Busy Day in Mzuzu

Woke up at 6am, grabbed my things and got ready. The Zoo didn’t open until around 7am, so I waited around and once Gerard was up, I paid my bill and went into town. First stop internet café to send out some emails, second I had to find John to give him my memory card in hopes of fixing it, and third I had to meet Truman at the bank to cash the checks to pay the workers, then meet with the DADO and the buildings manager for the ADD in Mzuzu to talk about cement to finish the EPA office, and lastly grocery shop and get on a mini-bus in time to get the honey containers at Mwathunka and catch the last matola to Mwaizsi. I was hoping to get something to eat at some point in there, but it just wasn’t in the cards.

While I was at the café, John texted that now was a good time to come. So I sent out only 3 emails and ran down the street to the other end of town to the Eva Demaya office. John wasn’t there but Catherine and Peter were. We chatted for a bit and they were great. I learned that John works out of home, which was back at the other end of the street, where I was. So I ran back, hoping to catch him before he left. Luckily, I found him just in time. I left my card, chatted for a bit, said happy birthday to Jacqueline, and went back to the main road.

Truman calls to say he was at almost in the city. Thinking I had a few minutes, I went back to the café and sent out a few more emails, tried to fix my iPod (no luck), and created a blog. I didn’t have time to post anything because Truman calls again to say he was in the depot. I told him to meet me at the National Bank, so I paid up and ran out of the café to the bank next door. Lo and behold, the National Bank next door was closed and moved to the other end of the city 3km away, where they were developing the new Mzuzu. Ah ahh! I bolted down the street, calling Truman who already knew where it was, and praying that the line wasn’t long. It was already half past 10.

I got there 10mins after Truman and we walked in, me panting with all my katundu, and waited in line. After about a half hour, we got the money, and walked out. I had never held so many notes in my hands, I felt quite worried carrying that much cash around in my bag. But no other way. I thanked Truman for coming out so quickly, left him back at the depot and walked to meet with the DADO and buildings manager before both of them disappeared.

Luckily, I caught the DADO on the road walking away from the office. He said he was going to drop some things off at his mother’s, who lives down the road, and will be back in a few minutes. I said I will wait for him at the office. Knowing by this point that a few minutes meant an hour, I went and bought groceries. I lugged all off it up to the office and waited. The buildings manager was nowhere to be found and he wasn’t answering his phone. So I waited. My stomach was grumbling from no food all day, but I couldn’t leave, worried I might just miss these guys. And if did, meeting them again would be difficult, especially both in the same place. So I drank the last of my water and debated eating the bag of brown sugar I just bought. Two hours pass by and I called the DADO. He said he is on the way (meaning he just left). I catch him again on the road and we go back to the office and try to track down the buildings manager. No one knows where he is.

Finally, we learn he is out in the field. Meaning no discussions were going to happen today, zimachitika. So I said goodbye, disappointed because no discussions means no cement, which means the work cannot continue on the EPA office, meaning the opening date keeps getting pushed farther and farther. I worry every day that the office will just end up as a half-finished relic, and I can’t let that happen.

Tired, hungry, and disappointed I hurried to the depot knowing the wait for a van to fill up could take an hour, or more. I passed the swarms of young, aggressive, and really annoying, conductors and luckily caught a semi-full minibus out of the depot, the wait was only about half an hour. I got the back row with only two other people. I had my bag on my lap along with the groceries and my chitenge bag full of cash. I was praying no one would rob me. The mini-bus pulled out of the depot and made its way to Rumphi, fortunately, the driver was a good one and he didn’t pack the van like a clown car and he wasn’t drinking.

We stopped at the Mzuzu police roadblock on M1, which was a common block that every car passes through and mini-buses are inspected. Two officers and one in military camouflage came and looked through the mini-bus, then one of the officers stopped at the back window and asked me where I was going. I didn’t think he was talking to me, until he asked again.

“Where are you going?”
“Ah. Rumphi. “
“Where are you coming from?”
“Mzuzu.”
“No, which country are you from?”
“America.”
“Show me your travel documents.”
“I don’t have any travel documents, I live in Mwazisi.”

