move around and live like others do!
About F, I admire her kind heart and open mind – I admire how receptive she is to another completely different culture/world. She’s an Italian, and having grown up and lived in a modern (warless) world throughout her life. And how she is, pregnant with an ex-refugee’s baby (that’s how most people would interpret it!), learning Burundian language and practice the culture. I once asked her what they do for living. I was a bit puzzled at how they could actually plan for the baby’s future as there’s no income really for their current job. They’re merely getting expenses covered and no ‘savings’. Later I found out actually personal ‘savings’ is a very westernised concept. Florisa doesn’t really know how to explain to me (as I think she thought it would be very difficult to explain to me, which indeed she’s right because it took me a long time to understand this) and but she said stayed in my mind for a long time – ‘sometimes you wonder why you need more.. there’re many ways we get what we need’. I didn’t understand how she meant at that time but later when she received donated clothes from others I started to understand. In westernised world, we acquire things by accumulating personal wealth then we acquire necessities using the money we accumulate. So everybody has one ‘set’ of necessities. But in Africa, you don’t own one ‘set’ of necessities. You SHARE what you have. So I have this bit of extra baby clothes, I give them to F. If F have extra bedsheets, she will give them to me. Something like that. People don’t get secure their future based on money they get, they depend on the support of the whole social network they build. So it’s a socially constructed ‘socialist’ way of living, if you want to label it. You don’t need the government to impose the concept of socialism, people just naturally practice that.
They are so special. I’m so glad I met them. I always believe fate brings me to many friends I met along my way in Africa and this is just one of the best examples. If not because I didn’t have internet access in Zambia, I would most probably move into another house which is more convenient to me and I would miss the chance to meet such wonderful people.
My intuition didn’t fail me. It was indeed better than alright. Florisa and her husband T are very nice people. F is an Italian and T a Burundian. Interesting match isn’t it! I somehow felt this could be a romance started at refugee camps.. true enough – they actually met when he was living in the refugee camp in Malawi back in 2003. He is just 31 and had lived in refugee camps his whole life since birth up until he was 27! Can you imagine if you are put in refugee camps as long as 27 years! And it wasn’t just one refugee camp – he had to move from one to the other – not within one country – but a few countries, because when one becomes unstable you just have to run to the next one... gosh I don’t have words to describe how I feel toward this! T once told me at times he questioned where God was (he’s a Christian) – if He does exist, why there was so much suffering in his life..?!
Through him I change my perception toward what ‘refugee’ means. Previously I had little idea what it could mean – I only understand from the TV refugee camps seemed to be a place of hell where you put up temporary until things become stable then you go back to normal life. But NO, the reality is, one could live in refugee camps throughout his/her life! And life does go on within refugee camps – they do have schools, clinics, markets.. just like a neighbourhood – the difference is, they have no freedom like us. They have no passport to move freely. They can’t even do business outside of refugee camps because the government doesn’t allow them to – as a result of objection from local community that these refugees could possibly snatch business or job opportunities if they are allowed to. However when you think carefully, there’re many valuable sources of manpower from refugee camps – there’re doctors, nurses, educated people, businessmen.. who could possibly benefit the country because they’re also good brains to contribute to the country’s economy and development. When the local Malawians lament about not having enough job opportunities, having businessmen starting up any type of businesses actually provide jobs for the local people. And having doctors and nurses coming out of the camps to work in the hospitals surely benefit the health system.. what do we worry about..?!!? This world isn’t fair is it – just because you are born in Somalia, Burundi, Congo.. you’re robbed of basic human rights to move around and live like others do!
About F, I admire her kind heart and open mind – I admire how receptive she is to another completely different culture/world. She’s an Italian, and having grown up and lived in a modern (warless) world throughout her life. And how she is, pregnant with an ex-refugee’s baby (that’s how most people would interpret it!), learning Burundian language and practice the culture. I once asked her what they do for living. I was a bit puzzled at how they could actually plan for the baby’s future as there’s no income really for their current job. They’re merely getting expenses covered and no ‘savings’. Later I found out actually personal ‘savings’ is a very westernised concept. Florisa doesn’t really know how to explain to me (as I think she thought it would be very difficult to explain to me, which indeed she’s right because it took me a long time to understand this) and but she said stayed in my mind for a long time – ‘sometimes you wonder why you need more.. there’re many ways we get what we need’. I didn’t understand how she meant at that time but later when she received donated clothes from others I started to understand. In westernised world, we acquire things by accumulating personal wealth then we acquire necessities using the money we accumulate. So everybody has one ‘set’ of necessities. But in Africa, you don’t own one ‘set’ of necessities. You SHARE what you have. So I have this bit of extra baby clothes, I give them to F. If F have extra bedsheets, she will give them to me. Something like that. People don’t get secure their future based on money they get, they depend on the support of the whole social network they build. So it’s a socially constructed ‘socialist’ way of living, if you want to label it. You don’t need the government to impose the concept of socialism, people just naturally practice that.
They are so special. I’m so glad I met them. I always believe fate brings me to many friends I met along my way in Africa and this is just one of the best examples. If not because I didn’t have internet access in Zambia, I would most probably move into another house which is more convenient to me and I would miss the chance to meet such wonderful people.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Criminals at Lusaka Inter-city Bus Terminus 21/06/10
My visit to Zambia didn’t end with a good note.
I booked a coach ticket from Lusaka to Lilongwe yesterday, that should depart from Lusaka at 12N. On getting off the taxi at Lusaka Inter-City Bus Terminus, my luggage was immediately grabbed by a group of guys who allegedly ‘helped’ me with my ‘very heavy’ luggage. It was useless to shout at them. Holding my luggage ‘hostage’, they demanded ‘luggage fee’ (which was totally unheard of) from me in order to ‘transfer it from Lusaka to Lilongwe’ – so the coach fare I paid didn’t include luggage? Oh obviously NOT! I have spent all Zambian Kwacha so I had to pay in Malawian Kwacha – and these greedy barbarians took opportunity again to manipulate on the exchange rate to extort more money from me. I ended up paying 4 times higher than usual – a REAL mzungu price! Anyhow I later found out that most passengers didn’t pay at all even though they travelled with 10 bags or more!
Well as I said the coach was supposed to leave at 12NOON. The name of the coach company was Zambia-Botswana Luxury Coach Service. And it wasn’t cheap – the price was ‘luxury’ indeed, but service was the lousiest! Instead of departing at 12N, we departed at 1500. For three hours, I was just sitting in the bus watching vendors coming up and getting down the bus. Basically they moved the whole market up into the bus. They sold everything you could think of – from food, drinks, gloves/socks/scarves, phone credits, items you could normally think passengers need; to peculiar items like wigs, half-length mirror (how on earth do I carry this if I purchase the mirror?!), primary school exam questions, television (???!!), etc etc..
Before we left, we had to change to another coach at 1430. I saw everybody suddenly rushing down the bus and I didn’t know why. Nobody said anything to us. I tried to ask but nobody spoke to me, or spoke to me in the local dialect. When I finally found out that I needed to move to the second bus because only the second bus was ‘licensed’ to cross the border, I found my luggage was locked in a compartment in the first bus but I found nobody to open that for me. And the stupid thing was the second bus had less seats than the first one – so everybody squeezed into the second bus in panic. I was panicking too – as I had to get in the second bus to grab a seat; but I couldn’t leave the first bus because my luggage was kept in the locked compartment. I was worried the first bus would leave with my luggage and the second bus would leave without me.. I tried to get some help but had nobody to turn to. All the gangsters who extorted money (for ‘luggage fee’) from me just now just disappeared. They didn’t issue receipt for the fee I paid so obviously they were just robbing me because they knew I couldn’t do anything but to obey. And now I was in the situation with absolutely no help, and no idea what was going on.. It was the first time during my whole trip I felt so helpless, so lonely, and so angry..! and the next thing I knew was I started to sob uncontrollably. May be they were not just tears out of today’s frustration but an accumulation over the past few weeks.. I had been feeling so lonely, and so scared at times; I thought I was strong but at this moment I was not at all.. I felt I just wanted to give up. I don’t want to travel alone anymore. It is just too tiring to be constantly on the watch-out for bullies, for people to take advantage just because I look different from the others, constantly planning and budgeting not to spend too much, constantly worrying for not getting home before dark....... ahhh it’s just too much... I just want to go back home.. hoME... HOMEEEE...
