Ragnar's World: Down and out

Yesterday, my bus was leaving City Mall at Crossroads at 07.00, so I had asked the receptionist to book a taxi for 06.00, so I would have enough time to take into account delays and other unforseen problems. I got up at 05.00 and packed my bag. Sat in the reception and surfed until I saw the time passed 06.00. I asked the receptionist if they had booked my taxi. He looked at me for a few seconds, his eyes ooozing of "No we haven't, but I cannot tell you, so I'll have to figure out some excuse that sounds plausable". "I'll call and check." He called and booked the taxi. I sighed loudly. He understood. He made another call. The landlady came a few minutes later. Wearing her night-gown and her sleepy face. "Madame will drive you!", the receptionist said. Really? Yes, really. She walked out the door and got in her tiny little car. She was an old and tiny Korean lady. She never looked in any direction when driving. Just looked straight ahead and drove onto the main road. When she spoke, she remineded me of the "chinese lady" on Mad TV.
Her : "Vea u gaw?"
I : "Blantyre"
Her : "Aaaaah. Blantai!"
Silence.
Me : "You from South or North Korea?"
Her : (laughing) "Soothe! Soothe! Not is bed! Bed pesiden! Soothe goo!" (laughing)
Me : "I have been in North Korea!"
Her : "Bed! Bed pesiden! Naw goo!" (Something incomprehensible) "Naw goo!"
Me : "Yeah..."
She drove past the City Mall and I tried to make her aware of this.
Me : "You just p..."
Her : "Naw. I ask!"
Me : "But I'm going over there!" I pointed towards the shopping centre, but she insisted on driving into the gas station next to it.
Her : "No pawblem! I ask! Naw see bass!"
Me : "I'll just get off here!"
Her : "U saw?"
Me : "Yes, I'm sure!"
I thanked her and got out. Walked to the shopping centre and to the stand where the bus was to arrive.
The morning was one of the coldest so far. But it wasn't too bad after all. After hanging around for 15 minutes, the bus arrived. I got on and sat down beside a local guy named Mark. As we started driving, we started talking. He turned out to be on the national team for 400m track. His personal best was 45.91. He was hoping to qualify for the Commonwealth games. But since he wasn't in the world elite, it din't pay off much, so when he wasn't training, he worked at the KFC in Blantyre. He would have loved to be a proffessional, but had to cope with lack of infrastructure and financial problems in Malawi. We talked about the current state of Malawi for most of the trip. He was born in Zambia, but since his parents where Malawi, they moved back, and he moved with them. He wasn't as dark as most Malawis and he told me his great grandfather was Indian.
"I am also volunteering for the church. They have a program for helping children on the streets. They are in bad shape. You can buy satchets of vodka on the streets for 100 kwacha. And many of the sellers don't care if the buyers are under 18. SO many kids beg for money, and buy alcohol for the money. They hardly ever eat, and collapse in the end. And some are exploited by criminal gangs to steal and break into cars. It is terrible." It was obvious that his heart was with these kids. He didn't have any of his own. "You know. I am trying to make the poor people understand that they cannot get a lot of kids. They cannot take care of them, and they end up on the street. But they will not listen. It is important to have kids."
We had a long and very interesting conversation during the trip. When I got off, I thanked him for the talk and he wished me a safe journey.
I walked from the bus-stop to the same shawarma-shop where I had eaten on Thursday. Ordered the same meal and sat down. I could feel it now. I started feeling it on Saturday morning. My batteries was nearly depleted. On the road for four days to get to Lilongwe, with precious little sleep had taken its toll. The battery lamp was flashing. I needed some rest. Serious rest. After the meal, I checked the guide I borrowed from Sigrid, and wanted to check out two cheap hotels. They both lay a bit out of the city centre. But I was OK with that. I started walking (I like to walk when I am mentally tired), and walked. And Walked. After 2-3 km it was getting obvious to me that I had taken a wrong turn. I headed back to the starting point and tried again. This time I was more in luck. I found the hotel where I wanted to stay the most, but it was full. So I walked back towards the other. They had vacancies in all categories. The receiptionist asked if I wanted the most expensive room. I said I wanted the cheapest. "But it does not have bathroom!" she said. "I don't care. I don't mind sharing a bathroom." She looked at me as if I was a space oddity or something. But gave me some form to fill in. She walked me to the room. It was big, with ample bed space for three people, if needed. It was clean, and smelled clean. I told her I needed a towel. "I will tell the girl to bring it to you!" she said and left. I dropped the bag on the floor and sat down on the biggest bed. I didn't even close the door. Then I just dropped backwards on my back, with arms out. And closed my eyes. About half an hour later, the maid arrived. I could hear her footsteps. She stopped outside my door. Waited a few seconds, then knocked on the open door and said "Mister? Towel!". I lifted my head slightly and said "Yes, come in!". She came in and laid the towel on the other bed. Then she left. She looked at me, or more precisely : Stared at me the whole time. She closed the door behind her. I lay there for almost an hour. Just resting. I was down and out.
Then I got up and walked to the gas station next door and picked up some water and snacks for the evening. Returning to my bedroom, I watched a movie on my computer, and just more or less sat in my bed the whole evening. It was good. It felt good. My batteries were charging. In the end I fell asleep, and slept like a baby. More than 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was a delight to wake up and see that it was morning. My batteries were still not fully charged, but definitely up and running.
I got up, and had a shower. I needed to wash a t-shirt, so I brought it with me into the shower. Soaped it in and washed it. It became reasonably clean. I wringed the water out of it and hung it over the shower wall until I was finished. I brought it back to my room, and realized they probably hadn't washed the top of the shower walls since the independence days. It was full of brown and black stains. "Ah, whatever!" I thought and hung it up to dry in one of the giant closets in my room.
The receptionist had told me that the price of the room included breakfast, so I headed for the restaurant. I was the only one there. A girl came up to me and said in a voice so weak you'd need the ultrasonic hearing of a mouse to be able to make it out. "What?" I asked. "Do you..........?" she repeated. "What?" I said again and turned my head slightly to indicate I didn't hear what she said. "Do you stay here?" I could barely make out. "Yes!" I said. "Ok s......" she said. "What?!" "Sit down please!" she said a bit louder. I sat down and after a while she came back and asked "Y... w.... o ....?". "What?!" "You want toasted or plain bread?" "Toasted please!". After a while she brought a plate with two pieces of toast, a dubiously fried egg and some chips. I ate the toast and the chips. Not properly cooked or fried eggs are like asking "you want salmonella with your fries?" "No thanks, not today!"
Today, I had two goals. One was to visit the Mandala House. Reputably the oldest standing building in Malawi. Given that most houses here are made of mud and straw (and have a tendency to wash away during the rainy season), it's not so hard to believe. The other was the Malawi Museum. The latter was build the same year as Malawi got it's independence and supposedly contained some artifacts from it's history. I think such things are interesting, so I wanted to check it out.
I walked to where the map said Mandala House should be. I found a business compound of some kind. I asked a few guys standing there where it was. After thinking and dicsussing it a bit, they all said "It's behind this building". I walked into the compound and found the building. I walked between some parked cars to get to a padlocked door. I saw some girl inside, and called out to her. "When do you open?" "It is open. Just wait a minute!" So I waited for a minute until a guy came and opened the door. "We are open, but the entrance is on the other side!" he said and smiled. Ah. Stupid tourist... The ground floor was a gallery packed with artifacts from all over. Paintings, figurines, handmade chests and such. I looked through the gallery and then went upstairs, where the library was. I walked in and found a small library of old and new books. I browsed the shelves and to my astonishment found orginial copies of the books by Stanley and Livingstone. And they were not on display behind a glass. They were books I could pull out and browse through like in any other library. I carefully pulled out the book by Stanley. "How I found Livingstone". Opened it carefully. This was a gem! I looked at the illustrations. Read a bit. I could almost feel a tingling sensation in my body. I just love this! If I could, I would have sat there reading the whole book. But that would have taken weeks, probably. Given the book was 720 pages long. And fragile. I carefully placed it back on the shelf and pulled out one book by Livingstone. "Expedition to the Zambezi". Original from 1865. I opened it carefully and browsed through some pages. Unfolded a map made from the descriptions of Livingstone. I put it back and sat down in a chair. Dreaming away. I am not an explorer. I ride SUVs and airconditioned buses. These dudes walked, rode and climbed thousands of kilometres through unknown territory. Communicating with local tribespeople. Studying alien customs. Traditions. And wrote thick volumes brimming with details about them. I'm writing a superficious blog. They explored, I travel. I think it is best described in the following poem I found in the gallery at Mandala House. (In case you haven't figured out yet, click on the images to enlarge them...)

