Incident at Malawi Road Block

Every trip has its rough spots. Mine occurred on August 27 when we were detained by police for three hours after stopping at a road block in southern Malawi. It certainly felt like a shakedown—although the sergeant who flagged us down never directly asked for a bribe. And by the time it was all over, I was silently cursing both the police officer and our car rental agency—more on their involvement in a moment. I may never know what really happened, but I definitely learned a lesson about how difficult it can be to prove corruption or assign blame for it.

First some background. We were driving in a rental car from the city of Zomba, where I had interviewed several folks at the College of Health Sciences, back to Lilongwe. I was with my sister Michele and my friend Lisa, who accompanied me the last 10 days of the trip, and our driver Godfrey.

My original plan had been to do all the driving myself but after seeing how crowded the roads were with pedestrians, bikes, children, goats and chickens, I swallowed my pride and hired a driver. Although I had been told I could rent someone’s private car for much less than a rental car agency would charge, I was suspicious of breakdowns and so, after getting a recommendation, contacted Richard Phiri at the Sputnik Car Rental Agency in Lilongwe.

The car was a reconditioned Toyota Corolla. The driver a very nice guy named Godfrey. I wondered why there was no sign on the side of the automobile advertising Sputnik, but Richard assured me that was a security measure so that no one would target the car.

Ended up traveling all over Malawi in the two weeks I used the rental car. We must have passed through dozens of roadblocks—from the really permanent ones with metal barriers and guard posts to the more makeshift ones with just a pole across some barrels. Never had a problem anywhere. Mostly the officers waved us through. Occasionally they checked the insurance stickers on the windshield.

And in fact, my most sustained previous contact with a police officer had been quite pleasant, if the source of some amusement.

But half an hour or so out of Zomba, in the small town of Machinga, we came across a roadblock that had a different feel from the others. For one thing, there was only a single police officer manning it. For another, there were no vendors selling anything nearby.

After we stopped, the police officer glanced at the camera sitting in my lap and the large blue duffel we had stowed on the back seat (it didn’t fit with the other bags in the trunk). Then he asked for Godfrey’s driver’s license and asked who the car belonged to. Godfrey said “Putnik,” leaving off the “S” which I attributed to his being nervous.

Still holding Godfrey’s driver’s license, the officer—whose name I later learned was Sergeant Mbakkie—then walked over to the left side of the car to look at the insurance stickers and announced that one was missing. Then he walked back the road a bit to flag down several other vehicles.

While we waited, I called Richard Phiri at Sputnik and he immediately concluded that Mbakkie wanted a bribe. This seemed more than plausible since the newspapers had been full of stories about a charcoal seller in a Lilongwe neighborhood who was had just been shot dead by several policemen when he refused to pay them a bribe.

Richard told me not to worry, Sputnik would refund the cost of the bribe. I asked if I need to get a receipt (okay, so I was rattled) and he assured me he would trust me on the amount, which he figured would amount to a couple thousand kwacha or $13.50.

Except Sergeant Mbakkie never explicitly asked for money. He just kept talking about how we had to go to court because the car had been hired illegally, that we would need to wait our turn like everyone else, that it would probably take all day, etc. I figured he was building everything up so that we would be grateful that he would take a bribe. But I was much too chicken to offer money because, of course, bribery is against the law and I didn’t want to be caught doing something that was definitely illegal because of something that might or might not be taking place.

I will admit that I was scared enough in the first half hour that if Mbakkie had directly asked for money at that point, I would have forked it over and been happy to go on our way. But as more time passed, I calmed down and kept telling myself not to get pressured into anything.

At critical moments the conversation between Mbakkie and Godfrey turned from English into Chichewe, which of course I couldn’t follow. We had now been stopped on the side of the road for half an hour and no one came by the car to sell tomatoes or curios or practice their English—that seemed pretty telling.