Perhaps the tears saved me. One of the guys came forward to help me move my luggage to the second bus and explained me what was going on in English. I couldn’t thank him enough, though he was actually one of them who sold too many tickets for too less the seats. These greedy bastards don’t care for safety, they just wanted to make money. They just issued tickets to whoever came forward without taking into consideration whether we fit in the coach or not. If you don’t get in the bus, you lose your money anyway. In the end, the whole bus was overloaded. Luggage was everywhere, from the luggage compartment to every corner of the coach especially the aisle. There was literally no space to walk – you had to step on other people’s luggage to ‘walk’. There were a few times my arm was nearly stepped on as somebody’s legs had nowhere to stretch but to step on somebody’s arms!
I thought I could finally rest after the coach departed at 1500. But it only moved for 15 minutes before all passengers were asked to get down the coach because coach needed diesel refill. I asked why we needed to get down for refill oh the reason was they were worried the coach would ‘catch fire’ during refill. Oh very considerate indeed of our safety! But strange enough passengers gathered right beside the coach.. so if there was indeed fire, what’s the difference for you to sit in the bus or to stand right beside the bus?!?
I don’t understand why but the refill took 30 minutes. You really can’t get impatient with such ‘luxurious’ service you are just wasting your energy.. so oh fine we moved again at 345pm. I closed my eyes and thought oh great I would reach Lilongwe 4am instead of 1am as promised earlier by the coach company.
But NO, reaching Lilongwe at 4am next morning was indeed a LUXURY. The coach stopped again at 5pm – it broke down because one of the water pipes burst and some other problems. The driver and bus conductor spent 30 minutes to repair it just to get the coach to run for another 10 minutes. And it stopped and got ‘repaired’ again for 10-minute running. This tedious cycle was repeated 3 times before the bus driver finally convinced that this bus couldn’t run anymore.
We were left stranded in the coach for the next 8 hours. No rescue bus came. Most passengers slept in the bus. Some left the bus to have some fun in the club at a nearby village – don’t worry, be happy, always! I just slept I was too tired to worry anymore. But the elderly uncle who sat beside me didn’t allow me to sleep too long.. he accidently spilt half a bottle of coke onto my trousers and woke me up completely..
The rescue bus finally came at 2am. There went another frantic fight for seats in the new bus. Everybody was panicking. Everybody was trying to save his/her seats and taking care of the luggage. So you saw people squeezing into the bus to grab a seat, then squeezing to get down the bus to move the luggage over to the new bus. As most people had more than one luggage (I always think people in Africa move their house with buses, or sometimes even minibuses.. they have so much to carry! You would lose count of how many gunny sacks they carry!!) they had to run up and down for many times. The whole process of switching bus took 2 hours can you believe it.. because we need to allow time for argument (about whose seat was ‘stolen’, about people from which part of the country are greater.. etc etc). It was just a total MESS...!
Finally the bus moved at 4am. We reached the border at 12pm next day. And the rest of the journey was uneventful (even if something happened again.. didn’t surprise me anymore..!). I got to my new place in Lilongwe at about 2pm.
I swear this was the first time and also the last time I would ever take this coach! And I would never travel alone at Lusaka – just too much harassment, too much mzungu price!
I booked a coach ticket from Lusaka to Lilongwe yesterday, that should depart from Lusaka at 12N. On getting off the taxi at Lusaka Inter-City Bus Terminus, my luggage was immediately grabbed by a group of guys who allegedly ‘helped’ me with my ‘very heavy’ luggage. It was useless to shout at them. Holding my luggage ‘hostage’, they demanded ‘luggage fee’ (which was totally unheard of) from me in order to ‘transfer it from Lusaka to Lilongwe’ – so the coach fare I paid didn’t include luggage? Oh obviously NOT! I have spent all Zambian Kwacha so I had to pay in Malawian Kwacha – and these greedy barbarians took opportunity again to manipulate on the exchange rate to extort more money from me. I ended up paying 4 times higher than usual – a REAL mzungu price! Anyhow I later found out that most passengers didn’t pay at all even though they travelled with 10 bags or more!
Well as I said the coach was supposed to leave at 12NOON. The name of the coach company was Zambia-Botswana Luxury Coach Service. And it wasn’t cheap – the price was ‘luxury’ indeed, but service was the lousiest! Instead of departing at 12N, we departed at 1500. For three hours, I was just sitting in the bus watching vendors coming up and getting down the bus. Basically they moved the whole market up into the bus. They sold everything you could think of – from food, drinks, gloves/socks/scarves, phone credits, items you could normally think passengers need; to peculiar items like wigs, half-length mirror (how on earth do I carry this if I purchase the mirror?!), primary school exam questions, television (???!!), etc etc..
Before we left, we had to change to another coach at 1430. I saw everybody suddenly rushing down the bus and I didn’t know why. Nobody said anything to us. I tried to ask but nobody spoke to me, or spoke to me in the local dialect. When I finally found out that I needed to move to the second bus because only the second bus was ‘licensed’ to cross the border, I found my luggage was locked in a compartment in the first bus but I found nobody to open that for me. And the stupid thing was the second bus had less seats than the first one – so everybody squeezed into the second bus in panic. I was panicking too – as I had to get in the second bus to grab a seat; but I couldn’t leave the first bus because my luggage was kept in the locked compartment. I was worried the first bus would leave with my luggage and the second bus would leave without me.. I tried to get some help but had nobody to turn to. All the gangsters who extorted money (for ‘luggage fee’) from me just now just disappeared. They didn’t issue receipt for the fee I paid so obviously they were just robbing me because they knew I couldn’t do anything but to obey. And now I was in the situation with absolutely no help, and no idea what was going on.. It was the first time during my whole trip I felt so helpless, so lonely, and so angry..! and the next thing I knew was I started to sob uncontrollably. May be they were not just tears out of today’s frustration but an accumulation over the past few weeks.. I had been feeling so lonely, and so scared at times; I thought I was strong but at this moment I was not at all.. I felt I just wanted to give up. I don’t want to travel alone anymore. It is just too tiring to be constantly on the watch-out for bullies, for people to take advantage just because I look different from the others, constantly planning and budgeting not to spend too much, constantly worrying for not getting home before dark....... ahhh it’s just too much... I just want to go back home.. hoME... HOMEEEE...
Perhaps the tears saved me. One of the guys came forward to help me move my luggage to the second bus and explained me what was going on in English. I couldn’t thank him enough, though he was actually one of them who sold too many tickets for too less the seats. These greedy bastards don’t care for safety, they just wanted to make money. They just issued tickets to whoever came forward without taking into consideration whether we fit in the coach or not. If you don’t get in the bus, you lose your money anyway. In the end, the whole bus was overloaded. Luggage was everywhere, from the luggage compartment to every corner of the coach especially the aisle. There was literally no space to walk – you had to step on other people’s luggage to ‘walk’. There were a few times my arm was nearly stepped on as somebody’s legs had nowhere to stretch but to step on somebody’s arms!
