Avocados.

The white UN Land Rover stops at the light. “Boss, some nice avocados for you… twenty-five pin.” The window rolls down and a white arm reaches out with 25 000 Kwacha in return for two avocados.

During the air-conditioned drive back to the compound the passanger says, “You know, if you want avocados, let me take you to the market.”

“Eh? I don’t go to the market.”

“Okay, give me the money and I will buy you avocados.”

A week later, three dozen avocados fall into his hands. “What am I supposed to do with all of these?”

“Take two and give the rest to your workers at your home.”

//

My house seems to have come with a Belgian boy working for the UN. He spent the last three years in a village in the Eastern Province. Shopping with his is fabulous because he speaks Chewa and Nyanja, two local languages. No mzungu prices for him. He told me the avocado story after we negotiated our own avocados, which by the way at twice as big than any I have ever seen before. I guess for a lot of expats in the city paying mzungu prices is no big deal, but it runs the price up for everyone else.

I’m learning a few words of Nyanja a day. I can handle greetings, but now I need to figure out some answers to some commonly asked questions. Right now, my conversations in Nyanja go like this:
Me: Hello, how are you?
Them: Good, how are you?
Me: Good, thank you.
Them: [a question I don’t understand]
Then we laugh and switch to English.