The problem with being the only person who doesn’t speak Portuguese and look African at a music concert

There’s a small group of young ex-pats in their 20s here, mostly missionaries or in foreign aid and distributing food and supplies. I’ve been hanging out with them a fair bit over the last week, lots of good fun. One of them who works here to spread the word about AIDS organized a 8-hour concert (!) filled with local acts where a competition to write a short story about someone with AIDS would be launched. I thought I’d go along to support her, as well as check out the local talent (musical talent, not that kind of talent!).

It was not quite as I expected. There were about 200 young people there, gathered in a field with long grass and a small-ish stage. We got there well after it started; but soon after we did, the generator ran out of fuel, and they had to resort to using the megaphone as the microphone.


(one of the local acts, a Mozambican hip-hop band, accompanied by a 1980s CASIO keyboard and a backing track)

The MC (pictured on left – who I think was drunk – and he wasn’t alone) began to get nervous, with the crowd growing restless. A stand up comic got up for 2 minutes and tried to entertain the crowd, then some guy with a guitar (pictured on right) sung a mellow anthem. The crowd then started shouting something.



Then the MC turned his attention to me.

He came up and put his arm around me and said something in Portuguese about us having a Japanese guest (I think me holding my digital camera – and being Asian – didn’t help). The crowd then started cheering. During the next song, he began to ask me questions in broken English. The conversation went something like this …

Him: Do you like African music?
Me: Ummm … yes. I like African music.
Him: This is Africa, boss.
Me: (wondering where this was going) Yes. This is Africa.
Him: (pointing at the guitarist singing) He is so good, but we can’t cut a disc.
Me: Yes, he is good. (I was lying, he was okay. I reckon I could do love songs better. Assuming he was singing love songs.)
Him: We need to cut disc!
Me: You mean, make recording?
Him: Yes, but too expensive.
Me: Really – how much?

The MC then stopped the guitarist and got the crowd’s attention. I don’t exactly know what they said, but afterwards, the MC said to me over the megaphone:

Him: Do you like African music?

Someone came up to me with another megaphone and got me to speak into it. Everyone was watching (I took this photo of everyone staring at me … again)



Me: Ummm … yes!
Him: All we need is sixty thousand dollars.
Me: There must be some misunderstanding. I am not a finance person. I’m a tourist!
Him: Don’t worry, be happy (followed by something in Portuguese).
Crowd: (more noises and shouting)
Me: (awkward silence and confusion)

I’m not quite sure what happened next, but the power came back on and the band that was singing before the power went off began to sing hip-hop music again on the stage. During this time, random people came up to me and said either “This is Africa” or “Do you like African music?”.

The MC then came up to me (without the microphone thankfully) and offered me a strange pink drink (Mozambique’s Bacardi Breezer equivalents?) which I politely refused. Then these four young women walked up to me and started dancing very close, with their male friend asking me “You like dance?”, amongst other questions and statements in broken English about Lichinga, Niassa and women.

I’m not quite sure what he was getting at, but my lift home arrived then (and not a moment too soon!). My ears were hurting anyway. And I was confused. Very confused.

The perils of not speaking the language. And looking different! Some of those Africans are great singers though.

Blessings
John

Farming: the field of broken dreams

A really nice day …

I don’t know whether I mentioned it earlier, but I’ve been training two consultants in Lichinga in problem solving and logical reasoning. Today we decided to make it practical. We visited a potential client two hours out of town to give the consultants an opportunity to put their newly learned business skills to work while I watched (I like to watch) and, later, give feedback.

The man we visited, Keith, had invited us to hear his business proposal. He had built a beautiful house using local materials and had a gorgeous garden overlooking the river. After spending three hours with him and his family, we followed his son back to his farm. After a tour, we were treated to a truly awesome electrical storm as we sat on the verandah, followed by a lovely dinner of macaroni and cheese, fresh corn, and lemon meringues. These farmers (and their self-constructed kitchens!) do a really good job.

To top it all off, the ride home was filled with fauna – including having to dodge endless processions of large owls (what a hoot! Sorry.) and narrowly avoiding running over a cheetah (those beautiful spotted creatures). It was a long, but satisfying, day.


… Tinged with, for me, sadness …

Keith is a good man but he is a desperate man. In debt to tobacco companies (as are most farmers I’ve met here, due to these companies lending money on credit on the condition the farmer must sell to them, then keeping sales price low - $1.50 per kilo of tobacco!?!) and short of cash, he needs something to keep him going: give him a small cash flow to keep living a simple life on the farm but, equally, a purpose, a dream, a reason to live. A man of sixty who has spent his entire life working hard on a farm, Keith is used to hardship and being knocked back; particularly in the past few years when his money-making ideas have been many but “no one has given him the time of day”. I sense the desperation in his voice and see his eyes water as he pleads with us that his latest idea is a good one; his stoic belief in this future venture tempered by his admission that, as of April, he will have no money on which to live.

The tragedy of course is that now, no bank is going to lend Keith money. After a few calculations in my head I can see he hasn’t even thought through whether he will even make a profit per litre of sales – in one of his revenue streams he would actually make a large loss for every litre produced. All he has is a series of magazine articles and emails on why his idea is the next big thing. Furthermore, even if someone lent him the money, he wouldn’t see a cent by April due to African bureaucracy – it will take months for any cash at all to come in.

