Let's see.
It took the weekend to calm everyone down, but for now Lilongwe seems to have gotten back to normal: the streetside brawls, throwing assorted objects etc have disappeared like the Deathstar. I even saw the President firsthand (who has a long name but refers to himself in the third person as "Bingu") as he bravely walked the streets of Salima on his way back to Lilongwe. Guy held up traffic for 40 minutes. When Bingu feels like stretching his legs, Bingu gets out of the car and walks. Bingu doesn't care. Bingu wants steak. I can't stop giggling as I write these. Apparently he is also very superstitious and is losing it over this Nigerian prophecy (by this guy http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T._B._Joshua) that an African dictator will die this year. Specifically, Bingu was very fond of Michael Jackson and considers them to be like brothers. Imagining him staying up at nights listening to Thriller and Bad and whispering, "Bingu will not die" brings a smile to my bearded face.
The weekend was a great deal of fun: Friday included a fancy happy hour at the British High Commission. I asked for a "pink gin," since that is what the queen drinks (according to my father, according to the Boston Police), but they didn't know what it was. Phonies. Then out on the town for live music etc. Saturday, I was lured up to Senga Bay for my first time in Malawi with promise of a braii. The braii got canceled because the initiator couldn't find the petrol to drive his car up to Senga Bay. Instead, I won't complain, I got a beautiful day by the beach with some friends, and a night out at the local Disco: 300 very intoxicated guys dancing like their pelvises were out of control centrifuges. Their reaction when a white guy and three pretty white girls wandered in was kind of like when Frodo destroyed the ring. Everyone paused in disbelief and then started screaming and hugging each other (that's how the audience reacted in my theater anyway). We stayed only so long.
Then Sunday, to top it all off, I went to see Malawi's most popular band "The Black Missionaries" at a nearby concert venue. The venue, Mungo Park, is a walled-in field with a huge sandpit below a stage. There were probably 2000 people there. The concert was awesome: it went on for probably 10 hours, everyone was doused by two intense thunderstorms, but the reggae, dancing and handshake-hug-fistbump-combos continued despite nature's appeals. It is a great site to see people so into the music that they ignore lightning and thunder crashing around them. (I'm omitting from the record the influence of drugs on many of the participants, for the record) There is one next weekend the night before my flight home, guess I'll be packing early.
After today, I am going on a walk: a little adventure from Lilongwe to Dzalanyama that should take a few days. Fingers crossed against rain. Time to do things the Livingstone way,
Foxy
Monday, March 26, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Likoma Island, etc
A Worldly Tuesday to Everyone,
I have just returned from a fantastic weekend trip to Likoma Island and then a long journey to the south where I saw where the land for the new sugar plantation that I am getting involved in. It has been a lot of travel, but I will not spare you any of the gory details. After my visit to the Ilovo Sugar Estate last week, I once again boarded the vaunted Ilala ferry at Nkhotakota to take it to Likoma. In fact that journey wasn't too bad (seriously): 3AM wakeup, transferring dinghies midlake to reach the ferry (this was super precarious). 14 hours on the ferry, a jump into the shallows to wade into shore with luggage in hand and then a 45 minute hike over the island to my retreat for the weekend. But it was worth it.
Likoma is an emerald in the vast Lake Malawi blue expanse. The rising hills are dotted with impossibly enormous baobob trees, hypnotizing stretches of savannah grassland all surrounded by jarringly blue waters and tropical mini-islands. The particular beach where I stayed, Mango Drift, is isolated far from the "town" on the island and the sand meets the fresh water rolling onto it like whipped cream meeting an artificial movie-theater slushie: the whites and blues are starker than the American flag. Anyways, I had a very enjoyable St. Patty's weekend with two likable brits travelling Southern Africa on sabbatical, an incredibly bitter 80 year old woman backpacking around her 42nd african country and 133rd in the world. She threw away these amazing props by being really racist, noting the "arrogant walk" and "loud jungle music" of the Malawian people. And became so bitter that she slept in the dorms, instead of paying the $12 for her own beachside villa. I also had some friends from Lilongwe and it was a helluva fun weekend. Likoma also has one of the largest Cathedrals in Africa (you are not misreading). And I was invited for a church service and then to the chief's house for lunch. It was all unforgettable.
