It took me a few days to notice that Mr Steak had disappeared from school.
“I have not seen our friend for a while,” I say to Mr Jerry in the elliptical vernacular that is common in this part of the world. He looks at me quizzically. “That one,” I say, motioning in the direction of Steak’s desk.
“Oh. He has gone to get a transcript,” Jerry says, “In Mzuzu.” Thyolo is in the South of Malawi. Mzuzu is in the North. Nothing unusual about the journey taking a few days.
The rainy season was late. Before Christmas, the President was gearing up to ask everyone to pray for the rainfall this country depends on to survive. Any prayers were answered a couple of weeks ago in the form of a tropical cyclone that formed out in the Indian Ocean. Malawi may be a landlocked nation, but the arms of a category 5 are long and when one of them decides to hug the coast of South East Africa, it’s time to bring in the laundry and break out the gumboots.
The rivers and seas didn’t boil. The dead didn’t rise from their graves. Dogs and cats weren’t living together. But in a country where the bricks are made from sand, two solid days of torrential rainfall and high winds are bound to cause some chaos. Floods. Muds. Collapsed walls. A nice dose of mass hysteria to kick off the New Year. Continue reading →
I feel like the floor of a taxi cab. There is a creature burrowing into my skull and another one gnawing on the lining of my stomach. My eyelids are heavy. I achieve consciousness and immediately regret it. I want to sleep. I try to sleep. I fail. I open my eyes. The sun is just starting to poke through the curtains. It is 6AM.
I am in the driver’s apartment. Somewhere in Hua Hin. I look around the room. I notice a small stain on the floor. It looks like blood. I am pretty sure it is not mine. It is a very nice apartment (blood notwithstanding). Widescreen TV. Satellite. Stereo speakers. Bean bag chair. Some artwork of an elephant on the wall. Some sort of crane type bird statue in the corner. Where did that blood come from?