Patience is a virtue

This has to be the slowest move I have ever made; ironically it is the one with the most helpers.

Here I am, still waiting, to get to the boxes. Greg has gone to Monica's wedding and I am holding the fort hoping the plasterer will arrive, but knowing he probably will not and waiting for Andrew to finish cleaning the house.

After the air conditioner technicians had finished, much of it was covered in brick dust, plaster and concrete and the walls were dirty from the marks of ladders and dirt from drilling.

But, before we can start unpacking we have to go shopping. Stocks are low and it has been such a busy week we have not had time to get to the supermarket.

At this stage I am thinking it will be 2p.m. before we start and there is no way we will be sleeping in our own bed until tomorrow night. However, having waited this long it is largely irrelevant.

Andrew and Limited are going to work this afternoon and we will pay them some extra. We should be able to make a dent in it but we still need plastering and painting where work has been done (see right hand side of pic below) before furniture can finally be put into place. The television has to go underneath the air conditioner in the living room and ideally all plastering and painting should be done first.

Ah well, so much for ideals. It might be Greg's great love but it is after all just a television set.

Where does all this stuff come from? Here we are in a country where people are excited about getting some packing crate timber and cardboard for their homes and we are surrounded by boxes of 'stuff.' Useful stuff but stuff all the same.

Still, I am sure some of this stuff will be left behind when we move back to Oz  in a few years as we have done a number of times in the past. We have left things behind, and no doubt 'set up homes' in India, Angola, South Africa and Zambia. And still we have all this stuff!

We always 'set up home' as much as we can to make it comfortable whether we are living in a hotel room, flat or house and whether we know it will be for six weeks, six months or six years. The fact is, one never knows because six weeks can easily become six years as it did in Perth and six years can easily become six months as it has elsewhere.

This was a pattern established when we moved from Melbourne to Perth for six months and I demanded we pack up and take everything. Luckily we did because we were there for six years.

Actually, we didn't take everything. I foolishly left some things in the storage area under the house .... including a wonderful train set Greg had had as a child ... and when we sold the house a year after moving we forgot about them. I have no idea what else was there but we have always been sorry about losing the train set.

Still, here's hoping it went to a good home. I am sure if we had been meant to have it we would have remembered it was there.

We used to set it up on the lounge room floor... generally late at night after we had been drinking copious amounts of wine with friends ... and watch it run around the track. It even had a light at the front.

Such is life; you have things and then you don't. Well, you have life and then you don't so why should things be any different?

I like to think that if things are lost or stolen or given away because they cannot be carried then they help others. In truth, everything we have in this world is 'borrowed.' It is just that some of us can 'borrow' more than others.

When we left Zambia, after living in a hotel room for six months, we made a 'gift' of a lot of our things, including a small fridge, to one of the maids. She was the one who worked the hardest but it was difficult because, given the hierarchy of such places, it was clear the hotel housekeeper was most unimpressed at her windfall.

We had to oversee the removal of the goods - she brought her brother to help - to make sure it was not taken from her downstairs. Then again, the Zambians have an interesting 'take' on good fortune; they believe it is an indication of evil forces at work so I am not sure we did the poor girl much of a favour.

I have to say I like the unpacking part of the moving process because it is the creative part. Setting up the house and arranging things is fun. I used to do this as a child. I would grow tired of my bedroom and spend a day moving everything around so that I had a 'new' room.

It was always so exciting to sleep that first night in my new room. As an adult the excitement is not sleeping in a new room but decorating the new house. Then again, as a child, there wasn't much decorating done just furniture moved and room cleaned so the going to bed at night in the 'new' room had to be the most exciting part.

Perhaps I knew even then that this would be my life! If practice makes perfect then I must be close.

Containing excitement and exciting containers and crates

It is all here and while boxes are not yet unpacked, it looks like everything is intact. I gave the picture and mirror boxes a bit of a shake and heard no tinkling which augurs well.

Stuttafords came back this morning to put the dining table together; they had no alum keys yesterday and to unpack the glass. No glass breakages and Greg's mammoth television has also arrived unscathed.

The removalists arrived about 2.30 yesterday afternoon and by 5.30 we had everything off the truck and ticked off the list.

It was hot and sticky but it went fairly smoothly. I made sure Andrew gave water to the removalists and I kept a bottle by my side.

The furniture was unwrapped but we have left the boxes until the air conditioning people have finished, thus avoiding unpacking with half a dozen people wandering around and taking the risk of large air conditioners being dropped.

The air conditioning guys arrived late this morning and were expected to finish around one but it is now after twelve and I have just checked and would be very surprised if they are out of there before four or five.

Which is why I have the time to be writing this.  With people in the house it is wiser to keep everything boxed up as opposed to unpacked and littered around the place until things can be properly put away. But there is no rush. We can unpack at our leisure with the guesthouse perfectly comfortable and easily accessible until the other house is set up.

As is the way in Africa, before they left I had to hand out a bit of Kwacha but first I had to count how many there were. With people milling around, upstairs and downstairs, it took me a while to count heads. And then I had to count Kwach and stuff a wad of it in my pocket until the time came to distribute.

It ended up at about fourteen lots of 500K because Andrew and Limited had been helping as well but also Fred the gardener and Stephen the guard had pitched in and so had Duncan the night guard.

Duncan did quite well actually because he had been helping for barely half an hour but I couldn't leave him out. The only one who missed out was Charles, the night guard, who had arrived late.

My preference was not to have the 'cast of thousands' and the inexperienced hauling things around the place but what do you do? I am sure lugging our furniture and boxes was more interesting than gardening or guarding and I am also sure they just wanted to help. And no doubt the possibility of extra kwacha played a part.

But it all went well. We had only one 'breakage' and that was the newly installed switch for the overhead fan in our bedroom.

It was an exciting day for Limited in particular. He asked if he could have some of the timber from the crates - five wooden crates in all - to make chairs and tables. It looked like good wood, pine I think, but thick and strong and probably better than anything they could get around here, if they could afford it which is unlikely.

