Malawi Gold 10/16

June 27, 2003

‘Malawi, Malawi.’ This is what you hear when you walk past carver’s row in Nkhata Bay. ‘Malawi, Malawi’, in a long drawl. This, of course, is referring to Malawi Gold, the most famous weed in all of Africa. Malawi is filled with Rastas, particularly in Nkhata Bay, although I’m pretty sure that most are not practicing Rastafarian…. well, maybe just the weed part.

So the story goes: Arrived in Mbeya with Jess and B (travel companions from Zanzibar; Jess being the girl I tried to kill on the vespa I crashed) from Dar on one of the loveliest trains ever. Overnight, comfortable beds and great views. Even went through Selous National Park. We didn’t see anything but it was still cool. Met some dude who took us on a hike to a Crater Lake near to the town. Still can’t believe I managed to do that after such a long journey (approx. 20 hours) but it was all right. Have to say hiking is not really my forte. I keep trying but…. I prefer swimming or something where you don’t huff and puff and sweat buckets.

The next day we headed off on our monster travel to Chitimba in Northern Malawi. Somehow, someway, this journey took forever! On the plus side we had every different type of poultry on our minibus, which is always entertaining, but we spent most of our time squashed into various tiny painful positions. I have discovered contortionism. My body can now twist into such small odd positions….I’m gonna hire myself out for bday parties (and some of you should get your minds out of the gutter…this is a rated G email).

I grew to miss the crazy matatus of Eastern Africa. Although these were also packed to the gills and fairly uncomfortable, they drove like maniacs and you reached your destination fairly quickly. They drive like the dead here in Malawi. I swear. My minibus the other day was so slow a lorry passed us…while we were going uphill!!!!

Finally we reached Chitimba, our first stop and view of Malawi. Bear in mind most of what you hear of Malawi is the lake, followed by Bilharzias and other strange diseases and dope. But it is also meant to be the highlight of any trip to Africa. Filled with beautiful landscapes, friendly people, and cheap cheap cheap. Rock on. Bilharzias, for the record, is a disease transmitted by minute worms which are passed on by freshwater snails. The worms enter through your skin and infect your intestines or bladder. This is found in freshwater lakes and rivers. Particularly Lake Malawi, Lake Victoria, and the Nile in Uganda. I have swum in all these bodies of water, for a very long time. See, you can prevent bilharzias by only swimming in the infected water for 10 minutes max and then dry off vigorously. Fuck that. If you saw how beautiful these places are then you wouldn’t give a rat’s ass either. Plus you can get it treated easily, like all the expats here do.

It was particularly funny though when we arrived at Chitimba beach and saw the bilharzias lagoon. I swear. You had to wade through this mass of still water to get to the lake. I mean, yes, it does take about 10 minutes for the little fellows to burrow into your skin but it was amusing.

From Chitimba we made the ‘walk’ to Livingstonia….you know ‘Dr. Livingstone, I presume?’. That missionary dude. Livingstonia itself was quite amazing. The very ‘civilized’, often referred to as Scottish influenced town, is eerie. So not African but with Africans being African in the town. Women walking past with trees on their heads (ok, maybe not trees, but it has been known to see the ladies ambling by with large branches perched upon their heads…the women can carry anything atop their noggins. Funny when you see just a bar of soap). Trucks so loaded up with a variety of items that you’re shocked that they can even move. But the buildings are all very British. Made of red brick even. Surreal.

The ‘walk’ up turned out to be a fairly strenuous hike. I held onto the back of young Brendan’s backpack for most of the vertical climb. That's when I had the self-revelation. I dislike climbing stuff. Really dislike it. I’ve tried and tried but nope, I don’t like it. A nice hike, over flat land where you can actually look around; that I like. A long swim: fun. Vertical ascent. Crap. I don’t give a toss how nice the view is either. It sucks.

Somehow I made it to the top (which isn’t so high) and we got to Livingstonia and Stone House where wee would stay the night. Very quiet English abode run by Africans. We had a very nice, very hot shower, ate a huge dinner and settled in for a night of reading in the lounge; trying to keep warm (it was freezing up there! We are in winter here). Little did we know the night watchman, G, was a major source of entertainment. He subtly informed us that the couple we thought were a couple was actually father daughter. Ewww. They really acted like a couple, too. I think they slept in the same bed! G was appalled. Fathers didn’t sleep in the same rooms as their daughters in Africa. Why are mzungus so strange?

We left Livingstonia the next day to get back to the Lake and some warmth. Transport in Malawi is the worst to date. Very slow and not very often. It’s odd when you reminisce about the frightening matatus of Eastern Africa. We waited by the side of the road for about 2 hours for a lift south of Chitimba. We wanted to get to Nkhata Bay.