I also got to scuba-dive in some of the best conditions I've ever seen. We went down 60 feet and saw ancient rock carvings, 6 foot catfish and the whole scene is like swimming in a home aquarium (because of the freshwater and aquatic life): bright yellows, reds, oranges and the mouth-breeding fish, eels and crabs. Phenomenal.
The trip back, was a bit rougher. After waking at 5AM to catch the ferry back, it ended up taking nearly 22 hours to get back to shore: arriving at 2AM in Nkhotakota. Then, like a true idiot, I disobeyed a cardinal rule and walked through the middle of the night, in the middle of Africa, to get to the main road and wait for a bus to take me to Salima to get picked up en-route to the South and a date with my sugar buddies. Note to all: walking at night in Africa, alone and with something of value is usually robbery 101. I walked maybe 3 miles with my heavy backpack, before I heard the noises behind me and turned around to see something shuffle into the bushes. I sprinted to a resthouse that was about half a mile away and finally made it, turning my flashlight to see, not robbers, but a rather large hyena. Nkhotakota is adjacent to a huge wildlife reserve. Lessons: I'm a lucky idiot. Could've been a lion, a robber or Lord Voldemort.
Got down to the south for two days of exploring the land that the new sugar plantation is going to be on. The land is also next to an elephant sanctuary, so as we walked around and they explained where everything was going to be planned out, we saw elephants in the distance, tromping around. Spent the nights watching my "colleagues" get significantly intoxicated and teeter off, singing the "Rainbow Connection," their favorite song from my vast ipod collection.
Finally, when I returned to Lilongwe yesterday I was greeted by a true riot. This was caused by the arrest of the old president's son, who was staging some sort of secret political meeting. When we got back into town, I first saw the president's convoy of hummers, landcruisers etc, go flying by (He was taking refuge by the lake apparently, as things calm down) Following the noise, and fancying a cup of tea, I took a seat on a balcony cafe and watched from a safe distance, the central market of Lilongwe tear itself apart for an hour complete with fires and TWO gunshots. The gunshots were actually from the military who were brought in to quell the unrest. A lot of work has been suspended today, and there are police and military everywhere.
From the land where nobody seems to work for the weekend,
Steven
I have just returned from a fantastic weekend trip to Likoma Island and then a long journey to the south where I saw where the land for the new sugar plantation that I am getting involved in. It has been a lot of travel, but I will not spare you any of the gory details. After my visit to the Ilovo Sugar Estate last week, I once again boarded the vaunted Ilala ferry at Nkhotakota to take it to Likoma. In fact that journey wasn't too bad (seriously): 3AM wakeup, transferring dinghies midlake to reach the ferry (this was super precarious). 14 hours on the ferry, a jump into the shallows to wade into shore with luggage in hand and then a 45 minute hike over the island to my retreat for the weekend. But it was worth it.
Likoma is an emerald in the vast Lake Malawi blue expanse. The rising hills are dotted with impossibly enormous baobob trees, hypnotizing stretches of savannah grassland all surrounded by jarringly blue waters and tropical mini-islands. The particular beach where I stayed, Mango Drift, is isolated far from the "town" on the island and the sand meets the fresh water rolling onto it like whipped cream meeting an artificial movie-theater slushie: the whites and blues are starker than the American flag. Anyways, I had a very enjoyable St. Patty's weekend with two likable brits travelling Southern Africa on sabbatical, an incredibly bitter 80 year old woman backpacking around her 42nd african country and 133rd in the world. She threw away these amazing props by being really racist, noting the "arrogant walk" and "loud jungle music" of the Malawian people. And became so bitter that she slept in the dorms, instead of paying the $12 for her own beachside villa. I also had some friends from Lilongwe and it was a helluva fun weekend. Likoma also has one of the largest Cathedrals in Africa (you are not misreading). And I was invited for a church service and then to the chief's house for lunch. It was all unforgettable.
