Water Wellness

I’ve been told that flexibility is the key, and this job demands it more than any other. I am not actually a consultant, but the breadth of our work is so diverse that it’s hard to define roles in a single term. These past weeks, the term “consultant” seemed to fit; although I can’t imagine many of the consultants I know living this kind of lifestyle.

I was planning to be gone from Karonga for only a week to attend an EWB retreat. Little did I know, I would be gone for three, and I would need a lot more than shorts and flip-flops. In a sudden turn of events, opportunities opened up in the southern part of Malawi, and I was the only one available to follow up. Two districts needed a  way to monitor water sources so they could begin planning for a major infrastructure investment project from the African Development Bank. These districts urgently needed to know which water boreholes needed rehabilitation, and where new water sources should be installed, so I was requested to travel down and assist them in developing the same tool I’ve been working with in Karonga. Instead of heading home, I found myself borrowing dress shirts, making phone calls, and dragging myself onto a cramped bus in the pre-dawn, traveling towards the opposite end of the country.

When I think of consultants traveling in Canada, I think of rented cars, accommodation at something like a Holiday Inn, and lunches in diners or quiet restaurants. Malawi is more than a little different, especially with an organization that lacks the overwhelming funding of the United Nations or other major NGOs. We’re on a tight budget, which doesn’t leave a lot of surplus for white Toyota Hilux pick-up trucks, or executive accommodation.

I realized this while deciding on a room at the Ndangopuma Rest House in Mulanje. After clambering out of a mini bus packed with farmers, market goods, crying babies, chickens, and Zambian pop music at full blast, I needed a place to regroup, and the Ndangopuma offered the lowest prices. Everything else catered to tourists visiting the Mulanje Mountain and had tourist prices to match. But not the Ndangopuma. I was eventually persuaded to take a slightly nicer room than the cheapest option (a difference of 43 cents) and was shown to a room that seemed to be used marginally less frequently for prostitution. But the room was clean enough and I set out to prepare my thoughts for a meeting the next day with the District Water Office.

First impressions are everything, and the Malawian standard for workplace business attire resembles the West. Polished black shoes, a well-pressed shirt, and a clean hair-cut are essential if one is to be taken seriously in Malawi. I struggled with all of these.

The sole of my shoe had begun to delaminate after being kicked on the bus ride down, and I hadn’t packed shoe polish when I left Karonga – I was lucky to have packed dress shoes at all. A little deodorant applied with toilet paper did the trick. The loose heal wouldn’t be noticed so long as I didn’t walk too quickly.

No mirrors existed in the rest house, so I took photos of myself to assess my hairstyle while combing, after drying off from an ice-cold bucket bath. Mulanje is frigid at this time of year, and hot water is a luxury not found at the Ndangopuma. At least I was clean and groomed.

All of the shirts I had (mostly borrowed from people at the retreat) were horrifically crumpled from their journey in a backpack. Fortunately, I found a man in a house nearby who graciously ironed my shirt in a cast-iron contraption filled with hot coals from the fire. The latch on the iron was broken, so he moved slowly, being careful not to spill hot coals and set my shirt, or the bed, on fire. This took longer than I’d planned, which cut into my breakfast time. Without time to pass by the market, I hastily made a peanut butter sandwich with supplies from the previous day, and set off to find a bike taxi.

As I sat on the bicycle, at last looking presentable and being whisked past tea fields in the shadow of Mulanje Mountain, I reflected on the situation, and the many roles I have to play. Today I am a traveling consultant, tomorrow a facilitator, Tuesday an innovator, and next week an extension worker helping Water Monitoring Assistants to count water points – all of that in between living in a village where I can only speak Chitumbuka. What’s more, is that the available means to do all of this constantly changes and I have to adapt as best I can with what I have. It is endlessly challenging.

I’ve always admired people who can work comfortably in many different environments – the kind of people who can “wear many hats.” It is something I think I’m slowly learning, as the trials of being a development worker continue to beat lessons on flexibility into me. The complexity of the challenges requires us to adapt to different circumstances, acquire multiple perspectives, and change roles as needs or circumstances change. It is what makes describing to others what I do so difficult. Am I an engineer, a writer, a photographer, or an organizational development facilitator? I suppose I am each of these, when I need to be, but those needs are constantly changing. When they do, I need to be both flexible, and able to get things done on a shoestring if I am to help drive the process of change.