February 28, 2007

Who is more foolish, the fool? or the fool who follows the fool the wrong way down a one way street?

I really have to start taking notice of things like road signs and traffic lights - last night was the second time in two days I’ve driven up the wrong way down the Limbe one way system - although I do love the open mouthed expressions of the folk passing by, I appreciate it’s not something I should find entertaining.

The thing with driving in the third world is that I really am perfect for it - I can drive through red lights, rear up on to the pavements, overtake on corners and generally ignore the rules of the road and other drivers - that’s how I drive out here as that is how everyone else drives out here - reverting back to the norm in the Western world is impossible once you’ve enjoyed the freedom of making up the rules yourself.

Of course rules are there for a reason - like one way signs - and I’ve always said, rules are more for the guidance of the wise and the obedience of fools.

But I think this is a phrase that should apply more to such things as drinking licensing hours than driving.

Spo | February 28, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

February 26, 2007

Malawian Style Wknd…….

It’s been quite a weekend in the warm heart of Africa - Friday drinks in the Thyolo tea district ended with me driving back to Blantyre (about 50 or 60 km) around 8ish - I got caught in one of the fiercest rain storms I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter - the rain flying horizontally towards the windscreen like a thousand spears - I could see about 2 or 3 metres in front of the car and that was it - I was driving eyes wide, looking like a rabbit in the headlights indeed - think it was part of the cyclone that has recently swept through Mozambique and arrived here announcing itself with torrential downpours and lightening that lit up the whole horizon across the valley - awe inspiring sight if you are sitting on the veranda watching the show - but driving into it inspires a little more fear and trepidation.

The the thing I like about the weather in Africa is that it’s honest - it gets things over and done with pretty quick - you know where you are with it - when it rains it really rains - none of that 24 hour not quite rain but not quite mist nonsense that perpetually falls upon English shores.

However, the force and power of an African rainstorm can be devastating and getting caught slap bang in the middle of such an event is definitely worrying because you see so much evidence of the after effects - huge sections of road just washed away and villages are submerged in seconds if built in the path of flood waters from the hills - combine this with the general uselessness of the average Malawian road user and running around in such conditions is a recipe for disaster.

Never the less after doing about 10kmph for 50 mins or so I’d escaped the worst of it and came out the other side - I headed straight to Paul’s and put a dent into his whiskey collection to calm the nerves.

Saturday morning and I was up bright and sparky to get back out to Thyolo and help out with the 4x4 rally taking place across the tea fields - all the tea planters get involved and there were around 15 packed cars entering - it all has a treasure-trail question and answer element to it, but essentially it’s go from A to B and try not to crash - which is a tricky thing after the rains of the night before.

The Gods were still bailing out the heavens when I arrived to meet Roy at around 8am, but it wasn’t as bad as the night before and i could see the road ahead of me - that was a vast improvement. I had been specifically told by the higher powers of my company that I was not allowed to enter the rally due to the expensiveness of the vehicle and my rather chequered history at the wheel - therefore I signed up for Marshalling duties meaning that we’d set up at the halfway point and see the cars through, checking times and distances etc - we would also be in charge of cooking up a storm on the Bar-B-Q and handing out the beers - the promise of which was kind of why I got out of bed at such an ungodly hour on a fucking Saturday to go stand about in a muddy field in the pouring rain watching insane folk drive 4x4’s around an impossible circuit - a large quantity of free beer and fried breakfast will make me do pretty much anything I guess.

I volunteered my car to take us to the spot and we loaded up the back with all the necessary and set off - I soon discovered that driving these muddy trails between the tea bushes is no easy task and as we headed over one hill and round a bend I lost it completely, as the car span to the right and we ended up suspended over the trail that was fast becoming a muddy river way beneath us. I jacked the beast into 4x4 and felt the power surge immediately - I had instantaneous grip and even the rivers of mud pouring around us proved no problem - scary thing is that you get too confident with such an animal under your control - the devil inside woke up and started to whisper in my ear that all this Colin McCrae-type monkey business was no problem at all - Roy was worried for his tea bushes around us, so I toned it down and returned back to reality - remembering the words of the higher powers about not crashing the company car and also remembering that we had nearly stacked it not five minutes before hand.

We set up at one of the leaf collecting points, but the bamboo roof was not going to keep either us or the cooking safe from the falling rain - we needed a Tarpaulin cover so I set off back to Roy’s and while on the way he rang to say I’d need to get the food as well - seems as though we only remembered the beer when actually setting out first off - after a bit of back and forth we got going and the morning shot past as cars came and went with drivers tales of woe and a few fuck ups ending in 90 degree right angle ditch malarkey.

The afternoon was spent sitting out in the sun watching the final stages back at the sports club where the field had been turned into a 4x4 assault course - drivers with a bucket on their head are navigated around by their co-pilot as they try and stay within the lines and keep the car upright when trying to take the sharp corners across the grassy verges. The course ended with a giant pine see-saw where the participants have 3 minutes to balance the car level for 15 seconds - with cold beers in hand it doesn’t matter how many times you see someone attempt this feat - it never gets dull.

From the surounding forest the crowd of villagers cheered their appreciation as a white Toyota held true for the 15 seconds required - subsequent later attempts didn’t get close - though this could be due to the amount of alcohol consumed by then - drinking since 9am, I had difficulty getting a sense of balance just walking to the bar, never mind trying to balance a giant 4x4 on a humongous pine see-saw.

I bailed to Paul’s for the football as dusk began to fall - record timing of 30 mins from Thyolo to Limbe still didn’t stop me missing the first two Liverpool goals - but two more came our way as well as Sheff Utd were thumped 4-0. Achemwene John was in residence and once Liverpool’s victory was sealed, we headed to Jungle Pepper Pizza to grab the munch necessary to see us through the next game - on the way he asked after Debbie and I told him what had taken place when we met and that over the last week I’ve rcvd three more txt msg’s from her as follows:

• A poem telling of how she still declares undying love for me.
• Two days later asking if we could still be friends.
• Two days later telling how she has a boyfriend from Italy visiting and asking if I’d like to meet him.

Good looking she may be - but shithouse rat crazy she definitely is.

Anyways evening was drawing in and I was beat - though I was at that level of drunk to want to carry on despite the lack of petrol in the tank - I headed back to get changed and go find a place to get into trouble - I lay my head for a moment to think about a plan and before I knew it Sunday was upon me.

Sunday was heading in the direction of the usual mix of whiskey, banter, football and failing to chalk off any number of things upon my list of items to take care of - such as buying a new TV to replace the one that blew up a week or so ago and a camera to replace the one I bounced off the Gecko lounge floor at gone past 1am when coherence and co-ordination had left the bar.