I also got to scuba-dive in some of the best conditions I've ever seen. We went down 60 feet and saw ancient rock carvings, 6 foot catfish and the whole scene is like swimming in a home aquarium (because of the freshwater and aquatic life): bright yellows, reds, oranges and the mouth-breeding fish, eels and crabs. Phenomenal.
The trip back, was a bit rougher. After waking at 5AM to catch the ferry back, it ended up taking nearly 22 hours to get back to shore: arriving at 2AM in Nkhotakota. Then, like a true idiot, I disobeyed a cardinal rule and walked through the middle of the night, in the middle of Africa, to get to the main road and wait for a bus to take me to Salima to get picked up en-route to the South and a date with my sugar buddies. Note to all: walking at night in Africa, alone and with something of value is usually robbery 101. I walked maybe 3 miles with my heavy backpack, before I heard the noises behind me and turned around to see something shuffle into the bushes. I sprinted to a resthouse that was about half a mile away and finally made it, turning my flashlight to see, not robbers, but a rather large hyena. Nkhotakota is adjacent to a huge wildlife reserve. Lessons: I'm a lucky idiot. Could've been a lion, a robber or Lord Voldemort.
Got down to the south for two days of exploring the land that the new sugar plantation is going to be on. The land is also next to an elephant sanctuary, so as we walked around and they explained where everything was going to be planned out, we saw elephants in the distance, tromping around. Spent the nights watching my "colleagues" get significantly intoxicated and teeter off, singing the "Rainbow Connection," their favorite song from my vast ipod collection.
Finally, when I returned to Lilongwe yesterday I was greeted by a true riot. This was caused by the arrest of the old president's son, who was staging some sort of secret political meeting. When we got back into town, I first saw the president's convoy of hummers, landcruisers etc, go flying by (He was taking refuge by the lake apparently, as things calm down) Following the noise, and fancying a cup of tea, I took a seat on a balcony cafe and watched from a safe distance, the central market of Lilongwe tear itself apart for an hour complete with fires and TWO gunshots. The gunshots were actually from the military who were brought in to quell the unrest. A lot of work has been suspended today, and there are police and military everywhere.
From the land where nobody seems to work for the weekend,
Steven
Friday, March 16, 2012
SugarDaddy
If you don't know me, sugar and I are like vinegar and baking soda or whatever you made those "volcanoes" out of in middle school. If I increase the intake I got energized to explosion. So I was thrilled to piggyback my soy bean work with a group of investors here working on a grand new sugar operation in the South. I'm still not exactly sure what they want me to do besides spy on their competition and be a friendly, white face, but I'm not complaining. In a related note, I am smiling all the time because everyone is constantly giving me sugarcane snacks.
Since, I last impacted you with my thoughtful prose, I have been sent up north to visit the Illovo Sugar Estate in Dwangwa and talk sugar strategy with some of their managers. They introduced me as a "potential investor and marketing consultant." I replied that I certainly could tell a Snickers from a Three Musketeers. So far, we have had a few days of golf and then being taken to the beach to sip beers and discuss ways to access Western markets. Each time they ask me a sugar-related question there is a -200 odds it is followed by an awkward silence and me pulling my best Sarah Palin to divert the question to something I can talk about, "I gotta tell you, I prefer Carlsburg to Heineken, because they just got the amount of sugar right in it, the sweetness really makes the difference." It's been working for a little too long.
I feel like I am some sort of ignorant pawn in an industrial espionage battle. But, I'm being lodged and fed for free, playing golf and having meals on white sandy beaches so I'm pumped to start reliving this strange adventure next week when I get back to Lilongwe. It has only got sketchy once when my "colleagues" played off me going back to the US in a couple weeks as an attempt to "bring in new investors." Pretty soon, I'm going to be introduced as Barack Obama's half-brother. I'll let you know when I figure this out.
For the weekend, I'm celebrating St. Patty's day in style. A few friends and I are venturing out to Likoma Island in the middle of Lake Malawi for scuba diving, Carlsburg Greens (just a coincidence that the most popular beer in Malawi is called "green") and relaxation. This does however mean that I get to relive the Ilaha ferry (see Voyage From Hell back in November). I am scheduled to meet the ferry at midnight tonight in Nkhotakota and take it for 14 hours to the island. I'm preparing myself this time for the notorious delays, sweaty, rat-infested sleeping spaces and rainstorms this time.
