Zomba

A week after returning I was back in Malawi, but this time for work and the traveling was much easier. I flew Malawian Air, a resurrection of the recently bankrupt Air Malawi which, judging by its in-flight magazine, is determined to convince the world it will not go the same way as its predecessor. I flew to Blantyre then drove to Zomba, a town which was once the capital of Nyasaland. I found that hard to believe, as it's a sleepy place sitting at the foot of a towering plateau, which has lodges at the top drawing tourists for the views and horseback riding.

Sadly there wasn't time in my trip to get to the top, but it provided a nice backdrop to my stay. I was there to work with the FINCA Malawi team, to gather information on a pilot project we're working on in Zambia. The workdays were full of field visits to meet clients and working with the credit team at the pilot branch. Luckily, there's another Tufts grad, Renata, working for FINCA Malawi on this project, and she was enormously helpful in coordinating our visit and showing us around Zomba. Highlight of the trip was staying at a place called Casa Rossa, a pleasant place with a great view and a menu of incongruous but delicious Italian dishes. Zomba was a surprisingly connected place, as a former Princeton in Africa Fellow, Chris, is currently based there starting up One Acre Fund's program in the country. It was nice meeting up with him again, having last seen him a year ago on his trip to Zambia.

(Renata and I showing off a Tufts tote outside the branch)

(Morning view from Casa Rossa)

Lake Adventures

Nyasa means lake, which is why Malawi used to be called Nyasaland. It's also the reason behind the name Nyanja, a Zambian form of the Chichewa language found in Malawi, as it signifies coming from the lake people. At least, this is what was explained to me by one of my teenage students, but it sounds good to me. (note: I Wikipedia-ed it, seems legit)

Emily and I turned our long weekend into an extra-long weekend and set off for the big lake in our little neighbor. Traveling there was a long sequence of mini-journeys, and a lot of last minute successes. After riding with friends to Chipata, our eastern border town, we crossed over into Malawi and took a cab to their border town: Mchinja. Already running behind schedule at this point, we took a 2 hours mini-bus ride which put us in Lilongwe right as night was falling. As we were leaving very early the next day, we needed to pick up some groceries that night, but when we got to Shoprite the guard was just locking the door. With pathetic looks on our faces we pleaded with him to no avail, but our foot in the door emboldened the small crowd that was gathering behind us who, tiring of our soft approach, eventually muscled past us and the guard, allowing us to slip in behind them apologetically. After a somewhat manic shopping session we managed to get everything we needed and only be the second to last person to check out.

We quickly left everything at the lodge and eagerly rushed off to try a restaurant which had been highly recommended to us. After a wrong try, we arrived at the correct Latitudes to find they had just closed the kitchen 20 minutes before. Breaking out our pathetic faces again, we recounted our long journey for the sole purpose of eating there, and at last folding to our charms, the staff allowed us to make a quick order. I’m very glad they did too because the food was fantastic.

Early morning we arrived at the bus station, not totally sure whether the bus we planned to take actually existed. To our relief, we found it where it was supposed to be, with plenty of empty seats. That situation persisted for about two hours until finally all the seats filled, and then the aisle filled too with people standing. Little did we know that this was a full-size bus which thought it was a mini-bus. The 3 hour ride took us about 7 hours, as the bus made frequent stops to drop and pick up passengers. However, we had seats, music, and cheese so we were generally content. Fortunately, the staff at Kayak Africa agreed to wait for our arrival (3 hours later than expected) so we could get across to Domwe Island that night. After another car ride from Monkey Bay (bus stop) to Cape Maclear (on the water), we were finally getting into our kayaks and starting the 2 mile journey to the island. Halfway across we rested our arms and took in the beautiful sunset on the lake and the near absolute stillness of the whole scene.

The camp is just a small scattering of shelters tucked into the side of the large island, accessible from a little sandy beach where we left our kayaks. It is built into the forest, with only a few wood structures visible from the water. Our tent platform was one, and it gave a beautiful view of the water and moonset. The other few platforms and safari tents were hidden away within the trees, along with a kitchen, an outdoor shower, and a dining area right on the water. Trails meandered between everything, among rocks and roots under heavy tree cover, and were patrolled by civet cats and bush pigs. Without electricity the whole setting felt very peaceful and natural, but with the benefit of a gas stove and a freezer cooled by ice.

(Dining area)

In the two days we were there, we spent the majority of our time on the water, taking a cruise on a rented catamaran for sunset on one day, and for the afternoon on the next. It’s the only place in the region where everyone (generally) agrees it’s free (enough) of crocs and hippos to get in the water, so we partook in the rare pleasure of swimming, though I still couldn’t quite shake the anxiety that comes with being in African water. The sunsets over the water were spectacular, and the nights were cool and free of mosquitos. The water also provided us with fresh fish, which we had whole and in a curry. On top of that, the staff at the camp baked fresh bread every morning.

On one morning we hiked to the top of the island, scrambling up a steep and overgrown trail, until we burst out onto rocks with a stunning view of the vast blue in front of us. Peculiarly persistent flies kept us from lingering too long though, and we decided to have our packed lunch on the move instead (not before snapping a quick shot from the top!)

After two relaxing days in this little sanctuary, we were ferried back to the mainland, and set out on the long road ahead. Fortunately for us, the guy who’d driven us to Cape Maclear was there to meet us when we got off the boat, and gave us a very decent rate to get all the way back to Lilongwe in his tiny little car.