Finally got to Mzuzu, the nearest town to Nkhata Bay, after too many police checks and too many screaming children. I don’t understand it: I was under the impression that African children didn’t cry but in Malawi it seems like their vocal cords are increased by 20. Makes a very crammed ride almost unbearable.

I was parting from Jess and B for the next while. They were headed for Zim to see their uncle; then B was off to work outside of Durban and Jess was to come back to meet me. I had this wicked bad flu that day and so not in the mood to carry my bag through the dark trying to find Mayoka, the backpackers which was recommended by many. But again, the lovely Africans came to my rescue. I was the only mzungu on the bus (as usual for me) and all seemed to be concerned about my well being. They discussed what was to be done upon my arrival and this nice boy offered to escort me to Mayoka. He even carried my bag, which was good cause it was faaaaar.

Walked into the bar, looking forward to sleep when this man ran up to me and planted a big kiss on my lips. It was my friend Daz, from Uganda (not him, where I met him). So much for sleep. Daz, who was working there at Kupenja Lodge, and his ‘boss’ Ariel, whisked me away on a quick tour of Nkhata Bay lodges/bars and finally Hot Spot, my now favorite local restaurant.

I ended up staying in Nkhata Bay for 3.5 weeks. I don’t know how the place does it but everyday went by at the speed of light. There was Golden Dawg, a bar/’cinema’ (a large concrete room with a very large TV and DVD player with over 200 movies) that this American bloke set up when he fell in love with Nkhata Bay. A movie costs about 10 cents. Then there were the carvers; a group of locals who were pseudo rastas (they drank and ate meat) who could carve almost anything, some good, some bad. Most woman didn’t like chilling with them cause they hit on them but I was safe. They thought I was with Ariel (we don’t know why), which was fine by me! I wasn’t going to tell them otherwise! Hanging out at Mayoka was a good one. So gorgeous was this place. I had this huge ‘cottage’ right on the Lake, with my own porch. I swam across the bay every day. IT was just a feel good place. Most people get stuck there for a very long time. Nkhata Bay is just a magical place.

Jess came and met me after about 2 weeks or so and we got stuck together. Met this very funny Irish bloke who quickly became a part of our little family and we all became stuck together. It’s funny. I’ve met so many people on this trip. Most I haven’t felt a special attachment to like I did with those I met in the Mid East. I think it’s because Africa is filled with gap year students and NGOs, who think they are making a difference (more on that later). But every once in a while special people come along.

Jess was sadly on a time frame (we both wanted to stay) and the 3 of us left, Phil for Tanzania and Jess and I for Blantyre then Mozambique. The bus was the worst yet. Waited for hours for it to fill (which was fine…we didn’t want to arrive in Blantyre in the early morn…very dangerous). Then it overfilled to a dangerous amount. Then it changed its destination, going to Lilongwe first. Then it was so slow, a fucking lorry passed it going uphill! Basically it took us 19 hours to get to Blantyre when it should have only taken 8. Jess and I suck for transport.

Blantyre was nice…small town named a big city. Malawi’s not one for big party towns. It’s pretty sleepy. We only stayed a few days as we both wanted to get to the coast of Mozambique but I’ll be back to explore it. I’ve made plans to meet Phil, the Irish bloke, back in Nkhata Bay at the end of June. We’re hoping for work…

And now I’m in Tofu, Mozambique. Started my dive course, which I love and can’t believe I’ve never done before…. but more on that in a different email.

One thing I forgot. I’ve added onto my list of gross things one can catch in Africa. I noticed the soles of my feet being really itchy in Livingstonia. So itchy I almost made them bleed from scratching (I used brick or stone). I put calamine lotion on them to stop the pain but thought it was mozzie bites. Imagine my surprise when, days later in Mayoka I noticed red lines running all over the soles of my feet. And you could feel them stick out. I immediately took my feet to the owners who have lived there for years and would know weird stuff and Gary congratulated me. You are the proud parent of not one but two hook worms. One for each foot, he said. Hookworms, if you don’t know, can be caught from walking barefoot in sand where animals may have defecated. The worms leave the animal and enter whatever part of your body they come in contact with. Once inside your body they eat and excrete your blood, leaving trails of where they’ve been. They want to get to your gut where they can live for years. Only meds can take care of them. I did that. But now one has come back. Wanker is his name and I can’t wait to kill him again! Don’t worry. I took pictures.

That’s all I feel like writing now. It’s not up to date info but Internet is pricey here in Southern Africa. Hope all is fine with everyone!
Love and misses,
thi