I think the Stuttaford's people were hoping to take it away but I said, well, we paid for this didn't we so we can decide what happens to it. Well, the company paid for it actually but I am sure they would not mind making a lot of people happy instead of the removalists. So the timber was shared between the guard, gardener, Limited, Andrew and Stuttafords. I suspect the foreman got to decide what happened to the timber beyond our gates but our lot were very excited about it all.

Limited also asked if he could have some of the wrapping and some of the cardboard boxes and they left him three boxes. I asked him what he wanted them for and he said for storage and he could make things out of them. It's a reminder of how little people have despite the fact that compared to many in Malawi, Limited is quite well off.

So the cardboard boxes and wooden crates were an exciting windfall for more than just us. We were interested in the contents but the containers themselves were valuable.

We actually had two cardboard box 'coffee tables' for the four years we were in Angola. They were covered with sheets to look like tables and we had our lamps on them. We never got around to replacing them; partly because there were no side tables to be had in Angola from what we could see and it wasn't worth hauling something in.

It is great to have everything here and exciting to think about getting it all put away; furniture in place and pictures on the wall. It normally takes us 2-3 days to set up a house but with Limited and Andrew helping we should do it in half that time. There's a half a days work hanging the pictures if it is done by someone who knows what they are doing and a day and a bit if we do it ourselves. We did invest in a good electric drill before leaving Perth so if we must do it ourselves, we can.

And the good news is that Greg thought he might be away for a week from tomorrow but has been able to delay his trip for a week. What a novelty for me; not setting up house on my own!

Of floral art, fire ants, furniture and razor wire

There is a beautiful hibiscus in the garden (see above) but it is no good for putting in a vase because it wilts very quickly.

I am also struck while taking photos of the flowers in the garden that the most ubiquitous 'garden art' in Africa is razor wire. I remember reading once about a man who collected barbed wire as a hobby. I did wonder, if I looked at it long enough, whether or not I would see the beauty in its vicious blades.

You have to live with razor wire and electric fences to appreciate how lucky one is to live without them. They are not a requirement here in Malawi as they are in South Africa and other places but they are common all the same. I suspect Be Prepared is the motto. Given how quickly African States implode and how violently that can happen, it is not surprising that locals and expats alike put up the security they might need one day even if they do not need it now.

It is a sad reflection that African presidents often do very good things in the first term of office but fall apart in the second. There seems to be an impetus in the first term to actually bring about positive change for the people and in the second there seems to be an impetus to bring about positive change (as in money and power) for a more select group comprised of family and friends. No doubt it falls into line with the 'tribal nature' of many less developed societies where instinct demands that Self and immediate family are protected first; extended family is protected second and everyone else comes a very distant third, if at all.

I'm not sure how those cultural 'values' can be changed unless the people themselves demand that they change and that can only come about when they categorically reject any nepotistic moves by their government or leaders.

Things can change very quickly in Africa - hence the razor wire and electric fences even when governments appear to be relatively benign or are in their first term.

I don't think it is possible to live with such 'garden art' and not have it trigger a level of unconscious 'fear' or at the least, discomfort. How grateful I am to be able to call a country home where it is neither seen nor necessary.

However,  turning aside from razor wire, there is a wide assortment of flowers and greenery in the garden which is good for floral display and I have discovered, as I suspected, when he gave us a bouquet the other week, that Limited is a natural when it comes to floral art.

I asked him to do two arrangements this week and I am most impressed. He has talents for which I can only wish. He laughed when I said he should be a florist. Not that I have seen any florists in Lilongwe and from his perspective, such a career, even if he should want it, would be sheer fantasy.

He is however talented as the photos below show.

When we move across to the other house Limited will remain at the guest-house but I will ensure that his skills are still utilised. The bouquets are so much better than anything I can come up with and I have a sense he enjoys putting them together.

It is another reminder of how many more choices we have in the First World in ways beyond imagining for those who live in the Third. For most of us, if we have skills, we can act to develop them or to at least express them creatively and privately. Not so for people here.

The other excitement of the week was being invaded by hordes of very large, red ants when I decided to take a bath last night. Having done a search I think they are 'fire ants' and therefore I must ponder the symbolism of fire: perhaps it is as in 'baptism of' in terms of getting organised in Malawi. Synchronistically we watched a movie last night, a detective thriller, which had the ongoing theme, 'born of fire.' Little did I know that when I went up to take a bath the theme was ongoing.

It really was quite odd. I filled the bath and hopped in. Within an instant of doing so a horde of huge red ants poured over the side of the bath. The tiles in the bathroom are white, the tiled ledge surrounding the bath is white... there was absolutely nothing to be seen before I got in the bath and nowhere that they could hide.


Needless to say I was out in a flash as legions of these ants continued to pour along the side of the bath. They just kept coming.

Against all of my better nature I did resort to insecticide. I hate killing things and even catch blowflies if I can or usher them out through doors and windows; ditto for cockroaches  and spiders although Perth was the cockroach capital of the world and I rarely see them here. Come to think of it I haven't seen spiders either.

Anyway, with a bathroom awash in huge, red ants which could inflict a very toxic and nasty bite - some even triggering anaphalectic shock in the vulnerable - as I discovered this morning after doing some research, I felt we had no choice but to 'stop them at the bath' as opposed to having them flood over the floor into the bedroom.

The mosquitoes are bad enough without having ants crawling all over us in the night. So, murder it was, much in the same vein as the detective thriller we had just watched. God I hate the way their little - actually quite big but little comparatively - bodies curl up.

I always feel so guilty. I know I should have tried to meditate them away but I don't think I am quite as advanced along the spiritual path as I might wish to be. So it was instant death instead of gentle ushering out of the room. I would say, it is easier to catch a cockroach than a horde of huge ants and easier to usher an idiot of a blowfly out of a window or door than a rampaging horde of ants.

