How boring life would be….

...without the occasional power-cut to force us to use our imaginations! 

If any of the original readers of this blog are still out there, you may recall mention of a certain friend from the olden days, Miss Brittney, with whom I first ventured to Malawi.  In the months since I last posted, mysterious twists of fate have decided that her life’s journey should also bring her to Mzuzu in this fine year!  This crazy reunion has already brought about many memorable moments, one of which I would like to share with you now.

Last Tuesday was Miss Brit’s birthday, and after a lovely lakeshore weekend 

(where nothing at all surprising or unusual happened... ;), we decided to celebrate her actual birth-day with a quiet night at mine with a couple of friends and some home-made pizzas. 

Tuesday afternoon I rushed home from work, and with the help of my kitchen assistant (hehehe), got to work heating sauce, kneading dough, and chopping toppings.  A couple of hours late the table was laid with an array of exciting yummies, including roasted vegetables, carmelized onion, chicken, mozzarella, feta, basil, and chili sausage (yum!)

While I rolled out the dough for pizza number one, someone cracked open the wine, and …. The power cut.

Oh dear.

Hmm…

Well…  at least we have Salticrax… 

These delights have recently arrived in Mzuzu, and have revolutionised my snack time!  Although I do miss the satisfaction of baking my own crackers on Saturday afternoons.

What began as a simple cheese-and-crackers affair, quickly became much more complex, as the power cut persisted through the evenings celebrations.  Here is the result:

Who needs pizza?  Salticrax to the rescue!

Basil, roasted tomato and mozzarella Salticrax

Chili sausage, roasted veg and mozzarella Salticrax

caramelised onion, roasted chicken, basil, tomato and feta Salticrax

(Pretty sure I should be copyrighting these to sell to Salticrax actually….  Think I could get myself a lifetime supply?  Yum!)

This is dedicated to this crazy world....

Recently, (and by recently, I mean in the last ten minutes….) I have been inspired by a range of influences, who have reminded me of the joys of… writing!  

These include:

http://lunafinula.com 

http://indieberries.blogspot.com and her awesome new sponsors

Caitlin Moran and her new book 'Moranthology'

Dr. Suess

and Salticrax salted crackers.

Also, the entire crazy population of Mzuzu town.

It has been so long since I posted anything on here, god only knows if anyone actually still reads it.  But perhaps this is for the best.  Writing is, and I believe should be, something that is done for myself.  Perhaps that is selfish of me, but it is something that I enjoy. Something that flows naturally when the time is right.  Once there is an expectation of output, and knowledge that people will be reading my ramblings, a sort of self-consciousness seems to seep in.  And with that feeling comes hesitation, awkwardness, and dishonesty. 

But the above people have reminded me why I love writing, and, well, does it matter whether you like it or not? 

So I may be back more consistently from now on…  or maybe not! 

On this lovely lazy Saturday morning, I would like to thank Caitlin Moran and her new book ‘Moranthology’ for bringing me this quote, and reminding me to watch out for all the giggle-worthy things that occur in a day, and then to share them.

“This book is a collection of how brilliant the world often is….However many terrible, rankling, peeve-inducing things may occur, there are always libraries.  And rain-falling-on-sea.  And the Moon. And love. There is always something to look back on, with satisfaction, or forward to, with joy. There is always a moment where you boggle at the world – at yourself – at the whole, unlikely, precarious business of being alive – and then start laughing.”

(This quote is followed by a typical, hilariously self-depreciating Moran style paragraph, but you will just have to go out and buy the book in order to enjoy that bit!)

So begins the next chapter in this blog.  I can promise nothing, except that it will be terribly inconsistent, and range wildly between anger and frustration at the state of this crazy world, and wonder at the beauty of earth and its creatures. 

Enjoy! 

