A couple of tidbits

Friscalating Fleas of the Far West,A couple of stories:

Work brought us to Nkhata Bay and the surrounding region to meet with some people working on reforestation projects among other things, but we also got to sample the delights of the rocky lakeshore cascading down from emerald green slopes. The lake, as usual, provided its temperate waters and array of colorful cichlids. However, the most memorable part of our sejour in Nkhata Bay was definitely on Friday night when we enjoyed (and then were overwhelmed by) a conversation amongst some local businessmen: a man who ran a tourist operation, a local shopkeeper and the proprietor of the most popular lodge in town (a white fella). The conversation started between the Malawians, Noah and myself on simple introductions, interest in each other's work etc. Then our proprietor, who I shall call Harry, came waddling over in a fit of drunkenness. Immediately pouncing on the friendly words of his neighbors, he accused them of buttering us up for some sort of grand scheme,

"Don't bullshit these guys, this is the problem with this, Malawians always trying to bullshit the foreigners. No, you must know the soul of a man."

To understand our souls, Harry recollected some of his more embarassing and private memories for our listening pleasure (including his "gay experience," which was defintely a private matter), before asking us to explain ourselves. However, after hearing where Noah was from, he quickly made his own categorizations. Again, we only said our names and where we were from.

"This guy, Noah, he is from New York. He is a lawyer, he's Jewish and he's gay. These are people from New York. When they walk their dog on the sidewalk and it falls. They sue the sidewalk. Now we know him."

Despite Harry's intellectual diatribes, the conversation then turned sour as he began to look around the room wearily and accused his Malawian comrades of being the reason for so little business, eventually claiming, despite our appeals, that no whites want to be in a bar with blacks. However, there was karma for the awkward racism of the night when the next morning at breakfast, a shirtless and still intoxicated Harry vomited all over the place. Note to self, this is how you set an example for your employees.

Less than a couple days after this, after a nightmare-inducing series of public bus rides, we arrived in Blantyre, that splendid "economic engine"of Malawi for more meetings. But for you, I will impart yet another evening epistle. The place that I generally stay in Blantyre is home to an eclectic crowd, but mostly expats. On weekend nights, the oddities of the group are multiplied when a horde of local high schoolers invade the bar. Imagine your dreams as a fifteen year-old boy played out in reality as you have an evening with the grown-ups. Hoping to capitalize on my own evil sense of humor, I bet Noah to have this exchange with a particularly dour and acne'd up young'un.
Mr. Looking-for-his-first-kiss: "Barman, can I have a carlsberg green and an apple sour."
Noah: "Hey pal, next Shirley Temple is on me."
To be young, fun and harassed by creepy old guys becoming increasingly self-aware of the age gap.

This Sunday, before attending a huge reggae concert at the local golf club; which was certainly unlike any other concert I had ever been too, I bet one final good quote out of Noah. Early in the day, at the urging of my soon-departing British comrades, a few of us took a trip for brunch at the often acclaimed Kumbali lodge outside of Lilongwe. It is known across Malawi as the place where Madonna stays when she visits the birthplace of her adopted children. A gorgeous wood and thatch lodge, set on the true edge of town and looking out over the dramatic kopjes and savanna plains on the southern horizon, it lives up to the hype. And to make it more perfect, while ordering brunch, amongst a fit of laughter by the rest of us, Noah politely inquired of the waitress,

"Excuse me, but do you know what Madonna orders, because I want that."

Life is good,
Fox

Forgive my tardiness,
It has been a quick reintroduction to my neo-colonial/sudo-immersed hybrid lifestyle back in Africa. No time for stopping to reflect on the culture shock, just straight full-fledged attack on re-entering the Malawian business arena.

In light, I owe an explanation as to what I am doing here in Malawi and in southern Africa in general. The light peppering of questions I have been asked relating to it and its absence from this blog has well marinated me for this moment. Last fall, I came to southern Africa on a tour of countries evaluating the profit potential of marketing multi-function, individual solar panels to rural African self-subsistence farmers. The results were underwhelming. Either the product is too expensive for the farmer; the government subsidizes it and it is still too expensive or not seen as a neccesity; or the product is of good value and utility for the individual farmer and a Chinese (or Korean) company sees this and undercuts the price of the product selling a panel of lower quality at a cheaper price. The shelf life of such low-grade products is usually less than 1.5 years.

