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

I am one with...the dolphins 9/16

June 23, 2003

Life in Nkhata Bay was chill. You’d wake every day to a warm, blue sky, sit by the lake enjoying a breakfast of fresh papaya, which was picked from the tree just beside your bungalow that morning. Usually breakfast managed to last minimum 2 hours, with a minimum 4 mugs of tea; it was the first time I had seen a big mug in too long a time. Following that, I would contemplate a swim across the bay and back for a good share of an hour. Then I’d actually do that, so half hour. By that time it would already be well past noon and I would need to be down in the ‘town’ to pick up fruit and fresh, fresh tomatoes…beautiful tomatoes…some of the best I’d had. Oh, and fresh bread…spending far too much on groceries: possibly 40 cents. Then it would be a wander over to Kupenja Lodge where my friends Daz and Ariel lived and worked. That would lead to a long tea session while we sat on the deck watching the traffic go by on the lake. If we were lucky the ferry (usually the Ilala but she was being fixed) would come in. That was fair excitement.

Dug out canoes rolled by, with fresh fish for sale. Daz was looking for his own dug out at the time, he had lost 2 previous canoes to Mozambique when he failed to tie them up properly, so was more than happy to indulge these fishermen in a bit of banter. Maybe one would know of a boat Daz could buy.

The sun would start setting and I’d have to decide if I should have a delicious dinner at Hot Spot for a mere 65 cents or go back to Mayoka for almost gourmet food. This was the big decision of the day. Man, what a hard life.

This town/village/whatever had no internet, often no power at night, few phones, and was very far on a bumpy road to the nearest town and main bus station. It was a wonderful place. As I’ve said it was easy filling the day with nonsense. There’s a prison in the middle of town, right across from Golden Dawg, the movie house. And I swear the prisoners were never locked up. They were playing football across the way.

And the locals; the carver boys. Oh the nicknames….Easy Tiger, Georgy Porgy, Richard, Diamond Geezer…ah, common. Richard, really?
I loved the fact that I’d have to greet the witch doctor who’s ‘office’ was by the side of the road on the way to Daz’s.
All in all, I’m not too upset that I had agreed to meet my friend Phil back there in the next 2 weeks.

Remember that evil bus journey I mentioned in my last email? The one that took Jess and I 19 hours to get from Nkhata Bay to Blantyre? So slow a lorry past us while we were going uphill? Well, I don’t think I mentioned what the bus drivers did. Ok, first, there were drivers. Like 4 of them. And then they decided they were thirsty at 2:30 in the morning and stopped for a very long amount of time to go to the local disco for a beer or 2. They never actually told us anything but I figured it out. And it really pissed off this Tanzanian bloke. He went off about how you’d never hear 2 radios blaring at once, babies shrieking and the drivers leaving the bus on the side of the road packed to overflow with customers and luggage to enjoy a few beers in Tanzania. The dalla dallas there would get you to your destination in record speed. Gotta say, I agree.

Jess and I finally made it out of Malawi at the beginning of June-ish to get some sand and sun in Southern Mozambique. We left our hostel early in the day only to wait for our minibus to leave for hours. Finally it was full and off we went. Just 20 km away from the border it broke down. Lucky for us a pickup truck picked us up. It was owned by a lovely Namibian family who were in Malawi on holiday and they took us safely to the border. The most interesting billboards I’ve seen were between the two countries. It was an ad for condoms, the sign saying you have now left Chisango country (Malawi) and entered ‘X’ country (don’t know the name of the Moz condom…not as many billboards as Malawi). We got a little lecture from the Moz. Customs for not having bought visas in our home countries, mainly because he was a lazy git and didn’t feel like doing anything. We ended up having to pay him a little extra for doing such a nice job.

Managed a lift with a very nice South African who was working in Malawi but was on his way to Zim. Got to Tete in record time thanks to the South Africans need for speed behind the wheel and had our first look around Mozambique. It’s amazing how different it is to other African countries. Its Portuguese influence is so evident, giving it an almost European flair. Ok, not a huge European flair, but it is bizarre seeing Africans chatting away in Portuguese. And it ain’t cheap either. Not European in that respect either but at least twice more expensive then Malawi and it’s just as poor. I mean the poor country has had a horrible past 20 odd years, with constant war, and droughts and famines. But the people are still warm and friendly.

We left our pensau at 3:45 am to catch our bus to Vilanculo. We were told we should be making it there by late afternoon. Right. We got to Vilanculo at 10:30 at night. Mozambique buses could have won the prize as the slowest and most painful.

Vilanculo is a lovely little town in Southern Mozambique. Very tropical with coconut palms and long white sand beaches. The tide goes out pretty far here and it seems like you can walk across the Indian Ocean. It’s so beautiful at that time…the dhows (sailboats) all have black sails and it always looks like one got stuck in a sand dune.

