Dogblogging

This is where the doggie spends most of his inside time (in between pulling things out of the trash and trying to sneak onto the couches). His best friends (me and Zach) spent many days searching for a suitable bed for the boy. Finally we stumbled across some men selling wicker baskets and doll furniture on the side of the road in a wealthy part of town. They had accurately calculated their selling location; who needs wicker doll furniture and dog beds other than the very wealthy? We rewarded their calculation by paying them about $15 for this basket. Maybe the best $15 we've spent here, especially if you ask Baobab.

Awesome Plants 4

This plant was acquired during our Nursery Shopping Spree about a month ago. It's really more like a bush that grows beautiful purple flowers with strange seeds the size of grapes. During the sunny part of the day it appears to be on death's door. Every day I worry that we've finally killed the thing by allowing it to get so much sun but in the evenings it recovers and perks right up again. The purple flowers are amazing to me!

Dogblogging

This evening while I was writing a card for my friend (and reader of the blog, Lexi) I heard shuffling from outside. I turned to see this. This is the position that Bay finds himself in more often than he'd probably like. This is also how Zach holds him while I scrub him down for his weekly bath. He's become somewhat resigned; you can tell by his limp outstretched arms.

Food Guessing Contest

A quick post today with a question. The closest guess wins a postcard!

We popped into the open-air market this morning and bought the following (left to right in photo):

• Three bunches of spinach
• A head of lettuce
• Four carrots
• Five green peppers (fairly small)
• Three egg plant
• Three bunches of green onions
• One avocado
• A pile of green beans

How much did it cost? Leave your guess in comments!

Meet Paul

One of the grim realities of Malawi is the economic crisis it currently faces. Were this hundreds of years ago (actually, 50 years ago and it would still probably apply) and every citizen still a subsistence farmer, then a tough economic picture would be no big deal. Folks would grow their corn and raise their chickens and life would go on. Malawi, however, has started its integration into the global economic system and when things go south, they hit hard. This introduction is not, however, the beginning of a post on economics, rather it is a means for explaining Paul.

Paul digging the post holes for the fence.

As a result of a sour economic situation, a day of unskilled labor clocks in at less than a dollar a day in the rural areas and a bit more than a dollar in the city. With such cheap labor all wealthy Malawians and foreigners have gardeners, guards, and houseboys. Because we live in a compound, the guards and gardeners are provided by the owners, but we have hired Paul whose primary jobs are to clean the house and do the laundry.

He is a charming man who comes twice or thrice a week, smiles a lot, enjoys eating my random baked goods (he took two cinnamon rolls home to his family this Monday), and helped me build the back yard fence and garden. He also calls me "Boss", I think, because he doesn't know my name.

This One's For the Gogos

This blog mostly revolves around the more interesting parts of our mundane lives. I largely refrain from posting anything *too* depressing, although that picture tour of Malawi was no bucket of laughs. However, today I felt really crushed and sad and I would like the rest of you to feel crushed with me for a moment.

I spent the morning at Baylor' Clinical Centre of Excellence in Lilongwe. That's a pretty snooty name but they largely live up to it, I'd say. They provide the most comprehensive (and friendly and kind) care for HIV positive children in Malawi. If you're looking to give away some money, please click the link.

Today was a Friday so there were very few patients. For that reason a granny sitting by herself struck me as odd. I asked why she was sitting there alone. She had been caring for her HIV positive 12 year old grandson until last week, when he finally died of diarrhea. No child should die of diarrhea and no child should be born HIV positive, but that's a whole other blog post.

She was a very devoted gogo while he was alive and she's devoted even now I suppose, since she brought his unused medication back to the clinic and is sitting a sort of lonely vigil in the lobby of a place that was very important to the two of them. Clearly she has lost her child as well, since she's caring for the boy in the first place. It was something about the combination of her immaculate white shirt (which I promise is the result of intense hand washing) and her dusty black cloth shoes that made me think about how hard life is for so many people. I immediately went back into the meeting and messaged my own grandma, which is the natural thing to do.

So - cheers to that gogo (which means grandma in many African languages, if that wasn't clear) and to two fabulous gogos who read this blog (Hi Gwen and Marie!) and all the other badass gogos out there who work their butts off to keep their families moving forward.

Dogblogging

Featuring wrinkles.

Awesome Plants 3

Well, guys. After the horror excitement of yesterday I think we can all do with some calming Awesome Plants. This little thing looks like it's from Star Wars. It's about a foot and a half tall. It's awesome.

And, since I don't have any other commentary for the awesome plant, here's a bonus picture of my OTHER clay frogs. Yes, I have three. These two are having a chat on a couch.

What do you think they're chatting about? And now I'm back to my meeting.*

*Those of you in regular communication with me know that blogs and e-mails and most facebook updates are only made during meetings. Not sure what that says about me or the meetings here, but it's not a good sign.

Petrol Line Liveblogging 4!

And it's over folks. Six hours, a full take of gas (52 liters), lots of cussing, poop in the back of the car, and $95 dollars later, and Petrol Line Liveblogging is finished. Ironically enough, posting was not  more frequent because the internet went out. Ahhh, Malawi.

On the glass half full front, it is actually a good thing the internet went out when it did. I was witnessing the most imense line-cutting fiasco since Central Elementary was serving the biggest cinnamon rolls and chili in town. My fingers were itching to report and my mind was composing the most damning tirade against the Malawian sense of justice (or lack thereof) and their undermining of all sense of community and trust. It was chalk full of many things not fit to print and would have put to shame AI's "Ya'll talkin' about practice", Gundy's "I'm a man!", and Kramer's racist rant. It was laced with bombast and fury, confusion and utter incredulity and... was not composed nor published for want of an internet connection.