After one long discussion, Godfrey said the police wanted us to pull off the road and into the police station. I refused, reasoning that the more visible we were—even if no one was coming near us—the better off we were. That also seemed odd—that we could just say no, weren’t going to move the car, without any apparent consequences.

And in fact, later, when Sergeant Mbakkie tried to hold on to my copy of the rental car contract, which I had showed him, I simply took it out of his hands and said, “That’s my property.” And he let me keep it.

Two older women walked by at one point and made some sympathetic remarks when my sister explained the situation to them but then they headed on their way.

By this point I had called my friend Kondwani Munthali, who is a journalist for The Nation, one of three big newspapers in Malawi. (Really glad I had kept my cell phone fully charged and had plenty of airtime for it.) Kondwani ended up speaking to both Sergeant Mbakkie and Richard Phiri at Sputnik. Then I spoke with them in English and then Godfrey spoke with everyone in Chichewa.

It started to feel at some point like all these conversations were taking place at cross-purposes. Sergeant Mbakkie would walk away from us with no explanation into the police station and then come back out again—all the while holding on to Godfrey’s driver’s license. But I kept thinking that it was important to make sure as many people knew about our situation as possible. And so I focused on that. I also knew it wouldn’t do any good to get angry or raise my voice.

Then Godfrey decided to go into the police station—forbidding me from coming with him and promising that things would work out—and when he came out, he announced that Sergeant Mbakkie had agreed that since I didn’t want to take care of this in Machinga, we could go to the next biggest town—Liwonde—about 30 minutes away to deal with it.

After waiting at the Liwonde road block (which turned out to be the wrong place) and then meeting up with Sergaent Mbakkie again at the Liwonde Police Station a couple of kilometers away, we were introduced to a new character in this drama—the prosecutor.

By this point both the prosecutor and Sergeant Mbakkie told me that neither I nor my fellow passengers had done anything wrong. It was Godfrey, our driver, who was being charged. That gave me the opening to ask to see the charges, which is how I learned the police officer’s name.

The prosecutor took me to his office where Godfrey and I sat on a low wooden bench. The official statement was handwritten in English and stated that Godfrey had confessed voluntarily to driving a car for hire that was not properly registered as a rental car. (So that’s what Godfrey was doing in the police station in Machinga.) In essence, the prosecutor told us, it was the equivalent of driving a stolen car and the punishment could be five years in prison.

The most tangible proof, the prosecutor said, was that our car—like most private cars—had yellow license plates with black lettering. Rental cars were supposed to have white plates with red lettering.

I asked Godfrey if he had indeed admitted to the charge and he said he had because he thought it would move things along. (So he didn’t want me there because I might have kept him from signing?)

At this point, the only thing I could hold on to was the fact that both the prosecutor and Sergeant Mbakkie had said that I and my fellow passengers had done nothing wrong. So I pushed that point with the prosecutor, asked repeatedly why we were being held—we were now coming up on three hours—if we had done nothing wrong and then called Richard Phiri at Sputnik for the umpteenth time and told him that if he had rented us an improperly registered car it was his problem and he needed to work things out with the prosecutor.

So Phiri and the prosecutor had a long talk on my cell phone and I’m not sure what they said or even if this was the conversation that turned things around but at some point I realized that we were going to get out of all this, it was just going to take a little time and there would have to be some kind of face-saving mechanism. But there would be no bribe.

In retrospect, I realize the prosecutor might have been asking for money when he said “isn’t there someone you can call to cancel all this?” but I was not swift enough to pick up on that.

I guess I had been in the prosecutor’s office long enough that Michele started to worry and came in asking if I was okay. I said yes and tried to communicate with my eyes that I thought things had turned.

At any rate, after pointing out to the prosecutor yet again by his own admission that three of us hadn’t done anything wrong, that we had been detained for the entire morning, that we wanted to be back in Lilongwe before dark due to the dangers of driving at night, the face-saving mechanism appeared.

