Clouded Expectations

I guess as long as I am doing this type of work in the developing countries I will never cease to be amazed at some of the experiences I have that are so different from what I expect they will be. It isn’t like I am surprised, as I learned a long time ago that any time I have expectations for another person, a place, a behavior, and attitude, etc., I am bound to be disappointed because my expectations are always based on what is true for myself. And for the most part, except for moments of frustration or anger or disappointment, I know deeply that this is the way it is and I am bound by it, and can either accept it for what it is or continue to be disappointed. I choose not to be disappointed, but I forget sometimes.

Here are some of the things I am speaking of that can and will happen on any typical day: I had devoted my entire day (Friday), to doing the plumbing on the water tank we are installing on the roof of the office building. On the day before, Thursday, I asked my colleagues if that was the plan for Friday and was assured that it was. I asked what time we would start, and the young man I am working with said he would be at the office at 8:00 A.M. Okay, I say, and plan for that time, forgetting this is Mozambique.

First disappointment of the day. He arrives at 9:30 A.M. and says he had transportation problems. Okay, I say, when can we get started? Just as soon as I check my E-mail, he says. I go ahead and get the equipment out and ready and get involved forgetting the time and the fact that my helper’s not with me and that his main reason for wanting to do this on Friday was to get the experience of plumbing one of these roof-top water tanks. At 11:30 A.M. I go in and find he is downloading a program on the computer and has forgotten that I was expecting him outside. Second misplaced expectation of the day. He stops what he is doing, complaining that he was just getting ready to download this program when I came in and would have to do it later, and comes outside to join me.

At 1:30 P.M. we are going along good when my companion breaks a valve that we were installing on the pipe line, and we have to have another valve before we can go ahead with the project. We have no vehicle, so I say, Lets go to the hardware store and get a new one. He says (and I realize I should have known this before), The only shop within walking distance is closed until three. All of the Indian shops close from 12:00 P.M. to 3:00 P.M. every day as a matter of tradition and anyone who wants to get something done has to plan around those times. Third challenge of the day. We will have to wait until 3:00 P.M. to continue.

We break for lunch ourselves, and talk about walking to restaurant down the street, as the Director with the truck has taken it to a meeting out of town. Okay, the restaurant is only a ten minute’s walk; so we go to lunch. At lunch we both remember that we have a scheduled meeting with the home office on Skype at 3:00 P.M., so instead of walking to the Indian shop for our parts, as it would have been on the way back from the restaurant, we conclude we will have to go straight back to the office after lunch. We get back and for a few minutes we work on some of the things we could still do on the tank piping without the valve that was broken. At ten minutes before three I go into the house to get the computer and speakers ready for our Skype meeting, and at 2:55 P.M. the lights go off—no meeting until they come back on. We wait inside for a while, and then finally go outside to wait, watching for the power to come back on. We continue to do a few things with the piping. At 4:10 P.M. we discover that the lights have come back on so we go back into the house I call the office in Salt Lake to see if the man who was going to call us is there. The receptionist doesn’t know where the man is for sure, but thinks he is still home. I leave a message for him with her. He doesn’t call, so we continue to wait until 4:30 P.M. when I call the office again only to find out that the man who we were supposed to be meeting with is on his way to the office and will be there in 15 minutes. We wait until 5:15 P.M. with two more calls to the office to see if he has come in, but he hasn’t. At 5:45 P.M. we bag it, but now it’s too late for the Indian shop, as it is probably closed by then or is closing soon. Another day gone asunder. I say I want to finish this project this coming weekend and ask my coworker if he can come to work with me and go to the Indian shop to pick up the parts tomorrow (Saturday). He refuses to use his Saturday for this purpose, but says he will call the Director and get her to come over to take me to get the parts on Saturday morning. He promises that he can come over on Sunday in the afternoon and help me to finish the project. I say okay, when? And he says I’ll be there at 1:00 P.M. I say okay, and before he leaves, I ask him again not to forget to call the Director. He promises he will do so. I go on with the day with mild expectations that I will be able to get the parts on Saturday and that he will come over on Sunday to finish the job with me.

I get up early on Saturday with expectations that sometime in the morning the Director will be here to pick me up to get the parts I need (once again I temporarily forget that people don’t keep there word here, and that time is of no value). I wait all day, and no Director. I can’t call her as my cell phone with her number on it is dead and I can’t make it work. Just another aggravation that I am helpless to correct as I am certain no one in the city will be able to diagnose and fix the problem as it is a new type phone, like none that I have seen here. I think to my self throughout the day that if it was me, and I was the Director or my coworker who said he would call the Director, I would have the courtesy to call me one way or another to tell me that she wasn’t coming. I know and he knows my phone is broken, but the office phone isn’t. Before getting upset about my expectation that my colleagues would have the courtesy to call me if something was wrong, I just say to myself, Oh well, remember where you are. So I wait until 4:30 P.M. and finally place a call to my coworker who had said that he would call the Director. When I get him on the phone he has some lame excuse that he called in the morning and couldn’t reach her, but he did leave a message. I am also wondering why he didn’t come over as promised if she couldn’t and he acts the big victim part and tells me he is eating dinner, but can be at the house at 5:00 P.M. I say okay, but know he lives in the city and it will take him 45 minutes at best to get here even if he left right then. I am not going to be disappointed by him again, I tell myself. At 5:30 P.M. he arrives, comes in and announces that he is Sorry, Sorry, Sorry. I say okay forget it, but isn’t the Indian shop closed? He says he thinks it stays open late. I ask him to call, but he doesn’t have the phone number and the phone books are not up to date for him to look it up. We take a chance and walk to the shop. It takes almost 20 minutes to get there. I was surprised and relieved to see that it was open.