The bigger tragedy is that Keith is not alone. There are plenty of hardworking, honest farmers like him all across the world – people who have worked hard and dreamed dreams: hard work that has come to nothing but bankruptcy, dreams that will die with them, or perhaps, long before. These are not lazy people looking to make a quick buck. These are families that have sacrificed much for the land: living in isolation (Keith’s grandchildren only leave the farm three times a year due to the high cost of petrol), tolerating early mornings and hard physical labour for decades. These are generous people who would open up their home and their food to a stranger, like me, without thinking twice.


A brief lesson in agricultural economics …

From many farmers here sharing with me, I have come to some generalizations about why farmers have it tough:

1. They are in an extraordinarily capital-intensive industry (ie you need to buy heaps of tools, vehicles, etc), meaning that they need to borrow lots of money (therefore incurring a large interest expense) and will lose a lot of its value of these purchases each year through depreciation,
2. They have to wait at least half a year to see any returns from your investment (seed, fertilizer, labour, fuel, etc), meaning they need to borrow more money at the start of each season, and
3. They carry a large risk: if the rainfall is too much or too little – something they cannot control! – they will lose money, probably big money. This means that, over the middle to long term, they will probably only barely break even, the occasional bad year canceling out many years of profit.

The fundamental problem many of them have, however, is that they focus on cash flow and not profit. That is, a farmer will care much more for whether he is able to buy food for his family tomorrow, not whether he will be making actual profits over the middle to long-term.

For this reason, many farmers unwittingly enter into debt contracts with quick-thinking banks or buyers (like, in Mozambique, tobacco companies) that give them immediate cash in hand, but place them into debt at high interest rates and reduced bargaining power. Fair enough, you might say, and often there is no choice. But there is a problem: decisions like this affect long-term profitability. By increasing your debt and reducing the price you can sell at, your revenues go down and interest expenses go up, the debt growing all the time. You become increasingly dependent on financing just to provide you with money to live on and stop even calculating whether you are actually making a profit, simply whether you have cash to buy food and pay workers. In essence, you are not even receiving a salary for working; you are literally paying for the right to work 12 hours a day on the farm, 300 days a year. Until of course, one day, you become too big a risk, and the lenders desert you.

Put simply, that is why businessmen and bankers are generally much richer than farmers. Farmers are probably much more hard working and generous, and typically start with much more assets. But businessmen calculate profitability, and make business decisions accordingly. Farmers focus on cash flow, and often do not consider true profitability. Unfortunately for many, the biggest driver of future cash flows is current and planned profitability; even if you have cash now, if you are not actually making a profit, the cash will one day run out. (Sorry to bore you non-financial types with accounting jargon, but remember, I once helped write a business studies textbook!)


(one of Keith’s rapidly depreciating assets – a large unused tractor – sitting on the world’s biggest anthill)

… And my emotional response

One thing I have noticed about myself on this trip is how logically I see the world. Typically when others meet new people they ask them how they’re feeling; I naturally tend to ask questions of fact (“What do you do?”, “How long have you been in Africa?”, “Really! How much did that cost in US dollars?” etc). In seeing this, I have realized two things about me: firstly, I’m a bit weird. Secondly, however, this can be a great asset when trying to help people make business plans: it forces them to ground their ideas in reality, into hard accounting facts, figures and forecasts. Opinions and emotions are not helpful for making good business decisions, objective facts are.

What has struck me is the occasional disconnect between my logical mind and my emotions, and how that feels. Logically, I knew Keith was wasting our time. He had nothing to offer us but promises and statements based on opinion and endless assumptions, not fact. But my heart mourned for Keith and for those like him: it didn’t at all seem fair. Why should I be much richer and (in business anyway) more successful just because I had business training and he had agricultural? I wanted to put my arm around Keith and tell him everything would be okay. That he would get his funding and live a happy life as a successful entrepreneur and retire happy, content. But I knew this would not be, and even as we ate dinner later, thinking about tragedies like Keith made me feel physically sick.

In Chimoio a few weeks ago, I was putting together my first financial model whilst watching TV. An old movie, “Shirley Valentine”, was playing, a story of an ageing woman in her 40s who starts to question the purpose of her existence. Eventually she flees to Greece, but even fulfilling her lifelong dream of enjoying a Greek sunset by the water with fine wine does not satisfy her, causing her to cry bitterly. She reflects on her wide-eyed youth, a time when she believed she could do and be anything, in contrast to what she has become: a middle aged woman living a tired old life.

“Why do we spent all our lives dreaming of hopes and dreams,” she mourns in the light of the sunset, tears strolling down her face, “if they are just meant to die with us, never to be fulfilled?”

God knows.

The biggest day in Lichinga’s history thus far – say hello to your new governor

Well over ten thousand Lichingans (are there even that many residents here?) gathered in the normally deserted centre of town, the roundabout, to welcome in their new governor: a day so momentous it resulted in yet another public holiday (businesses were fined if anyone was caught working in the afternoon).

It was a uniquely Mozambican experience: apart from starting well over one and a half hours late, the roundabout was packed with people – in the paths, trees, everywhere …



… After waiting one and a half hours for it to start, I eventually left ten minutes into the ceremony when I realized I couldn’t understand a word that was being said (and it was hot, and dial-up internet was calling). But not before the ceremony had left its indelible mark on me – in many ways it summarized Mozambique to me: the intertwining of rich and the poor … and me.

1. Mozambique the rich

The stage was filled with dignitaries, all chauffeured to the marshalling area by the Mozambican equivalent of the limousine, the Toyota Landcruiser. There, in fine suits under a sheltered stage, they waited for the new governor of the province to arrive. An expensive sound system blared out gawdy R&B tunes from the 1990’s to pacify the crowds as they waited in the hot sun.