GAME, the South African superstore that has set up shop in Blantyre, had a sale on - a 10 mega pixel beautiful Samsung Digital camera was on offer reduced to around $480 - but unfortunately it was a Malawi style sale so the conversation I had the other day went like this:

Me: “Is the Sale advertised in the paper on today?”
Roderick the useless smiling sales assistant: “Ah, yes - it is on - certainly”
So the this camera reduced to 68’000 is available?
Ah, no - not that one - sorry
Oh - so is it coming in soon?
Maybe sir, maybe....
Perhaps not until the sale is finished, right?
Maybe sir, maybe....
Are any of the items in the sale actually on sale?
Some, maybe not all - but certainly there must be some....
So can you find out if this camera will be delivered soon? and maybe I can pay for it now at the sale price?
Ok sir - I will check for you

Roderick now disappears for something like 15 minutes - when he returns, strolling at a leisurely pace, he smiles and explains as follows:

You see the problem is this - we have this camera on stock - we have five of those camera’s upon this system for stock we have here
Ok - so you do have the camera?
Ah, no.....
Sorry?
You see the system says we have them here - but no one here knows of where these things are inside the warehouse - so therefore we cannot order more of them as we have not sold the one’s we have got
Even though you don’t actually have them?
Yes - that is correct - we have to sell those camera’s first to order more - but we don’t have them - so we cannot order more of those camera’s
Yes - I see
Yes, sorry for that.
Hmmm.... yes indeed

As I said - it’s a Malawi style sale - selling items they do not actually have nor can order for you either.

Five of these Samsung camera’s costing 68’000 each at current rate of 139kwch to the USD$ - that’s nearly $2500 worth of stock - and they don’t know where any of them are - and they don’t really seem to care that much either - meaning that someone does know where they are and they are probably smiling as wide as Roderick - except they are probably smiling for a $2500 style reason where as Roderick was smiling because he probably has some serious mental problems.

So Sunday Paul and I had headed over to his folks who have this beautiful House up on Sunnyside full of African artefact’s and a huge garden like a rainforest - I tried to sort out a blog site for the Malawian History Society Paul’s mother works for - something hampered by my Whiskey intake unfortunately - everyone seems to be holding real quality blends around Blantyre and it is difficult to refuse.

Later during the Carling Cup final Scuba Shack Lauren called out the blue at around 7pm - she’d arrived in Blantyre and wanted to be collected for drinks and gibber - I duly obliged and after Paul had retired late on we headed into town to try and find bars that were still open.

Lucked out with only one place called Twigger still just about open for serious Sunday drinkers like ourselves, so as the night headed north of 12 we took a turn to the pool back at my place...... Castle Beers in the fridge...... luck looked up again.

Need to catch up on some sleep tonight I think.

In fact with the Long Lake Weekend approaching I should be stocking up on sleep all week.

Spo | February 26, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

February 22, 2007

Get up and Gecko……

Spo | February 22, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 21, 2007

Don’t stand so, Don’t stand so, Don’t stand so close to me……..

Late Saturday night a Dutch Girl called Wil wanted a cut-off 2 litre bottle of water so she could fill it with paraffin - Gecko lounge has a thatched rood and general wooden related tomfoolery all around it - paraffin is not it’s friend due to the whole flaming ball of fire connotations that spring up when such a word is mentioned - so inquiries as to what this paraffin was for led to her explaining she was a fire dancer and needed to have a bucket sized ojeni to dip the block-ojeni into - this would then be set on fire and swung around her head and body attached to ropes.

Hmmmm...... how about “no fucking way what so ever???”

I remember going to some sort of really fucked up circus display in the North of Vietnam one time - they had these little Ewok women doing various acrobatic trapeze manoeuvre’s while suspended over the crowd below - swinging around with the rope attached to something they could bite down on so they were free to use their arms to spin a ridiculous amount of hula-hoops around their bodies - quite a sight - even more so when one of them set fire to the hula-hoops and started swinging about the place.

Awe inspiring as such things are - you do appreciate that it’s not exactly a safe situation - if it was the Cirque de Soleil or some shit you’d be confident nothing was going to go wrong and can watch wide eyed as the performance unfolds - but when you are in the back end of beyond of North Vietnam and some dodgy $2 circus show suddenly starts setting fire to trapeze swinging hula-hoopers it puts you on edge for your own personal saftey.

Same deal when sitting on the shores of Lake Nyasa and a half drunk Dutch lady with a funny hat says she needs a bucket of paraffin so she can start spinning flaming blocks on ropes around the place.

So I told her to go stand out by the lake shore and nowhere near anyone or anything that could possibly go up like a tinder house and then she could set fire to herself in peace.

But fair play to her - she really did know her shit when it comes to dancing around amongst spinning trails of fire - impressive indeed.

Even more so when we saw the shots where I left the exposure open;

Spo | February 21, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 20, 2007

Gecko Sunset tours……

For this you will need:

•1 x Nifty Gecko Speedboat with decent amount of petrol to scoot around the bay - check.

•1 x Worldly Wise Master of Lake Nyasa waters - check.

•4 x Damn fine looking English teachers aged 18-22 years - check.

•1 x Cooler of Carlsberg Green - check.

•1 x English Chunky Butler willing to sit on nose of the boat for picture taking opportunities & keeping the nose down when Worldly Wise Gecko master decides to boot the Speedboat into overdrive - check.

•1 x Std. Malawian Sunset - Zooalookalowa Bwino - check.

Spo | February 20, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 20, 2007

Do not underestimate the powers of the Lake-side….

Back, but not burning brightly - this last weekend did indeed take it’s toll - I smile at the memories, but not the cost.

An all time record 2 day bar tab of 22 grand (around $170 which is slightly extravagant for Africa) , 1 broken $500 camera, 1 broken set of Rayban shades (knock off cost in Vietnam $2 - but to replace out here....) and I nearly drowned.

There were sunset boat trips, fire juggling, four beautiful English teachers, drinks such as the Kampango Banger & the Malawian Russian, Kwasa-Kwasa music leading to dancing on the bar again, all round general debaucherised drinking till 830am, near miss of large fucking Ox + front bumper incident on the drive home.

The above shots show the lookout from the bar lakeside first thing Saturday morning - looks like glass - a peaceful serene setting indeed - all you can hear is the distant chatter of the village awaking and the birds in the tree’s - there wasn’t even enough energy in the water to lap at the shore.

365 km long and 52 km wide - covering a surface area of around 28’000km2 - at places they have no idea how far down it goes but estimates that it’s 2 or 3 km - Lake Nyasa is the third largest lake on the continent and thirteenth in the world - with the drop off’s under the surface, currents can be strong and when you see the waves suddenly change direction or when the wind picks up and brings you a sudden display of it’s true power, you appreciate that it’s no paddling pool out there.

Or at least I appreciate that now, where as when I decided to try and swim the 1km or so out to Thumbi Island (above) I think I underestimated it somewhat - my attitude was that it didn’t look that far and the water was as calm as I’d seen it - if we’d taken the Gecko boat out, we’d of been there in five minutes or so - besides I usually just swam out to where you see that boat resting, tap the bhoy and head back - this time I thought I’d keep going and see how tired I got and judge whether I could go all the way.

Once I got past the usual point, I felt like I could’ve easily kept on going - wasn’t tired at all - I headed on further out and I figured that I’d swim over to Thumbi and then, if I was shattered, I could just rest on the beach until I was ready to come back again or hitch a lift with one of the boat tours.

