About a
month ago, I paid a visit to the carpenter my Head Teacher had recommended when
I first moved in and requested that he build me a dresser. I explained what I wanted – six drawers, such
and such a height, etc – and he told me, “No problem, I will come in three or
four days.” Since then, I have gone back
to see him every few days, and we always have the same conversation: “Just a
few days, no problem, I will bring it to your house.”
I am still
waiting.
I knew, of
course, that his initial estimate was not likely accurate. On the other hand, I was hoping the job would
get done in less than a month.
Yesterday,
while catching up with my parents on the happenings in Ntaja, my father asked, “Well,
what’s taking him so long?” I didn’t
really have a response. Time is
different here in Malawi. No one comes on
time to meetings or school. Suggested
times are basically just indications that something will be happening in the
relatively near future, barring unforeseen complication. There are many possible reasons why the
carpenter probably hasn’t started my dresser yet – maybe someone in his family
had a more pressing need, or he’s been busy going to weddings (it’s wedding
season right now) or funerals (it’s always funeral season) lately, or he hasn’t
been able to go into town to buy supplies.
Also, apparently the price I bartered him down to wasn’t enough to pay
for the expensive supplies I need and labor, and apparently I should have given
him some money up front to purchase supplies.
Yet he never has asked for money for supplies, or told me it will take an
extra few days. Malawians don’t like to
give you bad news; they’ll just tell you what you want to hear and go about
business as usual.
I guess it’s
all part of the chikhalidwe (culture).
Nothing happens on deadline. This
is probably very entertaining for those of you who remember me as the girl who
got irritated when sorority meetings would start two minutes late, or the
person who drives to movies twenty minutes early, just to make sure there’s no
traffic and I can get a good parking spot.
It is kind of killing me that my dresser is currently three weeks late
and counting, students mosey into class several minutes after the bell rings,
and the post office opens a half hour after lunch hour is supposed to end.
But you know
what? I’m sort of adjusting to it. I’m trying to change my strategies. I go to the post office later in the day, I
follow the students into class and take up five minutes of their break time,
and on Monday, I’m going to get back up from my head teacher and threaten my
carpenter that I’m going to find someone else to build my dresser if he doesn’t
get his act together by the end of the week.
For now, I’m going to fax in my absentee ballot, continue to attempt to
explain to my students about baseball and the World Series (Form 3 knows about
the San Francisco Giants now!), and continue going to the woman who can find
both carrots and okra at the market.
Palibe vuto –
no worries.
By the way –
if anyone has an internationally-compatible smartphone that has a spot for a
sim card (aka I don’t think Verizon would work) that you don’t want anymore,
contact my parents? I’ve decided it
would be nice to look at my email more than once every few weeks, when all I
can manage to do is open and scan them.
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