#6 - Malawi
Confused how I arrived in Malawi from Mozambique? A large number of people did not receive Wanderlust #5 - Zimbabwe, Botswana and Zambia. Click on http://wanderlust.on.journeyfile.com/ for economic lessons in hyperinflation, sinking Mokoros, and Bruiser the 6-ton elephant.
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When I was very young, a big financier once asked me what I would like to do and I said, “To travel.”
“Ah,” he said, “it is very expensive; one must have a lot of money to do that.”
He was wrong. For there are two kinds of travelers; the Comfortable Voyager, round whom a cloud of voracious expenses hums all the time, and the man who shifts for himself and enjoys little discomforts as a change from life’s routine. Both kinds may enjoy themselves equally, but the latter probably sees much more of the country and its people, and has the added pleasure of going where lack of comfort excludes the former.
Ralph Bagnold, Libyan Sands (1935).
Malawi, touted as the ‘Warm Heart of Africa,’ truly lives up to its tourist slogan. Wedged between Tanzania in the north, Zambia in the west and Mozambique in the south and east, Malawi does not offer the adrenaline-seeking, action-packed activities found elsewhere in Southern Africa. In contrast, it is a great place to relax and unwind with its rich culture, beautiful scenery and kind and friendly people. An ideal place for budget travelers, one can easily survive on 500-1000 Kwatcha a day (US $5 –10). If you have a tight budget, don’t mind dealing with 3rd-world discomforts and would like a taste of tourist-free Africa, Malawi is a great place to start. Anticipating staying for 2 weeks, I found myself enjoying 3 weeks in the chilled out country.
Taking full advantage of a firm mattress and hot shower while staying with friends for 4 days, I set off from Lilongwe stocked with food and an elephant-resistant tent. From Malawi’s quiet capital I headed 7 hours south to the village of Likubula, the starting point to climb Mt Mulanje. Driving past dry conical-shaped hills with massive boulders, the landscape soon changed as rows of tea bushes covered the rolling hills of the Shire highlands. The large tea estates stretched as far as the eye could see, as farm hands picked the deep green tea leaves.
Rising steeply from the plains below, Mt. Mulanje is home to large forests, vegetated valleys and rock faces that drop 1000’s of feet. The plateau has 13 peaks that rise higher than 2500 meters with, Sapitwa, the tallest peak in Southern Africa outside of the Drakensberg, stretching 3001 meters skyward. Upon arrival, I was immediately stuck by the magnitude of the massif. Having planned to spend a day or two in the park, I changed my plans being lured by the park’s beauty, challenging terrain and few visitors. After consulting the forest ranger, I opted for the scenic 4-day Mulanje traverse that would enable me to see a good deal of the park and was great preparation for climbing colossal Kilimanjaro in a month’s time. I decided to hike with a local guide given that only 12 days before a 30 year-old climber from the Netherlands disappeared while climbing in the park.
Thirty-five kilos of food and gear split between our packs, David and I set out early the next morning up the steep incline of the massif. For the first 3 hours, the mountain showed no mercy as we hiked past rushing waterfalls and fast moving streams until reaching the Chambe Basin. The basin is home to a pine forest rekindling memories of hiking back in New England. Setting off from Chambe hut early the next morning, we climbed up and out of the forest and over a number of ridges before meeting the solemn Dutch search and rescue team who were desperately seeking to find some trace of Linda, the missing climber. Offering our prayers, we pushed past mulanje cedars and mountain streams until arriving at the Thuchila hut where two other hikers from the UK were staying.
Just as each day’s ‘Loo with a view’ was the added bonus of South Africa’s Otter Trail, the chilled Carlsbergs sold at each mountain hut were the treat on this hike. One could not help but admire and enjoy the entrepreneurial spirit of the Malawians. Andy and Dave (UK), David (Malawi), and I (Dave US) thoroughly enjoyed relaxing at Thuchila and Sombani huts as the sun set behind the mountains while quenching our thirst with 70-Kwatcha lagers. Not only were they exactly what we needed after each day’s hike, they were cheap too! On the fourth day, our knees took a beating as we descended 750 meters down the steep slope of the plateau to Fort Lister Gap. Walking along a dirt road for another 2 hours to the town of Phalombe, we ended up catching a lift back to the ranger station where I said goodbye to my guide and headed to Blantyre, Malawi’s industrial and commercial capital.
