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?