New and old mixed together

Precious gem

Beautiful illustrations

Final words by Livingstone

Mandala House. A big attracion in its time. And even now.

After spending a few hours at the Mandala House, I continued on to the "Museums of Malawi". It was a 3 km walk from Mandala House. I watched closely some dark clouds ahead. Hoping they would not release their contents until I was safely there. It rained when I was at Mandala House. I got there without getting wet. Inside the compound, I found a traditional hut, and some old machinery. I like this old stuff. It is like true engineering. When the field was young. Steam engines and such. Made from tons of steel. Some local kids were playing with them. These are made so solid that I don't think even kids can break them. Inside the museum, I paid 200 kwacha to go downstairs and look at the artifacts they had on display. It reminded me of too many museums in Africa. Artifacts are put on display and left there to rot forever. Several items had fallen off their designated space and lay in a pile at the bottom of the display. Dusty and dirt everywhere. But despite this, I find them interesting. They show old history. Old traditions and old items. I don't know why, but I love looking at stuff like this. It was "strickly verboten" to take photos inside the museum, so no pictures from the inside, unfortunately. The sign on the outside said "Preserving Malawis cultural and natural history". I think that was stretching it a bit. "Letting the history rust and dust away in a controlled manner" is more precise. I understand that in a poor country, spending money on a museum isn't the best investment. When people are hungry, the priority should be in feeding them. But it is still a shame that all this stuff is just sitting there, rusting away. I wish that somehow, money could be found to preserve it in a better way than this. But then, I come from a rich country. Guess I'm spoiled...