Even more strange was the fact that when I looked later I could find no cracks or holes from which they could emerge. Neither could Limited when he cleaned up the bodies in the morning. I had thought they might have nested under the bath .... apparently they move nests just before the rainy season which is where we are at now ... but I cannot see how they could get out even if they had set up Ant Central under the bath!

And now I have to ponder the symbolism of 'fire' at work in my life. It is certainly getting hot around here but I suspect it is more esoteric than that. Fire is a symbol of change; of transformation which can involve destruction.

The only destruction around here seems to be the inverter which appears to no longer be able to cope with power cuts and starts to gag and scream after an hour or two. We are meant to have enough power to run an air conditioner for 15 hours but that is clearly no longer the case.

Fire can also symbolise rebirth another theme in the movie we had just watched; the phoenix rising from the 'ashes.'  Our once lost and now found container is something of a phoenix rising from the 'ashes' of doubt, incompetence and the Third World.

And it is also a symbol of purification which fits neatly with the bath ... not that I got to spend enough time in it to be washed let alone purified.

I could have used the other bathroom but I was prepared to admit defeat and go to bed without my relaxing bath and with my dust-blackened feet still dusty and black.

More than anything I remain amazed at how the legions of these little-big warriors simply appeared in a red-black flow which tumbled out of nowhere on a quest which could only end in death. Although I figure they didn't know that until they started falling into the water and I started spraying them.

But enough of ants, those busy little workers whom I hope have sent the message out that messing with my bath is not a good idea.  Things are pretty busy around here at present with half a dozen or more people working on electricals and air conditioning units and generators. The holes in the wall have been repaired and now just await plastering and a painting touch-up.

And, supposedly, the container has arrived in Lilongwe and just needs to be cleared and then our goods will be delivered. Maybe this afternoon but probably tomorrow morning. However, the important thing is that it is here. In a process which involves a series of steps this is an important milestone; no matter how long it takes for the container to actually arrive at the gate.

Update: The goods will arrive today, just as the Tarot said. We had hoped for first thing in the morning but the removalists have another big job tomorrow moving furniture from the old parliament house to the new one, so today it is.

It just means we will unpack furniture and put it in place and stack boxes to be unpacked later. There is no way the removalists will be able to do more than unpack and place furniture and stack boxes in just three hours; unless they plan to work into the night! It could be a long night.

The interesting thing about possessions is how attached to them we get and how fast that attachement is put in place. Apart from practical things like washing machines, dishwashers, vacuum cleaners and the like, many if not most of the things we have are neither useful nor necessary.

My life lacks nothing, except kitchen equipment, as it is - and a regular power supply. There is no doubt that our 'things and stuff' will help to create a more harmonious and beautiful environment, but they remain 'things and stuff.'

There are some paintings to which I am attached but they have not always been in my life and my life was no less for the lack of them. But we do get attached. Perhaps we are more like less-developed societies than we think; where possessions equate with power.  And these are only some of the possessions because we in fact have two homes.

So many possessions; so much attachement. It wasn't my choice to have two homes although I have for most of the past twenty years and I can only wonder at those who choose to have two, three, four or more homes because they can.

In reality one is more than enough and two more work than one needs. Then again, here in Africa most people would be grateful for just one well set up house (as opposed to hut) in which to live.

I wonder if we use the word possession because instinctively we know that our possessions possess us?

At last we're truckin!

This morning we received a note saying the truck had been found and we actually had a number for it. Departure from the Port of Beira was not October 18 but October 22 but who is quibbling. It should have arrived at the border yesterday.

Mid afternoon we received word that the truck had arrived at the border. That was the good news. The bad news was that the queues were long, which is commonplace in Africa (see pic above) and they had no power at the border. Join the club!

But, according to our agents we have the paperwork done to clear the goods and it is only a couple of hours from the Mozambique/Malawi border to Lilongwe so the truck should be here in the morning.

At this stage it looks like a Thursday arrival of goods. I did ask the tarot yesterday for an arrival date and got Thursday so I am impressed, yet again, with the accuracy of my oracle. However, at this stage the crucial thing was finding the truck and that has been accomplished.

LEFT: It is a couple of hours from the Mozambique/Malawi border to Lilongwe.

The queues at the border crossing are said to be legendary although that is par for the course in Africa I am sure. It is however, significant progress.

And we have made progress on another front. The electricians employed by the air conditioner supplier arrived yesterday and have been hard at work. The work has been surprisingly speedy and neat. The holes have been knocked in the wall for outlets; electrical cables have been chased into walls where required; they have installed the ceiling fan in what will be our formal sitting room and I have asked them to put another in the bedroom and they have replaced some ugly bare bulb light fittings with attractive glass shades.

All we need now is a plasterer/brickie to do the repair work and a coat of paint applied before the electricians can finish the work and the installation. If the goods arrive Thursday or Friday we should be set up by the weekend. Fingers however remain crossed in regard to getting the electrical work done.  But, around here it amounts to impressive progress!

And apparently the generator is not too far away. We need to have a little 'house' built in the courtyard where the clothesline is to protect the generator but they have already begun placing the cables to connect it up. What a novelty it will be to cook with some certainty of completion!

The 'dinner stress' and yes, I know it should not exist but who is perfect and of course it does, will be gone. We had a guest last night, a young American woman who works in the field of human rights and I wasn't sure until 7p.m. that we would actually get our meal.

As it happened, the 3.30-5p.m. power cut was the only one and we did get hot food, albeit overcooked as it always is because there is so much pre-preparation to try to circumvent loss of power but Kendyl didn't mind. She had been out and about in Karonga and other less salubrious climes for the past week and was excited to have something to eat other than maize meal, squashed into edible dollops with her fingers.

I think it must be the Virgo in me which agonises over the prospect of 'wasted food'; although not much is wasted here. And it is the Virgo cook in me who agonises about over-cooked food when a lot of our guests are happy to just get home-cooked food.

The lesson no doubt is; 'laugh more, agonise less,' and I do try to do that. It is however harder than one might think. It is one thing to tell yourself it doesn't matter and quite another to believe it.