2. Mozambique the poor

Thousands of people, many in worn out clothes – a notable exception being t-shirts and skirts bearing the party name or the face of the leader (were they free? I was trying to find out if they were giving them away, but couldn’t find anything) – celebrating, beating drums, and dancing, sweating, laughing.



Little kids running around looking for free food or action or asking me to take a photo of them … other kids with buckets, trying to sell the day’s latest fried delicacies. And, with all the shops closed from midday onwards, I was forced to oblige them …



3. Mozambique for me

This was probably the first event with a large gathering of people where, in my life, I have been the only Asian (and potentially the last!). But I have never felt so stared at: everywhere I turned, eyes gazing at me – if it wasn’t for my good looks and fashion sense, you would think there was something wrong with me!? Seriously though, it would be tough to be a foreigner here; never quite fitting in, always the oddball …

To satisfy my hunger over the course of the 90 minute wait, I bought some of the fried pastries the kids were selling. 20 cents goes a long way on the street; buying me a bag of something deep fried. Whatever it was, I thought it was disgusting (it was unhealthy AND didn’t taste good!), so I looked for the chance to give it away. I offered the bag to a nearby kid and he immediately thanked me, then was mobbed by his friends to get a share of the takings.

This was really rammed home to me when I was eating a roll of bread and drinking a coke in a nearby shop behind the stage, waiting for the ceremony to start. I’m a bit of a messy eater, and managed to get crumbs all over me. I watched the eyes of many kids standing outside the door, watching me spill crumbs all over myself; their eyes wondering what it must be like to purchase a bread roll (50 cents) or a bottle of coke (30 cents).

I’m never good with finishing food I don’t really like: this time it was the crusts that I left on the plate. I saw them stare at the crusts with envy as the waitress took it away: if I didn’t feel it was demeaning, it would have given it to them; in fact, it made me wish that I hadn’t have ordered more than I could chew ...

Welcome to the sticks and welcome to paradise: Manda Wilderness Lodge

The last seven days I have been consulting (and relaxing!) at an eco-lodge, Nkwichi Lodge, which is literally in the middle of nowhere: one of the remotest areas of Niassa, the most remote province in Mozambique. There is no road access anywhere near here – the only way to get here is by boat (it is on the shores of Lake Malawi, one of the world’s biggest freshwater lakes and home to friendly crocodiles and hippopotami) or by walking – a path stretches from here all the way up to Kenya and all the way down to Capetown if you have the time …

This area, along with Herron Island, certain parts of China and this dessert place in a hotel in Las Vegas that makes incredible ice cream with bits of peanut and chocolate and caramel made to order (mmm … I’m there) will go down as one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited in my life – both manmade and natural.

Each day (or so), I’ve recorded my observations/adventures/etc … enjoy! There was no internet there, so I’ve typed them up while I was there (on solar power of course) and posted them now that I’m back ...

Day eight: Goodbye Manda Wilderness; speed bushwalking - and the case for adopting children after they turn 4

It was finally time to wave goodbye to Nkwichi Ecolodge this morning. I will miss this place, and will definitely bug Patrick for a serious discount should I return (I’ve incorporated this into the financial model, so it shouldn’t affect profitability).

After a boat trip back to the road, a four hour road trip awaited … unfortunately, Neville (who I’m spending the next week with), his wife, and their three year old PLUS me were attempting to fit into a two-and-a-half seater 4WD (ie no back seat). Needless to say, one of us had to end up in the back, and for the first half of the four-hour journey, it was me.

Riding on the back of a 4WD isn’t the safest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s lots of fun. It’s kind of like speed bushwalking – you see the landscape pass you by, only at 80 km/h. Some of these towns go for miles – with schoolkids and workers all waving “hello” to you (I’ve got some great video footage).

The downside: sunburn. My legs are as a red as a tomato. And, for Veronica (who had the 2nd half of the journey): rain. (I think she got the short straw here)

However, the second two hour block (when I was in the front with Neville and their three year old, Lawrence) was substantially LESS FUN. Lawrence is coming out of the “Terrible Twos” and is now in the “Even More Terrible Threes”. Over the weekend, the best times was when he was sleeping; when he was up and about, it was LOUD. I’ve never heard the word “no!” shouted so many times – followed unbelievably loud crying when he didn’t get his way (which was most of the time).

Well, it was WORSE in the car. You see, Lawrence wanted his Mommy – and I didn’t look like his Mommy one bit (she was on the back of the truck, remember). As Neville said, “You look scary”. There’s plenty of requests I was willing to accommodate with a screaming kid in an enclosed space, but “I want my Mommy” was NOT one of them. Most of this half of the journey was spent trying to keep Lawrence’s hands from mucking around with the gear sticks, cigarette lighter, and a selection of sharp objects while Neville tried to negotiate the muddy road.

Thanks to God’s journey mercies, we made it (insert rapturous applause). And arrived in “civilization” – Lichinga – greeted by the news that there will be no electricity for five weeks (the guys who look after the town’s 150,000 watt generator forgot to oil to engine, and it was ruined beyond repair).

I’ll miss you, Manda. It was fun.

Day seven: A visit to our competitors – welcome to Malawi

Today I visited my third African country: Malawi. Depending on who you ask, Malawi is in an even poorer shape than Mozambique, though you wouldn’t know it from the place we visited: our main competitors, an ultra-grand eco-lodge on an Malawi island 30 minutes away by speedboat.