Inside, we get the items we need, and I remind my companion that we have brought a float for the tank back to have it replaced and he acknowledges. We bought a float for the tank shutoff along with purchasing the tank from this same Indian shop, so I was confident (bad choice) that they would see the bad workmanship on the float and give us a new one. More disappointment. The Indian lady behind the counter finally waits on us but ignores us most of the time as she was counting up her receipts for the day and seemed irritated that we had come at all. When my companion asks her about the broken float, she flatly says that they don’t guarantee anything. I’m not satisfied and suggest that my companion talk to the man who is one of the owners. He does, and gets a long explanation that went something like, we buy Chinese made goods and since they are cheap and we are passing on those savings to our customers, we don’t guarantee any of them. I get momentarily angry and shout at the man asking him in English if it means anything to him that we spent many thousands of dollars on products that he has sold us over the past few weeks. He plays ignorant of English, though I know he speaks English and asks my companion to interpret for him. My companion who is about as timid as they come is almost in shock by then and says something to the man that I believe was a soft, modified version of what I said. The man of course comes back with an angry argument again to my companion and then I realize how hopeless that is and step away from the counter telling my companion, Let’s pay for the damned stuff and get out of the place. I quietly curse under my breath, realizing that once again we have been snookered by the Indian Merchants.

We go back down the long counter to the ignorant woman who doesn’t know the prices of anything and shouts at the black worker who had retrieved the parts for us for the price of every item, and finally adds up the total and I pay the bill. She doesn’t want to make out a receipt for the goods, (I guess she’s too busy counting up her take for the day) so she calls another man on the other side of the building to do that for us. We go to the other end of the shop and a black employee comes out with book of receipts. He has a hard time with the three copies of carbon paper and doesn’t know any of the prices of the things that were already bagged that we had to dump out on his desk, so one at a time he calls the other black employee, his coworker, for the price of each item as he writes them down. Of course the paper doesn’t have enough lines on it for all the parts we bought, so he has to make out two receipts, each with three carbons. When he gets done, a process that takes a good ten minutes, he realizes he doesn’t have an adding machine at that end of the shop and has to go get one. He gets one from the nasty woman and adds up the bill. It is the same as what I already paid to the woman, and then before tearing off my copy of the two receipts, he returns the adding machine to the woman behind the counter. The shop has been closed for a half hour before we get out and head back to the office.

On the way back I make the comment to my companion reminding him of the discussion we had a few days ago about how the Mozambique natives better get their act in gear and start setting up businesses on their own and selling good quality goods and run the Indians out of the country. He says he remembers our conversation, but I am sure he is in the dark what I am leading to. I am still fuming over the cheap Chinese stuff the Indian sold us, so I go on saying, I’ll bet that owner doesn’t get into a Chinese car when he leaves tonight; and that I further bet he’s driving a new Toyota or Mercedes. I didn’t see any Mercedes, but I did see a very nice Toyota Camary parked in the lot when we left. My companion didn’t get the point, so I left it at that for the day. Four disappointments and missed expectations was enough for one day, I think. After all I still have to morrow to get through. Just to be sure I ask my companion before he leaves if he is still planning to come over on Sunday to work on the pipes. He says yes. And I say what time, and he says right after church, at one o’clock. I say I will have some lunch ready for us (I remembered before when we talked about his coming over on Sunday he asked if I would make him lunch if he came over). He says fine. See you tomorrow.

So Sunday comes along and I am busy in the morning getting things from the market so that I would have some things for our lunch. I buy vegetables as I am planning to have a nice stir fry. That will be easy I think, as I can have things ready, and if he is late coming, I can start it any time after he arrives and it’s just twenty minutes away from eating. So about 12:00 P.M. I begin to cut up the vegetables and thaw the chicken. Everything is ready before 1:00 P.M. and figuring he will be late (I did not have any expectations on that matter. I was protecting myself), I go in and read for a while. At 2:00 P.M. I start to cook forgetting that there is still very much uncertainty that he will come at all. At 2:30 P.M. I eat alone.

After the dishes are cleaned up I know there were some things I can do that didn’t require that I go on the roof of the house, so I get the tools out and begin working using the guard as my helper. At 5:00 P.M. I am finished with the piping as far as I can go with out going on the roof, so I go into the house to clean up and hear the phone ringing. I run to the phone, but it’s dead when I get there. And, I notice the power has gone off in the meantime. I go into the kitchen to wash the pipe cutting oil off my hands, but the water is now off (no surprise that the water and power go off the same time), so I wash with my extra water that I have saved in a barrel in the kitchen and then go into the front room to place a call to my coworker who was supposed to be here at 1:00 P.M. He answers and I ask, Was that you who called earlier? I have been trying to call you many times this afternoon, he replies. I say I was out working in the yard and didn’t hear the phone. I am sorry he says. I was thinking about coming over, but I have a tooth ache. Okay, I say (being as non-judgmental as I can be), when will you be here tomorrow? He says, At the usual time. I say eight o’clock? And he says Yes. Okay, I think, eight o’clock in Mozambique time is what???? I’ll just have to wait and see. But you can be sure I will be ready at eight.