Anaconda

George and I were praying for wisdom and discernment and set out to find a reliable security service. There are G4S signs on prominent buildings all over town, including banks and government buildings. (I thought it interesting that government buildings are protected by a private agency.)

 A few days ago, we stopped by G4S to check on prices and the services they provide. When we asked the gentleman behind the desk to describe his service, he said he would provide two guards, one from 6 pm till midnight and the other from midnight to 6am. “And how will they be armed?” I asked.  “Each guard  will have a stick, a whistle, and wear a sharp uniform,” he answered.  It actually is a sharp uniform, but we were not impressed. We decided to look elsewhere.

Because in the past we had had some good logistical advice from Imran, an Indian Muslim merchant in town, we decided to drive down to his shop and ask which service he uses for his home’s security. He told us he doesn’t hire a professional service, but uses locals. However, his neighbor is very pleased, he said, with the services of a man named Mervin, who goes by the name Anaconda.

As it turned out, Anaconda’s business was on the way to our house, so we decided to take Imran’s advice and visit one more security service. We had already visited several that day, so tossing one more into the mix couldn’t hurt, we reasoned.

A white painted rock by the road with handpainted black lettering was the only sign, and it said nothing about security, but simply, Anaconda. We pulled in the short driveway and parked in front of an unassuming, small, white brick house with a detached truck cab sitting upside down on the front lawn.

As we got out of the car we could hear dogs barking, lots of them. Several men seated on tree stumps and vehicle wreckage, evidently eating their lunch, all got up, bowls in hand, when they saw our car pull in.  All eyed us carefully, then one walked to the back door of the house, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on us. Out sprang a tall, wiry African man, perhaps in his late 30s, bounding with broad steps toward our car. He wore glasses, and his hair was a heap of curls. His neatly pressed pinstriped dress shirt with sleeves rolled was unbuttoned nearly to his belly button. His shoes were bright pink plastic clogs. (That’s no problem here.) He smiled a tight toothy smile and welcomed us with a handshake. His English was smooth and articulate.

This was my first encounter with an ADD/ADHD Malawian. He began almost at once steering the conversation in 50 directions interspersed with questions of a personal, nosy sort. He wanted to know what brought us to Malawi and how long we have been here. When he learned that we work with women in the rural villages, he impressed on us to tell them they have too many babies. (Maybe he doesn’t know women in the villages don’t have any say in the matter.)   With a countenance that registered his disgust, he also shared his opinion that the manner in which village women nurse their babies is unsanitary.

We learned that he had traveled the world and had lived in France, Japan, and India. He was hungry for details of American history and walked us through America’s involvement in Iraq and Vietnam.  He asked George to describe waterboarding and Richard Nixon and George Bush’s involvement in Vietnam and Iraq. “American leaders expect the world to listen to their opinion about their own conflicts,” he said. Then with no warning he asked, “Did you vote Democrat or Republican? Is President Obama good for America? How many children do you have? Whoa! That’s too much!”

Time spent with Anaconda is almost living in a grown up version of If You Give a Mouse a Muffin. (Primary teachers will understand what I mean.) When he learned that George’s grandfather was an Italian immigrant who came to live in New York in the late 1800s, he wanted to know if he emigrated from Naples. “If your grandfather came from Italy and moved to New York, then he certainly was involved in the mafia. What part of New York? Was he a Mafioso? I know that part of New York has much mafia activity.”

At one point George was staring into the distance with arms folded across his chest answering his myriad of rapid fire questions when Anaconda turned his head nearly upside down to stare at George’s tattoo. Occasionally his tone and subject would suddenly change to discussing who we are and what we are doing in Malawi. He named two aid agencies working in Malawi, a Catholic agency for social justice and the other universalist that, he said, we “really need to be networking with.”

Eventually we were able to steer the conversation to the purpose of our visit, and told him we were considering hiring a professional agency.”You should NEVER hire locals,” he grimaced. “They will be constantly whining, begging, and stealing from you.” He proudly explained to us how far superior his services are to all the rest. We gave him a description of our house and property and the neighborhood. He gave us his personal phone number and promised that if we were to use his service, he will be available to us 24 hours a day. “Call me any time. Any time.  It will be only 3 rings, anytime day or night.”

We scheduled a time the following day for him to come out to assess our property and to hear our specific needs relative to security. When he arrived, he was accompanied by a team of young athletic looking men wearing combat boots. All were well toned and muscular. The chit chat was over. He was all business. They walked over the property, pointing and discussing any strengths and potential weaknesses that needed to be addressed on the property.

Our groundskeeper, Harry, was following us about, watching all the proceedings. We discussed with Anaconda the procedure for “changing of the guard.”  The night guard  would walk the grounds with Harry and discuss with him the day’s events, then secure the gate as evening approaches. Then in the morning Harry would relieve the night guard, and  the reverse procedure would take place. Suddenly, Anaconda turned to Harry and the other men, “If anything, ANYTHING, is missing from this property, I will come and lock you both up until the item is found and returned. You hear me? Do you understand me? I will lock you both up. Harry and the guards stood speechless. Me too.