I thought I could finally rest after the coach departed at 1500. But it only moved for 15 minutes before all passengers were asked to get down the coach because coach needed diesel refill. I asked why we needed to get down for refill oh the reason was they were worried the coach would ‘catch fire’ during refill. Oh very considerate indeed of our safety! But strange enough passengers gathered right beside the coach.. so if there was indeed fire, what’s the difference for you to sit in the bus or to stand right beside the bus?!?
I don’t understand why but the refill took 30 minutes. You really can’t get impatient with such ‘luxurious’ service you are just wasting your energy.. so oh fine we moved again at 345pm. I closed my eyes and thought oh great I would reach Lilongwe 4am instead of 1am as promised earlier by the coach company.
But NO, reaching Lilongwe at 4am next morning was indeed a LUXURY. The coach stopped again at 5pm – it broke down because one of the water pipes burst and some other problems. The driver and bus conductor spent 30 minutes to repair it just to get the coach to run for another 10 minutes. And it stopped and got ‘repaired’ again for 10-minute running. This tedious cycle was repeated 3 times before the bus driver finally convinced that this bus couldn’t run anymore.
We were left stranded in the coach for the next 8 hours. No rescue bus came. Most passengers slept in the bus. Some left the bus to have some fun in the club at a nearby village – don’t worry, be happy, always! I just slept I was too tired to worry anymore. But the elderly uncle who sat beside me didn’t allow me to sleep too long.. he accidently spilt half a bottle of coke onto my trousers and woke me up completely..
The rescue bus finally came at 2am. There went another frantic fight for seats in the new bus. Everybody was panicking. Everybody was trying to save his/her seats and taking care of the luggage. So you saw people squeezing into the bus to grab a seat, then squeezing to get down the bus to move the luggage over to the new bus. As most people had more than one luggage (I always think people in Africa move their house with buses, or sometimes even minibuses.. they have so much to carry! You would lose count of how many gunny sacks they carry!!) they had to run up and down for many times. The whole process of switching bus took 2 hours can you believe it.. because we need to allow time for argument (about whose seat was ‘stolen’, about people from which part of the country are greater.. etc etc). It was just a total MESS...!
Finally the bus moved at 4am. We reached the border at 12pm next day. And the rest of the journey was uneventful (even if something happened again.. didn’t surprise me anymore..!). I got to my new place in Lilongwe at about 2pm.
I swear this was the first time and also the last time I would ever take this coach! And I would never travel alone at Lusaka – just too much harassment, too much mzungu price!
Scary Dinner Date 20/06/10
One of the most difficult decisions to make when travelling alone is whether to accept invitations to dinner. Risk of accepting is.. you know what. And ‘risk’ of not accepting is you miss out chance to see the city.
I travelled alone to Lusaka and was there only for a night. Badly want to see the city before I left the next day. Perhaps it was a wrong decision as the invitation sounded really attractive – a car which could fetch me around the city (oh silly girl!!). We met at Livingstone and he was the Director of one of the pharmaceutical companies. I gave his number to the friend I stayed with and they met before he took me out so I thought it should be fine.
Contrary to what I thought we went to his house instead of a restaurant. It was so stupid of me to try to be polite and entered the house to find nobody else was in the house. To say I wasn’t panicking was a lie. I felt into my bag and found I forgot to bring the rape alarm along. This guy was really a weirdo. The first thing he saw me was his son’s pictures. Oh I thought perhaps he wanted to match-make me with the son or just to show off how handsome his son is.. that’s better. But after that he started asking a string of questions about me, without revealing the intention why he asked those questions. I was feeling really uneasy but appeared calm enough to start saying things that could be as bitchy as possible. I was aiming for the door for escape at any minute!
It was excruciatingly painful to stay in the house for one whole hour before he finally said we should go pick up some friends for dinner. Perhaps I was too sensitive (but I never was too sensitive!) but this guy really freaks me out. I even started to think about the movie ‘lovely bones’ where a silly girl was murdered mercilessly just because of her curiosity to look at the house of her murderer..
After one hour that felt like one thousand years we finally left the house without me being murdered (phew!).. We picked two other guys up from their house and went for an Indian restaurant. There things became much better. We had good conversation and I was rather convinced that these guys felt isolated from the rest of the world after living in a country ‘with very slow pace’ for some years. So they always want to speak to somebody from outside of the country to find out what’s going on currently in the world. I also learned from their experience living in both Francophone and Anglophone African countries. We shared some similar observations but they told me about Francophone African countries was something I haven’t heard of. Food was good – I have no doubt the dinner was really good.
Then we dropped these two friends off before sending me home. He gave me a ‘goodbye’ embrace and three ‘kisses’ which I had to fight against.. before I fled from the car..!
I will never be so stupid again – never ever enter a house if you don’t feel safe! Don’t try to be polite!
I travelled alone to Lusaka and was there only for a night. Badly want to see the city before I left the next day. Perhaps it was a wrong decision as the invitation sounded really attractive – a car which could fetch me around the city (oh silly girl!!). We met at Livingstone and he was the Director of one of the pharmaceutical companies. I gave his number to the friend I stayed with and they met before he took me out so I thought it should be fine.
Contrary to what I thought we went to his house instead of a restaurant. It was so stupid of me to try to be polite and entered the house to find nobody else was in the house. To say I wasn’t panicking was a lie. I felt into my bag and found I forgot to bring the rape alarm along. This guy was really a weirdo. The first thing he saw me was his son’s pictures. Oh I thought perhaps he wanted to match-make me with the son or just to show off how handsome his son is.. that’s better. But after that he started asking a string of questions about me, without revealing the intention why he asked those questions. I was feeling really uneasy but appeared calm enough to start saying things that could be as bitchy as possible. I was aiming for the door for escape at any minute!
It was excruciatingly painful to stay in the house for one whole hour before he finally said we should go pick up some friends for dinner. Perhaps I was too sensitive (but I never was too sensitive!) but this guy really freaks me out. I even started to think about the movie ‘lovely bones’ where a silly girl was murdered mercilessly just because of her curiosity to look at the house of her murderer..
After one hour that felt like one thousand years we finally left the house without me being murdered (phew!).. We picked two other guys up from their house and went for an Indian restaurant. There things became much better. We had good conversation and I was rather convinced that these guys felt isolated from the rest of the world after living in a country ‘with very slow pace’ for some years. So they always want to speak to somebody from outside of the country to find out what’s going on currently in the world. I also learned from their experience living in both Francophone and Anglophone African countries. We shared some similar observations but they told me about Francophone African countries was something I haven’t heard of. Food was good – I have no doubt the dinner was really good.
Then we dropped these two friends off before sending me home. He gave me a ‘goodbye’ embrace and three ‘kisses’ which I had to fight against.. before I fled from the car..!
I will never be so stupid again – never ever enter a house if you don’t feel safe! Don’t try to be polite!
Saying goodbye to my ‘roommates’ 19/06/10
There are some people with whom you click with right away. And there are too people with whom you share an office/class/whatever with for 10 years and you still know nothing about them.
Mr D and C belong to the former group. Although I was a bit wary of them at the beginning, I felt very comfortable speaking with them from the first day itself. Perhaps that’s due to the fact that we both knew we wouldn’t meet again so I didn’t need to hold anything back and could just be myself. We joked about just anything and they always made me laugh and I did the same to them. To me, they are witty, crazy and spontaneous (just the type of guys I like!). To them, I am ‘funny’, ‘smart’ and ‘don’t need condoms’ (guess what the first gift D offered me? condoms! Hahaha!)