The term 'control junkie' springs to mind but then that part of my character is hardly news to me. It is not that I get angry, mid meal preparation when the power goes out but that it is irritating; a sense of being thwarted. Now that's a Virgo word: thwarted!

One solution of course is to just serve cold. Cook when you can and plan meals which are eaten cold. But there's something cowardly about that, or perhaps it is just a tad boring. Whatever the answer, it is cold salad tonight and I must admit I feel much more relaxed.

Land of hope and story

It is Monday and, as of this morning, word is that the truck has not yet arrived at the border. Not a lot has changed really. We live in hope as the story changes constantly.

Well, the electricians who said they would come today to start work on the power points and air conditioner installation have not yet arrived and the guys who are sorting out the internet cabling at both houses came this morning and hope to have something done by the end of the week.

However, we have sourced a generator and the air conditioners and someone to install it all .... it remains a matter of when. They came on Saturday to talk about it and have said the end of the week. A lot seems to be happening at the end of the week. A lot or nothing.

Greg's office receptionist, Monica is getting married on Saturday. Saturday is wedding day in Malawi and the festivities begin early no doubt because of the heat. The wedding will be at Kauma City Wide Assemblies of God church at 8.30a.m. with a reception at Kauma Primary School from 13.00p.m. Unless we have a container at the door on Saturday morning we will be there.

The wedding invitation is blue, with a small blue ribbon and photos of the happy couple. It says:

Two lives, two hearts joined together in friendship united forever in love. It is with joy that the Maziya family of Khanganya Vge, T/A Kamenya Gwaza, Dedza and the Mombera family of Ndadzadala, Vge, T/A Nsabwe, Thyolo request the honour of your presence.

At the bottom it says:

'He who finds a wife, finds a good thing, and obtains favour from the Lord.' Proverbs: 18:22.

One presumes that the same applies to a She finding a husband but in the misogynistic biblical days women did not get much of a look-in and gender equality remains something of a novelty in much of the world including Africa.

From what I have seen of the photography sessions at Buchanan's on a Saturday, Malawi brides seem to favour the 'white meringue' look which is so traditional in the West. And they do look gorgeous. The one difference is that a lot of the men wear white as well. Smart white suits seem to be traditional wedding gear for men in Malawi.

And, Andrew just tells me that the air conditioning people have arrived. They said Monday; it is Monday and the time is 1.41p.m. I am impressed. Something I was told would happen has happened.

More importantly, the frangipani tree in the garden of the house we will move into looks set to blossom soon. These divine flowers symbolise protection and nurturing and are wonderfully appropriate for weddings.

Then again, I carried lilac for my wedding. My aunt Jessie gave me a bunch to carry on the day. We were getting married on the cheap and I hadn't budgeted for flowers but the beautiful purple lilac suited my burgundy outfit and I have loved them ever since.

I didn't want to wear the traditional white. Probably because we couldn't afford it and so I opted for something I could wear later: burgundy blouse, long skirt, big burgundy hat and lace-up black patent leather boots. The only thing I did wear again was the boots.

But I never regretted not having a 'meringue moment.' It was not me and I was more than happy with the way we celebrated our commitment to each other. When the lilac is in blossom I only ever have fond memories.

We have a number of trees in the garden at the farm; flowering as I write to herald the Spring. The lilac symbolises Love so, without even knowing it, the flowers my aunt chose were perfect.

Not that frangipani would grow in the Adelaide Hills anyway but they do grow here in Malawi, like weeds and of course they grow well in other parts of Australia where winters are not so frosty.

The frangipani is also symbolic of love and its oil is said to ease anxiety, fear, insomnia or tremors... things not uncommon around the wedding day. I didn't really have much time to think about getting married; we were determined not to do the traditional thing in terms of months of agonising preparation.

We set a date, two weeks ahead, on a Friday night after work. It was one of the better weddings I have ever been to although I didn't think that at 4a.m. as we walked around our house looking for something to eat.

Our wedding guests had eaten us out of house and home including the wedding cake and the icing and probably some of them were drunk enough to eat the plastic decoration. We found glasses sitting on fences days later along South Terrace where we lived.

Unfortunately our friends also drank the three bottles of French champagne we had received as a wedding present.  We were all so young, barely into our twenties and discretion was not a part of the vocabulary.

The champers had been pretty much our only wedding presents because we had, perhaps foolishly, said ' no gifts,' not wanting to be landed with things we did not like. Then again, having absolutely nothing, it was only later we realised that having things one does not particularly like can be better than nothing at all. I do also vaguely remember a fold-up chinese table which has disappeared from the possessions long ago - something we did not like but which served a valuable purpose for a few years anyway.

There was more than one who 'didn't think it would work,' and I'm not sure either of us were convinced but there you go. I do believe there is a lot of luck, fate or destiny involved in marriages which last.... yes, you have to do the work but that in itself is no gaurantee of anything.

At the age of twenty-one I told myself if it didn't work I would leave. The naievete of youth where we have no comprehension of what marriage will mean, particularly when children are involved.

And of course, that was a view which would have been inconceivable for my parents or grandparents. It was probably fairly controversial for anyone then and  for some even now but it did make me feel better to think that marriage did not have to be forever. I don't think I even thought about forever; it just seemed the sensible thing to do at the time. Living together is common today but it was not in 1970.

I do vividly recall feeling horrified, at the age of 21, at the prospect of being married for ten years and yet it all passed so easily and I grew up, that by the time we got to ten it seemed hardly anytime at all and twenty and thirty came and went in the same simple manner. As did forty. We really do live a succession of moments; a never-ending sequence of Now.

I only hope that Monica and her man enjoy their wedding as much as we did and get to celebrate a Ruby wedding anniversary in 40 years from Saturday.

Chasing containers and pondering possibilities

There has been a flurry of emails over the past few days between the removalists in Australia and Malawi and the shipping agents in Mozambique.

We have gone from, 'we don't know where it is;' we 'do know where it is;' 'it is on its way;' 'it is not on its way;' ' it left yesterday;' 'it did not leave' and 'we don't know where it is.'

