Flying sock and other missing items

It is amazing what things can go missing here. For starters I lost my precious daily facial cream with sunblock and Priscila lost another cream when our schools carpenter came to fix table in our room. In any other case we would have stood there, but as we were told that this is our local guy, we continued our work. Next morning (as we both use it in the morning only) we found these things missing. We tried to ask how to get it back, but to be honest, not much was done and we can say bye for our precious belongings

The next losses are a bit more funny as durng cafe evenings people tend to loose their shirts, but after the last one, also a pair of pants went missing... and after doing laundry, someone took someone elses's pants. So a bit problematic with so many people living together... I better won't mention all the plates and cups that continuously take a hike.

But to the best part so far- how I lost a sock. I did my laundry as usual and was hanging it to dry. I dropped a sock. A wet sock! Of course i wanted to pick it up immediately as it is quite dirty around, red sand everywhere. And it was not there. Probably the strong wind that day just took it and I never saw it again. Amazing. I went around the houses to see if it is somewhere, but it was nowhere. I was laughing so bad.... I can imagine a bird flying by one day wearing the sock on its head or when i go to mount Mulanje, i find it there.... Funny!

Art Market

I was in Blantyre for the first time on Friday and I just got a quick tour of possibilities and places I might need to know where they are. For example bus station and Country Office and Post Office. The other absolute necessities were a shopping centre and art market. These are somewhat opposites.. or well absolute opposites. The first one is little Europe in Africa and the other one is so Africa that when you finally get out of there, you're exhausted. I mean seriously dead-tired, but owner of several items, which you really didnt know before that you needed. The art market is on one sidewalk in town centre and most often the guys sell their own handicrafts. Beautiful and colourful, specially the paintings, but also the rest. Whenever an azungu (white person) is nearby, they start fighting for your attention to THEIR production, everyone claiming that they haven't had any business today and that they need to feed the family and they won't charge you azungu price, but a Malawian price. Yeah, right. So when a price for a painting starts from 3000 kwacha, which they swear to God is Malawian price, it is possible to get it for 800 in the end. But that requires a lot of energy. They seem to enjoy it though. I think they would be rather dissapointed if you agreed with the first price given. The problem is that as I'm new here, I can't answer to a question like.. what is your highest price for this or that.. How should I know.... but i'm learning slowly but surely. So before realizing, I was a happy owner of this and that and to be honest, i don't really regret. I promissed myself I won't go there for some time now and I succeeded on Sunday. I was in town again and of course art market is opened, but i walked around it, but it didn't help as I was caught by salespeople in all other streets. Heeeelp. I think i will make a sign: I will not by anything today! Lets see if it helps.
Yesterday i was in town with my room-mate Pricsilla and it was geat, we got some work done and then we walked back from Lunzu to here, about 8 km. Up and down, up and down. Beautiful. We saw the extremely fast sunset as it was just in front of us and were talking about many things, bought a papaya and tried to respond or not respond to all the people greeting us and shouting azungu-azungu-azungu... Yeah, from kids it is ok to hear, but from adults I would expect a bit of a different behaviour.. After all, the school here in the bush has existed for 5 years, so 5 years of Azungus passing by the small villages alongthe road... But still, it was nice and the road is so much nicer when you walk than when you use a car. So I try to get back to my walking rhythm and discover more small places.

Just a week

Sun, warm sun touching my face. It is so dry that the weakest wind blows red sand off the roads. Here and there are houses, some of red bricks, some from material i'm still not sure what it is. Fields on both sides of the dry sandy road are also dry, growing most often nothing. Everything is waiting for the rain, but there is still a couple of months to go until the lush green gets its chance to have power. The heat is not exhausting, it is nice and warm, early mornings are sometimes even cold. Cold enough to find something long-sleeved from my bag.
The sounds of Africa can make me sit in one place and listen for a long time. At night you can see the birds that make all the noise at dawn. Big birds flying restlessly here and there and while finding your way in darkness towards the little house... you better watch your head and as i was also advised to keep on moving.. FAST... when you hear something in the bushes... difficult with my curiosity. Then the singing, it is just amazing, that is something everybody can do and you can just listen and listen without getting bored. On my walk on Saturday i met Dominic, an old man from a nearby village, true Catholic as he introduced himself, he pointed his finger towards a mountain and asked.. can you hear it? And i could, it was singing with joy, it was full of life even though it seemd to be far. Since then I try to keep my ears even more opened.
With all the slow motion around i was surprised to see the small life on the ground moving extremely fast and i learned a lesson that danger can occur from the ground- luckily before happenings that could put me in danger, so in a way curiosity is good.
Sun sets early, too early for me, but it also brings even more peace in this peaceful countryside of Malawi. I aprecciate the possibility to be here and i will keep all my senses alert to see small changes from day to day in everything, including me.

