Malawi 2004 - 2007 |
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Dealing With The District
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Two years ago Mrs Mbendera, the District Youth Officer, became very excited. She was more usually ground down by the daily round of young people wanting her to provide a football, a job, some hope. All she had to offer was herself and the few scraps that fell from the table once the schools and the health service had scraped the meagre rations from the almost empty bowl. But today she was excited. The African Development Bank had told her that she could choose two villages to receive a brand new youth centre. Now, one thing to get straight is that Mrs Mbendera is the representative of the Government. The West has persuaded Malawi that centralised government is a diseased fruit. The remedy is de-centralisation. So, all decisions about policy and resources must go through the District Assembly. Mrs Mbendera made presentations to the Assembly, argued with councillors, berated officials. Eventually she got them to agree to accept the African bank's offer and they decided to back the building of centres in Ka'oma and Kang'oma. Mrs Mbendera was happy. So it was that the Village Group Headman was asked to form a committee to get the building constructed. The reason people join committees is not a pure and selfless devotion to duty. If you are on a diet of maize served with maize and earning less than a dollar a day this might be way to get to the sweet bowl. You also don't say no to the chief, who still embodies African authority and family fealty. He duly delivered a committee. Who could refuse the wishes of the chief? Within a year the youth centre at Ka'oma was built, had suffered its first crisis and was flourishing again, under new management. The youth centre at Kan'goma was an empty shell. At first sight the reasons were not obvious. Apparently the situations of the two centres were similar and CEYCA had even purchased land from the chief so that the centre could proceed. The difference was in the contract. The District had to appoint a building contractor. Strangely, the person who won the contract also happened be the Chair of the District Assembly. Rogers Newa's cry of "you'll be sorry" fell on deaf ears. Over time local builders were employed at cheap rates, work was done badly, and people waited to be paid. The building project ran out of money, the committee ran out of interest, and the young people ran out of patience and ideas about what could be done. After all they had made the bricks and taken over when the committee took to their beds. When I arrived we held our meetings with the young people in the youth centre. Everything was half finished. The floor was half concrete and half rubble, the roof was half timbered, the doorframes had no doors, the windows had no glass and so on. You get half the picture. It seemed that no-one had any idea about how to get things moving. My usually pugnacious boss seemed reticent to cause any more upset and the District had no cash left. Initial questioning led to the glass being put in the window frames. This was great news to the local community who immediately showed their gratitude by converting the glass into cash. Within three days every pane had gone - they had not thought to put the doors on first. We had to do something. The dreary procession of failed dreams had sapped the energy of the once vibrant youth network. I suggested we sought some money from the European Union Micro Projects Fund to do some leg work round the villages to revive interest and see what the kiddy winkies wanted to do? Maybe this could lead to some further funding for the youth centre. Micro Projects were supportive, especially as we only wanted a small amount for Fanta and petrol. In this world as with any other the key part is getting your first money. Soon we found that UNICEF would fund the whole of this project, which opened up the possibility of approaching Micro projects for something else. How about finishing the building? They came and looked at the building. "Mmm I think there is more needs doing here than you realise - I'll get the engineer out". Mr Jeri, the tubby Malawian engineer, whistled softly between his teeth as he added item after item to the ever growing list of things that had to be redone. "the roof is dangerous, look they haven't put in enough purlings. Look they haven't treated for termites. That ring beam hasn't been reinforced." The jaws of the young people present dropped further with each blow. However, Mr Jeri was upbeat and promised to cost the work. "Put your proposal in and see what happens". So it was that at the beginning of November that I turned up to the District Assembly to see the District Planning Officer. "She's gone to Britain, you'll have to see Mr M. who is deputising". Mr M could not have been easier to deal with. "Write a letter and I'll discuss it with the District Commissioner. Call back in two weeks" Two weeks later. " Ah no I haven't seen the DC I'll get you an answer by Friday". " Look its urgent now we cannot get the money without a letter of support from the District Assembly and the deadline is next Tuesday". Next Monday