This place was magnificent – and at $200 US a night (roughly equivalent to most Malawians’ yearly GDP) you would expect nothing but the finest sunsets and beautiful chalets …



I took the opportunity to escape the beer drinking to check out the local town, Kaya Mawa. It actually looks pretty similar to Mozambique, except for a few key differences: everyone speaks English (hurrah for the British colonies), and there are very few trees, due to lax land clearing laws this side of the lake. This hill should have been full of trees.



I want to reserve my third “wow, how did they manage that?” kudos of this blog (the first was for AIDS workers, the second for school builders) for Christian missionaries. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, Niassa province and Malawi is full of missionaries, and these towns around the lake boast massive Anglican churches (see below!). Apparently these were all built a hundred years ago by a scientist/missionary called David Livingstone (Dr Livingstone, I presume? Sorry). Anyway, the legacy of impressive churches – combined with a large number of Christians in this area – remains. Here’s a local church?!



ps I got to ride the speedboat too – I was hurling it at 40 kilometres an hour (Nuro, who can’t swim, was also ‘hurling’ then too!). I even successfully negotiated canoes that were in our way (okay, there were only two of them, but hey) …

Day six: Have canoe, will travel

Having completed five days of hard core business consulting, it was time for a day of serious relaxing.

Which is why signing up for a canoe expedition made little or no sense at all.

We canoed off with a group of Portuguese nurses to a spot 30 minutes away where this 2,000 year old tree is. As you can tell by the photo, old trees are fairly uninspiring. There were, however, some monkeys nearby which were fascinating to watch (until I remembered the movie ‘Outbreak’, and decided to hide behind one of the locals until we went away).



After lunch, I decided to take one of the waiters, Andre, to a nearby village to check out the townsfolk, accompanied by an esky full of water, soft drinks and Mozambican beer. The best way to get there, of course, was to canoe. Which sounded like lots of fun (and it was), but little did I know it would take THREE HOURS to paddle a few hundred metres …

… Anyway, a lot of fishermen sell their catch on the river. Here’s Andre trying to talk a fisherman down from 90 cents a fish to 50 cents … we were unsuccessful. “Don’t worry,” I told Andre. “There’s plenty more fish in the sea.” (He didn’t laugh…?!)



There was a lot of beautiful birdlife on the river …





… we stopped at three different spots along the way. The first spot was a small township where the eco-lodge had helped built a school. Pretty impressive huh? I will add ‘school builders’ to the list of people who I’m impressed with. This area is pretty remote, and yet they’re learning more biology than I can remember.




We also stopped at the town where most of the people who work at the lodge live in. These African kids LOVE digital cameras (a bit like us Asian kids really). After lots of bugging me to take photos, here’s a sample …



… it’s strange, you know? These African kids live in poverty, yet they have a great time all day mucking around in the water, 2 minutes’ walk from the beach … in many ways, I’m jealous!

Lastly, we stopped by the fisherman’s village, where they are cooking fishes to sell in the main town (great aroma!), before heading back.

Day five: The universal languages of 1980’s love songs, badminton and … marijuana?!

Today I made a number of important discoveries.

1. Just about everybody in the world knows 1980s love songs.

We were on the beach having dinner when we were talking about what we do in our spare time. Nadia (over here running a community vegetable farm from the UK) talked about how much she missed her friends who could play music; Nuro (a local Mozambican who speaks really good English) mentioned that he had a guitar … and I (me) mentioned that I could play (and dance!).

Before we knew it, we were singing and playing to all my favourites: ‘Eternal Flame’, ‘Nothing’s gonna change my love for you’, accompanied by an unhealthy proportion of Whitney Houston and Richard Marx songs, listened to by a crowd of thousands (of stars). The amazing thing? Everyone knew them! (including these Portuguese nurses that turned up later in the night!) The 1980s, and love songs … man, they bring the world together.

2. Badminton. It’s a truly global game.

Of all the things I was expecting to see on the beach in the wilderness, a badminton court was not one of them. But there it was – it took me four days to find it, but here it is. Me and Nuro (pictured below – yes he may be fitter than me (marginally?!) but I’m the superior badminton ‘athlete’) played, and I haven’t exercised this much for a long, long time …



3. Marijuana. It’s a truly global drug.

Later in the night, the Portuguese folk brought out “Malawi Gold” – marijuana. Maybe it was because I was playing the guitar too loudly and/or long?

At only five cents a round, I must admit, I was tempted to buy (well, at least bargain, and then re-sell on the black market) (just kidding). This stuff is grown all around Lake Niassa/Malawi, somewhat illegally. But without electricity, what else are the locals to do?

Day four: Of Hippopotami and Hippocrates

Patrick, the man who built and owns this lodge, is a great guy. He built this very impressive lodge by hand - from scratch - starting over ten years ago. Two sides of Patrick I saw today …

At sunset drinks: Hippos. We were having an informed discussion about business, life and eco-lodges when we heard this loud grunting. “Oh my goodness, it’s a hippo!” he cried, and immediately ran off with a lantern and torch.

I ran off to hide (like a man!). Hippos kill more people in Africa than any other animal. I didn’t really want to join them. (The dead people, that is. Or, on that note, the hippos either.) Especially seeing I heard this hippo was angry.

During dinner: Hippocrates. We were talking an informed discussion about something informative (Vasco da Gama? In reality, probably, “how cool was that hippo?”) when Patrick revealed he had a degree in Philosophy, and had done an honours thesis on John Rawls (which has eventually led him to come to Africa in the first place) …

We then spent the next little while discussing John Rawls’ theory of poverty (“unless we do all we can to help people starving in Africa, we are moral monsters”) to the counter arguments (“if we gave away everything we had to the poor, we would have no means to keep giving … and giving aid may not be the best way to fight poverty anyway”) and we came to a fairly uneasy equilibrium (“we should give all we can without reducing our ability to earn money; and then give money in a way that’s solving poverty, not just making our consciences feel better …”) ...