The drive back was much shorter and more enjoyable than the way out. We jammed out to Malawian and, for our benefit, Zambian pop songs, dancing and singing our way up the steep, winding road across the mountains. At times it seemed like our synchronized head bobbing was the only thing urging that little car up the crest of the hills. Eventually we made it over, and, by the afternoon were back in Chipata, where we celebrated one last night of vacation with a nice hotel room and dinner. For a trip which consisted of 1/3 vacation, 2/3 traveling, it was surprisingly very relaxing, and wonderful to see the huge blue lake one more time.

Mission: Malawi

It was still dark when we loaded our belongings into the taxi, conducted a final bleary-eyed review of the essential items, and set off for the bus station. Arriving in time to catch an earlier bus, we squeezed our way on board, crammed our bags into any remaining spaces, and, settling into our seats, eagerly awaited the beginning of our journey to the Lake of Stars music festival in Malawi.

The driver must have known we were music lovers because he wasted no time in putting on his vast collection of gospel hits, sung in auto-tuned Nyanje with elaborate synth accompaniment. As it was very early and most people looked ready to doze off, he made sure to set the volume somewhere between ear-splitting and mind-numbing to prevent anyone from missing out. So, from 5:45 in the morning to about 9, our thoughts, dreams, even our very existence, was fully pervaded by these soulful serenades. At our first pit-stop somewhere in the mountains of central Zambia, we finally got a reprieve, allowing our brains a chance to reform to their original shape. But even after starting out again the music remained paused. We wondered; could we be so lucky? But it was merely an opportunity for some sermonizing from a fellow passenger. So while enjoying our complementary pineapple Fantas, we dutifully learned about thieves and good shepherds, though I find it hard to recall how they were related. In an abrupt and concerning turn of events, the entertainment following the preacher was Wrong Turn 3: Left for Dead, a gratuitously violent movie involving murderous cannibal hillbillies and concluding with the death of every character in the film. Fully over-stimulated by this point, we spent the remainder of the trip in a confused catatonic state, and were all too happy when the bus rolled into our final destination: Chipata. We stayed the night in this border town with a friend, collected two more compatriots from the airport in the morning, then in a hired van, the five of us set out for Malawi.

Immediate impressions of Malawi found many similarities with Zambia, but that’s not surprising considering the permeable, flexible borders and shared heritage. Quickly, the landscape opened up. Rolling green plains were strewn with immense rock formations jutting out in angular ways like sinking ships. We passed through the capital, Lilongwe, and though it was hard to explain why, we could definitely feel we were in a different country. In a few hours we drew close to the mountains and began ascending into their heights. Through them we traced a twisting and meandering route, peppered with hair-pin turns, the kind at the end of which you find you’ve been unconsciously holding your breath. At last, we made it to the other side and could see massive Lake Malawi stretched across the horizon.

The festival was held directly on the lake, so both our campsite and the stage area were on the beach. After sorting out some logistical problems due to the lack of cell service, we were able to set up camp before nightfall and made it to the first night of music. In the morning, we were awoken by sunrise and, climbing out of our tents, were struck by the view. Amongst palms of different varieties and heights, colorful tents dotted the beach like blooming exotic flowers, rain flies fluttering in the cool breeze coming off the water. 

(The campsite)

Ringing the expansive lake, implied ghosts of purple mountains could be seen through mist.  During the day, even in the morning, the heat was intense. Luckily, this was one of those rare African lakes that are swimmable- you risk a couple parasites but at least there are few crocodiles. We divided our days between swimming, lounging and eating. The most active we got was either climbing a nearby hill or the dancing in the sand all night (actually pretty tiring). 

(From the hill: stage can been seen on beach through trees on center right)

The second night was the musical highlight of the trip, and the best of the best had to have been Freshlyground, a South African group. I’ve been hearing of them for years but had missed many chances to see them live. I guess they’ve reached a pretty high level of fame by this point; last year they recorded WakaWaka with Shakira for the World Cup. When they played that as an encore (sans Shakira) the whole beach was just a moving mass of happy faces. We had one more day and night to soak in all the beauty of the lake, the happy music and the friendly people before having to say goodbye. Early Monday morning we climbed, exhausted but happy, into our van and started back the way we came.

In our short journey we saw a beautiful face of Malawi, but we also got a glimpse of another side of the country. It is currently undergoing both political and economic upheaval as the ruling party dukes it out with both foreign governments and unhappy citizens. 40% of Malawi’s budget comes from foreign aid, and the UK is the primary contributor. However, after a row over alleged mishandling of government money and authority (read: shiny new jet for the president), diplomatic relations with Britain have crumbled. The British high commissioner was expelled and in retaliation, Britain, followed by others, froze much of its aid. A lack of foreign exchange has inhibited the purchasing of fuel to the point where, “fuel stations are just for decoration here,” as our driver put it. The rare station that has gas also has long lines of cars. Lack of fuel and new austerity measures have sparked deadly riots around the country.

Even in our brief travels across the country we felt the effects of these problems. Running out of gas on our way home, we spent almost an hour in Lilongwe looking for somewhere to refill. With all the uncertainty and scarcity of fuel, it was surprising to see the roads still jammed with cars. In the end we had to drive all the way to a bootlegger’s house to get 5 liters out of a water jug. I’m certain we burned more than that searching for it. Our journey was complicated further by another particularly ugly side-effect of the country’s woes. All along the roads we had to contend with an ever present, ever greedy, Malawian police force. We must have gone through over a dozen “checkpoints” over the course of the trip, sometimes as close as five minutes apart. Probably unpaid by the government, their salaries are made up by “fines” collected at these stops. Time and time again we were stopped and payment was unrelentingly demanded. It passed the point of reasonable; even our calm driver was pushed to extreme agitation. We finally limped our way back into Zambia, and I couldn’t suppress a smile as the friendly customs agent stamped my passport: it was a spectacular trip, but it was good to be home.