King of the Monkey Butlers

May 28, 2007

Dusk Brewing over Blantyre……

Spo | May 28, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

May 23, 2007

How to Rip at the Captains Table…..

Each morning at the lake Paul, Anton and myself usually sit upon the Gecko Captains table and proceed to rip the bejesus out of each other for about an hour or two - it seems to go round in circles and the ripping can swoop to the next victim at any moment if the right insult is uttered - and if you’re slow on the uptake while thinking of a chink in your opponents armour, you can just keep shouting “ahhhh! hahahahaha!” while pretending to double up in pain at the hysterical nature of the last shot fired - things get noisy and barbed insults fly - until one of us has to storm off in a huff after being beaten with a killer blow (usually Anton).

It’s also fascinating the way the allegiances switch as well - one minute Anton and Paul rip into me for being a chunky butler who looks like he’s wearing a money belt and has no game at all with women - the next Anton and I are ripping Paul for being a Goblin with a silly beard who looks like the referee Mike Riley (lots of whistles and card waving here) - and then Paul fights back and I join him in ripping Anton for having a laugh like a sea lion and wearing shoes that look like Gondola’s with a shirt that matches the table cloth and bed spreads - observe:

Spo | May 23, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

May 21, 2007

Latest Wknd at the lake……

Spo | May 21, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

May 12, 2007

Fine, Fine, Fine…..

6.35am and I’ve awoken to the sound of the lake lapping the beach, a stones throw from the door – I lackadaisically wander over to sit out on the wicker couches at the end of the veranda, take in the first Blue Peter of the day (cigarette) and take a sip of water – strange night last night – a lot of dreams about folk and places I know oh so well, yet have not seen for quite some time now – especially in UK – distinct feeling when I woke up that I’d been back that side and everyone had moved on without me – faces so familiar now just folk in the bar – a nod hello being the extent of conversation – hard to say the who’s, what’s, why’s, when’s and where’s with dreams - the vessel shipwrecks on the shores when you wake and all you are left with are fragments of the last few hours memories that then start to slowly sink beneath the surface as reality grabs a hold.

Sun is breaking slowly over the hills to the right, beams smoke through the Gecko trees as the sound of the bay coming to life filters in from the distance. Villagers can be seen up and down the shoreline doing the daily wash as kids play around them – Andrew, the cook, comes over to say hello – still beaming about the stereo I picked up for him in Blantyre – one problem is there’s no electricity in his house and the batteries required aren’t sold in the Cape – never the less the stereo is the talk of their neighborly community and his wife has been proudly showing it off – I promise I’ll sort the batteries so that his kids Colletta 4, and Clement 1, can get their groove on soon enough – for the moment he’s sticking to dancing in the kitchen, which is “fine, fine, fine” – as everything always is in the life of Andrew it seems.

James the “professor” and odd job man in general, comes over with the tea – everything is “fine, fine, fine” with James as well – he calls me professor as he greets while setting down the cups – the fact that his nickname came about due to the sudden taking up of wearing glasses despite not needing them still sails over his head – I remember the day:

“you got glasses James”
“yes”
“from the doctor here?”
“Ah no”
“from….”
“my friend – he give me for appearance only”
“so you can see perfectly OK?”
“yes”
“well why not get dark ones – you know – for the sun and everything”
“Ah no – I like these ones”
“ok”
“yes”

I have thought about trying to explain that he is the professor as he now looks more intelligent (and the irony is he’s actually as sharp as a bubble) – but James seems pretty happy with the new greeting we have established – I say “Hey Professor” – he says “Ah you, professor” and the day carries on in it’s own way.

James reminds me again to buy baseball hat for him in Blantyre – I decide that I’ll get him a Straw Tombola hat instead as it will look funnier.

Alex the gardener appears wearing Straw Tombola Hat looking ridiculous – “Muli Bwanji Alex?” - brushing the beach he looks up smiling “Ndili Bwino, fine, fine, fine” as everything always is in the world of Alex - he grins 24 hours a day it seems – could be happiness – could be mental instability – either way – he’s “fine, fine, fine”.

I make mental note to buy everyone Straw Tombola Hats.