At this point I was a little panicked as I was being interrogated at a roadblock. My hand was about to reach into my pocket and call Hector.

“Where are you staying?”
“Mwazisi.”

He seemed unsatisfied by the answer, then looked at all the stuff on my lap. All the passengers on the bus were staring at me at this point.

“What’s in the bag?”
“These are all my papers. I’m a volunteer.”

One can only imagine what he would have said had he opened the bag and found piles of 500 kwacha bills. I pulled out my wallet and gave him my PC ID. He looked at it skeptically.

“I’m with Peace Corps.”

After analyzing my ID, he hands it back to me.

“You are Peace Corps. Ok you can go.”

A breathed a heavy sigh of relief. If there was any problems, or delays at the block, I would have been late to Rumphi, and then would have missed the last matola out to Mwaizisi at 4pm. Stuck in Rumphi would not have helped the tight schedule.

They probably thought I was Somalian. In any case, the mini-bus was great, got to Rumphi in good time. I also met a student studying Form 4, very well spoken English, that was going back home for break before MSC exams. I told her I was working for Vwaza and she said she had never been there, which surprised me because it is very near to Rumphi. Schools and community would benefit greatly visiting the reserve and learning about wildlife and the importance of the local environment. But then again, where is the money going to come from. That’s always the problem.

After getting out at Rumphi I argued with the conductor over the fare. He took my 500 bill and said that’s the new rate. Boza! Utesi! Only the morning before I took the same ride for 400, bullshit its 500 today. I argued until he gave in and gave me a 100 change. I was not in the mood to be hoodwinked. As I left, a matola pulled up and asked me if I needed a ride to Mwazisi, they said they were leaving sono sono (right now). Perfect, but it had only 6 passengers, so I knew they would wait until it filled up. So I asked them to get me at Mwathunka, where I had to pick up Cuthbert’s honey containers and give my number to the bakers. So I walked.

Halfway to Mwathunka, the same matola pulls up and waits for me to get in. What! Impossible! A matola leaving the depot with only 6 passengers, especially on their last run? I was befuddled. But I got in, told them to stop at Mwathunka. While sitting in the metal bed, and learning new definitions of pain in the farthest reaches of my derrière, I noticed they had a sheet up with rates from one village to the next. Clearly defined rates! I must be in the twilight zone.

I pinched myself, although unnecessary as my derrière was in a world of pain no one could mistake for a dream, it was true. They waited patiently at the gates as I ran in, got the containers left my number, and got into the truck. Devin was still in Rumphi, probably waiting in the depot for a matola to fill up, so I decided to go on this fine matola, for clearly this was a rare sighting of such transport in Rumphi West. It didn’t make any stops except those labeled on the price sheet. Amazing.

At Bolero, I inched closer to the cab for a smoother ride and to alleviate the sharp line of pain shooting up my back. On record as the fastest matola ride I have ever been on from Rumphi to Mwazisi, got home around 5pm. Thank you operators of RU 21 29.

I hoped off with all my katundu, dirty with a cake of dust coating every inch of my being, hungry from not eating anything all day, and thirsty. I straggled down the path, with a last yewo chomene to the drivers, and found Sam walking back just in the nick of time. I threw my things in the house and he started a fire to begin dinner. I filled my bottle with water, threw in spoonfuls of protein powder and chugged, I was so hungry and tired it was comical. We made rice and eggs for dinner, it smelled amazing. There was fire left after cooking, and I was in need of a serious bath, so I went to fetch water from the bore hole and threw it on the fire while we ate.
After inhaling dinner to the lovely songs of Riahana (not sure why but it was in the player) I went to the bafa and bathed. Oh to feel clean again. I lit a candle, hoped into bed and began preparing the money for the morning. All the workers needed to be paid, but their debts had to be extracted along with certain amounts withheld for unfinished work. It was a lot of kwacha and took 2 hours to separate, tally and make the necessary paper work. Almost passing out after counting the last bill, I blew out the candle and fell asleep before my head even hit the pillow.