Heading north, I opted to travel by steamship up beautiful Lake Malawi. Roughly the size of Lake Michigan in North America, Lake Malawi stretches 550 km from north-south and sits at an altitude of 400m. The lake is home to over 600 species of fish and boasts some of the best fresh water diving in the world. With 2 days before the Ilala arrived in port, I headed to the lakeshore village of Cape McClear which was one of the stops during the classic Cape–Cairo backpacker route in the 1970’s. Although those days are long past, it is still a great place to visit. Rolling hills end at the lake’s edge, a long sandy beach stretches for 2 km and the village has remained distinctly Malawian (electricity arrived only a year ago). With a day to kill, I caught up on some reading as well as saw brilliantly colored mbuna, tiny silver utaka and larger chambo and kampango (catfish) on a 30m and 16m dive.
The next day, I found myself boarding the Ilala heading north along the lake to Likoma Island. Traveling on the boat is an adventure in itself. Lively travelers, locals and livestock squeeze into the old 200-foot boat that chugs up and down the large lake once per week. In 1st class, there are comfortable wicker chairs with cushions and you roll out your sleeping bag and sleep on the deck beneath the stars. Passengers in 2nd and 3rd class cram in the bowels of the boat as the smell of dried sardines permeates every corner of the lower decks.
Walking below is tricky as you attempt to avoid stepping on people strewn out sleeping on straw mats. Mothers breast-feed their babies as the younger children sit huddled together and men talk quietly in groups of 3 or 4. Malawians stare at you in revered bewilderment as you, a Mzungo from 1st class, comes down to the 3rd class kitchen to buy nsima (maize meal). You try to explain to them that the 1st class dining room is overpriced. A budget traveler, you prefer quantity to quality. They don’t understand.
“You like Nsima?” the local, courageous enough to speak to you asks.
“Yes. It is delicious!”
You tell a white lie. It is good, far from fantastic. You refrain from mentioning that you are living as cheaply as possible. Eating and traveling like a local is the best way to do so. The local beams with pride as you, the white ‘wealthy’ foreigner gobbles down their national dish.
Stopping in 8 different ports along the way, the 1930’s steamship is the lifeblood for many of the small fishing villages. Given their remote locations and tranquil lifestyles, the arrival of the boat and its cargo is the highlight of the week. Kids from nearby villages show up hours before to watch with fascination the steamship’s arrival. Dugout canoes pull up alongside the old ship and locals sell peanuts, bananas and crackers. Adolescents sneak aboard to stare at the dirty and smelly backpackers intrigued with their framepacks, shiny cameras and cool clothing. After 36 hours sailing north on the choppy waters of Lake Malawi, the boat arrives 4 hours behind schedule at Likoma Island on Saturday evening.
Sitting within the waters of Mozambique, yet part of Malawi, the island is a mere 17 sq. km and sits only 10km off of the coast of Mozambique on the lake’s eastern edge. Not a single traveler who I met had been to Likoma. Few could point it out on a map. I had heard of it while in Mozambique from 2 girls who had lived in Malawi. I was sitting, listening to their conversation late at night as the Indian Ocean rumbled nearby, candles glowed brightly and I dug my feet deep into the soft sand that made up the bar’s floor. Their description was something out of a fairy tale:
“You feel like you are in the middle of the Caribbean or South Pacific, but you are on an island in the middle of a lake, in the middle of Malawi, in the middle of Africa.” Rebecca described, eyes glowing.
“The shower is made from a 700 year-old Baobab tree. You climb a ladder, turn the knob to the barrel that sits high in a branch and the warm, fresh water flows out” explained Margarit.
Rebecca urged, “If you ever get to Malawi, you HAVE to go to Mango Drift on Likoma Island”
You often hear about these types of places from other backpackers. They hype them up while sitting at a hostel to make it appear that they have the most impressive traveling ‘resume’. It’s normally just a traveler trying to draw attention and ‘outdo’ others. Few places ever live up to the hype.
Likoma exceeded it.
“The problem is to find an ‘unspoiled’ place. ‘Unspoiled’ does not mean only that a place is left physically intact; it means that it is not encrusted by the familiar, that is has not been discovered by others.”
Walker Percy, The Loss of the Creature (1954)
Seeing that the Ilala and chartered flights are the only means of getting to the island, Likoma has remained one of the best-kept secrets in Africa. Picked up from the Ilala by Mango Drift’s 15-foot wooden boat, we set off to the western coast of Likoma as the 1/2 moon illuminated the coastline. Silhouettes of bamboo huts and cliffs were enough for the fisherman to navigate the boat to the other side of the island. None of the other travelers spoke on the ride, enjoying the clean air and serenity after being aboard the loud, cramped steamship for nearly 2 days. The only noise was the light hum of the diesel motor and the small waves splashing against the bow as the coastline drifted past.
