Victory (This is a really long story. And there's more crap after it too.)

Okay then. About 6 weeks ago, I went in to the Immigration Office to get an extension on my visa. See, I bought a one-year multiple-entry visa before I left the States, like a responsible traveler--or so I thought--but was told when I entered the country that it was worthless because Americans don't need visas and if I want to stay longer than a month I need to have them stamp it every month. Great. Well, at the end of the first month, they stamped it for another two months, saying "After these two months, come and get a six-month stamp. It costs $40." After those two months, I came and they said, "Fill out this stuff for your Temporary Residence Permit (TRP)." I fill out stuff and submit it a few days later. A few hours after I'd submitted it, it comes back with "Rejected" written on it, and a signature. I go, "What?" and the guy goes, "I dunno." I go, "Well, what the heck to I do now?" "Umm, I'll get you a meeting with the Deputy Chief, who rejected your app." Okay. Now that meeting is scheduled for FIVE DAYS later, for goodness knows what reason. I meet the guy to ask about the rejection, and it turns out he's a complete anus of a human being. He won't listen to a word I say and insists that, though I have all the necessary documents AND my Program Manager, George, in tow to back me up, what I'm doing is WORK. Of course it's not, since I receive zero pay, but he's having none of it for some reason. He tells me that I need to leave the country. Now. The conjecture, in hindsight, is that A) He was looking for a bribe, B) He's just generally the contents of a transverse colon. Either one could be true, probably both. Anyway, we go straight from his office to the office of Trouble, the lawyer for the orphanage I came with. By this point, because of various delays (like the 5-day wait for the meeting) my visa has been expired for over a week. I'm getting stressed. To Trouble I say, "So, do I high-tail it for Mozambique and then come back a day later (effectively resetting the free 90-days you get when entering the country)?" He says, "Well, you could do that, but talk to my friend, who works with this kind of thing." Two days later, I meet the man, Richard, who at first says, "Okay, if you pay me a lot (like $1000), I can guarantee that I'll get you a Temporary EMPLOYMENT Permit (TEP)." We were talking in the back of a car, all sneaky-like, and he informs me in so many words that it's pretty much a back-door outfit. They bribe people. I say, "No, that's not for me." He says, "Well, since you're a friend (of Trouble's), I can just submit the application for the TEP for you, the regular way, tomorrow (so the Deputy Chief doesn't see you and make a fuss). Then, I'll give you the receipt for the submission. It takes them at least two months to decide each case. During those two months (and it will likely be more, since delays happen often), as long as you have that receipt, you're legal.” I say, fine. Thank you. I scramble to get the documents together, making expensive calls to home and bugging Dordt College for my transcripts. It all comes together and I give Richard the application and all the supporting documents, along with the application fee of about $27. I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking okay. Now if he just submits the stuff I'm legal again and I'll figure out what to do after the two months. (If they actually grant the permit, you have to pay another $450, which I can't afford, but my plan is just to get the two months indemnity while they decide my case, then leave the country for a day and come back when those two months are up. They probably wouldn't decide in my favor on the work permit anyway, since the orphanage isn't fully registered as an NGO yet.) AND THEN, for about four weeks, there was an almost daily ritual: Me calling Richard to ask him for the receipt, and him either telling me he was about to submit it or he was in the process of submitting it. And every “next day” it hadn’t been done. Four weeks this went on, each assurance more persuasive than the last, and me going more and more crazy each time it turns out to be a lie. Now, Malawian society in general has a tendency not to be very good about follow-through. If you say you'll meet someone, you mean Maybe. If you say you'll do something, but don't want to do it, you never tell them that you don't want to do it. You just say you will but then don't. But this goes way beyond that. This guy knows that I'm hooped without that receipt, more and more illegal each day he delays. After about the third week it was clear he’s had no intention of helping. Once a week or so I call Trouble the lawyer, who had recommended Richard as a friend, and ask him to prod his buddy, who was as the weeks went on answering my calls less and less. Trouble invariably says "Okay, I'll call him and get back to you." Naturally, he never gets back to me. By the end of four weeks, it's clear that this isn't just a case of Malawian laxity. Something's seriously rotten in Denmark. To confirm this, at one point on the phone Richard claims to be away on business refers me to his wife, Yasmine, whom he's allegedly told where the receipt lies within his house, so she can look for it and give it to me. She tells me to meet her at her school at 4:30. I go to the school at that time and call her. She says she's already gone home and can't find the receipt. I should call back when Richard returns. I call her the next day and she actually