It is about ten days since I last wrote anything. My son Jack once said that he thought long gaps were probably a good thing as he suspected that the interval between blog entries was inversely proportional to how happy I am. It is of course more complicated than that, but there is an element of truth in this statement! I have been on holiday, and I have had a great time with family and friends and a good break. We have seen a bit more of Malawi, although diesel shortages have meant that we could not travel as far as we would have liked. We rented a large black Land Rover with capacity to seat six in the cab and a pick-up box behind, which we furnished with an old mattress with a torn cover, borrowed from Mitsidi. At the beginning of the trip it was just me and Dave and Fiona, but the plan was to meet up with all three of their children, and Sarah's partner, Tom, who had all spent a week in Zanzibar and then another week travelling south from Tanzania by way of Livingstonia, where they paused for a while. Apparently the main object of the visit was to see the curvature of the earth, but unfortunately the weather was never clear enough. Anyway, they seem to have had a good time despite some rather uncomfortable travelling conditions and buses running out of fuel etc.
We left Blantyre with a full tank and rattled our way to Ntcheu to visit Amanda. Zoe has been driving the Land Rover. She told us that it had a tendency to vibrate violently when it reached speeds of about 50 mph and that Vince had told her the recommended technique to deal with the problem was to slow down a bit and it would stop. The information proved to be correct. We were reminded of a time when our Uncle Tony had a similar problem with a car when we were children. Uncle Tony used to tell wonderful stories about a wizard called Greybeard, often while we were travelling in the car on family holidays and the vibration became known as 'Greybeard's curse'! On this first day we experienced the curse a few times, at speeds of 45mph plus, but it was not too much of a problem and we made it to Ntcheu without too much difficulty. My turn to drive came towards the end of the trip. Very soon after I took over we were stopped at a road block and I ceased to be a Malawian Traffic Fine Virgin! The rear lights were not working! I was annoyed about this as the previous day we had taken the Land Rover back to Torrent to have this particular problem fixed, but although they did other things, a bit of welding on the exhaust pipe for example, they clearly forgot to do the work we had requested. Amanda lives in a house in a walled garden in one of the back streets of Ntcheu, unfortunately I misjudged the width of the gateway by about a centimetre and scraped the side of the Land Rover on the wall. Being a Malawian wall it had no foundations and as I, very gently, reversed my way out of trouble I saw the wall move! Many Malawian walls are built from local brick, and are made in sections because it is well known that they are not very stable and will fall easily under a little pressure. This means that if damage is done, at least it is only one section which needs to be replaced, rather than the whole wall. Oh dear, I do hope the damage does not prove to be too severe! Upon arrival my first task was to call Alan at Torrent and confess to the damage.
It was lovely to see Amanda. She made us very welcome. We dumped our luggage and had a nice cup of tea as darkness fell. After a while we set off in search of supper. Ntcheu is not a touristy place. Its only mention in the Bradt guide is a suggestion that it is not really worth getting off the bus! The progress of the four of us through the streets, even in darkness, occasioned a fair amount of comment. Apparently there are only three or four azungus resident in the town at the moment and so our arrival more or less doubled the azungu population for the night. We walked through the town to a Moslem restaurant and ordered barbecued chicken and chips and then retraced our steps some of the way to a bar for a drink where Amanda introduced us to some of her colleagues from the hospital. Amanda, Fiona and I were the only women in the bar at the time. We purchased a beer for Dave and Fantas for the rest of us and then caused considerable amusement to a group of men at the other table in the 'garden' at the front by swigging a suitably sized gap at the top of the Fanta bottles and topping them up with gin from the bottle in Amanda's rucksack. Conversation flowed, we talked about the projects we work on, the political situation, families, friendships, riots, plans for how to deal with the next, planned demonstration.... Time passed in a flash and we suddenly realised we had overstayed the time agreed with the restaurant that we should be back to eat our chicken and chips. We made haste to return and found that our chips had been put into a huge covered, stainless steel serving dish more suited to a banquet! If the candle holders beneath had been filled and the candle's lit it would have been perfect. As it was the chips were not the hottest, but it was our fault and the chicken was straight from the barbeque and delicious.
After breakfast the next day the first priority was to get the lights fixed. In Malawi the police are making up for the lack of foreign aid by increasing the number of road blocks and looking seriously for things to fine you for. Many of the volunteers have been caught for all sorts of unexpected offences lately. Melvin and I spent an interesting morning trying to get International Licences in Blantyre recently, only to discover that the policeman who directed Melvin to do it was misinformed and the only way to get an International licence in Malawi is to first obtain a Malawian licence, a process too long, complicated and expensive to complete before he is due to return home. My own International licence was lost when my handbag was stolen, and although I have a document from Chilomoni police recording the theft I doubt that that would carry any weight as it was so long ago.
Fortunately Amanda knew of a suitable garage, which was just as well as there was no sign to identify it and I do not think we would have found it without inside information. We were introduced to the proprietor, who rejoiced in the name of 'Finish'. He and his two colleagues spent ten minutes investigating the problem which turned out to be a fuse. By a miracle they had the appropriate fuse in the storeroom and so for K500 our problem was solved and we were fit to take to the road again. We dropped Amanda off at her home, where we spent a few minutes admiring her chickens and the wire-tailed swallows perched on a telegraph wire across her garden, and then set off for Dedza.
