I was supposed to go to the field on Monday. I'd been out two days the previous week and they guy taking me out seemed intent on either extending his time out of the office (and on a motorbike, which he clearly enjoyed--he liked making detours to show it off to various family members and colleagues around the district) or to be very thorough. Either way, he wanted to keep going out, while I had seen enough. You can stop once you start hearing the same things over and over again--from my perspective, two days was plenty. But he was persistent and so I caved: I'd go to the last place on Monday morning. It was close by and easy to do in a morning.
Or so I thought.
The bikes are kept at the main office, in the boma, where we always meet. So I went in, got there shortly past 8 and there was no sign of the bike. Just as I was walking up to the office, a friend from the inn called to say that she was there with Isaac, who was pushing his bike up the big hill by the inn, as he'd apparently run out of gas on his way to get gas money from me. [Background: these bikes, and any car that folks get to drive here from the company/organization, are hot commodities because you can use them all weekend, which someone had clearly done and returned it with fumes.] The only gas stations are in the boma, so we agreed to meet at one of them (meaning, he had to come back in somehow). I go and wait at one for at least half an hour before I hear the attendant tell someone that there's no fuel.
Me: No fuel?
Attendant: Yes, no fuel.
Me: What about the other two gas stations?
Attendant: No fuel.
Me: So there's no fuel anywhere in Mchinji?
Attendant: No fuel here.
Me: Where's the closest fuel?
Attendant: At the next trading center.
Me: Kamwendo? (like 20kms away)
Attendant: Yes. Maybe before if you're lucky.
There was no gas anywhere in the town. I'd heard something about this a few days earlier when I ran into someone in Lilongwe who mentioned that she had a hard time getting out of Mchinji for this reason. Even so, for all our boo-hooing about the rising cost of gas prices in the U.S., I'd never considered that there just wouldn't be any.
I start walking out of town, back to the inn, hoping to intercept Isaac. Not a few hundred yards up he appears--he's kind of sidles up like that--and confirms that there's no fuel. But there are vendors, he mentions. Black market fuel, of course. Where there's no market or economy, one will appear, right? 3 litres will be MK700 ($5). He said to go back to the inn because he parked the near there and that he'll come to get me. Along the way, I see this sedan driving in the direction of the gas with all of these big (like 5-10 gallon) containers overflowing from the trunk and the backseat windows. I guess that's how vendors get gas.
I walk back to the inn to wait. I figure he'll be by shortly, so I have a cup of tea and chat with the owner. We talked about her prior life in politics, Malawi's separation from Zambia, and a host of other topics. She mentioned that the gas issue comes from the exchange rate favors Zambia, so people come over and fill up from Mchinji (both cars and containers for resale). She also mentioned that gas vendors tend to put cooking oil, water, rocks and other fun additives to weight down the bottle. As the time goes on, I realize that he's not coming, so I enjoy the morning off, get some time outside in the sun to finish my book, catch a friend at the inn, we have lunch and head back into the boma around 2:00.
We're about half way back to the boma when this bike taxi slows up. Isaac is on the back with a bottle of fuel. I was so not expecting to see him--I had already figured it wasn't going to happen and planned to do other stuff. I didn't ask what the delay was, mostly because I didn't really want the answer. He put in the fuel and off we went.
The trip itself was short and rather uneventful. We went to one village, met with four families and then to another where there was a funeral that day, so it wasn't okay to meet with people and we headed home.
Clearly the moral of the story is the same as very wise advice I got before coming here: nothing happens on my time frame, which in turn allows for amazing, unexpected things to happen. In the end, it was actually a pretty good day, if for no other reason but it taught me that lesson. And realized to plan ahead for fuel next time I'm going to the field.
Or so I thought.
The bikes are kept at the main office, in the boma, where we always meet. So I went in, got there shortly past 8 and there was no sign of the bike. Just as I was walking up to the office, a friend from the inn called to say that she was there with Isaac, who was pushing his bike up the big hill by the inn, as he'd apparently run out of gas on his way to get gas money from me. [Background: these bikes, and any car that folks get to drive here from the company/organization, are hot commodities because you can use them all weekend, which someone had clearly done and returned it with fumes.] The only gas stations are in the boma, so we agreed to meet at one of them (meaning, he had to come back in somehow). I go and wait at one for at least half an hour before I hear the attendant tell someone that there's no fuel.
Me: No fuel?
Attendant: Yes, no fuel.
Me: What about the other two gas stations?
Attendant: No fuel.
Me: So there's no fuel anywhere in Mchinji?
Attendant: No fuel here.
Me: Where's the closest fuel?
Attendant: At the next trading center.
Me: Kamwendo? (like 20kms away)
Attendant: Yes. Maybe before if you're lucky.
There was no gas anywhere in the town. I'd heard something about this a few days earlier when I ran into someone in Lilongwe who mentioned that she had a hard time getting out of Mchinji for this reason. Even so, for all our boo-hooing about the rising cost of gas prices in the U.S., I'd never considered that there just wouldn't be any.
I start walking out of town, back to the inn, hoping to intercept Isaac. Not a few hundred yards up he appears--he's kind of sidles up like that--and confirms that there's no fuel. But there are vendors, he mentions. Black market fuel, of course. Where there's no market or economy, one will appear, right? 3 litres will be MK700 ($5). He said to go back to the inn because he parked the near there and that he'll come to get me. Along the way, I see this sedan driving in the direction of the gas with all of these big (like 5-10 gallon) containers overflowing from the trunk and the backseat windows. I guess that's how vendors get gas.
I walk back to the inn to wait. I figure he'll be by shortly, so I have a cup of tea and chat with the owner. We talked about her prior life in politics, Malawi's separation from Zambia, and a host of other topics. She mentioned that the gas issue comes from the exchange rate favors Zambia, so people come over and fill up from Mchinji (both cars and containers for resale). She also mentioned that gas vendors tend to put cooking oil, water, rocks and other fun additives to weight down the bottle. As the time goes on, I realize that he's not coming, so I enjoy the morning off, get some time outside in the sun to finish my book, catch a friend at the inn, we have lunch and head back into the boma around 2:00.
We're about half way back to the boma when this bike taxi slows up. Isaac is on the back with a bottle of fuel. I was so not expecting to see him--I had already figured it wasn't going to happen and planned to do other stuff. I didn't ask what the delay was, mostly because I didn't really want the answer. He put in the fuel and off we went.
The trip itself was short and rather uneventful. We went to one village, met with four families and then to another where there was a funeral that day, so it wasn't okay to meet with people and we headed home.
Clearly the moral of the story is the same as very wise advice I got before coming here: nothing happens on my time frame, which in turn allows for amazing, unexpected things to happen. In the end, it was actually a pretty good day, if for no other reason but it taught me that lesson. And realized to plan ahead for fuel next time I'm going to the field.
0 Responses to “gassy”
Post a Comment