If We Have Known
If we had seen the newspapers before leaving Ufulu this morning we would not have gotten out of bed! But we didn’t see them for hours, and it has been said that ignorance is bliss.
We got up around 7, after that fight with the clock again, and at breakfast we were trying to learn the news. Computers on, email open, ears alert. We are the true truth detectives. Stop it silly. Be serious. This is not something to joke about.
The government had imposed a news blackout on the events as they were in progress, and we could only get bits and pieces of what really happened from the staff. We quickly saw an email from a friend in northern Malawi who has a young niece who was shot by the police. She is in the hospital fighting for her life. From the capital we learn of various acts of vandalism, with some people hurt. In the south there are more reports of problems. It is obvious things are serious, and for the first time since coming to Malawi in 1993 we are experiencing a harsh, cruel side. It is hard to understand where this is coming from. To attempt to explain it is pretty hard unless you have lived in the harsh conditions of an entire nation in poverty. In America we have poverty, but around it exists an infrastructure that can help the struggle. In Malawi the poverty extends on and on beyond the horizon. Without an infrastructure the problems are compounded. It has always been bad, but in the current crisis the village people are suffering beyond imagination with the fuel shortage, inflation, food shortages, high prices, higher taxes, and promises unfulfilled. If one tries to understand the government side, a major factor in the problem is with money. Britain and Malawi recently got into a family scrabble, and Britain pulled the funding Malawi was using to fund government operations. Reports indicate Malawi lost 40% of its government financing. In turn the government has reacted by attempting to “go it alone,” and tighten everyone’s belts to make it work. They have a zero deficit budget, so when funding drops they must immediately drop services and government operations by an equal amount. Forty percent is an unimaginable amount to have to cut back, especially in a nation that is already one of the poorest in the world.
In spite of all of it, and even with the demonstrations and random problems, the Malawians seem kinder and gentler even when they have had enough and go into the streets in protest. To use the word “riot” seems like a little bit of overkill, and to use the word “demonstrate” seems a little below the intensity of what is taking place. There must be some word in between that will fit. (I just could not accept the reality of what had happened the day before, or how much in deep distress this nation is now immersed.)
So, today we are going for the ground breaking at the new hospital site south of the capital. Both Scott and I concur that when we get out of the city things will lighten up. I have some concerns about the road blocks, and the tension the police must be feeling right now, but we leave Ufulu Gardens with a near full tank of gas, little girl dresses for the village children, some protein bars, and bottles of water. The sun is shinning, the air is clear, and the temperature is perfect. How can anything go wrong when all of this is going right?
Evidence of a Bigger Problem
As we skirt the east side of the capital, careful to go around Old Town, and the parts of the city where we think the problems might persist, we begin to notice at every intersection the burn marks on the pavement all across the road. The same is true at the small culverts. Obviously during the demonstrations they had blocked all of these intersections with burning tires. At some locations there were small fires still burning. Trying to remain light about it I thought perhaps it would be nice to have the burning tire concession. Don’t you know you would make a lot of money selling old tires with which to block intersections between the demonstrators and the military barracks at the other end of this road? And just think how many matches you could sell. Now, that really wasn’t nice. This is really serious, but I would rather whistle in the dark than panic. There is no place to go if you panic.
Along the way we pass two cars that are totally destroyed and burned. Then we pass a service station where the canopy over the pumps has been torn down. As we pass I fail to notice if there were any cars under it. Along the road there are pockets of people standing around. Signs near M-1 are broken and bent, and it is obvious it was not a tornado that went through here. It was an angry, fed up group of people.
Just as we are closing on M-1, and our hoped for escape from the city, our phone rings. It is one of the trustees of the Dzidalire Group. It seems her driver went to get fuel early this morning, was threatened by a group near the station, and ran off to a relative’s house in Area 10. Because of this, she is stranded and can’t get to the ceremony. Feeling like Superman, Batman and Robin all packed into one I reach the intersection with M-1, and turn back toward the city. We will just scoop in, pick her up and rush back out again. We’ll avoid Old Town as that is where much of the problem was yesterday, although if you know the area you will be surprised to know they even broke into the PTC store in Lumbadzi, out near the airport. That is outside the city. What is that all about? Maybe we had better file for hazard pay, that is if we were getting paid!
In about 15 minutes we reach her house, and back in so she can get into the car easier. You might wonder how we can go back all the way across town, then back to the south side and still be on time to the Ground Breaking ceremony for the hospital. We can do that because my dad taught me to always leave home with enough time to change a tire before I was scheduled to arrive at my destination. In Malawi I have enlarged that to say, “When you leave for an appointment in Malawi give yourself enough time to go back and pick up five more people.”
We go onto the veranda and sit down while we wait for our friend to come out of the house. As the founder of the project she is so important we realize they won’t start without her. Therefore there is no reason to panic, 10 AM is just an approximate time to start, anyway. Everyone knows we will start only when enough people are there. But the entire city is on shut down. Now shut down in America means you can go shopping at Wal Mart, CVC, and Lowe’s, or eat at McDonalds, or iHop, or get gas at 75% of the stations in town. Shut down in Malawi means nothing is open. I mean nothing. That is hard to comprehend. Nothing. It’s a word that doesn’t fit the English language of western nations. But it is stark reality here, nothing is open.
Before anything else happens, the Master of Ceremonies for the event drives up and jumps out of his car. Since he doesn’t jump very much, and since he was scheduled to be at the groundbreaking site at 8 AM, and since it is now well past 9, it is obvious there is something wrong. Aren’t you proud of me for figuring out that one? Kingsley alights from his vehicle, and announces the event is about to be cancelled. What? We are about ready to leave. We are less than an hour from the scheduled time. Villagers are already walking toward the site. Cancel? About that time there is another snap, snap, snap of gunfire in the distance northeast of where we are sitting. Yes, cancelling is a good thing. Let’s cancel. Besides, he tells us, they have big rocks all across the road at the Old Town Bridge; we can’t get by there anyway.
Our hostess, the founder, asks if everyone wants a cup of tea. Brilliant. Rome is burning, the fiddler is fiddling, and we are going to have a cup of tea. On second thought it seems like a great idea. We all move into the house, and the kitchen staff starts preparing tea. A bit of bread and a cup of tea, that will solve a multitude of problems. Well, at least it will reduce our stress level just a bit.
The MC starts making phone calls; news outlets, tribal authority, member of Parliament, other dignitaries, and everyone else he had invited. How about Monday, he had asked a few moments before. Monday seemed to work for everyone, so Monday it is.
And that is that. Groundbreaking is off for today. Maybe Monday. It’s time to head back to our lodge and lay low. That seems to be the message of everyone and everything today. Can’t do anything else. Everything is shut down, locked up, packed away in a safe place. We need to be too.