Mr D (51 years old) is a naturalist. He doesn’t eat fried food and tried to avoid any food that is ‘artificial’. Doesn’t drink and doesn’t smoke. But women – yes. His philosophy of life is to enjoy it, well that includes sex. He had been travelling to more than 100 countries and could tell about a country right away. I must say he was pretty accurate. Also a musician – not to impress anybody but to self entertain most of the time. He said he owns a studio or production something I believe so as he’s an entertainer indeed. Whereas Mr C (43 years old) acted in porn films before and performed in strip clubs but had stopped some years ago. Part of the conversation while we were travelling from Malawi to Zambia involved how much he earned for each film and each performance in the strip club (...!!...). On the other hand I never thought a porn start would know so much about Osho (and even named his dog Osho!) which impressed me a lot. We shared the same belief in the outlook of life (well I probably share more with Mr D but he was too busy to reveal that to me until the last few days). Contrary to Mr D’s very much laid back attitude, he was the one who always busy holding camera and collecting information for their ‘documentary’ for Africa.
Well I like both of them. Very genuine people. And also people who allow others to be genuine to them. I do not need to be too careful in communicating with them. I do not need to put up a polite smile. You couldn’t predict what would happen next when you were with them. They were just too spontaneous and hilarious. The day we went to see Victoria Fall we were distracted by baboons before we got to the entrance of the fall. And guess what the next minute these two crazy guys were trying to bribe the baboons into doing some funny acts by throwing them some popcorn. Well I was standing quite a distance away because I knew it was not funny to provoke the baboons. Haha true enough they finally stopped pestering the baboons after Mr C was slapped in the face by one of the baboons!! I was actually a bit worried whether we would be attacked by the whole baboon family! But it was FUNNY... oh god it was just hilarious thinking of the moment C was given a punch oouch!!
For three days I needed to attend to some serious business in Livingstone so I missed out fun with them. And they left one day before I did. I felt so sad seeing them leaving indeed. And I felt even worse when I got back to the empty room at night. It almost felt like a family leaving me behind. I need somebody to talk to when I got back from work and they let me felt I was ‘home’. Although the time we spent together was so short I really appreciate this friendship. Because of them I had many moments of re-thinking about life and through them I see where I belong. It was not just because I was lonely I was attracted to them. There are many out there I met during this field trip but nobody had yet to make me feel belonged (to the friendship). It’s funny as they don’t seem to belong to the circle of friends I used to have. If I were to have a chance to pick I wouldn’t have chosen to travel with them. But I think it was fate which leads me to discover these friends.
Love you guys and I shall remember you – though our paths would never cross again.
Mr D and C belong to the former group. Although I was a bit wary of them at the beginning, I felt very comfortable speaking with them from the first day itself. Perhaps that’s due to the fact that we both knew we wouldn’t meet again so I didn’t need to hold anything back and could just be myself. We joked about just anything and they always made me laugh and I did the same to them. To me, they are witty, crazy and spontaneous (just the type of guys I like!). To them, I am ‘funny’, ‘smart’ and ‘don’t need condoms’ (guess what the first gift D offered me? condoms! Hahaha!)
Mr D (51 years old) is a naturalist. He doesn’t eat fried food and tried to avoid any food that is ‘artificial’. Doesn’t drink and doesn’t smoke. But women – yes. His philosophy of life is to enjoy it, well that includes sex. He had been travelling to more than 100 countries and could tell about a country right away. I must say he was pretty accurate. Also a musician – not to impress anybody but to self entertain most of the time. He said he owns a studio or production something I believe so as he’s an entertainer indeed. Whereas Mr C (43 years old) acted in porn films before and performed in strip clubs but had stopped some years ago. Part of the conversation while we were travelling from Malawi to Zambia involved how much he earned for each film and each performance in the strip club (...!!...). On the other hand I never thought a porn start would know so much about Osho (and even named his dog Osho!) which impressed me a lot. We shared the same belief in the outlook of life (well I probably share more with Mr D but he was too busy to reveal that to me until the last few days). Contrary to Mr D’s very much laid back attitude, he was the one who always busy holding camera and collecting information for their ‘documentary’ for Africa.
Well I like both of them. Very genuine people. And also people who allow others to be genuine to them. I do not need to be too careful in communicating with them. I do not need to put up a polite smile. You couldn’t predict what would happen next when you were with them. They were just too spontaneous and hilarious. The day we went to see Victoria Fall we were distracted by baboons before we got to the entrance of the fall. And guess what the next minute these two crazy guys were trying to bribe the baboons into doing some funny acts by throwing them some popcorn. Well I was standing quite a distance away because I knew it was not funny to provoke the baboons. Haha true enough they finally stopped pestering the baboons after Mr C was slapped in the face by one of the baboons!! I was actually a bit worried whether we would be attacked by the whole baboon family! But it was FUNNY... oh god it was just hilarious thinking of the moment C was given a punch oouch!!
For three days I needed to attend to some serious business in Livingstone so I missed out fun with them. And they left one day before I did. I felt so sad seeing them leaving indeed. And I felt even worse when I got back to the empty room at night. It almost felt like a family leaving me behind. I need somebody to talk to when I got back from work and they let me felt I was ‘home’. Although the time we spent together was so short I really appreciate this friendship. Because of them I had many moments of re-thinking about life and through them I see where I belong. It was not just because I was lonely I was attracted to them. There are many out there I met during this field trip but nobody had yet to make me feel belonged (to the friendship). It’s funny as they don’t seem to belong to the circle of friends I used to have. If I were to have a chance to pick I wouldn’t have chosen to travel with them. But I think it was fate which leads me to discover these friends.
Love you guys and I shall remember you – though our paths would never cross again.
Victoria Fall (Livingstone, Zambia) 16/06/10
This is magnificent – I had thought it should just be the same with what I saw from pictures but NO, please, you need to see it with your own eyes.. I felt goose bumps all over when I stood in front of this.. how do I describe this.. this very mother nature which is so powerful, so lively, so beautiful.... I was stunned, speechless indeed! You know I could just sit and watch it for the whole day! It’s unbelievably, overwhelmingly, amazingly... (use all words you can..) ahhh.. I don’t have sufficient English vocab for it!
I was really glad that I made it to Victoria Fall. My two trip mates didn’t want to pay $50 to cross the border to Zimbabwe to see the Fall from the Zimbabwean side. Holding a Malaysian passport, I have no problem getting into African countries without visa. Indeed Malaysian passports are very travel friendly – I do not need visa travelling in Europe and Africa, which is just too convenient to be true!
So I walked alone for about 1km to cross the Zambia-Zimbabwe border. It was a bit scary as many people tried to sell things to me (who came VERY close to me). one of the most commonly sold items at the border is Zimbabwean currency, which is of no value now – people sell ‘one trillion’ Zimbabwean money, which is ‘worth less than toilet paper’ (according to the local). I was intrigued. But dared not stop to look at the notes as I was walking alone. I later saw a note from a friend which had print of ‘valid until 31st December 2009’.. interesting huh!
My adventure to Zimbabwe was uneventful apart from a slip at a place called the ‘dangerous point’ (haha.. could kill myself indeed!). This is the month where the water flow at the Fall was at the peak of the year hence I couldn’t see the whole stretch of the Fall as there was just too much water forming too much mist in the air and blocked the view. At the viewing points I was almost drenched if not for the umbrella I always carried with me!
I went back to the hostel and showed off the beautiful pictures to the two crazy Americans. They were convinced that they needed to get in no matter how experience it is but guess what the next day they just sneaked in the Fall by pretending to be tenants staying in the hotel nearby the fall! Ah maybe that’s one of the good things being a mzungu here – people just believe what you claim yourself to be!