I'll have updates next week,
Steven
Since, I last impacted you with my thoughtful prose, I have been sent up north to visit the Illovo Sugar Estate in Dwangwa and talk sugar strategy with some of their managers. They introduced me as a "potential investor and marketing consultant." I replied that I certainly could tell a Snickers from a Three Musketeers. So far, we have had a few days of golf and then being taken to the beach to sip beers and discuss ways to access Western markets. Each time they ask me a sugar-related question there is a -200 odds it is followed by an awkward silence and me pulling my best Sarah Palin to divert the question to something I can talk about, "I gotta tell you, I prefer Carlsburg to Heineken, because they just got the amount of sugar right in it, the sweetness really makes the difference." It's been working for a little too long.
I feel like I am some sort of ignorant pawn in an industrial espionage battle. But, I'm being lodged and fed for free, playing golf and having meals on white sandy beaches so I'm pumped to start reliving this strange adventure next week when I get back to Lilongwe. It has only got sketchy once when my "colleagues" played off me going back to the US in a couple weeks as an attempt to "bring in new investors." Pretty soon, I'm going to be introduced as Barack Obama's half-brother. I'll let you know when I figure this out.
For the weekend, I'm celebrating St. Patty's day in style. A few friends and I are venturing out to Likoma Island in the middle of Lake Malawi for scuba diving, Carlsburg Greens (just a coincidence that the most popular beer in Malawi is called "green") and relaxation. This does however mean that I get to relive the Ilaha ferry (see Voyage From Hell back in November). I am scheduled to meet the ferry at midnight tonight in Nkhotakota and take it for 14 hours to the island. I'm preparing myself this time for the notorious delays, sweaty, rat-infested sleeping spaces and rainstorms this time.
I'll have updates next week,
Steven
Sunday, March 11, 2012
The British Are Coming
Spiders and Sinks,
It has been a rainy week here. March is proving its reputation as height of the rainy season and although most mornings are clear and sunny, by the afternoon you are battling flash floods and mudslides to get into the grocery store. So, I've worked and played squash at night as exercise and felt like I could be back in the States being boring (no offense). Even the recreation has been long and wet. I went to a wedding yesterday which was FIVE hours of people going up to the bride and groom throwing money at their feet while they did a little jig for them and wished them well. For my part, I sang a verse of "Crimson and Clover" told everyone at the wedding it was a very important song and then snuck out.
Alright, I promised I would mention last weekend's excursion when I zipped up to this ruby producing area. Two clarifications: zip is the wrong word, I drove an hour, hiked two hours stayed for three repeated steps one and two and then ate a whole jar of nutella as reward for my hard work and 2) its more like a jungle where a homeless looking guy occasionally stumbles out of the jungle with some rocks and a combination of vicious hangover and still stoned look on his face. From my conversations with them and local leaders, it sounds like their mining expeditions are similar to a Native American vision quest, but with no fine intentions.
Anyways, it was really in the middle of nowhere, but I had a fun time casually talking to occasional miners, bartering with them, showing off my chicken butchering skills. I'm like the Harlem Globetrotter of defeathering chickens now. Also, I might have bought some rubies: next stop Idar-Oberstein.
This week the house I live in is finally a buzz of activity. I've got two new housemates from the UK who are lovely young ladies from the fashion industry working with an NGO here that makes luxury handbags and such. Their accents ring through the halls and we have tea time and biscuits. They are not down for my suggestion of recreating the Battles of Lexington and Concord which I am very familiar with. With four full rooms in the main house (Malawi,UK and AMERICA represented), the annex of illegal Indian immigrants and the Chinese palace in the back, its the freaking model United Nations. It turns out a few of the Indian chaps living next door are illegal immigrants, which explains why they hide in their house and smoke hookah a lot.