Sergeant Mbakkie would hold on to Godfrey’s driver’s license but give him a sheet of paper allowing him to drive without a driver’s license, pending a court appearance. Godfrey would drive us the remaining four hours to Lilongwe but agree to return the next day for his court appearance.

And so we were off. We had lost three hours, our appetites and a few previously warm feelings about Malawi. We checked out all the license plates on every vehicle we passed on the way back to Lilongwe and sure enough the private vehicles all had yellow plates with black lettering, the taxis and mini-buses had white plates with red lettering and the vehicles driven by non-government organizations had white plates with blue lettering.

The hardest part for me was trying to figure out who was at fault.

There seemed no question that Sergeant Mbakkie considered three women traveling on their own to be easy marks. But it also seemed pretty likely that our rental car was in fact improperly registered. (And in fact, Michele pointed out that the insurance stickers, once we had cause to look at them, showed the car was registered to Richard Phiri and not to Sputnik.)

This suspicion seemed even more justified when Richard immediately agreed to my demand for a 10% discount on the balance of our rental car payment (guess I should have asked for more) all the while denying that there was anything wrong with the car’s registration.

Why the rental car agency would provide us with a car (and driver) without the right papers or plates is a whole other issue. The most charitable explanation is that they didn’t have enough cars in their fleet and were trying to be accommodating.

On the other hand, if they were trying to cut corners, they sure weren’t very good at it. They should have come up with a better cover story for Godfrey to tell the police officer—something like Mr. Phiri has loaned his personal car to these ladies to drive through Malawi or this is a company car—but then, of course, we would have known something was off-kilter.

I realize I am placing more responsibility on Richard than on Godfrey in this whole affair. But Richard had more authority in the matter and Godfrey seemed more caught in the middle.

At any rate, Godfrey drove back to Liwonde the next day for his court appearance and told us the charge was dropped and showed us his recovered driver’s license to prove it. Later, Richard tried to smooth things over by saying that Mbakkie had been reassigned after being reprimanded for giving trouble to tourists—but whether or not that was true, it actually made us feel worse.

In the end, Michele, Lisa and I came away thinking that neither the police officer nor the car agency was on the up and up. I also learned that blatant corruption is not the only kind you have to watch out for. And that just because you try to do the right thing—like hire a car from a legitimate car rental agency—doesn’t mean you will succeed.

But I’d be interested in learning, by your comments below, what you think, what you might have done in the same circumstances or if you’ve had a similar experience.

Letter from Malawi

The best travel writing is always bitchy writing. While the casual traveler invariably hopes that his vacations and journeys abroad are pleasant and relaxing, the travel writer knows that no one really wants to read about his first class accommodations on the Queen Bee and the exquisite turn-down service it afforded him. Instead, writers like Paul Theroux, the very best of the lot, make every dinner a trip through culinary hell and every suburban taxi ride a horror show down the Zambezi River on a tramp steamer. With little regard for the facts of the matter, they make of the taxi driver a reincarnated Kurtz from Conrad's Heart of Darkness. These writers want you to know that they suffer for their art.

I am in Malawi this week, not far from the banks of the Zambezi River, and it is all too sad a place to crab about. My purpose for being here is to set up a small bank that will lend money to fish farmers who will sell varieties of tilapia to local villagers. That this bank will fail and that these farmers will fail is an almost foregone conclusion.

Two images strike you when you arrive in the country and leave the national airport on the country's one main road. The first is the multitude of shanty house businesses lining the highway that sell in combination "funerals and joinery." Coffins are piled high outside each of these shops; the coffins are made of plain wood and often have a cross glued haphazardly on the top panels. The life expectancy of Malawi's people is 39 years; it has the highest rate of HIV infection in Africa.

The second image is of gigantic billboards spaced every half mile advertising the face and the accomplishments of Bingu wa Mutharka, Malawi's President. The smiling President exhorts his people to "Judge me by the work of my hands!" and it is difficult not to as you motor past endless tracks of plywood and tin construction, women hovering over small piles of vegetables, and hawkers of half liter containers of paraffin.