hangs up on me and turns off her phone. A week later Richard does the same, and I officially cannot get a hold of him or Trouble at all. It's clear someone's got my money and isn't giving it back or helping me with my visa problems. I can't go to Immigration to complain about this guy, since the Deputy Chief told me to leave and he's biological fertilizer anyway. So it's time to get serious. I talk to two other lawyers, who both tell me that Richard is probably looking for me to give him a load of money--you know, cuz I'm white--and Trouble might not be helping because he's expecting legal fees. But who knows? I talk to a friend who offers to pull some strings to have Richard investigated. I say let's hold off for now, but hold that thought. I call the US Embassy, which begins, slowly, to make some calls. I call my girl and family at home, saying, "I'm in deep in this, please call a few Senators." My Dad and girlfriend do so. Another friend knows the wife of the Chief of Immigration (not Deputy Chief), so he tries to go through her toto put in a good word for me. George, the program manager, tries to get a hold of Trouble, and he gets through. Trouble once again pledges to talk to Richard, and once again we don't hear from him. I give Trouble a piece of my mind, via text message, since he won't answer my calls. Trouble acts offended, for some reason, though I'm assured by scores of Malawians in my corner that he's the one who's at fault here, and possibly not throwing straight dice. George goes back to Immigration and, through a series of about seven visits, gets us an appointment with the Chief of Immigration, who's the head of the whole department and outranks the Deputy Chief who moonlights as a wad of used toilet paper. It's hard to get an appointment with him, but we manage to do it and without the Deputy getting wind of it. We also prepare a completely new TRP and enlist the help of Steven, the Director of the other orphanage I volunteer with. On the morning of the meeting, the Embassy guy has agreed to call ahead and put in a good word for us. I don't know if the messages from the Senators' offices have gotten through yet, but I'd breathe easier knowing that the Chief, prior to the meeting, got a call from the US Embassy saying that there were Senators stateside who were interested in this case, and I was a good guy and everything and please help. An hour before the meeting, the Embassy calls and says the Chief is out for the day. What? Oh. So, I figure there's no rush; we'll have to meet him another day. I'm with Steven at this point, and it's about 8:00 (the meeting's at 9). We're getting a last-minute letter from the other orphanage ready for supporting documents for our meeting with the Chief. I tell George at about 8:45 to go to Immigration ahead of us and make a new appointment since the Chief is out. George calls back somewhat frantically at 8:50. He says that the Chief is in and we need to scurry to the meeting. I run out of the building I'm in towards the Immigration office, calling the Embassy while I'm at it. "HEY! What's up with you guys!? The Chief is too in his office, so call him!" I grab Steven and we hustle to make it to the meeting. WE show up about five minutes late and are told to wait outside his office. (I've since cut my hair and shaved my beard so the Deputy won't recognize me--oh, did I mention his office is adjacent to the Chief's?). We wait ten minutes, then twenty. At exactly 9:24, the secretary's phone rings. She patches it through to the Chief on the other side of the door: "US Embassy for you, sir." I look at George. He looks at me. Do I dare feel relieved? Five minutes later, we're called in. We have the meeting, and I plead my case. The Chief seems interested in Richard. He says they've had problems with him before. He tells me to give my statement to the investigations officer. And what about my status? He reviews my documents and says, "Well, I talked with a man from the Embassy who asked me to look favorably on your case. He also said some people from the USA had called as well. On the strength of that . .” And he stamped it, approved. Whew. Chief also says Why the heck do you have this guy Trouble as your lawyer, when he associated you with a crook and helped your situation zilch? I say why indeed. I'm not the one who makes those decisions, though. Anyway, I gave my statement to the investigation officer, who also sends me to the police station to give my statement. The next day, I get a call from Richard (!) I don't answer it but ask the cops what I should do if he calls again. They say I should set up a meeting with him so they can catch him. Two minutes later, I call the crook. Richard tells me he's already been arrested and posted bail. So nice that the cops know WHEN THEY'VE MADE AN ARREST. Anyway, they say I should meet him at the station the following Monday. He wants to give the money back, and have me drop the charges. Apparently he's a suspect in some other cases too. At the meeting with him, George, and the detective, Richard claims he was trying to help, but only a sucker is going to fall for that again. I’ve been a sucker, certainly, but at this particular point I’m not one. Hence, the case is still under investigation and is probably going to trial soon. Either that or I’ll get my $27 back and let the other cases Richard is a suspect in catch up with him. As for Trouble the lawyer, I’ve recommended to the orphanage director, Tracy, that he be terminated as its attorney. She hasn’t responded one way or the other.

