Since all of my posts have been a bit depressing... I figured it was time for a slightly more jovial story. Today’s piece is the adventure of trying to find a house in Mzuzu. To begin the saga- there are no realtors or local newspaper s where houses are listed, so we had to literally ask everyone we met if they knew of a house for rent. Malawians in their friendly nature were more than confident that a house would soon be found, but it seems that blind optimism is not enough to make houses magically appear. Then one day we were told to get into the truck, with no idea where we were going. We arrived, walked around the compound a bit, looked at the boy’s quarters in the back, only to discover that this was a place that may be for rent... then the people living there came out and informed us that it was still occupied and that they had no intention of moving anytime soon – so just as awkwardly and confused as we were when we arrived, we left. Malawian houses are made of brick or cement blocks, tin roofs, and cement floors. The size varies for social class but the design is always the same. Due to a lack of skilled labor and architectural design – houses have limited building material and bland floor plans. Two story houses are near to impossible to find, siding or shingles are rare, and wood is only used to decorate ceilings or door frames. Thus, we were not too picky on what our house looked like, because no matter what we would only get slight variance on the same thing. The sole guidelines were that it should be in safe/quite part of town, have a walled compound for security, and have functional electricity/water. Still, even with the bar set fairly low, we struggled. Then, after about three months of living in the office (in a room about the size of a freshman dorm with zero privacy as staff would come in at 6 am on Saturdays or stay on weekdays till 9pm), a neighbour came to say that he had found a place we could rent. We literally ran to the landowner’s house (just one compound away) and asked to see the place. Within 24 hours it was officially ours- after fixing some minor items first. Turned out those slight fixes were more of a complete overhaul on the place – fresh paint, new bathroom fixtures, new cabinets... I am not complaining that the house got an upgrade- but it took three weeks till the landlord felt comfortable handing over the keys. Then, we needed the company truck to move our furniture and the stove over- so we spent another two weeks waiting for a chance to use the car between staff trips to the field. If you’re counting, we are now up to 4 months living in the office waiting for a house. Claustrophobic and desperate, I decided that once the furniture was in the back of the truck there is nothing it could do except get us moved in. So George and I started packing the truck, and decided we would ask for forgiveness later. Finally, we moved out of our cramped office/bedroom and into a spacious house complete with five bedrooms, three baths, and an echoing living room. Our front yard is terraced with fruit trees and tropical palms, we have space to begin planting our garden, the garage is perfect for circuit workouts, and we have privacy – I can wear shorts and hang my underwear on the clothesline without worry about breaking cultural norms. However, having a house proves to create a whole new set of problems. One- there is literally nothing in it and it has taken about another two weeks to get the truck long enough to bring over furniture from the office and to pick some households items from town. In fact, for the first two weeks we ate every meal standing at the kitchen counter and had guests sleeping on the floor while bed frames sat in stores at the office. Also, while our house is lovely, it is all uphill to get to- and about a 50 minute walk from the office which means leaving way too early and getting home way too late. City centre is another 30 minutes further down the hill– thus, walking to the market can take up to 3 hours round trip (making grocery trips exhausting and back breaking). It really is a sight to see -the local Mzungu (white people) loaded down like pack mules – We each have a backpack full of fruits and vegetables, George with the staple food items in one bag and me balancing eggs and bananas on my head (hoping my Malawian woman skills hold up). Of course the locals think it is hysterical and we often get women and children yelling hello and asking what we are doing. In Chitumbuka they say -‘Where is your car?’ ‘The white woman can carry things on her head?’ Then the children try their best English- ‘Hello, bye, hello, bye, bye, give me banana.’ On top of that, the house is still not fixed – 90 % of the outlets do not work, the hot water heater is broken, and the stove flips the breaker if you use all the burners at once. This wouldn’t be such a massive issue if plumbers and electricians were available. The first two weeks in the house were spent waiting for the mythical plumber to come see why the water was not heating up. Eventually, after several ‘I’ll come tomorrow’s’ from the Temwa recommended plumber, I decided to once again take matters into my own hands. So, I walked around the hardware market asking for a plumber. I was then led to a young man whose father was a plumber and assure me that they would come Monday morning- problem solved.... Until they arrive at 7am on Monday and told us ‘Your hot water heater is broken you need a brand new one’... Still, we have a house, a cavernous empty house, but a house none the less. We will plant the seeds we got from Dawn this weekend, there are plans for some murals to fill the empty walls, and Chitenje’s have been purchased to add a little African color to the place. So we will nest and have braais and it will a great place to make a home- at least for the 9 months that we have left.
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Bonnie HarveyCurrently working in northern Malawi as Programs and Evaluations Coordinator for Temwa Archives
June 2019
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