Around 600 or 700 metres out (halfway or so) I thought the sensible thing to do would be to head back to shore and then judge it that way - thinking being that if anything went wrong I’d be closer to people rather than further away - the water wasn’t quite so calm where I was at that time and although it wasn’t exactly breaking waves, I was still feeling the pull and throw of the waters tide rising and falling more so than closer to the shoreline.

I checked over far right and lined up with a boat to judge my position and then began to swim back to Cape McClear and Gecko - which up until then I hadn’t realised was quite so far away - then after five minutes or so of casually paced swimming, I looked across again to see how far I’d moved.

I hadn’t moved at all.

Apart from drifting further left towards the channel of the Cape leading back into the heart of the lake.

At first I just figured that I wasn’t swimming hard enough or perhaps I’d got my bearings out - I pushed a bit harder and that’s when I felt the current I was stuck in - and that’s when I began to panic a bit.

Well began to panic quite a fucking lot actually.

Usually there where fishing canoes criss crossing around this part of the lake, but there was nothing in sight - calling back to shore wasn’t an option as I was too far out - it also wasn’t like there where Bay-watch style lifeguards sitting around the place - the girls where already up and looking out from the bar veranda - I’d waved as I swam out - but waving now would not really of helped as they would of just waved back again and gone back to hangovers and breakfast - I knew that as far as getting anyone to help me out went, I was more than a little bit fucked.

The problem with a realisation like this is that you start to breathe too quickly and you’re blood starts rushing around getting it’s freak on - this leads to you getting tired faster and there is even less chance of pulling out of the current you’re stuck in - which is all very well to know as I sit and type - but when you are just drifting out to the big blue yonder and have no idea how to stop it happening, such knowledge does not really battle to the forefront of your thoughts.

This is because the word “Fuck” is in it’s way.

Stuck on repeat.

So panic set in and swim as hard as I could I did as that was the only answer to the situation in hand.

I pulled out of the current after a while, but once I had, I was fucking shattered - which meant the swim back to shore had now doubled in terms of the effort I had previously thought necessary - I’m far from being the worlds fittest fellow as well - and judging by the mess I’d gotten myself into - far from having the worlds sharpest mind too.

Obviously I got back eventually as I type this for you now - but at the time I was thinking I’d really taken a stroke too far.

Upon return I crawled up the beach and lay flat out on the deck before Paul breathing heavily - twas then that he told me of my foolishness and how many people he knew had underestimated the lake before us - how the current around Thumbi island circles the bay and then drifts out through the channel and out into the blue - that if you stand up on the veranda and look hard you can see the channels with the movements of the water and variations in colour showing the diversity of the depth - Id-jot me just stares out in the distance and thinks it’s a giant swimming pool.

Lauren scalded me later telling how when she’s diving she can sort of see the currents down there and put her hand in to feel the strength of flow - always strongest where the depth drops off and the cold water is rising up - leading me to remember those turtles rushing around the seas of the world in Finding Nemo.

All in all lesson learned - don’t underestimate the Lake.

And as Paul advised - when swimming, left to right along the shore is a much safer option than out into the big blue yonder.

Spo | February 20, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal | Pictures

February 16, 2007

Time to drive to the lake……

Spo | February 16, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 16, 2007

Another Line Drawn…..

Have to be honest and say I don’t feel too good about myself this morning - had a night out yesterday which was one of those evenings where you walk in a place and everyone I saw had not been before me for the last 7 years - the likes of Artist Dave, High pitch Kerry and fly-boy Steve, shit talking Ahmed Bapu and of course Debbie.

She’s still got it but there’s deep, deep sadness in her eyes - every story is one of hardship and all around are passing away - every date they left she remembers - latest being her sister aged 19 - she had been saying that she’d held on to the idea of me coming back one day and carrying on as we were from when I left 7 years ago - I mean I was 22 going on 23 and the first time out the country - fall in with a beautiful girl and it was all about wide eyed wonder and kumwa ndi Kovina (Drinking and Dancing).

I was never going to come back the way she wanted - I think she genuinely held on to the hope that it would all be ok and I ride to the rescue - crazy phone calls and letters aside I’d not seen her for about 7 years - last contact was really when I left for Vietnam back in 2003 and she couldn’t track me down again.

She says she was.... is.... in love - but I think that’s in love with the idea of a better life and that’s what I represented - I mean I was a nice guy to her for those 5 or 6 weeks - and it doesn’t seem like many guys have been too good to her over the last 6 years or so - South African guy knocked her about, near marriage fell through, attacked by three guys one night.... like I said she has all these stories and none of them have happy endings… but she didn’t know jack about me really - you can’t be in love after 5 weeks of just drinking, dancing, sex and smoking Mari-jo - there has to be at least one deep and meaningful conversation somewhere along the line and I don’t remember one ever taking place.

She says there was - in fact it is worrying how much she accurately remembers - reels off quotes, places and dates.

In the end I was lost in catching up with folk over the course of the evening, the drinks flowed and then I didn’t notice as people drifted off home - Ahmed and his cousin wanted to carry on and we agreed to meet at a place - upon arrival doors where shut, Ahmed was nowhere to be seen and then it’s Debbie and I just past 12 - so she stayed at my place and talked long into the night - I felt obliged to listen in a way - seemed like she had a lot to say.

In amongst the tales of woe there were some unsettling indications she isn’t all there - I mean, life she’s had, stuff she’s been through, it’s understandable to be a little off centre - but the fights with people, boy friends houses she’s trashed, situations she has got herself into - slips in tales that indicate she’s not a person to have on your bad side because when it comes down to it, she really doesn’t give a fuck if she feels someone has done her wrong - I was treading carefully, I tell you that.

So I listened until around 2am and tried to go to bed.

That became an issue right there - spare room and mattress wasn’t really on her agenda - guilt tripping became the state of play - tears and tantrums.

Should never of sent her a msg that Friday night - Drunk me really has a lot to answer for.

Fuck I feel bad.

Least it’s done now - another line drawn - she said in the end it would of been better never to have met up again - that’s true - I really regret it - but from her side at least she now knows she should just move on, stop thinking about the possibilities all the time, reality check - she thought I’d been feeling angry all these years and that I’d been “in love” with her as much as her with me back then - when the truth of the matter was she was creating these scenario’s in her head and letting her thoughts run away with her - remembering all these little inconsequential details from when I was still more or less a kid in the world.

She said that not knowing for sure and hoping I would come back was at least a bright part of her day - even if it wasn’t ever going to happen - no need to take it away.

Don’t really know how to argue with that when everything else around her seems to be falling apart.

She said she would go back to Luchenza and gather her things and just disappear somewhere - talked of a guy in Uganda that stays in touch and wants to see her again.

I dropped her off this morning - traffic behind me didn’t really allow much time other than to say “look after yourself” and shake hands - she was expecting a lot more.

Spo | February 16, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

February 15, 2007

I don’t do Spiders - anything but F**king Spiders…….