Somewhere, in a pile of containers, like those in the photo above, is ours. It might arrive within a week or it might not. The container chase goes on and we continue to ponder the possibilities of actually getting things organised here.

LEFT: Beira is in the centre of Mozambique's coast and due south pretty much from Lilongwe.

Such is the way of things in Africa as often as not. It is an exercise in 'trusting the process' and 'trusting the process' and reminding myself it is 'things and stuff.'

I am eternally grateful for the fact that we are very comfortably set up in the company guesthouse and not in a hotel room!

I have spent months living in hotels with Bombay being the longest stint of a year and while one does what needs to be done it is a challenging exercise.

But far less challenging than a lot of things with which people have to contend. Perspective is all and remaining grateful for the positives is important.

Counting blessings I think it is called. Greg drove five hours each way to attend a funeral yesterday and that is a reminder enough of how fortunate we are.

Barely 31, married a matter of weeks and now lying in the red earth of his village. It seems it is the women who have to place the flowers on the coffin and it is the women who sit in the dirt around the coffin while the men sit on comfortable chairs.

I am sure there are all sorts of spiritual reasons why women sit in the dirt but I am sure there are all sorts of misogynistic reasons why men don't sit in the dirt. Africa is always a reminder, as was and is India, of how far women have not come in the world.

It has been a week of funerals. I asked Limited if it was his younger or older brother who had died and he said it was his younger brother. He left three small children as is so often the way. One can only hope, as is also so often the way, that the children do not also lose their mother. Malawi is a place of orphans. The possibility of losing a container as opposed to losing one or both parents pales into insignificance.

Otherwise there is no progress on a variety of fronts. I am assuming, having heard that Peggy has collected the fabric that the curtains are underway. And Lawrence, who will set up the DSTV when our television set arrives did call to ask if it was here. He is the only one who calls back to check; on every other count we have to make the call.

Mr Das the electrician, as affable as he seemed to be, doesn't seem very interested in doing the work. He was asked to prepare a quote for an air conditioner and I have been chasing him since. Three times he said he would drop it off and didn't so Greg sourced them elsewhere.

When I rang to say he only had to do the power points he said: 'But I have done a quote for the air conditioner and the power points.'

'Yes but you did not bring it to us," I replied.

'But now I will have to do another quote for the power points.'

'Yes, you will. Can you bring it tomorrow?'

'I will do that,' he said. But of course he didn't anymore than he delivered the mythical quote for the air conditioners. We are now hunting up another electrician. But we do seem to have sourced someone who will supply and fit air conditioners. At least I think we have!

So, five weeks on no container, no air conditioners, no curtains, no DSTV and no generator. That's what I call progress!

I probably care mostly about the container and have pondered our attachement to material things. Would it matter if it disappeared? Well, there are some paintings I really love and some of my own paintings and pottery but otherwise everything is replaceable.

Not that I really think it won't turn up but it is interesting to ponder one's reactions to its disappearance... because it has, for the moment disappeared. Or rather, it has not yet been found amongst the thousands of containers littering the Port of Beira, see pic below,  in Mozambique.

Or is it on a truck winding its way up from Mozambique to Malawi?

 The journey is said to take two to three days and then we will have another couple of days to clear the goods.

Apparently the agents here have someone at the border who can let us know when the truck crosses into Malawi. But first we have to find the container!

And the wet season is on its way so dry roads will always be better than wet ones.

And in four weeks we will be on our way heading out of Lilongwe. The plan was and is to be set up in the house before we go. However, as the saying goes:

'Life is what happens when you are busy making plans.'

It doesn't pay to be too fixed in regard to plans in this part of the world. It probably doesn't pay to be too fixed in regard to plans in any part of the world. Making the most of the bit you are in is the best we can do.

And I think I do that. The tomato chutney turned out well yesterday and I made another batch of strawberry jam this morning along with a fruit slice with lemon icing. In between power cuts of course.

N.B. This morning we received an email saying the container had been located and was on a truck heading for Malawi and is expected to arrive Monday! Here's hoping.

Turn left when you get to the guys with guns

It is a simple enough set of directions. We were heading for Kumbali, a lodge (see pic above)not far from where we live. It is in fact cheek by jowl with the Presidential Compound. Hence the guys with guns.

We left Buchanan’s which is a part of the Four Season’s nursery complex after having coffee and cake and I just kept driving. There were police strung out along the road so it was clear the President was heading out shortly. But of course I missed the turn which is just before the compound and had to use the turning circle in front of the presidential compound gates.

 Busy with gears it took me a minute to register that four men with machine guns were set to surround the car and wanted me to stop; as did Greg who was muttering at me to stop. 

 Rampaging through gears I did just that. I didn’t think for a minute there was any danger. The guns weren’t cocked or aimed at us... the guards looked as confused as I am sure I did. Crazy muzungu!

Guns lowered I completed the circle and took the first turn to the right. It didn’t take long to reach the real Africa. A little village strung out either side of a bumpy, red-dirt road, with thatched rooves and solid huts built of the local red bricks.

They are quite attractive these bricks and most of the high walls around homes and businesses in Lilongwe are made of them. They also surround the presidential palace.

LEFT: Kumbali village

Africa is a place of high fences and brick walls. No doubt they derive from the ‘boma’ the grass and branch enclosure behind which one slept at night, safe from wild animals. Africa’s ‘wild animals’ these days tend to be human and while there is less need for high fences in Malawi than in many other parts of the continent, no doubt there is some need.

We bumped our way to Kumbali Lodge ... it must be a hell of a drive in the Wet Season ... and arrived about ten minutes after leaving the pristine bitumen road which led to the President’s Palace.

LEFT: Local bricks

This Lodge is where Madonna stays when she is in town. It is quite pleasant although nowhere near the best of such things in Africa ... but clearly as good as it gets in Lilongwe which is why, I am guessing, that Madonna stays here when she is in town.