In Dedza we were tourists. We stayed at the pottery and took advantage of the opportunity to buy pots, Dave and 'Ona for souvenirs and presents, and me to liven up my house, and I suppose eventually to take home to remind me of my time in Malawi. We had a great lunch. Dedza pottery is famous for its pizzas as well as the cheesecake which I have mentioned on previous occasions, and Dave took the opportunity to sample the Persian Goat. The menu has changed since I was there last, but this speciality remains and he seemed to enjoy it thoroughly. Then we jumped in the Land Rover again and it was off to have a look at the Chigoni Rock Art sites about 10-15Km away. I remembered the way well from the last time and we found the place easily. Two young men appeared from nowhere and offered to be our guides and off we went. They showed us three of the more important sites, two were the same that I saw with Rose and Joe in March, but the third was a lot further up the mountainside. It was quite a climb, but when I eventually caught up with the others, puffing heavily, it was worth it for the view! Malawi is gradually turning from the lush green of the rainy season to a patchwork of brown, russet, gold and the darker greens of the various trees that still have their leaves. Many trees have dropped their leaves. As we drove past the President's Drive the other day, an avenue of Jacarandas, I saw the first purple buds of Jacaranda blossom beginning to emerge on one tree that is ahead of the others. It reminds me of how long I have been here. When I arrived the extraordinary, almost ethereal shade, between purple and mauve was one of the most striking impressions of Malawi gained on that first drive from Lilongwe to Blantyre. Perched on the rocks under an overhang, beside the paintings that are about three thousand years old we had an interesting discussion about the current political situation in Malawi with our guides. We could not tarry long however without risking having to drive back across unfamiliar dirt roads in the dark, so it was back down the hill to the Land Rover and thence to the pottery for our tea.
The next day we drove down the escarpment road to Mua Mission. Again the views were spectacular despite rather more blue haze that I would have chosen. We could just about make out the Lake in the far distance and the ribbon of the Shire River. A number of villages clustered around the winding road. Up here there were more trees and fewer people than in many parts of Malawi, but even so it was never long between sightings of other people. Down this road the stalls sell wooden toys, Land Rovers, bicycles, JCBs, aeroplanes and so on. At the bottom of the mountain we drove across the plain. We saw more birds than I have noticed from the car in other trips around Malawi, including a couple of Lilac-breasted Rollers whose purple and green plumage was brighter and more iridescent than the rather muted pictures in the bird book suggested they would be. We arrived at Mua at about lunch time and discovered that it was busy because the next day was to be a special day with demonstrations of dance from all three of the local cultural groups, the Chewa, Ngoni and Yao. We were fortunate to gain the last available room in the place, not in the lodge where one stays in painted huts called 'rondavels', but in a three-bedded room in the monastery of the White Fathers. The room was basic, but ok, although the shower was cold water only and distinctly grubby. We went round the museum which gave us a bit of an insight into what we would see the next day with its displays of tribal customs from all three cultural groups. One of the Fathers is an artist and he has done much work to encourage local artists and to provide an outlet where their work can be sold to tourists at fair prices. There is a shop and a gallery. Most of the work is wood carving, but there are also paintings and the maker of each piece is acknowledged by name. This is unusual for Malawian artifacts. I bought a carving of a boy paddling a dugout canoe that now graces my table. Dave bought a beautiful polished mahogany box in the shape of an apple. The next morning we got up early in time for breakfast before the displays started at 8.00am. This proved to be 8.00am Malawi time, as nothing happened until 8.30am when a procession emerged headed by three priests in orange vestments with feathered headdresses who were followed by a large number of dancers and singers in traditional masks and costumes. It was a strange affair, a mass, but also a demonstration of tribal dance and song. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but it was certainly energetic and colourful. Dave and I took loads of photos. Ninety minutes later the mass was over and the display part of the day began. We watched for perhaps three hours in total. At the beginning the arena was three quarters empty but it gradually filled up as time went on. Well over 90% of the audience (congregation?) were Malawian, there were many children, some in family groups, but also groups of young boys, perhaps 8-10 together, groups of teenagers, men and women. You could recognise the Yao women and men, who are Moslem, by their headdresses and little round caps. There were men in furred Ngoni headdresses. Everyone was there from the chiefs down to little scraps of children in grubby torn dresses and shorts. There was a holiday atmosphere and most people looked cheerful and relaxed. A measure of order was kept among the crowd by a group of men with long sticks who moved among the crowd politely requesting people not to stand on the concrete benches and thus obscuring the view of the people in the back rows, and gently flicking the legs of those who were slow to respond to the request with their sticks. A few azungus came and went but mostly it was a local event. I found it difficult to separate the Catholic from the local cultural aspects and to understand it all, but it was certainly an interesting event. By lunchtime however we had had enough and so set off on the next stage of our journey to Cape Maclear and a few days rest and holiday at the Lake of Stars.
The next generation of Dave and 'Ona's family rather rashly attempted to get all the way from Livingstonia to Cape Maclear in one day. That however is their story rather than mine. Suffice it to say that they made it only as far as Nkhotakota that day, so we spent the evening with just the three of us at the Lake and eventually they joined us the next day. We used a little of our remaining diesel to go back to the Cape Maclear turn to meet them and it was very satisfying to meet the taxi that brought them on the final leg of their journey as it drew up to the meeting place from the opposite direction, the two vehicles stopping face to face. For the first time there were so many of us that it was necessary for some to travel in the back of the pick-up. The sun was shining, we saw baboons on the way through the National Park; the Lake of Stars lived up to its name and twinkled a welcome. The day slipped by with eating, drinking, reading, talking and kayaking. It was good.
The next day we took a boat trip to the island and had barbequed kampango sitting on the rocks. The younger generation snorkelled, we fed the fish, and the fish eagles and generally a good time was had by all.