Jess and I ended up meeting two wicked Swedes, Hans and Anna and a fellow Torontonian, Jeremy (who happens to live just blocks away from my folks) and decided to go on a dhow safari for 2 days and 2 nights to the Bazaruto Archipelago, 5 islands that are protected as a national park.

My mission: see some frikin dolphins! Everywhere I go people brag about seeing dolphins riding alongside the boat or riding the waves nearby. I want some of that. What is it about me that dolphins don’t want to know? And how do they all know that there’s a ban on me?

I got my wish. Oh yeah. We saw some dolphins. They were as beautiful as people have said. And now my curse is gone! I’m good again. I am one with the dolphins. And it doesn’t stop there. We even got to see the endangered dugong, which, for obvious reasons (that whole almost being extinct thing) is very rare to see.

We all then headed down to Tofo, a famous beach just down from Inhambane town, one of the oldest towns in Mozambique. Tofo’s known for not just the beach but also surfing and most importantly, diving. I’d heard about the diving in Tofo months before in Zanzibar. Apparently you could dive with Manta Rays and Whale sharks. Cool, the only problem being I don’t know how to dive. And you can’t snorkel with the Mantas. There’re 30 m down.

The stupid thing is I could have learnt to dive anywhere in Africa. Zanzibar was cheap and a pretty sweet environment. Lake Malawi even. Ten minute walk from where I stayed for 3.5 weeks. But no. I have to procrastinate and be cheap. You, all who know me, must have known what kind of internal struggle I was having, trying to decide if I should part with my hard earned coin to take the most expensive Open water course I had come across. I think I annoyed every person that I encountered trying to get them to decide for me. Lucky, my friend Emma who wanted to take the course with me, talked me into it. Now I can’t believe I haven’t done diving sooner.

I’m a water baby. I can stay in the water for days. Everyone said I would love diving, being able to breathe underwater and see the life under the water. They were so right. It’s amazing. I had been so worried about everything, my ears, the bends, and all kinds of bad stuff you hear you can do to yourself at great depths under the water. It’s just ridiculous though. It’s one of the most relaxing, serene experiences I’ve had. I love hanging upside down over the coral trying to find some crazy looking shrimp or eel or whatever. Or just floating above the ocean floor, watching schools of fish swim by.

We were heading back to land after my final dive (to complete the course) when we hit something with the rudder of the speedboat. We stopped the boat and turned to see the enormous fin of a whale shark submerging into the water. We didn’t hurt him but stunned him enough for him to realize he should swim a little deeper. We turned the boat to see if there were any more whale sharks and then noticed some fins in the distance. That was one of the really cool things about booting over the waves of the ocean. You would often see a couple of very large fins or a devil ray popping out with a wave. Anyway, we drove on and the fins rode in our direction and we saw they belonged to 2 dolphins. They seemed to like our boat and we went into the water with our snorkel gear on the very unlikely chance that the dolphins come closer. We began to swim as gently as possible (dolphins don’t like splashing) and they came closer. They came closer and closer until they were a mere meter away. It was unbelievable! They reminded me of those really tacky airbrushing of dolphins. These smiling creatures that just seem to float in the water.

My new name is EEEEEEEE (to be sung in the tone of a dolphin).

Time for my first deep dive, the whole reason for the dive course, 30 meters down to the Mantas. It was unbelievable. We had to descend head first to get down as fast as possible because the currents are so strong. That was cool. Then we started the dive. We went over top this one reef and entered an aquarium. It seemed like we were surrounded by thousands of fish. Looking down you’d see all the crazy things that live in the reef. Moray eels, although dangerous look like Muppets with their mouths constantly trying to snap up food. Barracuda, Tiger fish, stingrays, all you could imagine, surround you. Then you turn a bend and see your first Manta coming out of the mist. The best description I heard was they look like Star Trek ships coming in for a landing. And they are huge! 30 times bigger than me at least. Like a small car. They just coast along, gently gliding on a flap of their wings, pausing once in a while in mid wave to have a look at you, then floating upwards and away giving you a view of their white underbellies and the fish that live beneath them. So majestic and gentle.

A dive master then pointed to the distance and a school of devil rays, 15, some babies flew slowly by. It’s an astounding world at the bottom of the ocean. Now the humpback whales are moving through Tofo, migrating north where they’ll breed then head back through Tofo. The one downfall to this is they chase away the gentle giant whale sharks which I still have not managed to see, but there are a few around. But no worries, I have time…

I was offered one of the coolest jobs to date. The lovely people that own Tofo Scuba, Nikki and John asked me to do reception work for them in exchange for accommodations, base wage and the kicker: free dives! It’s like they knew it was my new obsession. And since Nikki was my instructor that wouldn’t be too far off. Needless to say, I will be taking this job, after I do a bit more travel. I’ll just hope it’s still there when I return in a month or 2, which Nikki guaranteed. Inshallah.

