A Very Special Day!

Today was a very special day. No, it's not because it was my six week anniversary here in Malawi as of 2 PM (but who's counting?). And no, it's not because I'm currently "housesitting" for a friend who has high speed internet, a washer and dryer, and free calls to the U.S. Today was special because it marked the day that I conquered one of my biggest challenges here in Malawi: the bank.

Now, this may sound a little ridiculous, but anyone who has entered a bank in Malawi (or one of several other African countries) knows that banking is an ordeal. Ridiculously long lines, a variety of odors, and zero personal space don't even begin to describe the experience that has become the bane of my time here.

My first experience involved trying to identify which bank I should open an account with. I visited two banks that were near my office, and two hours later, I had no account, no pamphlet, and no hope of finding something comparable to the beloved Federal Credit Union I left behind.  

Experience two involved actually opening an account, which, of course, meant a long waiting period and lots of paperwork. I was instructed to then join the world's longest queue in order to deposit the required 1000 kwacha (USD $6) minimum and pay for my ATM card. Of course it would be an hour later that I discovered, as I reached the teller, that I was supposed to use the random piece of carbon paper next to the deposit slips to generate my own receipt.

And then, experiences three and four marked the real fun, as I attempted to actually pick up my ATM card and withdraw money. These involved three consecutive hours (in the middle of the workday, mind you) of standing in the queue with someone rubbing up against my backside, while I watched not one, not two, but three people cut into the line. I was baffled when a work colleague came one-and-a-half hours after me and left half an hour before me. I thought I was going to snap when I reached the front and the teller suggested my numbers weren't written clear enough. "We don't allow painting," she kept repeating, "You'll have to go fill another form." Learning from my surroundings, I exited the line, filled the paperwork, and proceeded to the front of the line so as to avoid another three hours of waiting.

So today, when I arrived at the bank 30 minutes before opening, I was so excited to be the first in line! (Of course, this didn't last, as a man decided to actually push his way in front of me when the door opened). I went straight to the teller, requested my ATM card (as it had now been more than a month), and was told that I should just "sit and wait" while they printed it for me. After an hour, I asked how much longer I should wait, and when she responded one more hour, I explained that despite the hours I'd spent in the bank over the past few weeks, I actually had to go to work.

I left feeling a little defeated (especially when they asked me to fill out more paperwork because they couldn't find my previous records) but determined to go home with my card in hand today. And so, after a busy day involving lunch and a Chichewa lesson, I did what everyone else seemed to already know: I utilized my surrounding resources. I called a "friend" I'd made at the bank a week earlier, and instead of waiting in line this afternoon, he immediately presented me with my card. Why hadn't I taken advantage of this sooner?  

I wish that my story was unusual, but perhaps Silvia Banda got it right when she observed that "the customer is never right with Malawi banks." Perhaps my experience summarizes, on a much smaller scale, how societies rely on some sort of resourcefulness to receive guaranteed services (sounds awfully similar to the "c"-word, right?). I haven't been able to figure out why the banking experience is so inefficient, or why there are always so many people in business clothes who have hours to spend at the bank each day. But I am ecstatic that I can celebrate my six week anniversary with access to my own money! Hooray!

Happiness!