Living in the places I’ve lived I should be able to handle critters of all shapes and sizes - for the most part this is true - I’m not saying I will ever consider going on Fear Factor, nor am I saying that creepy crawlie ojeni flying thingies don’t make me wary of where I tread and lay my head - but I’ve eaten fried bee’s, drunk wasp whisky and I’ve had some fierce battles with over sized cockroaches (while sitting on the toilet) as well as being bitten by a million mosquitoes over time.

Then there was the Bear Bile Juice LSD style Whiskey in Nghia Lo, something unidentifiable in Bangkok, Goats Brains in Peshawar and Hanoi Dog restaurants.

And don’t forget I’ve drunk the still beating heart of a snake at the Hanoi Snake Restaurant

So obviously I’m not squeamish and I’m open to experience - you have to be if you don’t want to offend peoples cultures - at least try it to say you don’t like it.

The only thing I really regret is the dog restaurants - dog is fucking, putrid, chewy, dark meat that should not be on anyone’s menu - I don’t give a fuck how old the custom is or how fucking poor people are - dog should not be dinner - as Jules says “dogs a filthy animal” and as I’m telling you “it tastes fucking disgusting - don’t fucking eat it”.

But if there is one thing on this earth that will freak the living fuck out of me for forever more, it is fucking god damn motherfucking spiders - I have serious Arachnaphobia - I really really can’t deal with those horrible unpredictable, creepy, eight-eyed, scuttling, jumping, web crawling, nightmare-of-nature bastards.

Really.

I’m like all wide eyed frozen like Jeff Daniels trapped in the basement in the film of the same name (still can’t really watch that film without freaking).

I think it’s all traced back to finding one on my shoulder when I was in the tea fields in Kenya - just sought of saw it out the corner of my eye and it’s sitting there on my fucking shoulder! I screamed like a girl and nearly ran all the way back to Nairobi for fucks sake.

I know people are supposed to conquer their fears and folk say they’re harmless and you just need to let one crawl around on you to get over it (or some other crazy sounding form of get to know your enemy style shit) - but really - Fuck the Fuck off - I’m quite happy to keep on running away from the hairy eight-legged little freaks of evolution rather than start cuddling up to them when I go to sleep - I mean I can’t see any plus points to conquering the fear I have of spiders - the fear exists for a reason and that reason is that they are fucking dangerous and they are not of this earth.

THEY’VE GOT EIGHT FUCKING EYES FOR FUCKS SAKE - I mean what kind of creature needs eight eyes????!!!! EIGHT!!!!! and the other thing is that anyone that finds out I have really bad Arachnaphobia then then joyfully regales me with their own spider stories - and what with us being in Africa - EVERYONE has a spider story or ten.

Paul got chased around his house by an Elephant Spider which had the circumference of the average dinner plate, Mrs.Doran at Zoa tea had some sort of black hairy eight-legged monster attach itself to her right arm and her father had to burn it off with a hot piece of coal (a hot piece of coal for Fucks sake! what are these creatures!), Lauren at Scuba Shack keeps on going on about how you see them scuttling around on the beach at night, Roy was telling me that when he’s killed Baboon Spiders green blood comes out (Green blood for Fucks Sake! again I say what are these fucking creatures!), Maganga tells me of how certain spiders here just don’t have a Chechewa name as they are too grotesque for words and are simply referred to as “the unknown” - Sweet Jesus Ringing the Bells of St Christopher!

With it being rainy season this is when they come out of the forests and down from the tree’s and head for the warmth of peoples houses - imagine! your whole fucking house surrounded by the things! as they slowly creep their way towards your place - inching over the grass and looking for any possible entry point.. AyYiYi… evil creatures.

When I went to Roy Crawfords place out in Thyolo and was sitting in the front room having a beer when I got bitten by a termite - instant reaction is to flick it off and stamp on it muttering about how “I thought that could of been one of those feckin spiders” - which leads obviously on to spider stories and general mickey taking (as everyone else living in Africa and Asia seems fairly at ease with the heinous accidents of evolution) - and then he commented that I shouldn’t go back out the way I came in - inquiring as to why, he told me to go and have a look at the roof of the porch :

Now I know they aren’t the greatest photo’s in the world but I was hardly hanging around to zoom in check the contrast etc - there were fucking shit loads of spiders up there! all those little white bits you see were fucking tennis ball sized nests while that big black ojeni thing was one of the main boys and about the size of my hand - they were fucking dropping down and spinning strands all over the shop - the whole porch roof was COVERED in spiders and spider webs - it was like this was were all spiders come from - it was all I could do to glance up and hold my gaze for a few seconds and refrain from rushing off to find something to burn down Roy’s entire house.

They were scuttling and running around and all kinds of things - fucking horrible, nasty, fucking creatures.

I couldn’t believe his whole fucking porch was one giant fucking spiders nest - “it keeps the mosquitoes out” - YEAH?!?! well that’s all very well but what the fuck keeps the fucking spiders out?????!!! Harsh Fucking Language???!!!

Which brings the age old response of “they’re just as scared of you as you are of them” - people that say these sorts of things should be taken out and fucking shot - spiders are not fucking scared of me at all - they’ve got fangs, they jump, they scuttle, they creep, they make messy web type shit to trap your face in when you walk between tree’s and bushes, they have poison in them that makes you swell up like the fucking Hindenburg and they’ve got EIGHT FUCKING EYES!

Eight of them.

Eight.

Why the fuck should they be scared of me when they’ve got that array of scary-assed shit in their locker?

Fucking Spiders.

Spo | February 15, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 14, 2007

And all you see is where else you no longer want to be…..

It’s always been the way that where ever I’ve ended up, I’ve always been looking off ahead at the next place on the horizon - even in Vietnam, a place I look back on with fond memories that provide a hundred stories, I was looking at the next time I’d get back to UK or where I’d be in two to three years time - everywhere I’ve been lucky enough to happen upon since leaving Malawi in 2000, I’ve always been looking round the corner - instead of around at where I was actually standing right at that moment in time.

Wanderlust I guess - never really settled anywhere - had my moments - Saturday afternoons in bed with Hanh certainly felt like home - may have had more of those moments if I hadn’t been staring off into the distance - seems like what you really want is right there in front of you and you don’t see it at all - it just isn’t in your field of vision until you look back on it. 

And all you see is where else you could be.

I have the msgnr running in the background first thing in the morning - she comes on line every other day and we talk when tea allows and the time difference window is still open - there’s the usual banter, the reminiscing.... leads to things getting heated in a good way.... and then there’s cooling off with talk of work (she works for my company in Vietnam now) and her day to day with the baby - I don’t really ask too much about married life and she never really asks about my situation with whom where-ever..... until the other day when I tried to casually drop in the details about the girl in Indonesia.

She says I never mentioned before, I pleaded ignorance, that I thought I must of alluded somewhere along the line - but I knew I’d never told her I moved on - her situation is that an arranged marriage mapped out the rest of her life before I could take a breath - breathe in - she’s married and a baby is on the way - breathe out.