This had been my plan. Amazingly, yes, I had formed a somewhat plan. Jess was to leave me, sadly, from Maputo where we would enjoy her bday and buy final curios. Then I would spend a few days there before taking the long journey back to Malawi. Our time that was meant to be in Maputo was cut short because of my dive course and then we cancelled it all together to stay in Tofo for the Full Moon party on the beach. Then it was decided it was only fitting that Jess and I parted ways on a beach. After all we had met on the North beach in Zanzibar, 3 full moons ago. Too perfect. Beach to beach, full moon to full moon.

Then I was meant to leave Tofo with Anna, the Swedish girl we were travelling with. The day before we were meant to leave I was chatting with Tom, another member our travel tribe, who was thinking of heading up to the North. I knew I wanted to see it, go to Pemba and Mozambique Island, but travel was long and drawn-out and I wasn’t keen on doing it alone. Phil and I were meant to see it together after I had reunited with him in Nkhata Bay. As usual, plans are never set in stone with me and we decided to head north the next day as opposed to south, which would get me further and further away from Malawi.

We’re currently in Beira, central Mozambique. I, along with my travel partner for the moment, Tom, are staying with 2 English teachers, Camille and Lester, who have taken us in for the past few days. We met Lester in Tofo and ran into him on our way north. Not only was Lester heading up to Ilha de Mocambique, but we could stay with him along the way. Which takes about 3 days. You have to travel in stages. For some reason it’s against the law for buses to travel at night and the roads are shit so 40 km could take like 8 hours. That means, from Vilanculos in the south, it would take about 3 stopovers to get there. We’re in stop one now, trying to get our visas extended before heading north. Apparently each day you’re past your due date, you pay $100. I need to not find that out.

The beautiful thing is Lester and Camille knows a great group of expats and locals in Beira and has made our time here really nice. Many of them are professional musicians and they entertain us for hours with tunes. We were at dinner parties for the past 2 nights stuffing our greedy little faces. And I get to use Lester’s laptop which is how I’m managed to spew out all this rubbish…it’s free. And he’s managed to get us 3 free accommodations all the way up to Ilha. Rock on.

To brag I’m currently listening to Helio, Lester’s friend and popular musician playing the drums and singing outdoors, entertaining the children in the neighbourhood.

Tom and I have discovered a Brazilian culture here as well. Ok, Tom did. He plays Capoeira, the Brazilian Martial Art that resembles a dance. Throughout our journey north we’ve found kids and adults playing in various places, on the beach, in the square and in our current frontyard. It’s pretty amazing. I think it’s interesting that Africa on the whole is so into martial arts and that Mozambique is into the Brazilian form. In the rest of Eastern and Southern Africa you would see people play fighting using kung fu or kickboxing and the Africans love Kung Fu movies. But here in Mozambique you find their own culture’s martial art. Yet another difference. Cool bananas.

Now you’d think we’d be living in the lap of luxury here in Beira, and in some respects we are. As mentioned I have use of a laptop and internet during cheap hours, the use of a kitchen, a lady who did our laundry for free, a comfy bed but we have no running water. Really. Sometimes it comes on for a few odd hours, freezing cold and trickling out of the shower head (spout, really). We’ve taken to boiling a couple litres of water then bucket showering with it. To me luxury is a hot shower but now I realize running water in general is pretty luxurious to some. The things you take for granted, they’re living like this for 2 years. As I speak Lester is heating up his shower bag (a camping sac filled with water that has a shower head attached) by the heat of the sun. Lukewarm is better than freezing, as he said.

As for me and my health, I’m all good. Got some killer meds to get rid of Wanker 2nd today. The little bastard kept me up itching all night. So now he must die. I had warned him…if he was good he could come to Ilha and enjoy its first music festival but no, he wanted more blood and grew bigger. Now he’s an irritant so…. On the plus side, the horse pill I took should also take out some of the other worms that are probably living in me…from food. We all have them, I think you just get more in Africa.

I’ve decided to go off my anti-malarial when I return home to Mayoka. I’ve now been on Doxy, an antibiotic, for close to 6 months which is bad. I need my body to be able to fight bacteria and shit naturally. Also, there’s the possibility I am carrying malaria (long boring story that involves a medical advisor) but it’s being kept at bay by Doxy and I’d like it to come out so I can treat it proper. Plus I know the staff at Mayoka and I know they’d take care of me. We’ll see in a few weeks!

I’m still in love with Africa. Every country seems to look different…like they noticed a change in the landscape and drew a dividing line there. Obviously that’s not true but…

Hope everyone is happy and healthy! You are all in my thoughts and I honestly wish I could be sharing my time in Africa with all of you.
Love thi