Africa, here I come!!!!

So, it's almost time for my departure. I better write something now as I have no idea if i have time to do it during my last days here. I'm going to Malawi on Wednesday, so in just two days and all I'm missing is malaria medicine. Everything else seems to be in order. It feels like I could fly. I don't know what was the last thing I wanted so much in my life. I just take it as it comes, ready for happiness, dissapointments, problems, beauty, work, dreaming. I can honestly say that I'm open for everything that Africa will offer for me. Strange, as I havent been there and I even cant say that stories that people have told are so facinating and inspiring. I have dreamt about it since I was a kid and the dream never left me. I want to go without having everybody else's experiences to rely on, without other's stories in my mind. I just want to go as me- just as I was dreaming about it as a child. Free to have it all, free to have it my way, free to discover, free to feel.

For all who are worried and afraid- don't be as everything that can happen to a person somewhere where she is happy, is worth happening and all the downs are nothing next to the ups. I promise to take care as much as I can with everything, you should know me.

Taking all the love from family and friends with me- I couldn't do this without every single one of you. Hopefully I can write from time to time to let you know how it is going. Stay in touch!

Robin of Loxley

It has been a survival week. It started off pretty nice on Monday, when I drove off in the morning to repair containers at sites. Armed with sand paper, paint, paintbrushes, new stickers, some cloths and most important- two tomatoes, I was ready to fight with English weather, bad second gear in my van, rusty containers and people asking stupid questions.. like what are you doing. For the last one I started to reply like my music teacher... I'm riding a bicycle.

The day was fine, list of places to visit looong and I was hoping a bit that Torben kind of forgot the plan about sending me out with Gregor the next 4 days. But of course he didn't. In the beginning I was just a bit uncomfortable with the idea that I have to be English teacher on wheels.. means, we were supposed to collect clothes from containers together and we both can manage this alone, but he needed to practise English.

On Tuesday we drove off quite far North from here- to Preston and Blackpool. He was driving like a maniac- around 180 km/h and I wouldnt call him a talented nor experienced driver. And I constantly had to fight for the right to do something as well without being pampered all the f... time. I wasn't allowed to carry bags, open containers and heavens if I tried to lift the container door... this is not a woman's job, you know.. you go and make coffee or tea.... I wanted to kill him... but I need to keep my CRB (Criminal Records Bureau) papers clean. Hahaa. Anyway, we got back alive, I felt a bit seasick from his driving, but didn't say anything to the bosses. Of course I did ask him to drive normally, but what do women know anyway...

That wasn't the case the next day though... It was a nice place where we had to collect- in North Wales, but I was too terrified and horrified and my blue mark from the seatbelt felt uncomfortable enough, so I decided to let the cat out of the bag as I actually do like my life and I knew he wouldnt change his driving no matter how many times I asked.

I got what I wanted and the last two days I have been fixing containers again and where- around Sherwood forest and I was enjoying so much today the view in Loxley that I forgot where I had to go and I forgot that I forgot, so I was just driving and enjoying the view when I suddenly realised that I was supoosed to be working.. hmm, but where... and where was I... As I was near to the border with Gloucestershire, I had of course driven several miles over there, but as my working area was in Warwickshire, I had that map and Birmingham map only. Looovely, but that was the moment when rain stopped, sun finally came out and I couldnt care less. Feeling a bit like Robin of Loxley from Men in Tights (read: idiotic), but that was the best part of my day.

I suppose I will take a day off tomorrow, I've been waking up before 6 am for too long, getting tired. I miss people to communicate with. I mean normally, not just about containers and fundraising. I plan to buy a camera and would like to enjoy the process of getting it, but I guess I'll just get it done when possible and enjoy later.