I mean talk throughout time since then has always been about the day in the future when I would visit - clandestine meetings along the lines of Saturdays in the second floor bedroom of No.19 on 20 - playing along that in the end the situation will be as clear as Lake Nyasa waters - she gets a passport - grabs the kid and next flight to where ever - I meet them at the airport and we all go off together in a new direction - I mean I never honestly thought that would be the case - it’s easy to say and you can see it all playing out in your head like a movie - but the details...... don’t know how the details arrange themselves… they don’t really.

Monday I found that it turns out she thought the same - that it’s ok to play along and talk the talk - imagine it working out like a movie script - gloss over the details the way Hollywood script writers suspend your disbelief by moving things along as quickly and smoothly as possible in order so that you don’t take a step back and say “wait a minute...... she’s a good shot for someone who’s never fired a gun before and how’s he know how to fly a jet plane if he’s from another planet?” - except here it’s “yeah, you’ll just get a divorce, we’ll sort out a visa, I’ll meet you at the airport and then your son will grow up where ever we are and the colonel type arranged marriage husband fellow will just be cool with it all, your family won’t disown you, we’ll find you a job that needs a Vietnamese translator and we’ll all live happily ever after” - but yeah, in reality she never really thought it was all possible either.

So it kicked in on Monday morning and in-depth discussions about the monogamy, faithfulness, love, sex, marriage, lust, denial and different cultures took place - although when ever have such discussions been anything other than in-depth? - it all ended with her telling me to grow up, get married, have kids and be happy with someone else.

All of which I understand and appreciate - all of which I understood was necessary a long time ago - all of which I’ve seriously thought about when it comes to Yuni in Indonesia and other near-miss almost-relationships with girls you meet where sparks fly but time and circumstance are against you - but I think that I’ve always avoided getting this deep on such matters with her as I held on to the far away thought that Hanoi Saturdays in the second floor bedroom of No.19 on 20 would some day be a possibility again - that I knew it wasn’t really possible doesn’t mean I wanted to read the words saying as such - more comforting to play along I suppose.

Truth of the matter is that despite those Saturday afternoons and the times I raise a toast and tell myself I should of married that girl, I was always still looking around the corner none the less.

We both signed off and the day takes you - later I reflected after the event and it feels good to finally draw a line under the whole relationship - especially now I’ve come back to the country I’m never looking beyond the horizon of.

Now I’m back here it all just feels like journeys end and the beginning of the rest of my days....

I’m supposed to fly back to Holland June 28th - two days after turning 30 - and for once I keep trying to forget I’m leaving a place rather than staring at the X marked on the calender that indicates departure.

More on that a different time.

Today I just raise a toast to No.19 on 20.

Spo | February 14, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Daily Life - Vietnam | Personal

February 13, 2007

Gecko Getaway….

Headed out last Friday and I managed to make excuses and escape verk and arrive at Paul’s around 3pm - with each non-lake-residing wknd seeming something like a lost opportunity, I’m either going to end up being really creative with my reasons for disappearing (ie: “erm..... I’m meeting yet another tea producer for a game of golf” despite that producer never ever mentioning such an arrangement nor me knowing how to play golf) or I’ll just have to start being flat out honest (ie: “as no one ever achieves anything of note on Friday afternoon as far as business goes, I’m going to the lake now because I want to have as much time there as possible over the wknd and we can’t drive at night”).

Paul did the driving - always advisable where any situation involves me being the alternate possibility - nailed the whole drive in about 3 and half hours doing 100-120kmph on rainy season roads (medal worthy timing) - 10’000 mkwch fills a tank of petrol for there and back (270 mkwch = 1 GBP 140 mkwch = 1$) so that was split - we battled through a rain-storm of note on the way out but still managed to arrive at just past 6 tirtyish, racing the falling dusk to our destination.

The drive is fairly straight forward in terms of you get on the Zomba road and only really have two turns to make from that point onwards - however, it’s all the ojeni and unpredictable elements that make it a sharp journey - seeing other vehicles are a sparse occurance, so you can end up speeding too fast - when something springs up out of nowhere, accidents happen.

We saw the fresh fires of one incident as we headed through one of the smaller villages - a mini-bus had tried and failed to avoid one of the roadside kids and had then smashed into a corrola coming the opposite way - pieces of metal and blood all over the road - the kid with a half a blanket over him - snapshot of harsh reality you don’t shake from your eyes too easily - we reported it at the next police stop further on, but little could be done by then.

The other thing about the road over rainy season is that the flash floods coming down from the hills can take the road away - look at these shots from either side of one of the main bridges - this water is moving pretty quick and it’s just bubbling under the break of the bridge - half a metre more and there’s no surface to be seen:

Paul’s got the road in his fingers though - and signs such as brown water meaning fell in the last two hours are second nature to him - so when things aren’t looking too familiar up ahead, a drop in acceleration is the order of the day and steady as it goes becomes the motto.

Once we get further on past Mangoche we come to the almost 15km dirt track turning that takes you through the hills and bush to Chembe village at Cape McClear - no easy drive this part of the journey - but rewards for passing the test come in the form of cold beers and sunsets.

Before you know it you are laughing about pygmies late into the night while under the influence of Johnny Walker - which in turn leads to smuggest face competitions - all thoughts of the drive dissipated like the ice in the Whisky.

My turn to drive next though - don’t wish me luck - wish me the lack of needing luck in the first place.

In the end - if it’s the journey there and the road is out - that breaks your plans at the first hurdle.

But if it’s the return journey back - you just turn around, head back to Gecko and the wknd carries on.

Spo | February 13, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 13, 2007

Valentines Massacre…..

Here it comes and all the places in town have something cooking to celebrate - live bands, restaurant deals, cover charge bringing free drinks etc etc - and the persistent psycho ex is sending me text msg’s and missed calls on a daily basis now she has me tracked down (which is admittedly due to my foolish drunken error)..... but I did indeed promise to meet for a drink...... she is attractive and a very good dancer......hmmmm

But.

Last week she rang 10 times at 7.30am on a Wednesday leaving missed call after missed call.... then when I finally answered later on I was obviously far from impressed - I made it clear that though we’d meet up, it would be when time and money allowed - one missed call is enough - no need to keep hassling me - then later that week more and more msg’s about past times gone by and regrets, regrets, regrets (for behaving like a psycho back in the day).

Behaving like a psycho to apologise for behaving like a psycho.

It’s not Valentines date material really is it?

But she is very attractive.

And a very good dancer.

Spo | February 13, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

February 12, 2007

Back to the Lake again…….

Spo | February 12, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 11, 2007

Still Alive…..

Richard came back to work last week - getting better by the day after nearly blowing his head off.


His right eye still needs a bit of work but it’ll sort itself out over the next couple of days or so.


All in all it’s a miracle.


Swear to Almighty I only noticed what it said on his T-shirt after I up-loaded the photo.

Spo | February 11, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 8, 2007

Re-living the Mozambique Adventure….