I told you it was long. And that’s the shortest way I can tell it without leaving out any pertinent details. The unabridged version is at least twice as long.

So yeah. Hence the blogging hiatus. I was a bit disturbed for some time, and everything was suspended. I’m still recovering, to be honest. It took a big toll. It made me a little meaner and less energetic (hopefully temporarily). Feeling like your very presence in a country is to try and help, yet feeling betrayed on all sides and like somehow the country is going to spit you out . . . well, just try it and you’ll see what I mean. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

***

I want to go off for a minute on two things, because the typical level of conversation I get here is something like, "So. You're riding a bike." "Yes. You're carrying a bucket!" "Yes boss." "Sweet."

1) Denying global warming is noisome. It's one thing if you're a scientist/climatologist and you want to make a point about how maybe we don't know exactly how/when/why human activity is affecting the climate. But when the scientists from all over the world (the United Nations IPCC) gathered to say it's 90% sure that the planet's warming way faster than ever and humans are causing it, it's not just another contention or another report from someone with an agenda. You're now just blocking out what you don't want to hear if you're still holding out. It's like seeing someone who has a fever throw up in front of you. The "alarmists" are saying, "He's got the flu!" and the skeptics are saying, "Let's not jump to conclusions!" The planet's throwing up and it's got a fever. Can we at least agree it's sick (or at least sick of our pollution) and get moving on solving the problem? Let's not wait until it breaks out in a cold sweat and gets hallucinations. Wasn't it obvious from the first time that, as a child, we saw that acrid black smoke coming out of a tailpipe or smokestack or visited the local landfill that some things just can't be good for living things on Earth?

2) Barack Obama is in my opinion the best option we've had for a President in my lifetime. Don't give me this about Obama not having enough experience--we need a good man who can inspire and unite us, not another entrenched politician. After all, look at what happened to John Kerry after all of his "experience." Obama won't "save us" from the mess we're in or turn the whole system around. But for once can we show a little courage with our ballot? If you're still on the fence about candidates, do your own research and look at who a candidate was before all of the election crap started. Hillary Clinton's seemed a rather disingenuous, deeply politicized figure for as long as I can remember. Nowadays she seems warmer, but I don't buy it. Barack Obama was inspiring to me long before any of this election stuff started. If you're a Christian and the religion of your President is a big deal to you, take a look for yourself at Obama's faith. He's got better ideas about faith and governance than any US politician I've ever heard--ever. Mitt Romney was adamant in his support of Bush long before the election stuff started. Now that pretty much the entire educated world hates Bush (except for 1/3 of America) and almost everyone around him has resigned in shame, he's not so buddy-buddy. I don't buy it. Based on the good committees he's spearheaded and his willingness to go his own way if he thinks it's right, I'd be a John McCain fan if it weren't for the fact that he seems to support war in general. Call me crazy, I think war ought to be a truly last resort. But I digress. Bottom line: Don't believe anything you see in the TV ads or in your favorite newspaper. Find out who they were before the campaign began. That's who they'll be after it's all over.

Sorry. Just had to get those off my chest.

***

Nyambadwe Cup Championship Football match. Someone had gotten wind that I haunt the area and invited me. I got a seat under a canopy next to the band and alongside the President of the Football Association of Malawi and the rich guy who sponsored the tournament. Complete with free snacks and everything. Yet another wedding-cake-ornament experience--those are never in short supply when you're a white guy in Malawi. Anyway, a goal gets scored. INSTANTLY there are about a thousand people flooding onto the field. Is the game over? No. Do the referees mind? Neaux. Are people running around like chickens, rolling in the dirt (the football pitch is, of course, grass-free), throwing dirt into the air, and yelling crazily? No. I mean yes. Yes. Very much so. Fantastic. I wish we could do that in the USA.

Game wasn't much. The Spring Marshals beat the Old Slashers 1 - 0, on an anticlimactic free kick that just made it over the defense line and trickled in. The goalie's view was blocked so he didn't get to it. The Old Slashers played better football but squandered several good chances.