As for my LOST-obsessed, English-learning neighbor. I introduced her this week to Lord of The Rings. Which she didn't understand at all, even after she switched it to Chinese subtitles. "Stupid, for babies." She and I almost came to blows after that little snippet. On the other hand she loves Star Wars. She could not be more excited by Darth Vader even though when she imitates him it is just through growling sounds: not sure she is getting all the dialogue down. Furthermore, I am no longer "Jack Chep-bird." Instead, I have been promoted (in my opinion) to "Chewbacca" which she can pronounce really well.
Updates from the road this coming week, I'm headed out of town in search of suppliers etc.Cherio,
Steven
It has been a rainy week here. March is proving its reputation as height of the rainy season and although most mornings are clear and sunny, by the afternoon you are battling flash floods and mudslides to get into the grocery store. So, I've worked and played squash at night as exercise and felt like I could be back in the States being boring (no offense). Even the recreation has been long and wet. I went to a wedding yesterday which was FIVE hours of people going up to the bride and groom throwing money at their feet while they did a little jig for them and wished them well. For my part, I sang a verse of "Crimson and Clover" told everyone at the wedding it was a very important song and then snuck out.
Alright, I promised I would mention last weekend's excursion when I zipped up to this ruby producing area. Two clarifications: zip is the wrong word, I drove an hour, hiked two hours stayed for three repeated steps one and two and then ate a whole jar of nutella as reward for my hard work and 2) its more like a jungle where a homeless looking guy occasionally stumbles out of the jungle with some rocks and a combination of vicious hangover and still stoned look on his face. From my conversations with them and local leaders, it sounds like their mining expeditions are similar to a Native American vision quest, but with no fine intentions.
Anyways, it was really in the middle of nowhere, but I had a fun time casually talking to occasional miners, bartering with them, showing off my chicken butchering skills. I'm like the Harlem Globetrotter of defeathering chickens now. Also, I might have bought some rubies: next stop Idar-Oberstein.
This week the house I live in is finally a buzz of activity. I've got two new housemates from the UK who are lovely young ladies from the fashion industry working with an NGO here that makes luxury handbags and such. Their accents ring through the halls and we have tea time and biscuits. They are not down for my suggestion of recreating the Battles of Lexington and Concord which I am very familiar with. With four full rooms in the main house (Malawi,UK and AMERICA represented), the annex of illegal Indian immigrants and the Chinese palace in the back, its the freaking model United Nations. It turns out a few of the Indian chaps living next door are illegal immigrants, which explains why they hide in their house and smoke hookah a lot.
As for my LOST-obsessed, English-learning neighbor. I introduced her this week to Lord of The Rings. Which she didn't understand at all, even after she switched it to Chinese subtitles. "Stupid, for babies." She and I almost came to blows after that little snippet. On the other hand she loves Star Wars. She could not be more excited by Darth Vader even though when she imitates him it is just through growling sounds: not sure she is getting all the dialogue down. Furthermore, I am no longer "Jack Chep-bird." Instead, I have been promoted (in my opinion) to "Chewbacca" which she can pronounce really well.
Updates from the road this coming week, I'm headed out of town in search of suppliers etc.Cherio,
Steven
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Zippity doo da
Friendos,
It has been an interesting week here in Africa. Lilongwe suffers from several chronic poverty deficiencies: inconsistent electricity, poor potable water and a three year fuel crisis. This week combined the three in a perfect storm: For three days, there was no running water in the city, of those days 27 hours (at least) the city lost electricity and the fuel crisis is at an all-time high as there are cues up to the gas station nearly a mile long. I navigated these inconveniences in a couple ways: no showers, obviously, so I cleansed myself at my sports club's pool. I wasn't the only person with this idea, after the first day, a kid pooped in the pool and that option was shut down. I luckily stored up enough drinking water in the back of my car to weather the storm, thus I avoided, but witnessed the mosh-pit scene at grocery stores as people fought over even the smallest bottle of water.
The electricity outages were not at their worst, this week and I am well used to them, however, I was in the middle of a meeting with a group of guys putting together a report on soy bean exports (I am working with them as a "consultant") when the power surged and then went out and they lost their entire 72 page report. I could every disapproving high school teacher's voice in my head "this is why you back up your work, Steven..."