We had a look around the main lodge where dinner is served at night and open to non-guests... unless Madonna is in residence in which case it is open to no-one except the lady herself and her entourage.

We had a look at a couple of the rooms and it seemed very pleasant. Simple but spacious were the words which came to mind. Madonna gets one of the two ‘best’ rooms, (see pic above) as one would imagine, and while nicely done, it is nothing special; upmarket motel really and simple and reasonably roomy as opposed to elaborate and enormous. Greg asked if he could ‘jump up and down on Madonna’s bed’ and the guy who was showing us around laughed. He didn’t of course but I am sure he was tempted.

The guest rooms have patios which look out over a large lawned area. The Main Lodge has a huge roofed deck with chunky sofas and coffee tables in the ‘safari style.’ Leaning back, gin and tonic in hand, wasn’t hard to imagine.

But, it was a brief visit and we were soon on our way to buy some tomatoes from the roadside ‘stalls’ near home.

LEFT: Great tomatoes in Malawi

They aren’t stalls really, just artistically arranged piles of produce set up by half a dozen vendors outside the shopping complex where Blue Ginger is and the Standard Bank, which we prefer, because there are no queues and it spurts out clean notes when we do cash withdrawals as opposed to grubby ones.

The tomatoes are fantastic here and I know I have said that before. But we are ruined and will just have to grow our own once back in Oz. My plan this week is to make tomato chutney and I have been saving jars as and where I can find them.

Limited came back on Friday and was effusive with his thanks for help in getting him home for his brother’s funeral. The sweetest note, and most unexpected, was when he brought in two ‘vases’ – actually glasses – of flowers; one for my desk and one for Greg’s. They really were beautifully arranged with flowers and leaves found in the garden and it is clear he has an artistic eye.

He is coughing today and said he got sick on the journey home from the funeral. I am not surprised. He is grieving and the lungs are symbolic of grief.

ABOVE: Malawi's Parliament House. You can't take photos of the Presidential Compound but the country's Parliament House, built by the Chinese is not only impressive it is very attractive.

And here we are, two weeks on and Peggy has finally collected the fabric for the curtains. Purchase orders did not arrive because printers had broken down and holidays, lunchbreaks, non-functional telephones and all the contributing factors of life in Africa means that it is all happening weeks later than expected.

Not that it matters. To date there is no progress on air conditioners or generators or extra power points although I am hopeful this week will see something eventuate. More importantly we have no idea where our container is and I have written a severe note to Grace Brothers to that effect.

We were told it had been cleared in Beira and that it had left but it seems the ‘powers that be’ or rather, the individuals to whom we talk when we can make contact, which is not often, and who are actually powerless, are not sure the container has left Beira or where in fact it might be. Not to mention now having no idea when it might arrive.

It is not surprising and I have spent so long in Africa it is not even disappointing but it is time-consuming in terms of ‘tracking’ and not knowing when, or if, we will be able to set up the house before it is time to leave.  We have four weeks. Fingers crossed. It seems to work better than anything else around here.

I am sending positive thoughts into the cosmos for a container arriving on the doorstep by the end of the week. With that and finger crossing who knows? Since I know nothing anyway it probably doesn’t matter.

I could take the Indian approach where, ‘it is enough to wish that something is true to say that it is.’ We call it lying but I suspect it is resigned pragmatism. That and some ‘puja’ (prayer) might do the trick.

On a more mundane level the Visa machine was operating at Foodworths on the past two visits so I have had less of a Kwacha load. We found a whole beef fillet which turned out to be tender instead of the usual tough so we look forward to a beef fillet future.

And we got together with the our Thai and Danish neighbours to discuss how best to organise supplementary payments for the guards and Fred, the gardener. First of all we have to find out exactly how much they are paid so the hierarchical nature of things here is not upset. We’re not sure if guards are lowest in the pecking order or if it is the gardener but clearly house staff are at the top and since we control what they earn in a way we cannot with guards and gardeners we have to ensure that whatever we give the others does not come too close to what they are paid.

The basic wage is 5,000K a month; about $A1 a day. This is probably what the guards and the gardener get. But it might be more.  The house staff get four times that amount but also have their accommodation, water and electricity supplied. We pay for it as part of the rent. But they do work hard and have far more responsibility than trimming shrubs and sweeping leaves or sitting by the gate, letting cars in and out.

It is about finding a balance between what they earn; what is a reasonable wage in Malawi and helping out if one can – without throwing the system into chaos. We leave and they stay and whatever system operates here will have to be something which fits with their ‘culture’ not ours. There is a hierarchy and that must be respected.

Otherwise, things do improve even if it is slow. The telephones and internet have been working for most of the past week and I am now a two-mobile phone person as one needs to be in Africa. My Malawi mobile is up and running which gives me double the chance of someone actually getting in touch with me should they wish to. And it is cheaper than having local calls go from Malawi to Australia and back again!

I have a couple of manuscripts coming up to edit which will keep me busy and keep my mind off missing containers and the power has not gone off today at all which is rather spooky I have to say.  I am however planning to cook dinner so Murphy’s Law says I know what to expect.

Then again, why send negativity out into the cosmos? There is enough of it around at the best of times. Here’s to a first: 24 hours without a power cut!

N.B. The next day started with bad news and possibly good news. Greg had a call to say that one of the Malawians he deals with died overnight. He was 31 and only got married four months ago. Although it may have been a second marriage or a second wife. They said he died of malaria but a lot of Malawians die of ‘malaria’ when really it is HIV/Aids or their systems are weakened by HIV, or for that matter weakened by malaria when they were children. Whatever it is he is just as dead and it is very sad. The funeral is tomorrow and Greg will drive to his village to attend.

And it seems the guards get 9,500K after tax which is actually not bad in local terms so if we top them up by 2,000K each they will be getting 15,500K which is actually pretty good and will not nudge the top of the hierarchy too much.