At the moment we are suffering from a chronic lack of trucks and trailers with which to move our teas - there’s a lack of return loads from South Africa for Malawi and truckers don’t like one-way journeys - this is coupled with the port of Mozzie Beira practically being brought to it’s knee’s due to a combination of broken equipment, poor facilities, bad roads and vessels refusing to dock - the place is a mess.

Nothing changes.

As ever when out for drinks I met Basil Malila last night - in charge of CARS a truck company based here in Blantyre - a character of note he’s getting on in years now but the drinks still flow freely and the stories are never ending - for example he once played international football for Malawi and managed to get sent off before the ref blew his whistle due to punching an opposing player at the halfway line at kick off - we talked of the current situation and led on to reminiscing about my time here back in 2000 and how he was also involved in putting me that truck for the fateful and eventful trip to Beira when mayhem pulled out all the stops and was very much in full effect.

The report I wrote at the time got sent around all over the place - when I arrived in Malawi back on January 13th 2000 I was green-gilled to the extreme but when I came to the end of my time I thought I was a seasoned veteran - the report showed I had still an awful lot to learn - at the end of the journey I certainly felt a lot more schooled in the fuck-ups and fall outs of the Dark Continent.

An intro to the experience can be found here - followed by a blog-posted version of the original report beneath it.

Certainly brings back some memories.

Spo | February 8, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

February 6, 2007

Common-otion……

It’s common nature to have guards here - and weapons - Drew had an AK-47 in his place last time I was out in this part of the world - Basil Malila has chased robbers down his drive with a shot-gun, dressing gown flowing in the wind - Paul’s got a Walter Fucking PP-K in his place which he bought at the border with Mozambique and had to fire in anger as the invaders jumped back over the fence from whence they came - people living out of town with big houses and a bit of money all have stories to tell - it’s not South Africa and incidents are infrequent, but they are there - every once in a while.

Supposedly, when the gangs strike a house-hold, it’s usually out of town - money out in view evidenced by the cut off affluent surroundings - usually working from inside info given to them from staff as to what rich pickings are available - I remember an English chap out in Limbe telling me a tale of being barricaded in his kitchen having a gun battle while his house was ransacked and loaded onto a trailer - I figure the ferocious incidents are the exceptions - although, when you ask around, everyone has a little story to tell.

I pull in to the home around 7pm and dark had well set in - the outside main gate is pulled back and I drive in - as I come to a stop I see Common, the guard, hovering close by expectantly with arms behind his back - this usually means that there is something that needs to attended to in some way or form - change of days - advance of pay - somethings broken or a family member is ill with Malaria etc and money is required for treatment (like last week).

“boss I have left it at home - the key for guard room”
“Ok well we’ll see if we have a spare in the kitchen”

No joy

“Well maybe Beth (cook, head of house) knows where it is - i’ll ask her tomorrow”
“Ok boss”
“left at home” - doesn’t mean “lost” does it??”
“no - it’s at home - I see it there - but left it this time”
“right… so what’s in the guard room that you need? the torch?”
“yes - and panga”

Panga is a big-fuck-off great knife.

“So if people come what will you do?”
“If people come I maybe throw stones and pray to God”

Common doesn’t look confident when he says this.

“Right - OK well lets get you a knife from the kitchen then”

I get him the biggest Carving knife I can find - he seems reassured - big smile - it’s not a panga - but it’ll do I reckon.

I go back to getting out of the day just gone - long one on auction day Tuesday - followed with going to the store on the way back - women look at me there thinking I either live alone or I’m a really good family man that does the shopping - with a basket stacked with Castle Beer, pizza and Red wine I think it’s the former rather than the latter to be honest. I think about getting a shower, heating up the food that’s left out by Beth and stick on the I-pod through the speakers.

Then about 10 mins later there’s a tap at the window:

“boss two men are here - I press silent alarm”
“Eh? two men? where? inside the grounds?”
“not inside yet - they look over fence on the right”

Unlike all the other houses on this street I don’t have a neighbor to my right - it’s a maize field - means that there is more than the odd scare here apparently - people can lean over the fence and check out where the guards are, come in round the back or the front depending - although when Robin and his family were here there weren’t too many incidents - suppose that’s due to the fact that the house was full - noise - lights - more than a few pairs of eyes - now I’m here, I don’t get back till gone eight usually and I’m often out and about later on as well - not to mention totally absent at weekends - these comings and goings are always scouted - but then also so are the houses and the goods inside - and I live in a practically unfurnished place - got a chair and settee - TV and satellite and a bed along with what ever comes with the kitchen - that’s it - not really worth taking the risk for big stuff they couldn’t run off with - so I’ve never really worried.

Anyways - through the window Common explains that when he shouted they disappeared and ducked back down - but they may still be lurking about apparently, so he’s called the security.

That should be the end of the conversation - I should just go back to what I’m doing - worst comes to worst I’m locked in and there’s bars and padlocks all round the house - safest thing is to stay put obviously - stupidest thing is to get tooled up and then unlock the porch gate and go and have a look outside - which is what I did - reasoning being that I left the phone in the car and don’t have a land-line - I figured that if the most fucked up scenario did take place, then I’m pretty much helpless not being able to call anyone - so I decided to go get the phone after grabbing the next biggest knife in the kitchen after the one I’d already given to Common.

I couldn’t find my mobile in the car and remembered it must be in my trouser pocket back inside - Common was looking shifty - eyes darting around the place - I say to him:

“So the night you don’t have the guard room key - no torch and panga - is the night you see two guys looking to jump into the grounds?”
“Yes - I saw them there”
“Sure?”
“Sure”
“Sure-Sure?
“Yes boss - sure-sure”
“This happen often? people trying to come in here”
“Yes - Many times - it is the field - it is good for hiding - they can look over and see who is here and around”
“Fuck”
“They steal the taps and things around in the garden”
“Taps?”
“Yes - the taps outside - they take them when we are maybe go around the back place”
“not try and get into the house?”
“no - but maybe - if it is open some way - they quick - jump in and steal and go - back over that way” (points to maize field)

So then I realise the bizarreness of the situation - standing out in the drive, staring into the blackness of the field next door armed with kitchen knives to stop people stealing taps.

I look around and down at what I’m holding - I laugh and out loud I wonder to myself: “What the fuck am I doing out here? What the fuck am I doing with this? a fucking kitchen knife??” - Common looks at me and gives gruff laugh as well “Like Chuck Norris” he says - what on earth am I doing - like I’m going to use this in any way what so ever - Id-jot - I go back inside shaking my head and plan to cook some food and drink a bottle of wine.

Minutes later the private Security team turn up - full 30 mins or so after Common had pressed the button - they always remind me of the Romans running into that little house in “Life of Brian” - Lisa, girl who used to own the Millennium bar out near Chirimba and former girl friend at the time 6 years ago, she had a set-up like the one I have - press a silent alarm button and the 6 guys turn up in a little van and storm into the place - all dressed in black uniforms, holding weapons, wearing crash helmets with great big fuck off barking dogs going mental - we’d all be sitting around having a beer eating chicken off the Bar-B-Q - silent alarm would go off due to a malfunction - these 6 guys run in single file - look around - realise it’s a false alarm - and turn back to run out the way they just came in - used to happen about two or three times a week.

