Every Thursday we fill our fleet of cars with diesel fuel. We have two underground tanks in our compound, connected to two old fashioned fuel pumps. At 7:15 on Thursday morning, I arrive at the office and get everything ready to fuel the fleet.
What follows is 45 minutes of chaos, full of rushing, prepping, recording and validating that makes me feel completely at home. One thing that theater teaches you is deadline-driven performance.
I'm a base log. That means I'm the logistician in charge of the center of operations, not some metaphorical support structure.
Today I found myself tackling the large and tedious job of doing inventory on our stationary supply. It's something that happens every month, and for several reasons it was put off this month. So today we had to do it, since we are distributing our stock tomorrow for the monthly supply of August.
It's not so bad once you get in the mode, but I spent over an hour counting each plastic page protector, each marker, each folder with the storekeeper.
Big sigh of relief that's done.
Tomorrow is hardware. I wonder how many nails we have?
This was the view up the mountain this morning behind our house. It towers over the town at its base and juts solidly into the cloud cover. Mount Chiradzulu.
I'm standing in the laboratory for the district hospital of Chiradzulu. I'm here teaching the biomed technician how to update the antivirus software on all the computers and back them up. It's slightly ironic because we are in an HIV lab, with signs posted around us saying "Danger: Risk Of Infection" and "Authorized Personnel Only." And we're checking for viruses too.
The labcoat-clad technicians move about the space, tending to the equipment checking viral load and CD4 counts. I stop in to the UNITAID lab to check on the equipment there. It is a project installing and training local staff to use state-of-the-art testing equipment for HIV diagnostics and treatment. All is going well, and we're preparing the next health center for its new equipment installation next month.
The refrigerator repair crew just got here, and the next computer is ready to be backed up. Just another day on base in Malawi.
I spent my morning in an echoing hall listening to representatives of many different ministries of government and industry conduct the businesses of the district government.
In Chichewa, the local language.
Four hours later, I'm finally done. I escaped after the closing prayer, although I'm not certain that was the end.
I did get to do a presentation on water needs and access, but that was in English by necessity.
Another language to learn...
It's 6:45 and all is quiet and buttoned up for the night. It's a little more than two hours after 'knock off,' so the staff are long gone.
I've been getting many things done without constant demands on my time. Even though all of the expats continue to work, the official workday ends at 4:30. There's an unwritten rule that no requests are made and no problems are dealt with between departments in this peaceful time. No one will ask about their antivirus software being up to date, no one will ask for a box to be stored in the warehouse, no one will request an extension cord. And I won't ask for computers to be backed up or for pharmacy drugs to be updated in first aid kits. We're all on our own. And it is lovely. I get forms filled out, requests submitted, orders processed and schedules clarified. All of the little details of the day are caught in this time. It's a sieve that prevents the loss of all those tiny particles of information that seem to drain out of the day once the team goes home.
But it's dinner time now. Tomorrow is Thursday, which means I'm up early to fuel the fleet.