Just a bit more.. and I'm in Africa anyway, where I'm sure I will enjoy! Until then, I keep discovering places in England (I'm sure there are not many of those left), practise painting and praying for good weather and if someone could tell me how on earth should I fill the Malawi visa application... It could as well be written in Chinese.. this bloody official English language...

Hugs!

Lopp reisimisele...

No olgem ausad, keegi ei usu seda pealkirja, kaasa arvatud ma ise, kuid peale viimast lyhireisi olen ma taas sellest meelelhutusvormist pisut tydinenud. Mis siis voib juhtuda teel Keilast CICD-sse. Uskuge mind, uskumatult palju. Alustades sellest, et joudes veerand yksteist lennujaama, et registreerida end kell 12 valjuvale lennule sain teada, et lennukil tehniline rike ja lend valjub hoopis kell neli. Naeratades ulatati mulle 9 eurone toidutalong ja registreeriti mind lennule ara. Kena seegi, muidu vea oma pagasit edasi ja tagasi. Aga yldiselt vaga tore, eriti kui arvestada, et mu kallis kool ei ole just korvuti Stanstedi lennujaamaga ja mul oli rongipilet ostetud varem, mida ei saa vahetada ega tagastada ja summa, mis samal paeval valjuvale rongile pileti peale laheks ei kuulu numbrite hulka, mida ma sooviks mainida. No egas midagi, laksime tagasi koju, sest mida paganat sa ikka lennujaamas teed ja kodu ju lahedal. Oleks te vaid mu oe nagu nainud, see oli priima... Moned tunnid said veedetud ysan kenasti, maasikaid nosides, rattaga Kloogarannas kaies ja teisele katsele. Sedapuhku tundus, et akki valjubki lend kell neli, kuid vota napust... siiski ei olnud edasine hilinemine enam markimist vaart, kell viis pyhkis lend minema ja ja kohutavas tuules laperdades maandus Stanstedis pea kolm tundi hiljem. Lennu muutis veidigi meeldivamaks mu 9 eurone talong, mille eest ma peamiselt mahla join, sest janu kippus tapma, kuid ka siis oli mul 4 euri veel alles ja stjuardess soovitas veini kaasa osta. No ja seda ma siis tegin, hea ettepanek ja iial ei tea, millal lonks kangemat ara kulub Ma kohe aimasin, et sitemad ajad on veel ees.

Loomulikult oli rong ammu lainud ja ma yritasin leida bussi, mis laheks samal ohtul, mida loomulikult ei eksisteerinud, rongipileti hinda ei julge siiani mainida ja ka autorent oli ylalpool mu voimetest. Egas midagi, tui lennujaamas oobida, kuigi jube ahvatlev tundus lihtsalt pohjapoole kondima hakata, aga siiski otsustasin peale kange kohvi ryypamist, mis sulaselgelt moistuse jalle koju toi, et see pole siin Tallinn-Keila distants ning laksin sobivat pinki jahtima, et ennast kylili keerata. Kuna kell polnud kuigi palju, siis see isegi veel onnestus, sest paar tundi hiljem muutub lennujaama ootesaal yldiseks magalaks. Kes pingil, kes koti otsas, kes porandal ning moni esteet alustab viisakalt kohvikus laua taga teed ryybates, kuid paari tunni parast voib naha kena pilti, kus ta kogu oma esinduslikkuses nina vastu lauda ara vaanab erinevaid norsatavaid haalitsusi esile tuues.

Minust pole esteeti ega muidu kuigi komplitseeritud tegelast, ma momisesin pingil, aga syda laks haledaks, kui yks lastega pere tuli ja neil viie peale vaid kolm istekohta oli ja ma lihtsalt loovutasin oma voodi neile ja laksin kompsima. kaua ei viitsinud ja keerasin porandale kylili. Paar asja kylje alla, et kylm ara ei votaks ja proovisin magada, mis loomulikult ei onnestunud ning tuligi paastev idee. Mul ju vaike veinipudel. Kui see tyhja kohu peale ara limpsida, siis peaks ju uinutama kyll. Ettevaatusabinoud tarvitusele- aratuskell helisema ning asjad turvaliselt kylje alla ning limps-limps. Peris hea oli ka ja toimis, niitis mu maha kenasti ja magasin kuni hammaste plagisemine yles ajas kolm tundi hiljem. Ebaoiglus, karjuv ylekohus, aga midagi pole teha. Panin asjad taas kokku ja laksin soojenduskondi tegema. Et see hommik ka ennast nii kaua oodata laseb, kui pole sobivaid magamistingimusi. Aga see saabus siiski ja lopuks avati ka bussipiletite myygipunkt, kust ostsin hinnalise pileti Londoni kesklinna. Otsebusse lennujaamast minu middle-of-nowhere sihtpunkti ei lahe.