I was really glad that I made it to Victoria Fall. My two trip mates didn’t want to pay $50 to cross the border to Zimbabwe to see the Fall from the Zimbabwean side. Holding a Malaysian passport, I have no problem getting into African countries without visa. Indeed Malaysian passports are very travel friendly – I do not need visa travelling in Europe and Africa, which is just too convenient to be true!
So I walked alone for about 1km to cross the Zambia-Zimbabwe border. It was a bit scary as many people tried to sell things to me (who came VERY close to me). one of the most commonly sold items at the border is Zimbabwean currency, which is of no value now – people sell ‘one trillion’ Zimbabwean money, which is ‘worth less than toilet paper’ (according to the local). I was intrigued. But dared not stop to look at the notes as I was walking alone. I later saw a note from a friend which had print of ‘valid until 31st December 2009’.. interesting huh!
My adventure to Zimbabwe was uneventful apart from a slip at a place called the ‘dangerous point’ (haha.. could kill myself indeed!). This is the month where the water flow at the Fall was at the peak of the year hence I couldn’t see the whole stretch of the Fall as there was just too much water forming too much mist in the air and blocked the view. At the viewing points I was almost drenched if not for the umbrella I always carried with me!
I went back to the hostel and showed off the beautiful pictures to the two crazy Americans. They were convinced that they needed to get in no matter how experience it is but guess what the next day they just sneaked in the Fall by pretending to be tenants staying in the hotel nearby the fall! Ah maybe that’s one of the good things being a mzungu here – people just believe what you claim yourself to be!
Journey to the West (Blantyre-Lilongwe-Lusaka-Livingstone) 15/06/10
It took me 3 days to get to Livingstone – where I was attending the AGM of Pharmaceutical Society of Zambia. The journey was CRAZY (not less exciting than the stories in ‘Journey to the West’.. indeed I was travelling west!)
With no money to fly, all journeys were made by route –but comes in different vehicles.
I had the most luxurious time getting a lift from Blantyre to Lilongwe (in the car of one of the most famous doctors in Malawi! LOL!) – well this must thank my housemate who pulled the string of course I myself would have no access to the most famous people!
I stayed at a backpacker hostel called Mabuya Camp (with the initial intention to sleep in a tent but I realised it was impossible the moment I arrived – it was just too cold!!) in Lilongwe Sunday night with the plan to get a coach to Lusaka Tuesday morning. Then these two people walked into my plan (and indeed my life!) and nothing went according to plans from the moment we met.. these two American blokes are crazy, very crazy, and very fun to be with (this I found out later of course, not the first moment we met)! We checked into the same dorm at the same time with a raised eyebrow from me as they never were too embarrassed to talk about just anything with me even during the very first minutes we met! So in the very first hour we met it was made very clear that they both enjoyed SEX – one kept saying Asian girls ‘are the best’ while the other one was used to be a porn star.. oh my god – so I was going to sleep overnight here, within inches away from these two sex maniacs?!!? Things got worse when light suddenly went off – the whole room was dark, and two stupid batteries I bought for my torch were (again!!) just fake batteries. All I had now was just the light from my mobile phone which also was running out of battery..
Most people went for a drink at the bar in the living hall. I continued to write with my laptop. And strange enough these two SMs didn’t join the rest for drinks instead just lied in the bed chatting. They teased me here and there thinking I didn’t speak much English. Oh of course I didn’t keep quiet and started to counter-‘bully’ (verbally). Conversation flew and I became quite comfortable with them as I found out these two SMs actually spoke something of substance. They said they were film makers but of course I didn’t believe a word of it. I spent quite some time to make it very clear about my disinterest in their ‘interest’ and tried to bore them with lots of facts until they said ‘oh you’ve read too much books!’ – no guys are interested in nerdy girls so that perhaps the best I could do for protection (which later I found to be absolutely unnecessary – they’re in fact great guys who not only think with the lower parts of their body lol!)
Oh by the way come back to the business of the journey. Because of these two blokes who also travelling to Livingstone, I followed them to hunt for coach ticket the next morning. Unfortunately we were told it took 17 hours to get to Lusaka from Lilongwe.. ohh forget it! at the same time some local people suggested to us to just take a minibus to get to Chipata (the town where the Zambia-Malawi border is) then we could get frequent coaches from Chipata to Lusaka. I was a bit hesitant about travelling in minibuses with my suitcase – you know you could just end up having it lying by the roadside or broken into pieces or smashed or god knows what.. well Mr C’s rucksack smelt fish as it was stuffed underneath lots of fish during their previous minibus trip!
Anyway I was faced with two choices: go with them in the minibus or being left alone to travel the 17-hour coach ride. I think I didn’t really think sensibly but I was sure I didn’t want to be left alone again. So I hopped on the adventure – but there was a little trouble if I needed to go with them. I needed to give my laptop to the doctor friend (who gave me a lift from Blantyre to Lilongwe) as I definitely did not want to risk my laptop with one-week travel in Zambia, especially when I travel with minibuses!
I made the craziest decision so far ever in trusting strangers – I didn’t know why I trusted these two blokes. I gave them my suitcase and asked them to wait for me while I rushed to the hospital to give my laptop to my doctor friend. You know at that moment I was worried, and very unsure of the risk I was taking – I could risk losing everything in the suitcase. I knew them for just a night and I trusted them that sounds crazy huh.. perhaps!
But you know what that was one of the life-changing experiences I had (I had many while I was with these two crazy Americans). I felt free.. I actually felt FREE of attachment of this worldly belonging of my suitcase. Because I knew I might lose it anyway, I need to be detached in order to stay sane. At that moment I felt I could lose anything – take away my money, take away my passport, my research data, even my life – nothing is certain in life, if you choose to live, you choose to take risk that could befall you anytime. So be FREE..! it may sound illogical here that a small incidence could trigger such thought but yeah.. that was indeed enlightening for me.
Anyway the ride from Lilongwe to Chipata was an uneventful one. My suitcase arrived in one piece, without smell (!). Anyway even if it didn’t, I think I could handle it. On arrival to the border, guess what happened – I had expected the border should be a vibrant city selling lots of food, having bureau de change, banks, bus stands to greet tourists/people who cross the border as it is a popular spot to cross the border. But NO, nothing you could predict in Africa really – it was just a dull, forgotten place with a few blocks of immigration buildings. No food at all. No banks – but ‘moving banks’ yes.. i.e. the black market money changer. And they flushed in like bees – you know when you are attacked by bees how it is. we refused to be stung by all these irritating bees but they keep on pestering us ‘sister! Sister! Come back to me! I give you good rate! GOOD RATE!!’ ‘Ok how much you want? Give me a price! HOW MUCH? HOW MUCH??’ ‘remember me ok! Remember me! Best rate I can give you!’................................ OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!
We had no Zambian kwacha with us. That means we had to change some with these black market people. Luckily I found a small bureau de change hidden beside the immigration. We had some changed as the rate wasn’t great.
And there was no bus stand. Unlike what we were told (to get frequent buses from Chipata to Lusaka), there was just NO public transport. What choice did we have?? No choice – we only had black market cab drivers who obviously wanted to change the ‘mzungu price’. I was so relieved I had both of them with me – I couldn’t imagine how panic I would be if I were to be swamped by all these crazy men.