At nightfall, the valley below where I am staying is punctuated by fire and the air is redolent with the smell of burning brush and grasslands. Hundreds of farmers are slashing and burning in preparation for planting maize and it is a wonder that the whole country side doesn't go up in flames. Because commodities prices have gone up so much there is a real danger that hunger will become even more prevalent. That fear is driving Malawi's people to plant maize on every possible bit of dirt, thus fire, thus dense, smoky haze drifting for miles in every direction.

My dismal prediction about the futures of Malawi's fish farmers is mostly because the tilapias they borrow money to raise never reach maturity. Fingerlings are put into farm ponds when they are about an inch and a half long: hungry thieves, as well as the farmer and his extended family, begin eating the fish when they reach two inches in length. The fish rarely get to market, and if they do, prices are so low that there is hardly a margin to make.

Who can be happy in such a place? I suppose Bingu wa Mutharka might engage at least the idea of happiness if the weight of rule was not so heavy on his broad shoulders. And children look happy: they chase each other, play hand games and soccer, and shower great flashing smiles on the old deaf white guy who walks by.

But their mothers look weary and tired and all done in and they are all impossibly young.

Goats Pave the Way to Self-Sufficiency in Malawi

Malawi — one of the world’s poorest countries — many people live on less than $1 a day. And no one is more aware of how difficult that is than Beffa Williams. A widow, Beffa is raising four grandchildren on her own, all of them orphaned due to the HIV/AIDS epidemic that has descended on the region. She has few options for making money in her poverty-stricken country. And even $1 a day, when she can earn it, doesn’t go far toward feeding five people.

Families like Beffa’s are the reason The Salvation Army’s Goat Bank project was created. As part of the program, families receive two goats — a male and a female — and they learn from a local veterinarian how to properly care for the animals.

Two goats may not seem like a life-changing gift. But to impoverished people like Beffa, they make all the difference.

Families are able to sell the milk from the goats, and with the profits they can purchase necessities like food, as well as items such as school supplies and books that will improve the quality of life for their children.

In return, they give their goats’ first litter back to The Salvation Army so that another needy family can begin their own herd.

The Goat Bank project is impacting communities all across Malawi — but it’s families like Beffa’s who really see the immediate benefits. No longer worried about how she will feed her grandchildren or send them to school, Beffa simply smiles when asked if the goats have changed her life.

The Goat Bank project wouldn’t be possible without the generosity of friends like you. Thank you for your support! If you wish to donate online click here.

To Malawi with love print this article

For most people living in the western world a pair of socks, or a potato sack are just everyday items. But imagine being excited to receive the little things that most people take for granted everyday.

The Philadelphia Pentecostal Tabernacle in Lewisporte is on another mission to Malawi.

In 2005 they built the Lewisporte House that now houses nine orphans. The house is designed with both a House Mother who takes care of the children and an Auntie who takes care of the children and the house.

The children who live there are very lucky to have people caring for them, they are usually orphaned because their parents have died from disease. They receive medical, nutritional help and they get to attend school.

On this mission to Malawi Pastor Barry Pelley, Don Carter, Hayward Mesh, Charles Wheaton, Audrey Sheppard, Lawrence Sheppard, Dave Hutchings and Kim Hutchings will be lending a hand.

They are preparing themselves for the conditions that they may face.

"I don't know what to expect to see, I just want to help any way I can," said Mr. Hutchings.

The group will go to the Village of Hope were the Lewisporte House is located. They have a lot of events planned for the children.

"We will be having a party with games and food and also holding church services," said Ms. Sheppard. "We will also be going out into the villages where there are orphans and we will be giving out loop bags to everyone."

Malawi withdraws recognition of Saharawi Republic

Malawi decided on Tuesday to withdraw its recognition of the "Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic" (SADR), which the Polisario Front separatists proclaimed as an independent state in 1976, in Algeria.