And, on a potentially positive front, my severe note to the removalists in Australia brought an email response from them and then an email from their agents in Malawi so progress of sorts. It is not that the agents here know where our container is but one presumes with head office jumping up and down we might find out sooner, not later and we might actually even see it arrive sooner not later.

I have uncrossed the fingers. It is what it is. Things happen when they should. All is exactly as it is meant to be.

Pillows, people and mozzie spit!
(Oh, and ruby wedding anniversaries)

It has been a week of chasing.  First people like electricians, removalists, air conditioner suppliers, curtain makers and this morning at 4a.m. a mosquito. The mozzie was the most annoying. I have spent enough time in the Third World to know that everything takes time but clearly not enough time to know that mosquitoes will always find a way under the net.

We haven’t been bothered with mozzies for a while. The system seemed to be working. But the buzzing woke us up and out came the torch. Damned if we could see it. I think they have learned to hide.

It did occur to me, staring at lashings of white netting that the black mosquito net I purchased might have been an extremely dumb idea; you can’t see the little buggers against black. And they love dark places.

The black net, while admirable in terms of decor is absolutely useless in terms of practicality. Designed, no doubt, by someone who has never actually had to use a mosquito net. I think I shall write to them and complain.

Anyway, the fallback this morning was to put on the air conditioner. I hate the noise and think they are too cold to sleep with but what to do? It seemed to work. We fell asleep although I woke up feeling cold despite the fact that the aircon, made in China of course, works at half gasp at the best of times.

I suspect one of the problems with our current mosquito net is that movement while sleeping can ‘open’ the net and that is all it takes. The mozzies I am sure are lined up waiting to dash in.  Or they at least have one on ‘watch’ while the others can explore possibilities elsewhere.

One solution might be a larger net attached to a square frame which hangs well away from the sides of the bed and any tossing and turning of sleeping, but clearly dreaming, bodies.

We currently have a double bed and the net hangs well to the floor but when our king-size arrives I suspect the problem of maintaining closure will be greater.

Next week is the current ‘word’ for our goods to arrive. Fingers crossed. At this point it looks like it will coincide with our fortieth wedding anniversary; appropriate really for a couple who have set up home 33 times in 40 years. Well, it will be 33 when we set up next week.

LEFT: Our bed, on it's way.

As things stand it looks like Greg will be here, or at least getting back from the mine the day before. If we have any wedding anniversary tradition it is him being away because of work. Not that we have ever made much of such things. Maybe we are both surprised to notch up another year. After all, most of our friends and family said it wouldn’t work!

The fortieth, so I have discovered is Ruby. I have no idea what any of the others are but thought I would check this one out. It seems that one has a 'ruby' theme for this anniversary. That means 'red' things.

 Let me think. Red wine for one and perhaps red meat; strawberries and grapes and beetroot. I am sure I can come up with a ruby theme for the 23rd.

But, practicalities like setting up home play more on my mind than anniversaries. Practice makes perfect so they say. Practice certainly makes one more pragmatic. I decided long ago, I think when all of our furniture was on a ship heading to Belgium, that it was all just stuff and there was no point worrying about ships sinking or, in the case of Africa, trucks crashing or goods being stolen.

People matter; everything else is just things and stuff. It will still be nice to have our ‘stuff’ though, particularly the kitchen equipment and our own bed. The bed here groans and rattles everytime we move. I suspect the springs are absolutely stuffed but doubt they were much good to begin with. There is not a lot of choice in Lilongwe when it comes to purchasing household items. One major reason of course, as to why it made more sense to upload our goods in Perth.

Not that it prevents us getting a good sleep. With 33 homes in 40 years I reckon we must have slept in a thousand different beds given all the travelling. One thing we have learned is that while any mattress can be survived or conquered - although the ‘cement’ masquerading as mattress in the Brazilian compound in Angola did severely test that theory – the greatest surety of a good night’s sleep is your own pillow. So we have been travelling with our own pillows for quite some years.

It is amazing really how different pillows can be and how horrible some of them are. My pillow is thin, firmish latex. I truly hate the ones so common in Europe where you lay down your head and immediately find a fat, uncomfortable squish of pillow on either side of your face! Then again, it’s better than the ‘gravel masquerading as pillow’ which the Brazilians seem to favour.

Maybe it’s all the meat the Brazilians eat? Something which comes out of a macho culture, where mattresses need to be like big, hard rocks and pillows like small, hard rocks. But, I have to say, I did learn to sleep on both mattress and pillow.

Like a lot of things, the more you tell yourself you hate it the more you do. It’s state of mind as much as anything. It’s a story. Change the story and you change your experience. I first started practising that when we lived in the hotel in Bombay for a year. The massive Oberoi Hotel generators were right below our window.

I thought I would go mad for the first few nights and then ‘sat myself down for a serious talk’ – or rather muttered to myself in the night - and told myself that I could hate the sound or learn to love it. A few nights of telling myself, that the constant hum was comforting and soothing and I was sleeping like a baby once again. And I continued to do so for another 11 months and three weeks until we moved into our house.

I have brought the same skills to bear this week in terms of internet and telephone access. This has been the worst week so far with servers and/or phone lines down. It hasn’t lasted much more than 5 hours or so – no doubt the President of Malawi needs it too – but it does rather interrupt communication which is unreliable at the best of times.

How dependent we all are on power? How lost we would all be if energy supplies were compromised. I did make the decision, many years ago, to hold on to my old manual typewriter for just such a disaster but it does occur to me that I would not be able to buy the ink tapes for it anyway so it is rather pointless. And it isn’t here anyway. Actually I am not sure where it is.

It’s a reminder though of how vulnerable our technological world is. I don’t even want to think about all of the things which need energy to work. But I have a better idea living here than living in Oz. No fridge, no phone, no computer ... not beyond battery life anyway... no internet, no stove, no air-conditioner, no television, no cars, trains, buses or planes.... the list goes on.