And the fuel crisis. Drastically short on fuel and dying to go check out an area where they are producing some rubies, I was jonesing for gas. This turned into a two-day process as I filled up the first 20 liters of my tank with black-market fuel that a friend and I had to go well-outside the city to procure from a very-dicey siphoning of someone's tank. At one point, the guy selling it to us, tried to light a cigarette, lunatic. The rest of my tank was filled by waking up before dawn yesterday after getting a tip on where some gasoline would be arriving that afternoon and leaving my car twenty back in the cue. For visualization, imagine a new ride comes to Disney World, all kids in the surrounding 100 miles are given 20-year-old used Asian export cars and there is limited entry to the ride. The line is a catastrophe of cheap cutting moves, arguments and hundreds of anxious cars. I returned that afternoon at 2, and still waited an hour and a half as people surrounded the cue like vultures. Eventually I got my gas, although I had to bribe the gas attendant to fill it up all the way. I think this is the only place in the world where gas attendant is a lucrative position, except maybe Jersey.
I spent Friday night in Lilongwe partying and Saturday visiting the ruby producers 100 km south of the city. The Lilongwe partying was eye-opening as we went to a true nightclub that was a old tobacco warehouse three stories and fitted out like a laser-tag facility. There were all these cool, structures, padded walls, lasers and loud music and A LOT OF DUDES. We left it for the ex-pat haven "Diplomat's Pub" which is where all the white people hide. You can run, but I find you.
More on the ruby area next week, I gotta finish working on a soy bean presentation to the ministry of agriculture.
Constable Fox
It has been an interesting week here in Africa. Lilongwe suffers from several chronic poverty deficiencies: inconsistent electricity, poor potable water and a three year fuel crisis. This week combined the three in a perfect storm: For three days, there was no running water in the city, of those days 27 hours (at least) the city lost electricity and the fuel crisis is at an all-time high as there are cues up to the gas station nearly a mile long. I navigated these inconveniences in a couple ways: no showers, obviously, so I cleansed myself at my sports club's pool. I wasn't the only person with this idea, after the first day, a kid pooped in the pool and that option was shut down. I luckily stored up enough drinking water in the back of my car to weather the storm, thus I avoided, but witnessed the mosh-pit scene at grocery stores as people fought over even the smallest bottle of water.
The electricity outages were not at their worst, this week and I am well used to them, however, I was in the middle of a meeting with a group of guys putting together a report on soy bean exports (I am working with them as a "consultant") when the power surged and then went out and they lost their entire 72 page report. I could every disapproving high school teacher's voice in my head "this is why you back up your work, Steven..."
And the fuel crisis. Drastically short on fuel and dying to go check out an area where they are producing some rubies, I was jonesing for gas. This turned into a two-day process as I filled up the first 20 liters of my tank with black-market fuel that a friend and I had to go well-outside the city to procure from a very-dicey siphoning of someone's tank. At one point, the guy selling it to us, tried to light a cigarette, lunatic. The rest of my tank was filled by waking up before dawn yesterday after getting a tip on where some gasoline would be arriving that afternoon and leaving my car twenty back in the cue. For visualization, imagine a new ride comes to Disney World, all kids in the surrounding 100 miles are given 20-year-old used Asian export cars and there is limited entry to the ride. The line is a catastrophe of cheap cutting moves, arguments and hundreds of anxious cars. I returned that afternoon at 2, and still waited an hour and a half as people surrounded the cue like vultures. Eventually I got my gas, although I had to bribe the gas attendant to fill it up all the way. I think this is the only place in the world where gas attendant is a lucrative position, except maybe Jersey.
I spent Friday night in Lilongwe partying and Saturday visiting the ruby producers 100 km south of the city. The Lilongwe partying was eye-opening as we went to a true nightclub that was a old tobacco warehouse three stories and fitted out like a laser-tag facility. There were all these cool, structures, padded walls, lasers and loud music and A LOT OF DUDES. We left it for the ex-pat haven "Diplomat's Pub" which is where all the white people hide. You can run, but I find you.
More on the ruby area next week, I gotta finish working on a soy bean presentation to the ministry of agriculture.
Constable Fox
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