Sun really up in its tree now around 7.15am - Gecko slowly coming to life as the characters start playing their roles around the place. I look to the lake and contemplate the daily swim around the boats. The scrawny cat from Gaia snakes between my legs and then jumps up to start walking on the keys looking for some attention – I play a while until he curls up in the corner of the chair – my work is done – we are all slaves to our cat masters.

Breakfast arrives as does Ronald the barman:

“Muli sharp asai”
“sharp”
“how’s things today?”
“ah things are fine”
“Wife and kids Ok?”
“Sure they’re fine”
“Wife still fat?”
“yes – big” (Ronald smiles and gestures to suggest she has quite an equator wrapped around her)
“good – that means you’re a rich man in this place”
“Sharp”

Breakfast of Omelet and toast along with all the usual Fry-up trimmings is shared – even the cat gets some.

I stand to take in the beginning of the day – the cat moves into freshly available warm seat – like the “walking on the keyboard to get attention” move, cats tricks such as this seem universally understood within the species – I contemplate how many cats across the world are currently pulling the same move right at this moment.

Stretching out I stare at the Gecko Tattoo on my arm – needs a touch up here and there after the first inking to fill the gaps – but once it gets drilled again that means no swimming for two or three weeks and with each weekend being lake-bound, who can say when there’ll be a gap in my busy loafing schedule.

My mind races with ideas for this place – Pushing the shop sales on the other lakeshore, the DVD rental thing, the travelers book exchange, internet café, music and film deliveries via Hard-disk sent via DHL from my contact in the UK, private cottage maintenance and kitchen delivery service, bike hire, dive platform out in the lake, pizza oven in a kitchen overhaul – I look around at the developments taking place or planned – extension of the dance-floor, overhaul and thatching of the VIP captains table drinking area, the 8 person Dormitory coming along nicely, DJ booth in the corner – consider the plans talked of in government about fixing up the road and how much extra business can come our way as a result…..

The Lake shimmers, beckoning me to take the daily dip….

Spo | May 12, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

May 10, 2007

ME KILL EVERYONE!!!!!!

I got cut off by the water board, the phone company and the DSTV people all on the same fucking morning today - and I’ve paid the fucking water board and Phone company already last week - and the DSTV is supposed to send you a little msg/bill thingy on the screen when it’s due - how can Malawi be so inefficent 90% of the time and then when it comes to money owed they’re on it like gangbusters? and even then they fuck it up.

and then there was the Fucking Frog incident again.

God damn motherfucking Frog sits outside my window around 5am about 2 or 3 times a week and proceeds to make a high pitched squealing sound until dawn has finally broken - since the first few times this has happened, I’ve explained to the guards that when they hear the damn fucking frog squealing they are supposed to go round the back of the house and scare it off or kill it if possible - and I know what you’re thinking “if you want a job done properly then you’ve got to do it yourself”, but in all honesty the guards at my place pretty much have to do two things - open and close the gate and press a panic button to call Securicor if robbers come - now I’ve added this third responsibility to their list of chores....

....and it seems it is completely fucking beyond them.

For the second time this week I get out of bed at 5am, open the front door, check Francis is not sleeping (yet again) and then ask him to go and kill the fucking frog - he just looks at me like I’m from out of space and mumbles something in chechewa - from which I pick up the word “ojeni” meaning something or other, and note a general look of confusion/stupidity - which is not uncommon for Francis who is certainly about as sharp as a biscuit.

I mean he can hear the frog nearly as clearly as I can from the other side of the house - it’s a high pitched squealing sound that repeats over and over and fucking over again until someone gets involved to stop it - I don’t care if he’s been sitting there for years and may have possibly got used to the noise, surely his world must also be a more serene and pleasant place to be without the frog than with it?

Surely he’s just sitting there thinking to himself (possibly, for some reason, in a Texan accent) “Gee fucking whizz that noise sure is fucking annoying the living shit out of me - I sure wish someone would go and stomp that fucking frog into Gods green earth and then pin it to a notice board as a warning to other Frogs not to come round here with that high pitched whining fucking shit they spout all night long”????