But, I got to see a lot of the region and decided I would return to Malawi to work on the reforestation and efficient harvesting of indigenous hardwood trees and pursue my dream of working on geothermal energy from the Rift Valley. Hardwoods from the region are one of the most consistent export markets in the world because of the rarity, quality and properties of the woods. Ever played the clarinet? I'd bet ten bucks the wood came from this region, and another ten that the wood was illegally harvested and exported. I worked on this project for some time with the help of Mozambican colleagues, including planting some of these rare trees in a local national park. Eventually, the project took a thorn to the side that it could not overcome: in one of the last steps to get rights from the previous Malawian regime, a "gift" was asked for that would make the business less profitable and ethical. Two weeks later, some lovely local gentlemen came up with the same idea and began doing it on their own. (Steal-and-sell as it is called by the corruption watchdogs here).

Finally, I spent the remaining months of my latest time in Malawi exporting soybeans at fair-trade quality and prices to Johannesburg. While this has been a truly profitable business, the limited growth potential, complications of moving to higher volume and the reorganization of the Malawian government (a good thing) has added new barriers to ressurecting this business. While I still plan to pursue it, I am looking into new markets to spread about the business' Herculean amounts of capital.

So for the next couple of months, I'll be updating you with a couple of our latest projects and try not to add anything too boring to the scope of this digital platform.

More later this week on lifestyle things,
Steven

Hello,
It has been an eventful, full first week in Malawi. Since last I posted for you, I have moved into a stunning new house, been joined by two American compatriots in said residence and dove into work (which I realize I owe an explanation of at some point in the near future).

First, after looking at a serious number of houses to inhabit, including a series of 6-7 bedroom palaces. I have found a nice open house in convenient Area 3.

Tangent: Just like District 14, the layout of the city is numbered, randomly, there are maybe five street names and everyone's address is given by their Post Box #. That means when I build a new house on one side of Lilongwe and it is given P.O. 1157, someone on the other side of town who builds the next house and registers is given P.O. Box 1158. Sometimes, logic escapes this country's planners.

The house is fantastic, complete with a Western-style kitchen and washing machine!!!!! And the guy I wrote about in the last post wearing a ski suit. That is our nighttime guard, Abrams. His latest get-up is bright orange with a fur lined hood. He also salutes like a Star Wars stormtrooper when we enter or leave the compound. One day, I'll be wealthy enough to build an army of orange-snowsuit-wearing-Chichewa-speaking-perpetually-grinning guys to guard my castle in Belarus or somewhere. I can dream.

My two new companions here are Noah Schumer and Lydia Wallace, whom some of you might know. They have taken to the country very well, although each has had to deal with the vicious cycle of arriving here. Lydia's flights were cancelled, she spent the night in Nairobi and got here 12.5 hours late. Noah flew over two war zones: Libya and North-South Sudan, to transfer through Ethiopia to get here. I gave them a day and a half of my attention and they are now adjusted.

Finally, a quote: On my initial trip to pick-up Lydia at midnight the Saturday I got back, I decided I would go to a bar to watch sports and sip a caffeinated beverage over two hours to widdle away the time and psych myself up for an impending wait at the airport (every flight takes forever to process through customs and baggage claim). While watching an intriguing match of australian-rules football, I began chatting with a Malawian about the new president, Joyce Banda, who everyone in the West and here in Malawi is obsessing over. She is like the extremely attractive transfer student at a small liberal arts institution, everything she does is perfect because she is replacing a dearth of talent before (Ironically, I don't think Joyce Banda would fit that analogy). This is what this guy, a lawyer had to say. (Almost word for word)

"The lady president, she takes what Bingu had and reverses it. Everything she gonna do, for six months is great. But what people will realize, is that she is pushing the restart on the computer, she has no plan
for how to upgrade. She figures, like everyone here, that she will just be downloading the upgrade from somewhere in the West. She's no Bill Gates."

Before you jump on a bandwagon in Malawi, remember to check that there are horses to pull it. Seriously, there aren't a lot of horses here.
Steven

Hey Buddy

Dear Blog,
Sorry for the tardiness. I should have posted on you, but I was home, and it didn't seem right. It was good to see some of you back in the USA, but now I have returned to my adopted land in Malawi,. The rainy season is over, the reddish dust billows behind cars once again, and people are bundled up Soviet-style to avoid frostbite in the 80 degree weather. Not a joke, people claim that this is cold, cold weather (it probably gets to 60 degrees at the worst at night). I saw a guy wearing a full body ski-suit last night: that said, it's pink, orange and yellow-striped pattern was probably a fashion statement.

This is just to tell you that I am back and will offer you new stories, serious views on the development of the ninth poorest country in the world, and at the request of my grandmother, promiscuity, scandal and intrigue. But for now, I am exhausted from the debilitating flight over, little sleep and a slew of house-shopping and meetings in my first 1.5 days.

In Joyce Banda we trust,
Foxy