Pulling up to shore nearly an hour later, I dropped my pack not 8 meters from shore, setting up my tent underneath mango trees using the moon as my guide. Sticky and sweaty from 36 hours aboard the confines of the old steamship, I went to see if Margarit’s description was true. It could not have been more perfect. I climbed the rickety ladder and turned the knob feeling the luke-warm water wash away the dirt and grime. Clean and refreshed yet exhausted, I climbed into my sleeping bag as the stars twinkled brightly overhead and fell asleep content that I had made the trip.
Waking up as the orange African sun rose slowly in the sky, the magic of Mango Drift began to enfold. I crawled out of my tent and literally pinched myself to see if I was still dreaming. The fresh water was clear, the tan sand coarse and there was a slight breeze as the waves quietly lapped on shore.
“It is a natural trick” I told myself. I felt like I was in another world, if not some tropical island in the middle of the ocean. I could not be in the middle of a lake!
“Ok, if I jump in the water I will wake up” I whispered to myself.
I walked the 20 feet to the lake’s edge and dove into the cool water. The chill at 5:30 am woke me up, but not as intended. The reality only became more vivid, the colors brighter and my senses more attuned as I came to the water’s surface.
I shook my head in disbelief. “This place is surreal.”
I looked around. Behind me sat my tent that lay between 10 bamboo huts built against the base of a hill. To the right was a large mango tree. The circular base of the tree was divided in two halves with the lowest branches forming the ceiling. The side closest to the water’s edge had been made into a bar and the back side had a long table where you could order delicious meals. The bar itself was made from the wide trunk of a dried out tree and the coarse sand covered the floor. On the outer rim of the bar’s semicircle sat comfortable chairs with canvas cushions.
To the left, local’s huts dotted the beach that continued on for another kilometer until it came to a point and cut back to the southeast. Children were bathing in the water and their fathers were setting nets to catch fish. Looking west you saw nothing but water on the lake’s horizon. Chizumulu Island, smaller and less populated than Likoma, sat a few kilometers to the southwest.
During your stay at Mango Drift, you catch up in your journal, read books and have long conversations with the 8 other guests. You sit peacefully, watching time go by while doing absolutely nothing. During the 60-minute walk to town past mango trees and baobabs, you greet villagers with an enthusiastic “Muli bwanji?”(Hello, how are you?), as they reply “Ndili Bwino!” (I am fine). Children walk with you en route to practice their English, not to beg for Kwatcha. With Malawi in the finals of the COSAFA Cup (Southern Africa Football Championship), you and 300 locals pay 30 Kwatcha each to watch Malawi fall to Zimbabwe 2-0 on the island’s only TV. The days go by slowly, but you enjoy the island’s unique sense of serenity and tranquility, rarely found in our fast-paced world. You find that can’t even stress about things that you forgot to do on the ‘mainland’, the island’s only telephone is down. I wished I had more than 2 days to enjoy the island’s slow pace and was grateful when the Ilala arrived 2 days late.
Unfortunately, the most perfect things in life are not supposed to last forever. Upon boarding the Ilala, the peace and quiet enjoyed for 4 days was lost in the hustle of the cargo ship. Only an hour later while chatting with another American I found out that the Terminator had been voted in as the governor of California. I longed to go back to the isolation and seclusion of Mango Drift but it was too late. Likoma had disappeared from the horizon. It was alright. Having been on the road 2 ½ months, the days at Mango Drift were a pleasant, unexpected surprise. It was difficult to leave Mango Drift, but I found myself recharged, reenergized and ready to continue on the long journey north to Istanbul.
My last stop in Malawi was Mayoka Village, which sits on the southern shore of Nkhata Bay. After coming from one of the most amazing places I have ever been to, it would be hard for any place to compare yet the hostel/campsite was unique and straight out of Swiss Family Robinson. Chalets and terraces for camping hang off of the steep hillside overlooking the bay. Running into Dave we hung out for the next 2 days enjoying the scenic lakeshore town, swimming in the lake and filling up on nsima at local food joints before I headed out of Southern Africa to Tanzania.
I arrived in Kampala a few minutes ago after a 12-hour overnight bus ride from Nairobi where I was staying with family friends for the past 4 days. I plan to be in Uganda for the next 2 weeks where I hope to see the famed Silverback Mountain Gorillas in Mgahinga National Park, Murchison Falls (the most powerful surge of water on the planet) and white water the famed White Nile. Stay tuned for Wanderlust #7 that tells of the sensational Spice Island of Zanzibar and climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, Africa’s highest mountain.
Stay in touch!
Kind regards,
Dave
davidmlawrence@yahoo.com
(For more info on Mango Drift, you can check out the “rich person’s” option on Likoma. Kaya Mawa is owned by the same guys who own Mango Drift - click on http://www.kayamawa.com/)
“People travel to wonder at the height of mountains at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering”
St. Augustine AD 345 -460
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