After rounds of haggling and pretending not to get the cab and bla bla bla, we settled on a reasonable price offered by one of the cab drivers. On arrival to Chipata town where we were supposed to catch the ‘frequent’ coach to Lusaka, guess what is next – there was NO bus until next morning. And how we found that out? From an old lady who was sitting by a ticket selling counter – as we believed nobody! Once we got out from the cab, we were again swamped by too many guys who accused each other of telling lies ‘Take my bus I give you the best price!’.. ‘Don’t listen to them! They’re lying! Come to my coach!’.. ‘come here at 4 hours tomorrow and my bus is sure here!’... ‘DON’T BELIEVE THEM! THEY ARE LYING!!’ ......................OH SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!!
That’s the thing we keep getting when travelling around Zambia – everybody says the other person is lying and only he (no she – it’s always the guys who mess you around) tells the truth! And who do you trust?!? There’s nothing that looks trustable around you just have to pray you make the right decision!
As the coach came only the next morning we had to put up a night in Chipata town. We met the manager of a guest house who wanted to marry Mr D the first minute she saw him haha.. in Africa managers of guest houses manage EVERYTHING – from room service, payment to food catering (not just ordering food but cooking the food for the customers!). That’s why she felt so over-worked and just wanted to leave the country (by marrying Mr D!).
Now the issue is about whether taking a room by myself or to share a room with a porn star and somebody who kept saying ‘Asian girls are the best’ (!!).. if I took a room to myself I would have not enough cash for coach next morning – so did I have a choice? No, I looked absolutely confident with staying one room with them (they slept on a double bed and I on the couch) but god only knows how nervous I was! I was clutching a rape alarm and a pair of pliers (!!!) with me the whole night and was awake immediately when somebody moved.
Fortunately 4am came very quickly – I was the ‘military’ (that’s what they called me) who forced everybody to wake up on time. I didn’t want to miss the bus of course! When we finally dragged our luggage to the bus stand, there was another gush of bus drivers pestering us to buy bus tickets from them. My trip mates were never tired to get to beat the price down. So we moved our luggage from one bus to the other after they managed to haggle the price down from 95,000 to 80,000 – saving 15,000 (which is equivalent to about £2). I didn’t agree but I usually did not have chance to disagree!
Well anyway the bus was ok we got to Lusaka after about 8 hours. In fact there was no difference in taking any of the buses. The buses were racing with each other on the way and when they overtook another bus, the passengers in the bus would cheer!
We arrived Lusaka Inter-city Bus Terminus at 1pm and we got tickets to depart to Livingstone at 230pm. I was very lucky to have a friend in Lusaka who fetched us to the town for money exchange, lunch and toilet in 1 hour – we were running from toilet to ATM to bureau de change to supermarket.. ohh crazy!!
Well we got back to the bus terminus at 215pm and guess what the bus left at 220pm. Imagine if we were ‘late’ the bus could have left without us and we had to stay a day in Lusaka though we already bought the tickets!
The coach promised to take us to Livingstone within 6 hours but in the end it took 8 hours. We were sooooooo tired.......... I couldn’t think anymore I just checked in the same hostel (and the same dorm again) with them and all I could think of was just sleeeeeeeeeep!!
With no money to fly, all journeys were made by route –but comes in different vehicles.
I had the most luxurious time getting a lift from Blantyre to Lilongwe (in the car of one of the most famous doctors in Malawi! LOL!) – well this must thank my housemate who pulled the string of course I myself would have no access to the most famous people!
I stayed at a backpacker hostel called Mabuya Camp (with the initial intention to sleep in a tent but I realised it was impossible the moment I arrived – it was just too cold!!) in Lilongwe Sunday night with the plan to get a coach to Lusaka Tuesday morning. Then these two people walked into my plan (and indeed my life!) and nothing went according to plans from the moment we met.. these two American blokes are crazy, very crazy, and very fun to be with (this I found out later of course, not the first moment we met)! We checked into the same dorm at the same time with a raised eyebrow from me as they never were too embarrassed to talk about just anything with me even during the very first minutes we met! So in the very first hour we met it was made very clear that they both enjoyed SEX – one kept saying Asian girls ‘are the best’ while the other one was used to be a porn star.. oh my god – so I was going to sleep overnight here, within inches away from these two sex maniacs?!!? Things got worse when light suddenly went off – the whole room was dark, and two stupid batteries I bought for my torch were (again!!) just fake batteries. All I had now was just the light from my mobile phone which also was running out of battery..
Most people went for a drink at the bar in the living hall. I continued to write with my laptop. And strange enough these two SMs didn’t join the rest for drinks instead just lied in the bed chatting. They teased me here and there thinking I didn’t speak much English. Oh of course I didn’t keep quiet and started to counter-‘bully’ (verbally). Conversation flew and I became quite comfortable with them as I found out these two SMs actually spoke something of substance. They said they were film makers but of course I didn’t believe a word of it. I spent quite some time to make it very clear about my disinterest in their ‘interest’ and tried to bore them with lots of facts until they said ‘oh you’ve read too much books!’ – no guys are interested in nerdy girls so that perhaps the best I could do for protection (which later I found to be absolutely unnecessary – they’re in fact great guys who not only think with the lower parts of their body lol!)
Oh by the way come back to the business of the journey. Because of these two blokes who also travelling to Livingstone, I followed them to hunt for coach ticket the next morning. Unfortunately we were told it took 17 hours to get to Lusaka from Lilongwe.. ohh forget it! at the same time some local people suggested to us to just take a minibus to get to Chipata (the town where the Zambia-Malawi border is) then we could get frequent coaches from Chipata to Lusaka. I was a bit hesitant about travelling in minibuses with my suitcase – you know you could just end up having it lying by the roadside or broken into pieces or smashed or god knows what.. well Mr C’s rucksack smelt fish as it was stuffed underneath lots of fish during their previous minibus trip!
Anyway I was faced with two choices: go with them in the minibus or being left alone to travel the 17-hour coach ride. I think I didn’t really think sensibly but I was sure I didn’t want to be left alone again. So I hopped on the adventure – but there was a little trouble if I needed to go with them. I needed to give my laptop to the doctor friend (who gave me a lift from Blantyre to Lilongwe) as I definitely did not want to risk my laptop with one-week travel in Zambia, especially when I travel with minibuses!
I made the craziest decision so far ever in trusting strangers – I didn’t know why I trusted these two blokes. I gave them my suitcase and asked them to wait for me while I rushed to the hospital to give my laptop to my doctor friend. You know at that moment I was worried, and very unsure of the risk I was taking – I could risk losing everything in the suitcase. I knew them for just a night and I trusted them that sounds crazy huh.. perhaps!
But you know what that was one of the life-changing experiences I had (I had many while I was with these two crazy Americans). I felt free.. I actually felt FREE of attachment of this worldly belonging of my suitcase. Because I knew I might lose it anyway, I need to be detached in order to stay sane. At that moment I felt I could lose anything – take away my money, take away my passport, my research data, even my life – nothing is certain in life, if you choose to live, you choose to take risk that could befall you anytime. So be FREE..! it may sound illogical here that a small incidence could trigger such thought but yeah.. that was indeed enlightening for me.
Anyway the ride from Lilongwe to Chipata was an uneventful one. My suitcase arrived in one piece, without smell (!). Anyway even if it didn’t, I think I could handle it. On arrival to the border, guess what happened – I had expected the border should be a vibrant city selling lots of food, having bureau de change, banks, bus stands to greet tourists/people who cross the border as it is a popular spot to cross the border. But NO, nothing you could predict in Africa really – it was just a dull, forgotten place with a few blocks of immigration buildings. No food at all. No banks – but ‘moving banks’ yes.. i.e. the black market money changer. And they flushed in like bees – you know when you are attacked by bees how it is. we refused to be stung by all these irritating bees but they keep on pestering us ‘sister! Sister! Come back to me! I give you good rate! GOOD RATE!!’ ‘Ok how much you want? Give me a price! HOW MUCH? HOW MUCH??’ ‘remember me ok! Remember me! Best rate I can give you!’................................ OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!