Petrol Line Liveblogging 3!

I understand you all are thrilled to have "Petrol Line Liveblogging" and, thus, are not questioning the reason for the line. Instead you are probably applauding: It's providing reading entertainment! However, as promised, an explanation to the best of my ability, as to why this line exists. Brought to you in bullet form:

• The former president, as noted here, pegged the Malawian kwacha to the American dollar. Because it was not valued correctly, no one wanted the kwacha and international trade ground to a halt. The kwacha is still overvalued and the effects linger.
• Oil is bought and sold on the international market with American dollars. Without access to American dollars, Malawi cannot purchase oil.
• The government sets the price of oil. Because there is always a shortage (demand outstrips supply), it is clear that that price is set too low. Therefore, the price mechanism as a regulator of consumption does not exist.
• What is that price? $10/gallon. Soon to be $13.
• Why not introduce competition and let prices float? The only answer I get is that the owners of the petrol companies (many of whom are politicians) all know each other and would fix prices, thus creating a trust. With many of those owners being politicians, there would be no political will to break up the trust.

I can feel the agitation and anxiety building within me as this petrol experience continues. All components are a nightmare and a fix is not on the horizon.

Petrol Line Liveblogging 2!

Wow, this is terrible.

View from behind. The line goes as far as I can see.

Three hours in and the gas truck has arrived. They are currently filling the underground tanks and folks are returning to their cars, preparing for the filling to begin. Two things of note:

1. Malawians, for how kindly they are, are completely unable or unwilling or do not grasp the concept or justification for a line. Since I arrived this morning, people have cut in line, added a second and now a third line. Folks are attempting to cut in and skip the wait. I cannot express the injustices I have felt in this country as people refuse to acknowledge the fairness of a queue. Thank god for Britain. I need go there just to line up.

2. Apparently you can make friends with or pay off the gas station owners in order to skip the line and simply park your car inside the gas station. I asked the driver behind me and he said "they must know the owners." Jeebus.

In the United States the difference between the rich and poor is not thrust in your face... the rich hide behind gated communities. Zing! Here, they skip to the front of the gas line.

Petrol Line Liveblogging!

My mentors in blogging, which do not exist, told me liveblogging is only productive and successful when your audience is, well, awake. As I type, in the mainland United States, it is 11:43pm-2:43am. Night Owl Liveblogging!

As mentioned before, Serena and I purchased a vehicle. Days later, petrol prices rose 20%. Whoops. One week after that a petrol shortage kicked in, leaving me with an empty tank and in line to purchase new:

View from my car

To quote my Dad in his latest email: "Good luck in the gas line.  It's like going to the dentist.  You have to pay a lot for something you don't want to do!"

Too true. Especially because I brought Bao with me for security reasons* and he pooped in the car on the way there (only half a mile) after having pooped in the house fifteen minutes earlier. At times he is, to say the least, frustrating.

Next Liveblog: Why are their petrol shortages?

*Malawians are exceptionally scared of dogs and because everything is paid in cash, it's well-known that people in petrol lines are cash-laden.

Bone Burying Is Real!

Baobob loves to chew and because the local supermarkets cut up their bones we have purchased  rawhide bones instead. He loves them. We love that he expends his energies on the rawhide rather than my socks. Win-win. Then, like he is trying to be the most stereotypical dog ever, he started burying pieces of his bone in the garden. You can see the tip of the bone still above ground right at the point of his nose.

 Until now, I thought this behavior (as portrayed in this, one of my Dad's favorite commercials*) was an urban legend. Serena guesses he started doing it after our friend Tina came over and pet him while he was chewing, something he misinterpreted as her trying to take his bone.

*I am actually just guessing this is the ad I remember, but considering how intermittent the internet can be here, I could not actually watch the video to confirm.

The Kwacha and Devaluation

Two weeks ago I wrote this basic overview of the kwacha, Malawi's currency. Understanding today's Malawi and its challenges--especially economically--means knowing recent problems with the kwacha.

Currently, one US dollar is worth about 300 kwacha. Just six months ago it was 150 kwacha to the dollar. The previous president--who died of sudden cardiac arrest in April--had artificially pegged the kwacha to the dollar, disallowing banks to trade at less than 150 to 1. It was generally known that this price was massively inflated, confirmed by the fact that on the black market (guys on the street corner), it was possible to trade 250 kwacha for one dollar. As a result, no country or company wanted the kwacha, foreign currency all but disappeared, and Malawi was unable to buy anything on the international market except what was brought in through international aid. In fact, just last week I met a young woman who was attending university in the United States but could not continue this year because her family, even though they are quite wealthy, simply could not get enough US dollars to pay school fees.

After the former president's death, Malawi's first female president, Joyce Banda, was elevated to the post. One of her first actions was to devalue the currency, nearly halving its market price, and to allow its value to float on international markets. This devaluation had dramatic affects on society, especially on the purchasing power of already-poor Malawians. On the other hand, it has helped the country reintegrate with the international market (clearly, whether that is or is not a good idea is up for debate).

Chatter on the street is a second devaluation is on the horizon, further impacting Malawian's ability to purchase products from abroad. How this will affect political and social stability is anyone's guess as people are still licking their wounds from the last devaluation. It could get ugly.

Interestingly, a Peace Corps volunteer I met yesterday mentioned that, as expected, the subsistence farmers in the countryside seem less affected by the devaluation. They rarely purchase imported products. Here in the city, however, folks are struggling to buy food, pay rent, and buy merchandise they have grown accustomed to affording.