the day before deadline. Irate mzungo accosts Miss N from the Data Section. "where is Mr M. He promised to reply by Friday". " Mr. M is on leave for two weeks.". Now desperate mzungo. "Look don't you realise that millions of Kwatcha will be lost and your building will squash someone flat when the roof caves in?". To get rid of me she said she would see the D.C. Later that day " Ah Mr Heg. Please sit down" a sigh of foreboding. "The D.C. says he can't give you a letter because he is worried that CEYCA will want to claim the building" Even later that day This makes Palestine negotiations look like Any Questions. Mr Newa is pursuaded to add his weight in a phone call to the D.C. at home. "Oh that girl is only deputising for the man who is deputising for the Planning Officer. Tell the mzungo to see me first thing tomorrow." Tuesday - the day of Doom I feel more cheerful. I knew it was just a misunderstanding all along. No time had been agreed but I was asked to see the D.C. first thing. I get there at 7.50 knowing that work in Malawi starts at 8.00. The building is an extensive two story concrete block. The groups of hopeful or hopeless artisans are already forming under trees and in roofed car spaces. They sit there all day with their spirit levels, saws or muscle waiting for a desperate builder to pick them from the street. Others sit disconsolately in front of the court administration. Stalls of small foods and toiletries are being set up. I walk past the dirty reception desk and up the crumbling concrete stairs. There is some attempt to sweep the floors, but somehow everyone knows that the dirt won years ago. Only one light is working on the dingy passage. CEYCA can get to cash from donors to fund a power desk for the E.D. but here where the public come for basic services they have to sit on dirty floors in gloomy corridors. At 8.15 another Malawian comes up the steps and tries some doors - locked. "When are they supposed to start work?" he irritably asks an old man. "7.30" he replies brightly with no hint of irony. At 8.30 the first heavy lidded workers arrive and listlessly fumble with keys. I follow a woman who looked as if she had been sucking onions. She looks disinterestedly at me as I enter the D.C.s waiting room. "Is he in?" "No wait here". She gestures towards a Chair. I sit and visualise the sand running through the waist of the hour glass. I expected to be out of here in twenty minutes in time to complete the proposal and get to Micro Projects before the deadline at 5 p.m. By 9.00 the waiting room is full of people. It looks as if most have travelled from rural areas. I suspect some are traditional chiefs who are part of the local government system. As time moves on wearily in the growing heat many doze and conversation is muted and sporadic. At 10.00 the District Commissioner wanders into the room, pointedly ignores the mzungo, and invites a group into his room. This happens twice more before the D.C. beckons me. As I enter his room I can see why he wanted to keep me at bay. " This is the chairman of the District Assembly, I wanted him to be present." I start outlining the benefits of our proposal. " You have a half-finished youth centre and no money. The centre is also poorly built and dangerous. In fact you could find that the roof falls on people and you will be held accountable. We are keen to raise the funds to complete it." I smugly sat back having put up my best case and indirectly admonished the Chairman who corruptly ensured that he got the building contract. I expected a grateful response to my offer to try to get the building finished. " Ah there is one problem. " " Yes?" " If CEYCA raises the money they may want to keep the building. Why can't the Assembly have the money?" It is usual for civil servants and politicians to try to get control of funds. The District Commissioner was, after all, building a new house in Mangochi. By now it was after 11.00. " Look if we can't agree 3 million Kwatcha will be lost and the young people will be the losers. What if I write a memorandum of understanding stating that the Assembly owns the building until completion?". Eventually by 11.30 they agree. I ask the D.C. if he will be in the office to sign the agreement that is needed to get the funding. He says he will. By 1.30 I have written the agreement and tracked down the CEYCA Director who signs. By 2.00 I am at the Assembly. " Where is the District Commissioner?" " Maybe he is at lunch." I find the Chairman and remind him that we need a signature. He tries to phone the D.C. and we find that the D.C. has travelled to Mangochi. For a meeting? No, he has gone to deal with his house. " Can't you sign on behalf of the Assembly?" Eventually he gets agreement and by 3.30 I have a signed agreement in my hand. I realise that the promise of a letter stating how much had already been spent on the building is beyond their and my capability. The proposal arrives with 15 minutes to spare along with a letter saying the figures they need will follow. They do - a week later. The next day the D.C. arrives back at work to receive a letter saying that he can clear his desk. A new D.C. has been appointed.
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