The Malawi Foreign Affairs minister Joyce Banda announced the decision at the end of talks with her Moroccan counterpart Taib Fassi Fehri in Rabat.

"In the light of the recent developments of the Western Sahara issue at the United Nations, Malawi decided to withdraw its recognition of the SADR and end all relations with it," she declared.

Malawi means by this decision "to encourage the UN-backed ongoing negotiation process in order to achieve a durable political solution to this 33-year old regional conflict," the Malawi official said.

Since UN-backed Manhasset negotiations (near New York) on Western Sahara began in June 2007, forty African and Latin-American countries have decided to withdraw or freeze their recognition of the SADR.

According to the Moroccan authorities, this decision is a "great diplomatic victory".

Rabat withdrew from the Organization of African Unity (OAU) in 1984 to protest against the admission of the SADR.

Since April 2007, Morocco proposed a Western Sahara autonomy plan to find a solution to this dispute which started since the end of 1975, when the Spanish colonizers withdrew from the territory which went under Moroccan authority since then.

The Algeria-backed Polisario Front demands a self-determination referendum considered to be "inapplicable" by Rabat.

Morocco is consolidated right now in its autonomy proposal whereas the Manhasset negotiations are "at a standstill".

The date of the fifth round of these direct negotiations between Morocco and Polisario Front is yet to be determined. Algeria and Mauritania also take part in the negotiations as observers.

The fourth round of these talks, held in March, left the door open to the protagonists to set the date of their next negotiations.

Malawi NGO embarks on supporting aspiring women MP’s

Malawi’s chairperson for Women in Politics and Decision Making Positions, Lyn Kachere, said on Wednesday that her organisation would support over 100 women aspiring to be candidates for members of parliament (MP’s) in the May 2009 presidential and parliamentary elections.

She told APA during an interview in Lilongwe that identification of the aspiring candidates has already started in various constituents of the country and “we are looking for quality and experienced women candidates who can articulate issues, not in a party line but at a national level.”

She added that her group would like to achieve a requirement of 50/50 women representation in decision-making positions by 2009, and gender activists are optimistic of achieving this.

Malawi failed to achieve a SADC Gender Protocol of having a 30 per cent female representation in parliament and other decision-making positions, reaching only 8 percent of women represented in Parliament in 1999 and 15 percent in 2004.

Lake Malawi boat accident claims 20 lives

Some 20 people are believed to have drowned in Lake Malawi after a boat they were travelling in from the lakeshore district of Nkhata Bay to the island district of Likoma reportedly capsized on Tuesday afternoon, APA learnt here Wednesday.

According to police spokesperson Nora Chimwala, the incident happened due to overloading as it was carrying 28 people, apart from bags of flour, firewood and other goods belonging to the passengers — instead of its capacity of ten passengers without cargo.

“We have arrested the captain of the boat and he will appear before a court of law very soon on several charges, including overloading, negligence, unlawful killing and wounding,” she said.

She said eight people managed to swim to ashore and they are receiving treatment at Nkhata Bay District Hospital, while others are still missing.

Currently, she said, police and marine officials are still looking for the missing 20 bodies.

'Malawi will beat DRC'

Malawi will beat Democratic Republic of Congo by hook or crook in October to progress to the next round of the Africa Cup of Nations and World Cup qualifiers, said Malawi National Football team coach, Kinnah Phiri.

Phiri said his team lost to the DRC by fluke because the “referee dubiously" awarded a penalty during the dying minutes of the game. “They (DRC) did not beat us; the referee did the job for them. He dubiously awarded them a penalty to savage their home pride, and they will pay for that,” he said.

He added: “The loss DRC suffered at the hands of Egypt did the job for us. When you cheat, you don't have to cerebrate much. We will beat them here, and revenge the injustice we suffered in their country because we played better than them.”

Phiri said Malawians should stop dreaming about qualification and start to vocally support their team. He said this may be achieved through good patronage to soccer matches.

Malawians love foreign leagues than their own, a development that has seen numbers to soccer matches dwindle.