We had no Zambian kwacha with us. That means we had to change some with these black market people. Luckily I found a small bureau de change hidden beside the immigration. We had some changed as the rate wasn’t great.
And there was no bus stand. Unlike what we were told (to get frequent buses from Chipata to Lusaka), there was just NO public transport. What choice did we have?? No choice – we only had black market cab drivers who obviously wanted to change the ‘mzungu price’. I was so relieved I had both of them with me – I couldn’t imagine how panic I would be if I were to be swamped by all these crazy men.
After rounds of haggling and pretending not to get the cab and bla bla bla, we settled on a reasonable price offered by one of the cab drivers. On arrival to Chipata town where we were supposed to catch the ‘frequent’ coach to Lusaka, guess what is next – there was NO bus until next morning. And how we found that out? From an old lady who was sitting by a ticket selling counter – as we believed nobody! Once we got out from the cab, we were again swamped by too many guys who accused each other of telling lies ‘Take my bus I give you the best price!’.. ‘Don’t listen to them! They’re lying! Come to my coach!’.. ‘come here at 4 hours tomorrow and my bus is sure here!’... ‘DON’T BELIEVE THEM! THEY ARE LYING!!’ ......................OH SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!!
That’s the thing we keep getting when travelling around Zambia – everybody says the other person is lying and only he (no she – it’s always the guys who mess you around) tells the truth! And who do you trust?!? There’s nothing that looks trustable around you just have to pray you make the right decision!
As the coach came only the next morning we had to put up a night in Chipata town. We met the manager of a guest house who wanted to marry Mr D the first minute she saw him haha.. in Africa managers of guest houses manage EVERYTHING – from room service, payment to food catering (not just ordering food but cooking the food for the customers!). That’s why she felt so over-worked and just wanted to leave the country (by marrying Mr D!).
Now the issue is about whether taking a room by myself or to share a room with a porn star and somebody who kept saying ‘Asian girls are the best’ (!!).. if I took a room to myself I would have not enough cash for coach next morning – so did I have a choice? No, I looked absolutely confident with staying one room with them (they slept on a double bed and I on the couch) but god only knows how nervous I was! I was clutching a rape alarm and a pair of pliers (!!!) with me the whole night and was awake immediately when somebody moved.
Fortunately 4am came very quickly – I was the ‘military’ (that’s what they called me) who forced everybody to wake up on time. I didn’t want to miss the bus of course! When we finally dragged our luggage to the bus stand, there was another gush of bus drivers pestering us to buy bus tickets from them. My trip mates were never tired to get to beat the price down. So we moved our luggage from one bus to the other after they managed to haggle the price down from 95,000 to 80,000 – saving 15,000 (which is equivalent to about £2). I didn’t agree but I usually did not have chance to disagree!
Well anyway the bus was ok we got to Lusaka after about 8 hours. In fact there was no difference in taking any of the buses. The buses were racing with each other on the way and when they overtook another bus, the passengers in the bus would cheer!
We arrived Lusaka Inter-city Bus Terminus at 1pm and we got tickets to depart to Livingstone at 230pm. I was very lucky to have a friend in Lusaka who fetched us to the town for money exchange, lunch and toilet in 1 hour – we were running from toilet to ATM to bureau de change to supermarket.. ohh crazy!!
Well we got back to the bus terminus at 215pm and guess what the bus left at 220pm. Imagine if we were ‘late’ the bus could have left without us and we had to stay a day in Lusaka though we already bought the tickets!
The coach promised to take us to Livingstone within 6 hours but in the end it took 8 hours. We were sooooooo tired.......... I couldn’t think anymore I just checked in the same hostel (and the same dorm again) with them and all I could think of was just sleeeeeeeeeep!!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
A not-so-nice parting 'gift' :(
I was really pissed off this morning.
Let’s start the story from the beginning: I need to back up files online but I don’t have internet at home so I had to do it in the office. Problem is I don’t have enough time to do that. So the only way I could make sure all files were backed up before I left Blantyre was to bring my laptop to the office, leave it for a day and retrieve it when I come back from Mulanje.
Usually we get the key to enter the department from the guard house. But when I tried to get it from them, the key was not available. And there was nobody in the department. We checked and found that one of the colleagues had taken the key home. I certainly didn’t want to leave my laptop in the office overnight for fear of theft. So I called her to bring back the key. She shouldn’t have taken the key home because the department doesn’t belong to her alone!
Unfortunately she said her house was ‘very far’ from the university (which I later found out wasn’t true at all!) hence she couldn’t come back. It was just 530pm. I wasn’t calling her middle of the night. I explained I need to leave Blantyre the next morning and I need to retrieve my stuff before leaving so could she please return the key now. Ah well she repeated the ‘very far, very far’ excuse so I gave up and said alright we would do it tomorrow morning.
I actually suspected she shouldn't live so far away so I asked her where she lived probably I could get somebody to give me a lift to her house. But I received no reply. I also tried the Head of Department who has the spare key unfortunately she's 'very far' as well.. ohhh welllllll.... and the guards are just useless - they don't ask who took the key, who do or do not return the key, have no spare key, even if anything happens in the department they just can't enter the building to do something.. basically I don't know what they're there for!
I was really worried the whole night about my baby (laptop). If I lose it I'm not going to have another one here as it's bloooody expensive!!!! I even dreamt it was stolen. Yea I was quite a paranoid.
We agreed to meet at 8am because I needed to leave Blantyre at 930am. I was at the gate at 8 o’clock sharp but saw no sign of her. No surprise actually. Most of the times she said she would meet me at the department and she usually didn’t make it. I called her. She shouted ‘I’m on my way!’ – AT 8AM.
At 830am. No sign of her. I called her again. She shouted back at me ‘don’t call me! You’re distracting me! I’m driving!’ Ohhhhh FINEEEEE...
She showed up after one hour. With a nice headscarf tied around her head. She came in for work. So bringing the key wasn't at all the purpose why she came. She didn't even apologise when she saw me. Just threw me the key. I was furious I told her how disappointed I was she just brushed me away saying ‘oh I am sorry. But you don’t understand.’
Oh I don’t understand!! I DON'T UNDERSTAND?!?!! What the !"£$%^&&*?!? I waited for ONE WHOLE NIGHT. Then I waited ONE FULL HOUR. All I’ve got for the explanation was ‘you don’t understand!’ Sure.. I don’t understand!!
I haven’t stopped learning for even one minute since I came.. and until the last minute before I left I learned something new!! Ahhh!
Let’s start the story from the beginning: I need to back up files online but I don’t have internet at home so I had to do it in the office. Problem is I don’t have enough time to do that. So the only way I could make sure all files were backed up before I left Blantyre was to bring my laptop to the office, leave it for a day and retrieve it when I come back from Mulanje.
Usually we get the key to enter the department from the guard house. But when I tried to get it from them, the key was not available. And there was nobody in the department. We checked and found that one of the colleagues had taken the key home. I certainly didn’t want to leave my laptop in the office overnight for fear of theft. So I called her to bring back the key. She shouldn’t have taken the key home because the department doesn’t belong to her alone!
Unfortunately she said her house was ‘very far’ from the university (which I later found out wasn’t true at all!) hence she couldn’t come back. It was just 530pm. I wasn’t calling her middle of the night. I explained I need to leave Blantyre the next morning and I need to retrieve my stuff before leaving so could she please return the key now. Ah well she repeated the ‘very far, very far’ excuse so I gave up and said alright we would do it tomorrow morning.