Common greeted the security folk like old friends - I had already suspected that Common kind of freaks out a lot and calls these guys out for no reason - this seemed to confirm it - never the less, they all go off running around the grounds with dogs in tow - then move on to the field next door - trampling crops and generally making a lot of noise - finding nothing as far as I could tell.

Before you know it, main leader looking type guy is back and smiling at me “thanks boss” he says and runs off back to his little security van - screech of tyres and they’re all gone again.

Thanks? for what?

Common looks happy.

“all better now boss”
“Was there anyone actually there?”
“don’t know - maybe - maybe...”
“Right”

Yeah, they were gone as soon as they saw I was on the case ready to get medieval on their ass.

Yeah right.

Spo | February 6, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

February 6, 2007

Reality check…..

How can one country with such strong religious beliefs be subject to so much punishment?? earthquakes, tsumani’s, landslides, train derailments, plane crashes, ferries sinking...... are their prayers getting lost along with the majority of emails that go in and out of the Indo ISP Radnet??

Jakarta still seems to be 75% under water - the news doesn’t bring solace with talk of more rain to come and then the onset of disease due to lack of drinking water and the fact that Jakarta was already a filthy city to begin with - fill it full of water and all kinds of things come out in the wash.

The city is usually in a state of gridlock but now this is final and not much is getting about the place - more rain came last night apparently.

The estimate is that Jakarta has 9 million people - but who ever did the last head-count is probably forgetting that each time Ramadamadingdong comes around in Sep/Oct everyone goes back to their village and returns with a brother or two - I’d say it’s more like 12-14 Million - a lot of people to look after in times such as these - and as the eye-witness accounts say, the government is beyond useless.

I spoke to Yuni and found that her house was under 2 metres of water and all her belongings are pretty much done for - insurance doesn’t exist in these places so bank transfers are the order of the day as I type - there are electricity cables in the water - people have had no help for up to 4 days - a mother lost her baby two doors down and an old woman died of exposure near her mothers house - sign of organised government intervention is non-existent.

Straight away she got stocks of mineral water and kept her daughter from going swimming in the streets with the other kids - then she got her family together and headed 5km out of town - found a place up on a hill and rented it for a month even though she expects to be there for a week - her cousin has dysentery, her mother cut her foot and got infected, her father has a fever - she got them all to the doctors and everyone is Ok - seriously this girl should be running the rescue operation.

I said that in any circumstance were she is worried about her safety she should just take her daughter to the nearest hotel and I’ll foot the bill via credit card - but she jumped one better in renting the place out of the disaster zone - Hopefully the waters don’t keep rising and end of the week things settle allowing the clean up and rebuilding to take place - but with the Government currently in power I expect that to be a longwinded and drawn out process - never the less, with the money I’m sending she should be able to replace what was lost from her house - TV computer Bed cabinets clothes..... more or less everything that was in there was floating around the place.

Damn - I hope she hasn’t lost that little Rolling Stones T-shirt with the ripped knot slashes across the back......

But yeah - I am thinking - get on a plane - pluck her out of chaos - fly back to Malawi - get married - invest in Pauls bar by the lake - give up the tea trade - lakeside resort living for the rest of our days, running bars and boat trips with an Indonesian princess......

There’s plans such as these afoot - whiskey inspires a speed up in proceedings sometimes - but the reality is that while it’s something I’m really considering - I can’t jump into it for a few more years to come just yet.

Just hope that in that time Jakarta manages to stay in one piece.

Although even if it did come apart at the seams, I’d bet on that girl to find her way out of it.

Spo | February 6, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

February 5, 2007

Mini-bus Mavuto…..

The drive to work involves heading out past the bus station beyond the hospital and on towards the Chirimba Industrial Estate - the majority takes place over a road that doesn’t have that many potholes and only a few areas to watch for random running children / goats and cyclists keep an ear out better than most areas.

The problem comes when you get to the Chichiri bridge - which for the moment does not exist - rebuilding work is taking place that I imagine I will never see the end of during my time here - you can see what it looks like below:

It’s been like that for a few months and not much has changed.

So what happens is that traffic approaching from the city side waits where a little man blocks the road with a barrel - then on the other side, another little man moves his barrel out the way and waves his out-of-town traffic through - they then drive down into the river gully and across a muddy-makeshift roadway supported by sandbags and up the other side - once across, the first little man moves his barrel, lets the out of town traffic through and then waves the city side onwards while the 2nd little man blocks off any further traffic from the out of town direction


pretty simple you’d think.

Until it gets to around 5pm - when all hell breaks loose and the little men are nowhere to be seen - and if they are, they’re just ignored anyway - the curse of the mini-bus driver comes to haunt during these times.

Mini-bus drivers are the scourge of Africa - they drive like amphetamine fueled F1 madmen in clapped out vehicles that are on the verge of exploding - they pack vans with as many people as possible and rush to the next possible pick-up - trying to overtake fellow mini-buses while they are at it - with cello-tape windows, doors falling off, plumes of black smoke pouring from the exhaust, no indicators, smashed windscreens and a very unpredictable nature due to stopping abruptly at the first sign of a possible fare (ie: person randomly walking near the road - of which there are quite a lot of)

The dream of the mini-bus driver is that no matter how many passengers as he can push through the door his death-trap will never be full and that he will always be the first to the next stop - this creates a sort of chaotic rally around Blantyre, as there are an awful fucking lot of these mini-bus mongoloids messing about all over the place causing all manner of mayhem - if there is a traffic incident of any description, it will usually have started or ended with a mini-bus in some way or form - they may not be at the scene any longer - but they will probably have had a hand in it somewhere.

So at 5pm what happens is Mini-bus drivers no longer want to wait for barrels to be moved or to give the sensible right of way to oncoming traffic - reason being that oncoming traffic is made up of fellow mini-bus drivers and therefore will always be oncoming unless they are restrained from doing so - this is when the mini-bus driver decides to go to war and push on through the muddy gully of doom regardless - which is very hard to do when it’s been raining for most of the day, there’s only enough room for one vehicle anyway and the person coming towards you is a mini-bus driver who is just as stupid as you are.

So what happens is around 40 mini-buses pile into the gully from opposite directions - get stuck in the mud - beep horns - shout - argue - and accelerate into any available space believing forward motion is progress and not in fact just ensuring they are going to be there for even longer - meanwhile everyone else realises that the mini-bus drivers have fucked the bridge up again - perform 3 point turns and try and find another longer route round.

Which sometimes leads to Lorries backing up and getting into impossible situations and blocking the entire road while getting stuck in the bush - like this:

So what is the answer??

Grow old and grey watching in disbelief as the next id-jot dives into the mini-bus melting pot down in the river??

Wait around for a few hours at the office for traffic to die down around 7pm??