Terve tee magasin, sest lopuks oli mul soe. Valisin koha, kus paike pastis otse nakku ja loin kassi kombel nurru kogu poolteist tundi Londonisse. Teades oma varasemast kogemusest, et pagasit pole Londoni kesklinnas kuskile lukustada, pakkisin oma asajd koik yhte kotti ja laksin kondima. Ilm oli ilus ja mul oli lootus veel sel ohtul jouda oma sihtpunkti. Ostsin pileti esimesele Hulli valjuvale bussile ja jargnes neli tundi kulgemist mooda Londoni tanavaid ja parke. Paris tore oli.

Buss laks yle ootuste oigel ajal valja ja monda aega nautisin vabadust laiutada kahel pingil. Seda roomu kauaks ei olnud, kuid daame, kes mu korvale tuli oli aarmiselt kena ja vaikne. Kuna tee on pikk, kuus tundi loksumist, siis poolel teel tehakse alati peatus, et saaks sirutada ja kohvitada jne. Alati on ka kindel aeg, millal peab bussi tagasi tulema, et siis soitu jatkata. Seekord aga jai yks vanaharra kadunuks ja tema veetlev proua oli mures mis mures. Bussijuhid lippasid ringi ja otsisid harrat, proua ise laks ka uuesti valja, et kadnud abikaasa leida, kuid see lannu nagu vits vette. Mul hakkas muidugi kohe multifilm jooksma, kuidas mehel sai lihtsalt siiber, kuid siiski ta leiti ja onu oli lihtsalt service stationi ragastikus kuidagi suutnud teisele poole teed jouda labi tunneli moodi asja ja ei saanud enam aru, kus ta on. Pool tundi plaanitust hiljem alustas kogu seltskond roomsalt oma teekonda.

Mones mottes mul isegi vedas, et see segadus vahele tuli, sest see vahendas mu ooteaega Hullis, mis oleks olnud kymneid kordi igavam, kui see husband-alert kuskil krt teab kus. Veerand tundi vaid ootamist ja valjus forever-taking-bus Winesteadi ja viimased paar kilomeetrit bussipeatusest nagu ikka jalgsi koolini. Saabumisaeg oli veninud pea 24 tundi. Laupaeva ohtu asemel pyhapaeva ohtu. Tunnistan, et olin veidi vasinud, rasitud ja ainuke soov oli oma tuppa hiilida. Peaaegu onnestus. Sealt valja sain alles teisipaeva hommikul, sest kohutav peavalu niitis mu esmaspaeva varahommikul maha ja suurt selles paevast onneks ei maleta.

Nyyd olen taas harjutamas kaunist filosoofiat, mida kuulsin Tiinalt, et miks vihastuda, kui voib yllatuda. Ja nyyd siis taiel rinnal yritan yllatuda, aga eks nais, kaua jaksan...

Ilm on kahtlaselt sygisene, pihlakas siin-seal punane, janesed jooksevad igal pool endiselt ringi, kassikakud saadaks kuskile puhkama, et nad mu akna taga sellist larmi ei teeks ja kui keegi kysib, et millal ma Aafrikasse lahen, siis ma ei vastuta enam oma tegude eest. Vaike vihje: MA EI TEA!

Aga muidu hei hopsti ja kall-kall ja arge siis keegi yllatuge, kui ylehomme kellegi ukse taga kella helistan ja ytlen, et ah sitta kah, ma ei viitsi enam.

I know you know, but do you know that I know that everybody knows?

As I'm back in CICD and out of all normal activities and surrounded by crazyness, something special happens every day to make my days unforgettable. Let's just pick one day to describe a so-called normal day here. That's what everybody always asks anyway- just tell me how your ordinary day looks like in CICD. So I'll try to describe and i must give a background story first, otherwise it's just too messy.