Hmm … hard to argue against, even harder to do.
I'm finding that it’s much easier to act congruently with hippos (they’re lethal; therefore run!) than with moral philosophy on poverty …

Day three: Africa lesson #432 – Confessions of a workaholic

I can’t describe to you how beautiful it is to sit in my bath tub here, out under a million stars, totally hidden away from civilization (except lurking monkeys and lions, which the locals have just told me about, which has made me turn around nervously whenever I hear a rustle in the bushes). What a perfect time to continue reflecting on life, and pondering the beauty of God's creation!

But I’m not.

Why?

The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about the financial model I’m putting together on the eco-nomics of running an eco-lodge. I’ve built this beautiful model in excel, spitting out (in glorious colour) profit and loss statements, cash flow projections, balance sheet and graphs for the next twelve months – but it JUST WON’T BALANCE. There’s $6899.79 (US dollars) sitting somewhere in assets that should be in liabilities, or something. And it’s driving me crazy!

But what is driving me even more crazy is that I’m in one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to in my life – for free! – and I can’t stop thinking about work. The truth is, I’ll probably wake up tomorrow, do half an hour of checking and find the error; or even if I couldn’t, the owner wouldn’t care – he’d just be happy with the rest of the stuff we’re working on. But that doesn’t stop me from tossing and turning …

Upon reflection, I am learning something about myself; something I never thought would be true – I am a workaholic. And not proud of it. All is fine if everything’s going my way with work. But when there’s a nut I can’t crack, something eating at me; all I want to do is spend time at my laptop trying to fix it, even though the sun is shining, the water is calling to me (or is that the birds? Who can tell …), and I’m not really sure why.

Well, that’s not completely true. I have some idea why. Being in a completely different environment sheds new light on why you act the way you do. Here, I’m coming to realize that I operate best under pressure. And so, I look for ways to put pressure on myself, even when no one else is looking …

… what other interesting discoveries about me await me here in the wilderness? (hopefully discoveries of wild animals are not amongst these)

Day two: Another first - an African talk on AIDS

Despite my gripes with the lack of effectiveness of foreign aid in Mozambique, one group seems to be doing a pretty good job: groups spreading the word about AIDS.

Even though I found myself in the middle of nowhere, a combination of government, missionary and aid work has managed to train up a group of local churchgoers to run 2-hour workshops on AIDS (I had a translator next to me, so I was able to pick up a lot of what was going on).

Overall, it was just like those sex education workshops the school and communities run when we’re at the top end of primary school (wasn’t it Happy Harold the talking giraffe who answered our tough questions?). You had all the men in one corner, giggling to each other after each question (I would’ve joined in, but some of the questions didn’t translate too well…?) and the women in another corner, looking somewhat embarrassed and sitting quietly.

Despite the somewhat basic questions being asked (“What if I don’t like bananas peeled?” / “Can I get AIDS from a condom?” / “What if she won’t wait for me?” / “If I get rich can I still catch aids?” and the like), my mate Patrick (the owner/manager of the lodge) assures me that they are well aware of the science behind sex and AIDS …

… yet, despite the fun/interactive approach of this session (which included an interesting ‘demonstration’), the problem of AIDS is unbelievable; almost epidemic. No one can really know the true number of people infected with AIDS here, estimates range from 17% to 33% … even at the lower end of the scale this is scary. Unfortunately, it appears that whilst information helps, it is not the answer, with African men (in particular) ignoring warnings, for reasons of bravado or laziness. Though with a life expectancy around this area of around 35-40 years old, and sex being cheap or free, I guess I can see where they come from …? If I figured I only had ten more years to live, would I hold back any restraint?

ps Up until now I have only spoken to Africans in English, when they are very reserved and softly spoke. This was actually the first time I listened to an African speaking uninhibited in his/her local language. Africans are REALLY animated when they talk, and use lots of hand gestures (kind of like me, except not as suave …) =)

Day one: Private chalets, amazing sunsets and incredible night skies? I’d like to see that

Having expected to be virtually camping, fending off deadly mosquitoes and surviving off dried maize, it is a SHOCK to be here.

Put simply, this is paradise. A maximum of 14 guests at any one time are served by 33 full time staff – and this week, I’m the only guest (they call me “Mr John”, and ask me “how are you?”, without actually knowing what that means) … ah, the joys of low season tourism. Instead of dodgy tents, each guest/family has a secluded chalet: 50-100 metres from anyone else, with own private outdoor eco-bathroom (with included stone bathtub!) and “drop toilet”. Check this out …



… some chalets also have their own private lagoon (sounds crazy, huh, but land is in absolute abundance here, as is water!). Great place to play guitar and do quiet times.



… You would not believe how beautiful the water here is. The temperature is perfect; and it’s all freshwater – you can literally drink and swim at the same time (though if you’re with other people, you need to make sure they’re not the kind who, um, do more than drink the water).



Each day we have each meal in a luxurious location – tonight it was on the beach, surrounded by lanterns for light during the night, under an amazing night sky (seeing we’re numerous plane hours away from civilization, this is hard to believe). I can even see the southern cross from here! At 5:30pm each day, we’re also treated to sunset drinks at a different water-bound location – coke and popcorn never tasted so good …



I think this will be lots of fun.

Blessings,
John (that’s ‘Mr John’ to you)

My first sermon in Africa

Well, today I met up with some missionaries who are here for the long term in Lichinga - five to six years! Whoa.

I hung out with the family for the day (where we went to this nearby lake and saw this large abandoned plane?!). Then it was back for an afternoon nap, and then home church - where I was asked to lead worship (play guitar and sing) and preach!

Not quite what I was expecting ... but I greatly enjoyed the opportunity. They asked me to speak again next Sunday too: I told them to speak to my agent ("Agent who?", they said. Actually, just kidding).

It sure was great to play the guitar again. Though what I'm really hanging out to do is find a piano somewhere here where I can play loud hymns and 1980s love songs. Now THAT will be a highlight ...

... Am off to this ecolodge in the middle of nowhere tomorrow to do some consulting so I don't think there will be ANY internet access. Well, you never know ...?

That's me in the corner ...

Caption: "And up next, the offering!"

Welcome to Lichinga: Where it takes one hour to cook a chicken

Hey everyone,

well, I touched down in Lichinga (3 flights in 4 hours from Maputo ... the first one at 6:30am) yesterday.

Lichinga is approaching the STICKS of Africa (though I'm actually going to the Wilderness tomorrow). It's not really a town, the main centre of town (as one of the guys here explained) is this big roundabout next to an unused cinema. There's one road that's tarred (confusingly called the tarmac) and the rest is dirt roads.

That being said, it has a really nice feel about it, and feels very safe.

A few random things I have noticed about Lichinga ...

1. It takes FOREVER to get food here. I waited well over an hour yesterday for chicken and chips - I felt the combined frustration of (i) being hungry (never enjoyable for me!) and (ii) trying to tell the waiter off for taking so long with my order without being able to speak Portugeuse. Yes, trying to be angry in a foreign language is an interesting experience (I didn't know what else to do but look annoyed, wave my finger, and shout over and over again, "chicken!" ...

2. The rain here is BIZARRE. It comes and goes - an amazing phenomenon where it pours for 20 minutes then is fine (I guess it's not that dissimilar to Melbourne, really). Today was even weirder: I was sitting in a hut having lunch and it was pouring down 10 metres away from us, but not over us, and yet, pouring 30 metres away from us on the other side.

3. There are disused 70-seated planes lying around in random places. I have no idea why, but it's not a great advertisement for aviation.

4. There are missionaries everywhere. Have been to dinner parties these last two nights - both with lots of them! Some of them are Aussies! (they say hi ... there's one from the SHIRE here for all you southies!)

5. The telephone line has a special surprise. When you are talking on the telephone (land line), you can hear LOUD AND CLEAR Radio Mozambique, which is extraordinarily annoying if you're trying to have a proper conversation ...

6. And as a result, the internet connection here is s-l-o-w. I connected at 2.4 kbps (that's much less than one KILOBYTE per second) ... yuk. My internet. Why?!? (since then, I've gotten faster ... even speeds of up to 4.8 kbps!?!?!)

7. There's not much to do here. When we got in, there weren't many of us on the plane, but hundreds of people waiting for us at the airport. "Don't worry about them," the local told me. "There's not much to do here ... so they come and watch the planes land every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday."!


... but the sunsets are gorgeous, and the people are nice (except that waiter, but I showed him .. well, tried to).



Blessings,
john

John Foong: Hot or Not?

a.k.a. 'Something every guy has to do when they’re going overseas for a while ...'

I HAD to do it.

You see, going overseas for a while gives people the opportunity to express themselves in new and exciting ways: Some choose new environments and experiences – others choose to stretch their mind with new ideas and learnings.

Today, I chose the third alternative – to express myself with a new hairstyle.

One problem: I couldn’t find a hairdresser that spoke English. Which meant that the standard “how do you want your hair cut?” conversation progressed a little like this:

Me: Can you cut my hair short and spiky?
Hairdresser: (pauses) Sorry, ni comphrehende, ni comprehende.
Me: Ummm … can you cut ... (signalling by touching bits of hair) short, spiky!
Hairdresser: Sorry, ni comprehende.
Me: Uh, okay … can you put colour my hair? A bit?
Hairdresser: (something in Portugeuse I didn’t understand)
Me: Sorry, ni comprehende.

So we found someone who could speak some English sitting somewhere else in the store.

Me to the guy who could speak English: Can you tell them, I think my hair is not spiky enough.
The guy: I think it looks fine!
Me: Ummm … okay, great. But can you tell them I want it more spiky?
The guy: Why? It’s spiky enough!
Me on the inside: Just translate, would you?!

Eventually some lady from the digital printing shop next door rocked up and she was able to translate for me without adding interpretation (I think … I guess I’ll never know!).

And the result? I’m not quite sure. It’s not as I envisaged it would be (but hey, none of my drawings at school turned out the way I imagined them in my head, particularly ones involving humans and/or fairies). So why don’t you decide …

Hot? Or .............................................. Not?


Blessings
John (complete with new hairstyle making me look suspiciously like a Hong Kong immigrant) (insert shudder here)

Before and after: Mimmo's seafood platter challenge for 4

Today's blog is sponsored by ...


One of the things I LOVE about being in a third world country is CHEAP FOOD. Today me and Rui (a Technoserve consultant who is an even bigger man than I) hadn't eaten for 3 hours, so we thought we would attempt "Mimmo's Mega Seafood Challenge for 4" - 24 prawns, 12 mussels, 4 whole fish, 12 calamari, 12 squid, a pizza without any topping on it (random?! but we ate it 'cos the platter took an hour to get here!), rice and chips (though they didn't really count) ...

Here was the platter at 1:15pm ...


And at 1:35pm ...


It was great! Mmmm ... sweet value. You could say that I really enjoyed "Finding Mimmo's" (insert uncontrollable laughter here).

Apart from that, I met my twin double today (he watched me and Rui conquer the platter, in shock). He's also done a commerce degree, worked two years in industry (well, in private equity, but similar-ish to consulting), is thinking about going to business school, and in the meantime, is doing a 2-3 month stint in Mozambique with Technoserve. He got here 4 days before me and leaves 4 days before me. He's even from a similar-ish city, San Fransisco. He's also good looking (though not quite so good looking, and I'm funnier too. Honest.) ... but the scariest thing is that, his name sounds similar to mine: it's DON (mine's JOHN, just in case any of you forgot). He's not Asian though (I think - but who can be sure nowadays?!) ...

Anyway, I have 2-day training course for consultants I need to prepare for! (actually, someone else has already designed the course, I just need to think of some good jokes and funny stories to throw in ... and some random games - so I can give away these Tim Tams I brought).

Keep the emails coming, I love 'em.

God bless
john

Money: it makes the world go round … (note: may include random murmurings)

Capital with a Capital C
As I’ve been saying, much of my time has been devoted to thinking about raising capital for the start-up seed company I’ve been working with. We need US$130,000 to get going, though (depending on the level of production) we could also use US$2,000,000 in our first year (couldn’t we all!?).

Financing is a huge problem in Africa. Many entrepreneurs (like the ones I’m working with) are stuck in a financing catch-22 – they have a business idea that will make lots of revenue and generate employment, but they need money to start – and they can’t get money because they don’t yet have revenue (and most importantly, collateral). Furthermore, banks are scared to loan money (with agricultural loan default rates up around 50%!) so for a start-up seed company, it’s very difficult to, um, start up.

The biggest barrier to fighting poverty here
From what I've seen, the lack of available financing for these reasons is probably the biggest barrier to economic growth in Africa. Until companies (large and small) can get financing, unemployment will remain high (only 20% of people in the cities actually have formal jobs … I see so many people sitting around, waiting for some kind of work, nothing else to do) and industry will remain backward, as few people have money to put into new investment or innovation. My conclusion from three weeks’ experience here is that the start of the solution to African poverty is the difficult task of removing barriers for private enterprise to pursue profit making investment: barriers like slow bureaucracy and, in particular, getting finance.

… which is quite sad and really ironic, when you think about it ... to think, as a human race, the only way that we are able to be united and effective in fighting poverty is through maximising the pursuit of profit, that is, selfish financial gain?!

Yet this has been the way of human development throughout history – even Southern Africa’s settlement, as a stopover port between Europe and the Spice Islands – trade makes the world go round. Our biggest advances have, in so many cases, come about by smart people thinking of new ways to make a buck. Inventions and efficiencies come as a result of it; wars are fought and re-fought over trade routes and natural resources; the locations of capital cities are determined by the ability to receive shipping containers and generate trade ... from individual to nation, the pursuit of financial gain shapes our world.

The import market and … the bible
I’ve met many interesting entrepreneurs traveling through Mozambique, trying to import new things at giant margins and make a profit. As I’ve been meeting them, hearing their stories and ambitions, and thinking about all this stuff, I have been reading through Ecclesiastes. Two verses in particular stuck out to me …

“I saw that all labour and all achievement spring from man’s envy of his neighbour. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind …” (Ecclesiastes 4:9)

“Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income. This too is meaningless …” (Ecclesiastes 5:10)

I know my work here is valuable in ultimately fighting poverty. Yet I find it strange that the desire for personal wealth (or, at least, to have more wealth than one's neighbour!) is the best way to do so. What a strange world we live in!

My first safari: Kruger National Park, South Africa

Well, it was time for my first trip to South Africa today, and to the biggest natural wildlife park in the world, Kruger National Park - for a safari!

For the uninitiated, a safari is a bit like an extended version of "Where's Wally", except substantially more expensive, and not a picture book ...

... Kruger Park is very close to Maputo. You'd be able to get there in less than 100 minutes if it weren't for having to cross the border ... the border crossing (you need to exit Mozambique, then enter South Africa) is appalling organised, and despite the short queues it still took us almost an hour to get through. Yuk.

We get there about 9am, and within 5 minutes of entering we had already seen a bunch of gazelle prancing around ...


... and a family of warthogs and bison crossing the road:


WOW. I thought. This is going to be non-stop animal kingdom fun!

We then spent the next 3 hours, driving around, seeing NOTHING. Nothing! Three hours of squinting out the window, looking at bush. However, I must say, staring out the window into the scenery in the middle of nowhere for three hours is excellent reflection time ...

Over lunch, I consoled myself with a chicken and cheese burger and buying snacks for the afternoon (prices are so expensive in Maputo that it was actually cheaper for me to buy chips and snacks in the middle of Kruger Park than the supermarket next to my place!) and prepared for more reflection time.

However, the afternoon was full of activity. We first saw a family of elephants ...


... Then a whole heap of giraffes ...


... Then giraffes, and zebras (And heaps more gazelle) altogether!


It was a great trip!

How a highly-strung ex-consultant watches DVDs

One of my closest friends (it talks and sings to me) during this trip has been Larry the Laptop*. It computes formulae, makes funky-looking presentations, but its most-used function has been its (his?) ability to play DVDs.

I've filled up far too much of my spare time watching DVDs and TV, a fact made worse by the fact I've only had 3 DVDs to actually watch (This obscure but very funny film called The In-Laws, as well as Spiderman 2 and Troy).

Despite having far more free time than I'm used to, I've noticed that I watch DVDs in a very strange way.