I actually suspected she shouldn't live so far away so I asked her where she lived probably I could get somebody to give me a lift to her house. But I received no reply. I also tried the Head of Department who has the spare key unfortunately she's 'very far' as well.. ohhh welllllll.... and the guards are just useless - they don't ask who took the key, who do or do not return the key, have no spare key, even if anything happens in the department they just can't enter the building to do something.. basically I don't know what they're there for!
I was really worried the whole night about my baby (laptop). If I lose it I'm not going to have another one here as it's bloooody expensive!!!! I even dreamt it was stolen. Yea I was quite a paranoid.
We agreed to meet at 8am because I needed to leave Blantyre at 930am. I was at the gate at 8 o’clock sharp but saw no sign of her. No surprise actually. Most of the times she said she would meet me at the department and she usually didn’t make it. I called her. She shouted ‘I’m on my way!’ – AT 8AM.
At 830am. No sign of her. I called her again. She shouted back at me ‘don’t call me! You’re distracting me! I’m driving!’ Ohhhhh FINEEEEE...
She showed up after one hour. With a nice headscarf tied around her head. She came in for work. So bringing the key wasn't at all the purpose why she came. She didn't even apologise when she saw me. Just threw me the key. I was furious I told her how disappointed I was she just brushed me away saying ‘oh I am sorry. But you don’t understand.’
Oh I don’t understand!! I DON'T UNDERSTAND?!?!! What the !"£$%^&&*?!? I waited for ONE WHOLE NIGHT. Then I waited ONE FULL HOUR. All I’ve got for the explanation was ‘you don’t understand!’ Sure.. I don’t understand!!
I haven’t stopped learning for even one minute since I came.. and until the last minute before I left I learned something new!! Ahhh!
Mount Mulanje
Everybody says it’s a beautiful place that you should see. I don’t have time to go for proper hiking but decided to make a day trip with my new colleague Carmen.
I think things here have become more or less done at ad-hoc basis because of shortage of time. So much to do in such a short time.. so for leisure activities there’s just no time for proper planning of how to get there, what to do etc.. well even if you want to do that sometimes you just can’t find information online!
Well anywhere we started off the trip with just one piece of information at hand – take minibus from Blantyre to Limbe, then from Limbe take the minibus that goes to Mozambique border, and Mt Mulanje is just half way in between.
A journey that was supposed to take just one hour dragged to more than two hours because there were just too many stops in between where people hopped on and off the minibus. And because the driver won’t move from any stop if you don’t get four people sitting at one row (super sardine seat indeed!). I think taking minibuses are definitely labelled as high risk activity by our Health and Safety Officers in the UK because.. first, overload of passengers and luggage (there’re usually potatoes or sweet corns or bags of rice or something on the floor..); and secondly, the drivers usually drive crazily they’re hated by all drivers on the road and notoriously known as the nuisance on the road.. but one thing good about them is that they’re available at all times and extremely cheap. This is the most developed private businesses I’ve seen in Malawi. a lot of people doing this business hence could bring the price down. But the down side is the ‘proper’, regulated public transport can’t be established at all as the road is already monopolised by the minibus operators.
So anyway Carmen and I decided to risk our lives for the sake of the beauty of Mount Mulanje. LOL!
During every stop there’s so many dwellers coming to the minibuses trying to sell their goods, mostly fruits and vegetables. And some boys were selling eggs (uncooked ones) with chillies.. can’t make sense of this one.. was he trying to fry the eggs with chillies in front of me..? and also there’re muffins, breads, nuts, sweets, mobile phone top-ups.. etc etc. You basically get a mini-market around you. It’s quite funny when Carmen asked for ‘bananas’ (note: she just said it once in a very low voice..), all the tomatoes around the minibus turned into bananas within 3 seconds! Wow talking about customer service.. the British should really learn from them!!
Anyway we arrived at the wrong station and had to make another trip back to the town Chitakale. We tried the bicycle taxi – this was my first time after one month being here.. it was really fun.. and the seat was comfortable. You even have handles to hold on. We could see people travelling in the bicycle taxi with chicken, pig, babies, ... you name it!
From Chitakale we took another bus to get to a place called Likubhula. We only found out about this place after asking the local people what is nice to see. I brought a guide book but ahh forget about the guide book.. too complicated.. on arrival to Likubhula we were again swamped by a group of people, this time not selling bananas but offering their service as tour guides. And again, had to pretend you were not bothered to take the guide and started haggling. So we managed to beat the price down to about £3 so it’s fine. Most of the times I just try to get the price down as much as possible then give them more than we agree at the end of the task. This will usually make both parties happy haha. Anyway I think it’s really not ethical to bring the price down too much as this is how they earn their living.
I didn’t expect to climb a mountain so steep indeed. It was quite a tiring trip indeed that took about 1 hour to reach the waterfall. But along the way what I’d seen made me feel I really shouldn’t feel tired.. I saw lots of women and girls carrying huge load of firewood from the top of the mountain. And how they carried it? On the head! I really have no idea how they could balance that kind of huge weight on a say 10 year old girl.. I noticed there were only girls doing that so I asked our guide where are the men? He said oh men are supposed to work in the farm and ‘produce food’; the job of ‘cooking food’ belongs to the women – and that including of course collecting firewood. Division of labour. But I guess it’s a bit unfair to ask girls to carry such a heavy weight. I once asked the doctors whether they see a lot of arthritic cases because people carry heavy stuff on their heads a lot. But no not many cases because people don’t live long enough to develop degenerative diseases....
We stopped on and off during the hike up the mountain to take pictures or sometimes to talk to the people who also rested half way after collecting their firewood. There was one girl who was mumbling something to me repeatedly with a blank look. I finally made sense of it after a few minutes that she was actually saying ‘money money money’. Fair skin = money. Yes, even children learn that. The parents actually teach the children to wave to tourists to get something. I’d seen once during my trip to Liwonde that a mother was holding a toddler’s hand and to wave to tourists. We get waves everywhere we go. Children as little as 2 or 3 wave to us. At first I feel welcome because I thought people were really friendly. After awhile I just feel sad.
The waterfall was beautiful of course. But a picture worth a thousand words so please just look at the pictures. Sorry about not uploading pictures until now internet is scarce and expensive so it’s just hard to share pictures. Nothing special happened at the waterfall. I felt like jumping into the water but couldn’t do so. We only had a little picnic (with a small box of biscuits and water) and sat for half an hour.
The way back was easier as most parts of it were just descending from the mountain so it was less tiring. I slipped a few times with my lousy sport shoes. But in fact I shouldn’t complain about the shoes. Our guide wore only slippers and he was stable like a rock. Alas I was just lousy I know. And of course we still saw a lot of firewood women along the side this time I learned to say ‘bo’ (that means how’s it going?) and they would reply ‘bo’ too (which means good). We didn’t stop long enough to catch anybody mumbling ‘money money money’ to us.
At the bottom of the hill I bought a couple of wood crafts which cost a few times lesser than the same thing we tried to buy at Blantyre city centre. I also learned to play the Bao chess game and I bought a set of it. Very interesting we should try. Good way to kill time.
We took another bicycle taxi from Likubhula to Chitakale, which was great as along the way we saw tea plantation. The only problem is you get so near to the ‘taxi driver’ (or rider?) that you can’t avoid some bad smell... anyway I managed to take some pictures along the way – a proof that the taxi was really stable!
So around 330pm we caught a minibus to go back to Blantyre. Couldn’t afford to stay longer as it would get dark soon... irritating!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)