So we have a new GAIA team who starts DI course in September (as I did 2 years ago) and it's a crazy team. Seriously... Full of Brazilians, mixed with Argentinans, a Colombian, Hungarians and Russians. I was asked to go to Newcastle with them to help the teacher there to start up the team and be a driver as they don't have anybody to drive the minibus. So I went and instead of agreed 5 days there, I stayed for 2 weeks and to be honest, I feel like a member of this team now. They are crazy, but sweet. Imagine Agustina (Argentinan girl, who is extremely nice, funny and crazy)- I'm in the office, trying to figure out the next day and she comes to the door and says- So, tell me how much you love me.. then interrupts herself and says: Wait, I'll go and take a shower and then you tell me how much you love me... then comes back in a minute and says: no, you can tell me now how much you love me, cuz Jane is taking a shower now... I was in cramps... and so was everybody else around me. And as I brought Agustina to the public already, i will also choose a day description, when I was was working together with her and that was her first day of Door to Door clothes collection as my co-driver (if you could just hear her saying this word with her Spanish accent--aaah).

So first i took the bus with 8 people to take them out leafletting, finished with that, i returned home, changed the bus to a van, took Agustina and 6 maps to collect and we went to work with my favourite Mercedes van. Somehow the new teacher in Newcastle house changed the system of checking oil and water in all cars and instead of drivers doing it, she has a person responsible for this. And this is not up to me to argue, so i expected that the person knows what he is doing. Anyway... to the issue. We just started when Agustina jumped out to pick up a bag and completely forgot about left-side traffic. What did I see in my mirror... she was hit by a passing car as she looked to the wrong direction while crossing the street. Luckily just a bit with the mirror and the car stopped and the woman asked if she was ok and she was, but what a way to start a day...

So we continued collecting and in the middle of first map, my oil lamp started to blink. I told Agustina, that i better drive to the tankstation around the corner and buy some oil, maybe they didnt check this van in the morning. So I did and i stopped at the station, went to buy oil and when I came back I saw, where all my oil was.. on the ground under the van. Hmm.. just in case I didnt add any as I suspected (strange enough) an oil leak. I called the teacher to ask what recovery company we use and she promissed to call them. I checked the time and started to get worried as i had many maps to collect and 8 people to pick up from leafletting areas. While we were waiting for the teacher to call back and let us know, what time recovery comes I noticed that the station is closing and the manager came to me as well and asked me to move my van as the tanker is coming in. Oopsy.. i couldn't do that so we were discussing how and where to move it. So the staff, including the manager of the station were pushing my van aside as it was exactly on top of the filling point.

After receiving a call saying that the recovery comes in an hour... and probably we cannot use the van that day, I started to think how on earth am I going to collect my maps and I remembered that I have a minibus at home, which is only 5 km away or so. So an idea came to me: i run home, take the bus while Agustina is waiting for the recovery and bring the bus and whatever happens to the van, we can continue collecting with the bus. So I did it. I ran home, took the bus, drove back and the recovery was there early, they had checked everything and the problem was a missing oil tank cap. Of course all oil was out and all over the engine... Bloody hell... so they had filled the oil i bought earlier, placed a new cap and everything was fine.. except the fact that the whole engine was oily, but thay said it is ok to continue with that van right now it just needs a wash. So i had a working van AND a minibus. So where to park the bus? I saw a pub and went to ask if we could park there for the whole day. It was OK with them as I explained what had happened and they got a good laugh and offered me some mineral water after my running from Kenton to Fenham and we continued collecting with the van. Of course we couldn't finish before I had to pick up people. So poor Agustina had to wait once again. I parked the van to the Pub's parking, took the bus, went to pick up people, dropped them at home, drove back to the parking, parked the bus, took the van and we continued collecting. When we finished, we were completely exhausted. I took my dear co-driver home and asked Neto to drive me to the parking to pick up the minibus. He couldn't really understand why should the minibus be somewhere else if everybody's at home, but I guess he trusts me and came with me without asking any extra questions.

And of course, When i finally got the bus back home as well.. i got hundreds of questions about the next day, maps, where we should leaflet and who collects in which area.. got to bed after 1 am AGAIN, being sure that noone knows what tomorrow brings... It brought a new chaos, but that's how it is here... One "ordinary" day after another. Hahaa.. P.S. Blue marks on Agustinas arm from the car mirror have healed, my ankle after running got swollen, but has recovered to it's normal size.