Not About Money

    "Don’t pay me anything. Life is not about making money; it’s about helping." With these words Singini Bandawe shrugged off my attempt to compensate him for the fuel and wear and tear on his vehicle that he had expended for me that morning. 

    I had just met Singini a few hours before. Some friends had told me he was the man who could help me find a place to stay for my planned month-long visit to Mzuzu.  As owner of the Kaka Motel, a rundown establishment on the northern edge of the city, Singini has developed a reputation for helping foreigners who come to his community. He welcomes them all, whether they be Chinese developers who are coming at the forefront of that country’s expansion of influence across Africa, or German tourists who pass through for just a few days or weeks, or Britons who have lived for decades in Malawi and have made the country their home.  Singini does what he can to make all strangers feel welcome

A Powerful Impression Immediately
    Some people you meet strike a powerful impression from the get-go and Singini Bandawe is that type. As his assistant led me through a narrow corridor into his boss’s office I could tell at once that the chain-smoking white-bearded figure seated there was a man who had his story.  He warmly welcomed me as soon as he ended his latest phone call and the delightful qualities shared by so many of his generation of Malawians began to come to the fore, qualities that have given the country’s its reputation as "the warm heart of Africa": friendliness, exuberant inquisitiveness about the world, respect for all kinds of people, and generosity to any who need a helping hand. In addition to these qualities Singini possessed the self-confidence of an established businessman and an awareness of the outside world that came from his personal experience of having travelled all around the globe. 

    Immediately he began quizzing me about what kind of place my family needed and went on to describe five houses that he had in mind for me to see. As soon as he could make the necessary arrangements a guide arrived in a Mitsubishi Pajero to take me to see the houses. This exercise involved picking up owners at different locations to show us their houses, often several miles apart in the various districts around the city. As the hours passed and his vehicle clocked up more miles moving between different locations in the Mzuzu area, an unease started growing within me as I considered how much Singini would expect for this service. With fuel now over $4.50 per gallon and Singini sacrificing his car and driver, was this not just another way to make some extra cash off a gullible white person as so often happens to me and other azungu here? I simply didn’t have the extra money on me and was too far from home to risk emptying my wallet here.

Now The Real Test
    Several hours later it was time to find out. Singini was waiting on me, a big grin dominating his face, as we pulled up outside his motel. He keenly listened to my report of the trip. It was time to put the dreaded question to him: "How much do I owe you."

    His answer made me ashamed of even asking the question, let alone of my earlier suspicions. "I don’t look at life that way. You see, people have helped me a great deal in my days." Pointing to the car I had ridden in that morning and an identical one beside it. "Do you see those two Pajeros standing there? They were just given to me for free!  People have given me so much in my life. When I was younger I hitchhiked across England, Scotland, and Wales and people just took me in. They didn’t know who I was.  They just knew I needed help and so they helped me. Now I’ve committed my life to that same principle. Life is not about making money. It’s about helping each other out." 

     I could only respond by mumbling a few limp words in a feeble attempt at thanking this gentleman. "Take these.  They’re delicious," Singini changed the subject, gesturing to two bags of yellow round fruits local to the area that he had had picked for me. Now a little boy was holding them up to me. 

Contemplating What I had Learned
    While driving away, I mused that the spirit of people like Singini Bandawe is what keeps people coming back to-or staying in–Malawi.  Other countries have better game parks, facilities, and other comforts, but visitors who come to know this country seem to get addicted even if it lacks much of what is available elsewhere. 

    My trip took me further north, where I spent some time with other Malawians on the shores of Lake Malawi, and two days later it was time to say Goodbye to them as well.  Unlike Singini these impoverished villagers had practically nothing to live on, eking out a hand to mouth existence off the sandy soil of their area.  Their world was near the bottom of the food chain even by Malawian standards.  Still, it didn’t surprise me to see them load our car down with dozens of pumpkins as we prepared to leave.  "Your wife must see what pumpkins taste like from this district," they insisted.