So anyways - Francis looks dumbfounded by what I’m trying to communicate to him - even using the most broken form of English - fair enough, I know he’s not a rocket scientist but I’m still pretty sure he should be able to vaguely figure out what the issue might be seeing as English is pretty much spoken all over Malawi in some form or another, but no so:

Therefore I have to:

• Imitate the Frog noise
• Make frantic hacking motion
• Point frantically to back garden

at which point Francis then gives a look of understanding which is perhaps due to a the wave of recognition washing over him as he suddenly remembers the 5 or 6 other times I’ve had to physically mime out the problem to him over the last few weeks.

Francis then gets the panga and slopes off round the back of the house and I go back to bed.

Only to be kept awake by Francis making more noise trying to find and kill the fucking frog than the frog was making in the first fucking place.

In other news my beloved Panasonic DMX-FX7 camera has been fixed and is making it’s way here via DHL from UK - true enough, I’ve ended up paying more to fix it than it costs to buy new - but import duty and insurance payout issues mean that it is in fact cheaper to get it fixed in the end - plus it’s my camera and I love it and I want it back.

I would be able to tell when it’s going to arrive, but my parents have given me the tracking number for the parcel that I originally sent them back in February rather than the parcel they just sent themselves the other day.

The geniuses.

Spo | May 10, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

May 9, 2007

Genius…..

I highly recommend you read some fine writing by a good friend of mine - a weekend in the life of Eric Elsewhere - it’s genius.

Spo | May 9, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Videos & Links

May 8, 2007

Maury Finkle, Finkles Fixtures and Fittings….. do it…. do it….

ahhhhh… it’s too well read here sometimes to say what is actually going on behind the scenes of all the tea drinks and Gecko dreams.....

Anyways - the last couple of weeks the pace of life has stepped up a notch - which is not suited to Malawi style pa-ng’ono pa-ng’ono (slowly-slowly)

Where to start??

Well Friday nights adventures took place in Blantyre rather than the usual Lakeside setting due to being asked by Aubrey of Twigga lounge to play the role of DJ (ie: man with Computer and ability to select decent music in the right order and make people dance) on the following Saturday. Saturdays gig could of done with better promotion (rival bar ripped down hastily arranged posters), better acoustics (speakers arranged by a mongoloid, tin roof, poor treble feedback on system) and no door fee (everyone spent their money on the hectic Friday night previous that I had originally asked to play instead) - but all in all it went cool as it could - 40 to 50 people dancing till 3am and smiling faces abounding.

Apart from the bit when a giant fat girl tried to kill/eat a slimy little bald headed Indian dude and made all the stunning Danish women stop shaking their asses and run back to their seats in the corner.

Friday night was the one though - I headed to locals club in town called Tuska which is run by friends Sanjay and Lorenzo - they’ve had a refurbishment of late and the place actually looks like a club now, rather than a cave with some speakers in it as it did before - one of the additions to the place is Sanjays Cocktail Bar of Death - named now by myself due to the Kryptonite juice poured down my throat in the form of possibly one of most potent alcoholic concoctions know to man - The Flaming Lamborghini Turbo Shooter:

This is the reason my evening cannot be recalled in full due to the fact that as a result of it’s powers I am now missing around 4 hours of my life and had a serious Coyote Ugly moment when I awoke the next morning.

At this point I should mention that my most feared enemies in the alcoholic world are:

• Sambuca - (after an unfortunate upchuck incident meaning no kissing the living-down-the-road-from-me-for-the-last-10-years never pulled before gorgeous girl goodbye at leaving party back in 2005).
• Tequila - (after an unfortunate Sambuca/Tequila idiot barman shot mix up with Lockey in a London club back in 2006 - he was trying to set fire to Tequila one side while I was necking a Sambuca/Salt/lemon combo that led to yet another upchuck incident once again).
• Rum - (because it’s Rum and therefore it’s fucking disgusting).

