Crazy Days Ahead

Today started out semi-disastrously, although nothing compared to the revenge poo that rang in my morning a couple of weeks ago. I woke up early, despite a mild case of food poisoning acquired yesterday from a spinach esfirra at one of my favorite restaurants that has left me feeling tired and somewhat weak.

I hauled myself out of bed before 7am because the project manager of the current contract we're doing for the Food and Agriculture Organization of the UN (FAO) requested a letter of recommendation from me last night that he please, please, please needed by this morning so that he could get in an application for a Ford Foundation scholarship program. He said he'd come pick it up before going to work, around 7:15, then never bothered to show up or even give me a courtesy call.

This lack of consideration for others is a common problem here. On Friday I was all excited about getting a haircut - my first one since July and desperately needed after the John Frida blue hair incident in the US - only to show up to salon and get blown off by the hairdresser. The receptionist said he'd gone to take someone to the hospital and would be right back. "Are you sure?" I asked, and she said yes, for me to sit and look at a magazine and the guy would be back in no time. 35 minutes later and one South African edition of Glamour down, I finally decided to call the hairdresser and see if he planned on showing up anytime soon. His reply? "Oh, not for at least another 40 minutes, honey. I had to give someone a ride to the central hospital." I was pissed, and told him that I totally understood having to go to the hospital but that he could have at least called me, or told the receptionist to reschedule on his behalf. Before walking home again I stopped at the bakery next to the salon and bought a big apple tart and some coconut macaroons and ate them all. I fully blame the calories on the hairdresser.

Another case in point - the other day our friend B. called for a taxi to come pick him up at his house. The taxi was a bit late, not altogether uncommon here, but after 25 minutes B. finally decided to call the driver's cell phone and see what was up. The problem? On the way to B.'s house the taxi driver had hit a pedestrian and was at the hospital going through the necessary paperwork to register the accident. The pedestrian wasn't seriously injured, but it totally escaped the guy's mind to call B. and alert him that it wouldn't be possible to give him a ride. Frustrating beyond belief.

Anyhow, back to my day. So I woke up early despite feeling like shit only to get the shaft from the guy at FAO. To add insult to injury, when I went to brush my teeth I opened the faucet and watched in disbelief as no water came out of the tap. I tired the hot water. Nothing. I went into the kitchen and went through the same exercise. No luck. There was no water in the building, never a fun thing to go through but made even worse when you are suffering from food poisoning and on the toilet at least once an hour. When there is no water in the building you can't use the sink, have a shower, wash your hands or flush the toilet as usual. It sucks.

We keep two big 20-liter canisters full of water under the sink at all times to be able to use on days like today when the water supply runs dry. I can barely lift the containers by myself, but managed to drag one into the bathroom and hoist it on top of the washing machine, which is next to the toilet, in such a position that I had some leverage and was able to fill up the back of the toilet tank each time I needed to flush.

After using the toilet and replenishing the tank a couple of times, I felt in dire need of a shower and wasn't keen on waiting around to see if the water would come back. So I lifted the water canister into the bathtub, got a plastic juice pitcher from the kitchen, and proceeded to have an improvised sponge bath with the remaining liters. It wasn't pleasant, but it was sure better than not having a shower and feeling greasy and dirty all day. Nothing like skipping a shower to make me unproductive and put me in a pissy mood.

It's now 2:30pm and there is still no water in the building. I went out before lunch and stocked up on some bottled water, juice and crackers so that I can make it through the evening without cooking, starving or dehydrating. This is the 4th time in about 3 weeks that we've had problems with the water supply. I don't really understand what the problem is, because the Indian grocery on the corner has water and I'm therefore inclined to believe it's not a city-wide or neighborhood-wide issue. It seems to be confined to our building. I asked the security guard/superintendent what was going on and he said something about the water tanks in the building being shared between apartments and that he'd already gone up to fiddle with the tank and the problem was all resolved. Only it's not. I still have no water. I'm thinking that the neighbor I share a tank with must be a water hog and is leaving me with none. Bastards. I hope it's fixed by tomorrow...

Speaking of tomorrow, that's when the madness begins. In a serious lapse of judgment, I'm participating in NaNoWriMo, the National Novel Writing Month that challenges writers to crank out a first draft of a novel of at least 50,000 words in just one month. Insanity at its finest, and I'm all geared up to be a part of it. Today I'm making an outline for what I plan to write. Tomorrow I will sit down and see how hard it is to really write 1,667 words in a day. Doesn't sound so bad, but when you consider that I basically write for a living (business plans, market studies and the occasional travel article) and that I'm supposed to be working on 2 simultaneous contracts during the month of November, it all starts to add up. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, though, and the dream of writing a novel will only happen if I am able to put the words to paper.

To satisfy curious minds: I will be writing about my experiences here in Africa - all of the stuff you've read about on the blog plus the things I've been unable or unwilling to put on the internet at this moment. The novel will consist of a love story (mine!), a series of mistakes and an amorous triangle that results in a bastard child (not mine) and the subsequent redemption of the father, the challenge of moving to a country not your own, the saga of a business being born and then burning up spectacularly in the midst of a shareholder dispute, observations about doing business in the developing world, and lots of anecdotes about travel and culture in Mozambique and surrounding countries. Not sure how it will all come together, but I have faith and they always say the ticket to success is to write what you know, right?

In other news, I participated in the crafts fair this past weekend and, despite a slow day on Saturday, my booth was on fire on Sunday. I sold more than I ever have in a weekend and got several compliments on my work. New friend Lacithecat came by with another American consultant who is here on a short-term assignment as well. Lacithecat bought a green turquoise necklace and her friend got a pair of copper chandelier earrings. It felt really good to have people validate my work as something beautiful and original. I'm set to participate in a huge crafts fair at the American School here on Nov. 18th where I hope to do some serious selling. Last night I was hit with the jewelry obsession sickness and made no less than 14 pairs of earrings and a big dangly necklace.

Business contracts, writing a novel, holiday crafts fairs...let the insanity begin!

Ah, one last thing. I may have jinxed myself by writing on the blog about the big change I'm anticipating on Nov. 13th. It may still happen, but it will certainly not be as significant an undertaking as I'd previously believed. Everything was hingeing on a meeting with a client where a budget needed to be approved. The client balked, and cut the budget by 66%, thus seriously affecting the funds available to pay me and bring to fruition the opportunity I'd referred to. I'll likely still take on this new endeavor, but not in the capacit I'd envisioned before. On the one hand, I'm disappointed. On the other, perhaps this is a sign...