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The start to my time in Malawi was not ideal, as I had just come off a 25 hour bus journey, but luckily that was not indicative of the rest of my time there. Unlike Lusaka, when I got off the bus, no one seemed to care that there was a tourist, which was great, but I was used to having dozens of people attack me from all directions shouting “Muzungu, Muzungu, taxi, taxi!” (“Muzungu” meaning “white person”), except this time I actually did need a taxi. Lilongwe’s international bus terminal is nothing more than a stop on a dirt road which at 6:00 am is used as a rather putrid smelling fish market. Finally I flagged down a passing car, and he was kind enough to take me to my backpackers where I promptly had a shower and a long nap!
Fortunately I was able to find some friends, we had a look around Lilongwe, and then made the most of our Friday night in town! I turned up at the bus station again early the next morning, and made sure to learn from my previous experience and find a bus that was nearly full before hopping on, and was fortunate enough to sit next to the dearest man, Edmond, who was keen to practice his English, learn about America, and teach me about Malawi. Because Malawi has roadblocks every 30 minutes, it seems, Edmond helped me ascertain what all the goods were that were being shoved in the windows on sticks at every stop, and what was being sold on the side of the road at the blocks where we had to unload while police checked the bus. It was clear to see which regions grew which vegetables, because every stop sold primarily one thing (tomatoes, bananas, avocados, peanuts, honey, etc.). It seemed to me that surely they must be able to grow more than that one thing, and that they would all do a lot better to sell different things rather than having all 20 women running up to the bus all selling whole dead fishes on sticks, but hey! Around mid-afternoon I arrived in Monkey Bay, and was pleased when a nice young gentleman offered me a ride in his matola (flat-bed Mac truck) to Cape McLear, and was careful to settle myself in the center among all the goods. Turns out I needn’t have worried, since we proceeded to pick up another 15 people, as well as many more packages of who-knows-what, each time thinking surely we cannot fit another iota of things on the truck, and yet we did. Finally we were full and took off on the African highway (very rough dirt road), until we came across a biker who had crashed and then piled him, his bike, and his massive load of goods on, as well. The ride was actually a blast, and they had great fun making fun of my fear of losing everyone off the side. Cape McClear was a welcome sight, though, and it was absolutely stunning as we approached the gorgeous lake, and I was happy to spend a few days on the beach snorkeling in Lake Malawi and eating loads of fresh fish!
My trip back to Monkey Bay was much the same (I was just glad not to be in the back of the pick-up carrying the cow), and I spent a whole day missioning up to the North of the lake to Nkhata Bay, again having the most delightful day chatting to locals on the bus who were the warmest, most welcoming people I’ve ever met, and it was clear to see why they call Malawi “The Warm Heart of Africa”. If I thought Cape McClear was impressive, it’s because I hadn’t yet seen Nkhata Bay! It was dark when I arrived, but I already knew I was in heaven, and planned to spend several days there getting my Open Water SCUBA certification. Fate had other ideas, though, and I met a great group of people there, and after a few days of playing on the lake by day, and trying out all the local bars by night, we all decided to head off together to one more stop in Malawi that was highly recommended.
One guy in our group had been traveling around the world by bike (on three years and counting), so we had to bid farewell to him, as we weren’t able to convince him to throw his bike on top of the minibus—maybe the fact that the door fell off the hinges and they couldn’t get it back on was a dissuading factor?? The rest of us piled into minibus after minibus (at one point we counted 20 people in a bus meant for 12—the African sense of personal space is a pretty faint line) until we reach Chitimba, a tiny village at the bottom of a mountain, 10km downhill from where we wanted to be. We were extremely fortunate to have a truck pass going uphill, and I ran to catch it and we piled in for the long road up the mountain. It was well worth it, though, as it would have been a torturous climb with our bags, and the campsite was perched on the side of the cliffs with views of the lake and surrounding mountains that was second to none. There were no buildings, just a couple shelters, a composting toilet, and a shower that had only three sides, the fourth side which was open to the world overlooking the view—most stunning shower I’ve ever seen. We spent a few glorious days there, and got to visit Livingstonia, the old Colonial village named for Dr. David Livingstone, and were fortunate enough to come across Darlington, the kindest, most nimble (none of us could keep up with him) 65 year old we have ever met, who showed us the way to the waterfalls and caves, as we acquired quite an entourage of local boys who wanted to come along, as well. It was an incredible day, and we rounded it out with a rowdy night before having to say goodbye to Amy and Laura as they were off to hike Kilimanjaro before going back to graduate medical school in the UK!
As Luck would have it, Dave (the biker), had boogied up the mountains and surprised us all at the campsite in the morning before we departed, despite having pushed so hard that he had passed out in the street the previous evening and been taken in by the village chief. We had a hearty breakfast before Rory, Rob, Brad and I had to set off to hike down the mountain and head off to Tanzania!
Malawi was indeed a special country, and it set the stage for a fantastic two months to follow.
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