Slower than molasses in… December

No, I’m not referring to how long it’s taken me to get my first post of 2011 up. There is, in fact, a story. After a relaxing evening camped amidst beachside trees at Nkhotakota Pottery Lodge and some fun time spent learning to throw clay in the dirt-cheap training studio (after five wobbly, heavy attempts I was finally starting to get the hang of it) we headed north… to the future! Or, in this case, Nkhata Bay. Before we got very far, however, I realized we were headed straight through Dwangwa, one of the two sugar plantations run by Illovo, Malawi’s sole sugar producer. How do I know this? ‘Cause we’re gonna fortify sugar, that’s how.

As usual, knowing just enough to get myself in trouble (“Hey – molasses is a byproduct of sugar production! We haven’t been able to find molasses anywhere… I wonder if they sell it at the plant.”) I inveigle Ariel into turning off and we pull up to the plantation gates. Everything seems to be going well; the guard may think we’re crazy but can see we aren’t dangerous and helpfully directs us: “Molasses? Go to ETHCO.” So far, so good. Of course, after driving through the cane for quite a ways (the place is big enough that it has its own bus system and the hypnotically identical maintenance roads that branch away from us are marked with some kind of coordinate coding system to help keep them straight) we get somewhat turned around and end up not at ETHCO, but at something purporting to be the company store. Turns out it is the company store… the store where company employees who forgot to pack lunch/dinner/whatever, can buy water, cokes, and snacks. Most emphatically not a “buy one of our selection of attractive products, made right here” type of company store. Undaunted, we ask directions to ETHCO, explaining that we’d like to purchase some molasses and have been told that’s the place to go. Fortunately the storekeeper, perhaps impressed by the quixotic nature of our quest, hooks us up with a passing regular who is in fact about to drive back over to ETHCO. Follow that car!

Arriving at ETHCO, we are somewhat disheartened (still no sign of the type of company store we’re expecting) but boldly enter and explain our mission to the kindly gentleman at reception. His response: “Oh, I see. Let me call the Finance Manager.” Finance manager?! We try to dissuade him from going to so much trouble, but he insists and begins calling various company officials. Of course, because it is the dead time between Christmas and New Year’s any official worth their salt (or molasses) is on vacation. Eventually fortune smiles upon us and the sales manager happens to walk past, is quickly button-holed by the over-eager receptionist and ends up inviting us into his office.

At this point we’ve clarified that ETHCO is, in fact, an ethanol producing company situated on the plantation because they use molasses as a raw ingredient. As it turns out, the reason we can’t get molasses directly from Illovo is that ETHCO has contracted to buy 100% of their molasses output, which they use in producing 60,000 liters of ethanol… per day. It is increasingly clear that Malawians don’t use molasses, ETHCO, despite having quite a bit of molasses, really doesn’t sell molasses, and there has been a lot of holiday humoring of the crazy azungu going on. Still, we’ve come this far…

After a bit of chatting, our buddy the sales manager begins working the phones, eventually reaching someone in the plant who he assures we need only pang’ono (a little) molasses. Seemingly satisfied by the Chichewa response, he tells us to go back to reception and the gentleman with the molasses will meet us there. Thanking him profusely, we depart.

Back at reception, our buddy the receptionist has just confiscated three spray cans of air freshener from a white collar worker on his way out of the building. Once the gentleman in question is out of earshot we are assured that, despite appearances he is in fact "a baddie." I’ve reached for my book at this point, but Ariel’s natural extroversion draws forth the tale of this baddie (mismanagement, pocketing funds intended for procurement, sleeping on the job…) and the receptionist with a heart of gold who has tried again and again to make him see the error of his ways. It actually becomes a rare and thus interesting example of airing frustrations with the type of petty corruption so many here simply accept as the norm. That said, it’s an example we could have appreciated in a far shorter amount of time.

Eventually, realizing we still have a substantial drive ahead of us and the afternoon is starting to wear on, we seize a pause in the diatribe to suggest a call to the gentleman in production to “tell him not to worry about it if he is busy.” The receptionist gamely takes up the phone and has a brief exchange in Chichewa. “No, no,” we are assured “he says he is organizing the molasses.” Fighting off giggles at the mental image of molasses being harangued by a fiery unionist, we go back to exercising our new-found talent for waiting. A short time later the production manager (a friendly gentleman named Andrew) appears, apologizes for the delay and asks how much molasses we need: “One barrel? Two? I need to figure out whether to stop the lines…” Aghast, we assure him that no, he most certainly does not need to shut down the entire plant's production to get us molasses! We explain (again) that we’re only looking for pang’ono molasses to use in cooking. With an expression of relief (and, one imagines, some internal head-shaking at the craziness of azungu) he assures us it won’t be a problem: “Just wait right here.” Which we proceed to do. Some more.

Finally (an hour and a half into our visit to ETHCO), Andrew returns, triumphantly hands us an official invoice for 2.5 kg of molasses, emphatically refuses payment, and waves us on our way. Victory! The next time we go to Nkhotakota we may just have to pack some molasses cookies and make a little detour...