Musings, golf and reality

Well, my taste of poverty ended on the 6th morning. Nothing major- i just woke up with an overwhelming desire to clean the house in preparation for my folks visiting next week...and there was no way I was going to lug in all that water to hand wash 6 sheets, 2 towels and mop etc so I ceremoniously made myself a piece of toast for brekky-spread with vegemite and hopped into the cleaning.

What did I learn? Malawian food is simply wonderful -and ugali is a great comfort food that is quick and easy to cook. I made it on MK1745- but only because I was feeding 1 person, had no relatives and no unbudgeted needs or emergencies. I really missed my fruit and I'd be struggling to buy clothes or medicine on that. It shocked me how labour intensive life was- not just carrying heavy buckets of water, but ladelling it out one cup at a time, hand washing clothes and wringing them out, making fresh relish and ugali for every meal- no refrigerator or microwave, making extra trips to carry things whilst carrying a candle...and at the end of it all, a cold splash and a hard bed. I didnt even have to pound my own maize or gather and carry firewood or squat over the fire to cook (all with a child strapped to my back!)- and my muscles were still sore! yup- they do it tough.

So what do you do after a week of hard work? Play golf. haha. yup, today we went for a game of golf at one of the lake resorts (I didnt even know there was a golf course there!). It was beautiful- green, shady course, boabab trees, lakes (a little croc arrived with the winter flooding!- one potential problem growing). We played 9 holes in 4 hours with much laughter and fun and Gilmore shots and victory dances...and it was good. Good to laugh, good to have fun, good to do something outside the house and Mangochi, good to forget the world and all its cares for a moment and try and find that little white ball and get it in the hole. It was a breath of fresh air. Many photos to follow Im sure :)

On the way home we passed a matola (minivan country bus/taxi service)by the side of the road and the driver and another man were beating the *#!* out of one of the pssengers dragged form the van while the rest of the passengers looked on. We prayed, slowed right down and discussed whether it would be wise to stop and intervene in such a volatile situation. As we passed they stopped kicking him and got back in the matola. He lay still for a moment then slowly got to his feet. I could see him gingerly limping away as we rounded the corner. We came back to earth with a thud- much like a golf ball landing on the green.