Take the long way round and encounter even more idiotic Malawian Motor vehicle related Mayhem? (note that people walk home for the most part - and they walk in the road or ride bikes - and they are also not the crispiest crackers in the packet either, so you often nearly clip a few people by the roadside when things are busy)


No - you go the secret-secret back way through the jungle/forest area behind the industrial estate:

There’s only room for one and it gets very interesting when the rains have been - you really need the 4x4 for it as well - and nerve wracking as it may be due to the unpredictable nature of things popping up out of nowhere and other cars/trucks possibly coming the other way - (and the fact that I am not a good driver and shouldn’t be in control of such a vehicle) the 6 or 7 minute ride sure beats the hell out of sitting around watching Mini-bus Mavuto (trouble) for 40 mins before fighting your way through that fucking muddy gully.


Fucking Mini-buses - the motorised version of Mosquitoes I tell you - death to them all - the world would be an infinitely better place.

Spo | February 5, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 4, 2007

Perspective…….

Spent Friday night drinking in the Thyolo tea district with old tale telling Rhodesian Roy from Namingomba estate - a few other folk gathered there and African tales of adventure set the tone for the evening - Army tales of rats on fire nearly blowing up refueling airplanes, Elephant herds chasing folk up tree’s and Vultures with sticks of dynamite attached to their legs - the drinks flow freely in such situations - come around 1 or 2 am I headed back to town - the clouds settle on the hills out there and you can only see about 5ft in front of the car, it’s a tense nervous drawn out drive home - one that leads you to feel like you need a reward for making it one piece.

So I must of sent a text to Debbie.

Crazy Ex Debbie that one time told me she was in fact her sister and that Debbie was dead - in order to find out how I really felt about her.

Woke in the morning to find 18 missed calls from various numbers.

Fuck it.

Drunk me really needs to establish a rule of general practice with sober me in order so that our priorities don’t clash during these horny, drunk and stupid moments.

Went over to Paul’s and we destroyed a bottle of Jack as every football match possible played out on various SS channels (God bless South African Super-Sport and it’s 8 channel football biased structure).

He pointed out the best way to resolve such a situation is to accept the call - have a chat - meet up while sober - keep it pleasant & aloof - do a little reminiscing about old times - enjoy the company but leave it at that, saying that things have changed...... Go home.

Alone.

He looked at me after that and knew that should such an occasion take place it will more than likely end up in the bedroom and me digging a gargantuan hole that I will not climb out of for the next 6 months - real African Fatal Attraction type ojeni indeed.

“you must do what you feel is right of course”...... young Skywalker.......

Fuck it.

Putting it all in perspective tonight I get back and find that Jakarta has been hit by astronomically awful floods leaving 20 dead and 340’000 homeless - and Yuni’s phone doesn’t work...... frantic emails aside I can’t do much at the moment.

I’m assuming worse case scenario is that her house is ruined and she needs a place to stay - in which case I can organise something - be it funds transfer or hotel payments or getting her in touch with my people over there - in a city of 12 million what are the chances of her being one of the 20 dead?? life can’t be that cruel - but yeah, I’m worried none the less.

I tried calling her earlier today while sitting out by the pool - no joy on the connection saying that the number is no longer operating - thought it was weird but put it down to her just not paying the bill lately - then I get back late on after UTD pasted Spurs, boot up the dial up and accidentally click the firefox headline link - that’s the first story up..... Fuck it.

Kind of situation that makes you think about organising an air fare and just getting her to a place before your eyes.

Perspective.

Need to remember it when I meet up with Debbie this week.

Spo | February 4, 2007 | Comments

February 1, 2007

Zomba Plateau…..

Spo | February 1, 2007 | Comments
Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 1, 2007

Miracle…..

I have to be honest - I didn’t hold up much hope - at the time of the explosion and all the chaos that went with you just switch to a different mode - everything seems instinctively methodical - once you get over the sounds and sights of the situation you just jump to the most logical next step - ie: get the fuck out of here and find a hospital.

Later I gathered my thoughts and all I was thinking was that having a wife and three kids and being blind in Africa was a shitty combination and that losing your eye sight over trying to mix chemicals to clean a swimming pool was thoroughly undeserved and shouldn’t ever happen.

Even though we arrived at Queens hospital pretty quick after the event, I thought we’d taken too long and lasting damage would be done - it looked really bad at the time - facial chemical burns are pretty fucked up - and the doctors assurances didn’t match the quality of the set up before me - I honestly thought Richard was well and truly fucked as far as the rest of life on gods green earth went.

But the gods were smiling that day - not smiling too wide however, as then it would never of happened in the first place, but fate had decreed a certain pattern of events were in order to lead to Richard getting his eyesight back - I saw him first thing Monday when I was back from the lake - up to then I’d seen him the Friday before and I’d heard assurances but still saw little hope - the half baked broken English talk amongst the guards back at the house was that he could see again and all would be Ok - but I still didn’t believe until I saw him after being discharged today - the left eye isn’t as strong as you’d hope - it works - but it isn’t the clearest - but the right looks like nothing ever happened - doctors reckon a week or two and the left will be back in action just as much - truly a miracle upon the continent that shows little mercy in such situations.

I paid the necessary and saw that he takes some days to recover properly - everyone is smiling again - you see it in the community outside around the houses on the street - everyone knows he’s going to be OK - there’s relief but more so there’s surprise - I was in Doogle’s bar the other day and met folk who heard the blast - no one could believe that he’s got his sight back.

Kind of weird when you piece together the path of fate - that I was home that day due to dodging potential tricky questions as the tax folk has scheduled to come to the main office - that I hadn’t set off to do the rounds and pay various bills just yet - that I got caught talking on the mobile just beforehand when if I hadn’t I’d of been on my way - there’s no phones in the house here or alternate forms of transport, so I’d of never known until I got back if I’d gone - the doctors said it was all a case of time and speed of treatment - another ten minutes and no chance - the man’s blind for life.

Fuck - that doesn’t bear thinking about - losing your sight is one thing - but losing it in Africa.......

Richard & his family were back at the house today - so happy to see he was Ok but still had a talk about what happened - first off being DON’T mix anything when I’m not here - even though you may have done it a million times, DO talk to the guy two doors down that said he knew what should of happened and how what took place was all wrong to begin with - and DON’T try mixing the same chemicals you already bought a second time round - take em back to where-ever or who-ever you got them from and make sure everything is as it should be, otherwise we are rewinding time and haven’t learned a thing.

In fact I’m sure there must be an easier way to do this kind of thing - he’s been following the same procedure (mixing Chlorine, acid and what ever) for a couple of years or so while the previous residents were here - says this is the first time anything’s ever gone wrong and that he was using the same stuff he’s always used - but something is rotten in Denmark somewhere - I had thought it was a sly one - that he’d taken the usual cash, but due to the change over of residents thought to buy something cheaper and pocket the extra - cynical indeed - but experience makes you so - however, all evidence suggests so far that this was one of those cruel twists of fate.

Basically in the end I just told him to be a hell of a lot more careful next time you are around situations that could potentially blow your head off.

Christ on a bike ringing the bells of St.Christopher..... if in doubt just leave it till there isn’t any.

Spo | February 1, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi