In search of…

I’ll admit it. I’m not that well- adjusted semi-integrated expat that reads the local paper every morning. In fact, I’m not even sure I could name the local paper without taking a pause to rack my brain. So when a friend mentioned the fuel shortage the other night over a glass of wine, I hadn’t the foggiest clue what she was talking about.

But sure enough, she was right. When I pulled up to the trusty BP after work, there were bright orange cones in front of all the pumps and I heard from a colleague that there were lines of cars stretching down the road outside the gas station at Crossroads (Malawi’s answer to a shopping mall).

There seem to be several theories about exactly what has caused the crisis. The first story I heard was that the tankers with Malawi’s regular petrol supply were being held in Zimbabwe and that the Malawi Revenue Authority had flown down to Harare in an effort to rescue them.

Then I was told that the sad troubles in Kenya has stopped ships from coming into the port at Mombasa, creating a shortage of supplies all the way down to land-locked Malawi. But that too was dispelled when I was told that Malawi’s petrol supply usually comes into the port at Dar es Salaam, Tanzania or Beira, Mozambique, notably closer than Kenya.

All I can tell you for the moment is that the Total station at Foodworth shopping plaza has petrol. And they haven’t even jacked up the price. Yet.

Out of Africa

I spent the holidays this year visiting the charming Emerald Isle keeping up friends from Kinshasa. First we went down the coast in search of Fungi, the friendly dolphin. He was no where to be seen.

Then we went up the coast to check out the famous Cliffs of Moher. They were no where to be seen.

We braved the Shannon River for the Christmas Day Swim to raise funds for Limerick’s Marine Rescue.

Had some close calls.

And saw some stunning spots.

But mostly we hung around in pubs.

I can now say with confidence that I’ve seen the real Ireland. Slainte!