You see, I'll fast-forward to all the bits of the movie I like, and just watch those, in some kind of effort to optimise time (rather than sit through all the boring bits, of course!). However, this takes more time than I realise, because I fast-forward too far, then rewind too far, then yada yada yada. Before I know it, I've taken half the duration of the movie to see the four bits I like. But, having still saved so much time, I'll do exactly the same to the other movies. All in all, it will take me 2 hours to watch 8 5-minute scenes from 2 movies of less than 2 hours duration, not really enjoying any of it, and still feeling guilty that I could've done it in quicker time ...

Some people have told me that it takes 6 months after the consulting life to learn how to "chill out". I wonder whether I'll learn quicker than others - or in my efforts to learn this quicker, it'll take me longer ... =)

Blessings
john

"Immortality ... take it - it's yours!"


*I'm kidding, I actually haven't given it a name.
Yet. =)

Leaving Chimoio: Experiencing the third world through the window of an air-conditioned 4WD …

Well, here I am …
… at the tiny little airport of Chimoio, leaving to go to Maputo, never to return (well, except for a short stint in five weeks’ time, but hey).

The project has been a good success. I gave two presentations to potential NGO loaners (not that kind of loner) this morning and they were very impressed with our work. However, the big thing we need – finances – are still not in place, the April deadline looming. Hopefully it’ll sort itself out …

… It’s been a great three weeks. One third of my time here is gone already! But I’ve learned a LOT about myself – heaps, in fact – being in a different country has made me question a lot about me – why I do things the way I do! I’ve learned a stack too. Not just about seeds and corn and stuff, but about consulting at a more “ground roots” level, working with self-made business people, being out in the field (literally).

On a philosophical level, however …
… it’s been a strange few weeks. I came to Chimoio expecting to “rough it” – instead, I’ve been staying at a gorgeous bed-and-breakfast where the price for three nights is greater than what 70% of the population earn in an entire year; eating heaps, watching worldwide sport and Hollywood movies – the most third-world thing has been the dial up internet! (insert nerd-like shudder)

I’ve been to see many farms, sure, and many places – but my experience so far has truly been Africa through the window of an air-conditioned four-wheel drive. I see their eyes and some of their poverty, but I have no real experience of their world.


(one photograph taken through the window on a road trip)

I struggle with the unfairness of it all – me traveling around in a 4WD, looking at them, but not venturing out, not touching. The contrast is so marked, I can’t help but feel guilty; a window separates first-world extravagance with third-world poverty …

But then I realized …
… that the third-world and first world have always existed side-by-side. That I’ve always actually lived life through the window of an air-conditioned four-wheel drive (or, in my case back home, a Holden Astra), enjoying luxury as literally billions starve. And when I eventually leave here, it’s not like their suffering goes away, only my closeness to it all …

Goodbye Chimoio. Will my thoughts about you be any different in five weeks when we meet again?

Irony is … putting on weight in a third world country

Being food dependent for the first time in a while
One of the strange things about working in an office/farm not close to shops is that you are completely dependent on other people as to when and where you eat (apart from using ‘persuasive techniques’ eg, “whoa, is it 2 o’clock already!” and less subtle ones like “my stomach is killing me!”).

This is a completely foreign experience to me. I realized, I’m always used to being either surrounded by a bevy of healthy and unhealthy foods (like the always-stocked fridge and pantry at home) or easily being able to get it – living next to Woolworths and Baker’s Delight at home hasn’t helped – but there’s always a food court nearby, at worst, dodgy pizza rolls at the petrol station (mmmm … fattening). I’m not used to my host family skipping breakfast and me not being able to just go out and buy a steak (or two) or freshly cut fruit. Or me missing dinner and there being nowhere to go.


… I don’t like it!
I don’t think I realized this before: I really don’t enjoy being hungry. In accordance with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, it dominates my thinking, my dreams (whoa, those anti-malaria drugs have some interesting side effects!) … well, occasionally anyway.

And so, I’ve found myself unconsciously reverting to ‘survival techniques’. That is, eating whatever I can, whenever I can: eating lots when I get to the shops, who knows, I may not eat again for 4 hours? (Shock horror!) This is not a wise strategy for health, particularly as everythinhere is either hi-carb, hi-fat, or both (it took me a while to work out why there’s no Diet Coke in Chimoio, but it became clear after I thought about it for a bit). Luckily there are no scales in Chimoio, otherwise I’d probably be feeling even worse than my current yo-yo-ing between feeling bloated and hungry …


You’re probably thinking – “John, you spoilt little rich kid”
... Which may not be incorrect.

Am going back to the farm today to spend my last 2 days (for this month anyway) in Chimoio.

Despite me "roughing it" on the farm, with no running hot water! - I can´t avoid the fact that, for the 5 of us on the farm, there are 5 full time maids/guards/dudes paid less than 1 US dollar a day who take care of us.

One guy´s job is to keep water boiling in this metal drum (i´ll put a photo of it up later) for when we want to have a hot bath. When we want one, we shout out to him and he brings the water over through a few trips with a bucket.

The thing about this guy is, he´s desparately afraid of the family dog (as am I, unfortunately, the dog doesn´t reciprocate those same wishes for distance). The dog has bitten him once and hates his guts. Yet every time he needs to make a trip with the hot water into the house, many times a night, he has to face that dog.

Seeing this brings the equality of the world out to me in a strange way. Big dogs scare me (in a manly kind of way, of course) ... and I wouldn´t take any job that required me to walk past such a nemesis so often. This guy has to, every day.

God bless,
john