Or not… whatever….  :)

(Also, as I read through this, I realized the horrific number of connectives I use to start sentences in my own writing.  After just delivering a lesson on NOT using ‘and’ or ‘but’ to begin a sentence, the hypocrisy of my life is almost too much to bear!  Ah well…  I have graduated from primary school….  I reserve the right to use terrible grammar all I like!   And also, to never, ever use cursive writing! Or edit my work! Yay for being an adult! )

Malawian Moments

There are certain moments in our lives when the social reality of this place just hits you so hard you can do nothing but laugh (or cry, depending on your mood on that particular day…)

1) When a visitor comes, and after supper comes out of the shower dressed up, hair done, make-up on, and innocently asks, “So where do you go for drinks in the evening?”, to which you can only reply, somewhat apologetically, “Um…  it’s my bed time in half an hour….”

2) When someone proposes a trip to the ATM (70 km away), and you reply “Ooooooo I would LOVE to come!  I’ve never been to that ATM before!  I hear the bank is even air conditioned!!”

3) When an entire table of people can become completely entranced by the suspense of a bubble of honey growing on a bottle opening - growing…. growing…  and finally popping – at which point everyone flops back in their chairs with a sigh, contented with that bit of lunch time excitement. (Jokes… the real fun was afterwards: Making fun of ourselves for doing the above!).

4) When a tourist naively asks, “So what is there to do in this town?”, to which the hostel manager looks slightly panicked, before replying, “I quite enjoy the hardware market….” 

(As a side note, this is my favorite town to visit, because yes, the markets are amazing!  As is the selection of chocolate.  And sometimes you can even find olive oil in the shops!)

5) When a monkey sneaks up behind you as you sit quietly with your newspaper and your early morning coffee, leaps onto your arm, and snatches the toast and jam right from your fingers (as recently happened to me one rather amusing weekday morning).

RIP little Fabien….  We will miss your antics! 

(And I am sorry for chasing you and my toast around the garden.  Though I am more sorry that I then turned around and realized the carpenter had just arrived.  He now has all the evidence he needs to confirm: Mzungus are crazy.)

Gorgeous Picture by my Gorgeous Sister...

Can you spot the nerd chilling in the background?

This was my first Banksy…  

Day 2 in London, hunting round Camden market for some decoration for my new room, how could I resist this little piece, hippy that I was?  (Am??).

“What a gorgeous idea”, I thought to myself, “…the hope that this generation of children will strive to achieve love amongst all the world’s people.”

I said as much to my friend when she came for a visit shortly after. 

“Really?  That poster makes you happy?”  she replied.  “That one always makes me so sad…  the poor little girl who has lost the love of her life….”

Isn’t it strange and wonderful how two people can look at the same image, yet see two completely different things? 

That manic human mind…  :)

Shortly afterwards, one delightful morning we found this on the wall of a gas station round the corner from our place in Fitzrovia…  

We thought "It can't be…",  But soon after it was covered in a nice thick piece of protective glass, so I guess it must be!  Banksy, you rascal...

My heart skipped a beat...

...when I saw this in the fridge at the local supermarket!

After all these years, still "keeping BL in business"...  :P

"Rain, Rain, Come Again...."

“Rain, rain, come again.

We want to be as wet as the waaaaater.”

This was the chant the children sang as we hiked down the mountain in the blazing heat, watching the rain pour down on the mountains behind us, and blot out the Tanzanian mountains on the lake across from us, yet leaving our dear village desperately dry.

Global Warming, or whatever you wish to interpret it as, may be used as a sort of joke to explain away strange weather patterns where I am from, but here it is no joke.  Here unpredictable weather means that the planting seasons become dangerously unreliable.  It means hat families can spend all their money on fertilizer, and spend days planting crops, only to have the rains disappear again and the crops to wither in the heat, as the price of the remaining food in the market creeps higher and higher. 

And still the rains don’t come.

Faces turn towards the sky, whispering prayers to beckon the heavy, dark clouds nearer.

And still the rains don’t come.

“Rain, rain, come again.

We want to be as wet as the waaaaater.”