Unbeknown to me at the time, these black riders of the alcoholic apocalypse made up three of the four ingredients in this little short, sharp, shock of concentrated evil known as the Flaming Lamborghini Turbo - therefore, this particular shooter is like an Alcoholic version of Arachnophobia for me, as the drink is made up as follows:

• Starts with a glass containing 1 x shot of Stro 80 Rum which is then set on fire - (because when doing something stupid like drinking one of these, it makes warped sense to add fire to an already dangerous concoction of alcohol - sort of like someone came up with the recipe and then said “Fuck it, for all the sense this makes, it may as well be on fucking fire”.....)
• .....Anyways - Being quick with a straw, you dive in and drain the first shot of rum before the straw melts and.....
• .....as the rum disappears, the barman adds a shot of Sambuca, which you cane in the same breath, continuing…
• .....as the Sambuca disappears with a shot of Tequila poured the same way which is then....
• ..... followed by a shot of Amarula (African style Baileys type liqor) to top it all off - all down at the same time
•...... Also be careful not to get too close to the flames (as my singed eyebrows will testify)

I had 3 or 4 of these in reasonably quick succession, which is why I can’t really tell you much more about the evening apart from the fact that after hitting the cold night air at around 4am, I violently projectile vomited all over the place behind my car in the style of that little girl from the Exorcist.

And John told me that bit.

He said it was a really fine moment - I just sort of barked & barfed it all out and then went about as though nothing had happened.

It was a good night apparently.

Talking of the cold night air the weather here has gone British - it’s more than a bit nippy out it has to be said - and when packing for Africa back in January, I didn’t exactly stock up on jumpers and jackets - now everyones got a cold and the locals look like they’re all going on a skiing trip - for the British of course it’s mild, but the nights drop down to about 15-19c which can be a bit parky when you sitting around in shorts and T-shirt. I’m going to have to get me a thicker blanket than a bed sheet me thinks - or spend more time at the lake which never really gets cold at all.

In other news there has thankfully been no further recriminations from the incident of the Legend of Moonbat Morning - if anything the police (who I’m now on first name/face recognition terms with) have been far more friendlier - waving me through the frequent road blocks that hold up Limbe traffic all day - seems like I have bought a little more than freedom for my money.

Yuni having her problems in Jakarta and says it seems like all matters in life are against her and the world spins in exactly the opposite direction she needs it to - that city can really get on top of you sometimes and she sure sounds like she’s had enough - feels lost and alone and no idea what to do next - what else can I say other than she’s got me and I’m waiting with Beach bars, hammocks & sunsets at the end of the year? - she’s now asking more questions about how we get Visa’s, organise plane tickets along with thinking about how her family can access Western Union that side - so, seems like she is more likely to come than not when the big move is made come 2008ish time - I love it when a plan comes together.

Phone calls from head office asking if I can come back early and questioning further as to why I want to delay my transfer from UK books to those of the Dutch - I lied like a politician and deflected all queries with bureaucratically bullshitting excellence - I’m here till 28th June and there’s no way I’m leaving any earlier than I have to - seems like things over in Holland are getting hectic with new people needing training and too many of the old guard leaving unexpectedly - that as I have the experience to train, I could take the heat off a bit - but parallel to that they are also making murmurs about the moving of the books and the marrying of UK wage and Holland wage with UK living costs and Holland living costs - which spells out SALARY REDUCTION in my mind - which is cool as that gives me the perfect out when time comes to sit down and tell them I’m jacking it all in for lakeside living and a beach bar existence.

And that there’s no changing my mind as I’ve already got the tattoo.

Right - more planning of the weekend Gecko playlist of perfection - there’s 15 Danish women coming our way along with a crew of others - and if they all look like the 5 that were dancing in front of the decks at Twigga on Saturday night then it truly will be an evening to remember.

As long as I don’t have any more Flaming Fucking Lamborghini Fucking Turbo’s.

May 3, 2007

Run Rabbit Run…..

Update on life in general coming soon but in the meantime please, please, please, take a minute to chuck a few pennies the way of some very good friends of mine Cassie “Bubba” Joyce, Anna “Bunnawowski” Longshaft (and her mum) who are legging it around London with a bunch of other women - all probably moaning about how they “can’t even walk in these shoes let alone run” while raising money for charideeeeeee on May 20th.

Click the following link and you can do hop on the bad foot and do the good thing using a variety of different payment methods.

CLICK HERE