LEFT: Bee venom has health benefits

For the moment I would be happy to just have No Mosquitoes but they, like cockroaches I am sure, would be the great survivors. Maybe I have to change my story about mozzies. Just as bee venom is said to have health benefits, particularly for arthritis and multiple sclerosis, perhaps mosquito ‘venom’... although actually I think it is mosquito ‘spit’ which gets left behind when they bite... has health benefits as well.

In a world without power I would not be able to do this but this is what my search found:

‘The short-term actions of  mosquito saliva inhibits immune cytokine response from Tumor Necrosis factor-alpha and Interleukins. T-cells and B-cells of humoral immunity are inhibited and even natural interferon.’

It all sounds very complicated, and I can't say I know (or care) exactly what it means, but there may well be something amongst that lot which is doing us good even though we don’t know it. And the itch? Well, again, mind over matter; if you don’t mind it doesn’t matter and it doesn’t itch. It’s an allergic response which creates the itching and as a former allergy sufferer I know first-hand what a difference a different story makes to one’s allergic responses.

If you can’t change the situation then change the story.  The sound of air-conditioners is soothing and comforting and being cold is very good for one! Mozzie spit is good for you! There, all fixed. It's my story and I am sticking to it. Well, I am sticking to it pragmatically. The reality is we often do not know whether something is 'good' or 'bad' and the trick is to keep to a positive story and an open mind.

There's no doubt that in this part of the world mosquitoes can be the 'bearers of bad news' but perspective is all. If you spend your time putting all of your energy into 'keeping yourself safe' then you would not be here in the first place. You certainly would never get into a car and drive on an African road or fly on an African airline.

It is like anything: you do the research and make informed decisions about something like mosquitoes and malaria; African roads and African airlines; local food and tap water and when you have made an informed decision you remain positive. We do have a choice as to which 'story' we decide to tell ourselves and my choice is the 'story' of pragmatic potential. In other words you don't deny negative possibilities but neither do you accept them as a given. All sorts of things can happen; there is only ever the illusion of certainty.

At the end of the day there is a simple reality. It is impossible to prevent mosquito bites. Taking drugs will not stop you from getting malaria. There are two sides to the story - one that the drugs can actually 'mask' the symptoms so you get even sicker and the other is that the drugs mean you will have a milder dose. And then there is the fact that no-one quite knows what impact the drugs have on your health long-term. The reality is that whether you take drugs or not, if you get malaria you will need to be tested and to take drugs. The sensible thing is to be careful about reducing exposure to mosquitos and with any sign of unwellness, get tested.

By all means boil and filter the water but know that the cup of tea or glass of water you have in a restaurant, cafe or home may not be boiled or filtered. Soak fruit or tomatoes bought by the side of the road in some vinegar and water, as I do, but remain aware, as I do, that what you eat in a restaurant or cafe or home is probably 'au naturel.' Food and water are less of an issue in Africa than India but it is still not as clean as it might be.

In terms of getting in a car and driving on African roads. Like mozzies, there's not much choice. Drive a solid car and wear a seatbelt but that's a given for anywhere. Don't undertake long journeys by car is another piece of advice. Except then you might find yourself on an African airline. So, choose your airlines for their safety record. But that's a given anyway.

And, if you can't find one with a good safety record just do it and take your chances as we did countless times with Air India. In other words a little bit of common sense and a lot of trust goes a long way.

Then again, all the common sense in the world is not going to save you if your number is up. That's another theory, or 'story' of mine and one I am sticking with. All of the information, common sense and pragmatism about things which can kill you or make you terribly sick in Africa like mosquitoes, food, water, cars, planes or whatever won't necessarily keep you any safer. You might feel better and feel safer but it is just a 'story.'

I remember deciding in Angola, after I spent time huddled in the closet listening to the crack of Kalashnikovs and bullets slamming into the wall of our house, that there was no 'safe' place. And that means, at least to me, that there is no 'dangerous' place either. There is just life for as long as you live it and the art to life is to enjoy it and learn from it; all of it. I believe we are only ever where we are meant to be, doing what we are meant to be doing and experiencing what we are meant to be experiencing.

And that includes hiding in a closet, because with concrete on two sides it seemed the safest place from richoeting bullets, and not knowing if at any moment the door would be opened and I would be facing a gun. The other thing I learned that day is that real machine-gun fire sounds nothing like what you hear on films and that since none of us know when our number is up it's a good idea to 'tidy up' relationships as you go along.

I do happen to also believe in angels, fate, destiny and a Soul's Path where nothing comes to you unless you need it - but that's another story - a never-ending story.

N.B. And on a positive note for mosquito bites. Gotta love the net! As in internet!

Bites From Mosquitoes Not Infected With Malaria May Protect Against Future Infection.
ScienceDaily (May 16, 2007) — A new study suggests that bites from mosquitoes not infected with malaria may trigger an immune response limiting parasite development following bites from infected mosquitoes. The researchers from the Center for Global Health and Infectious Diseases, University of Notre Dame, Indiana and the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, Bethesda, Maryland report their findings in the May 2007 issue of the journal Infection and Immunity.

Malaria, a major public health threat resulting in 3 million deaths annually, is transmitted to humans through mosquito bites. Emerging drug and insecticide resistance emphasize the urgent need for effective new vaccines.

In the study researchers compared immune responses of mice preexposed to uninfected mosquito bites followed by bites from mosquitoes infected with the malaria parasite, Plasmodium spp. and those of mice only exposed to infected mosquitoes. Results showed that in the early stages, mice preexposed to uninfected bites exhibited reduced parasite burdens in the liver and they remained lower during the blood-stage of the life cycle of infection.

"These data suggest that the addition of mosquito salivary components to antimalaria vaccines may be a viable strategy for creating a Th1-biased environment known to be effective against malaria infection," say the researchers. "Futhermore, this strategy may be important for the development of vaccines to combat other mosquito-transmitted pathogens."

(M.J. Donovan, A.S. Messmore, D.A. Scrafford, D.L. Sacks, S. Kamhawi, M.A. McDowell. 2007. Uninfected mosquito bites confer protection against infection with malaria parasites. Infection and Immunity, 75. 5: 2523-2530).