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Lilongwe,
Malawi
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The weekend before the adventure
As is traditional with me, the weekend before I leave town, I have to have an all-nighter!! Okay this tradition just started before I left London for Botswana, but I am thinking of continuing it. So for the sake of tradition, I had a mad last weekend in Gabs before hitting the road to Malawi.
Lindsay, a Canadian, whom I had met in Cape Town and then again with Jim up in Maun, came to stay in Gabs for a couple of nights, before heading down to Jo'burg. So Friday night we went out and met up with some guys, Fahad - a resident in Botswana for over 20 years, did his schooling there and has now gone into the Family business, a lawyer friend of his, Peche, Elim, a Tanzanian, who also has been in Botswana most of his life, Daphne, Tom (her boyfriend, who has come over from the States - originally from Belgium, to stay with Daphne for a year in Botswana). Daphne and Tom, called it an early night, followed soon after by Lindsay who had a 6 am bus ride to Jo'burg, Peche then, after threatening to come to a party with Elim and I called it a night, only after driving at ridiculously fast speeds of 180 km/h through the centre of Gabs... This is even more dangerous because at 1 am most of the drivers are drunk and going at a really really slow pace. The whole journey (well the 30 seconds it lasted) I sat shot gun, gripping the seat with my eyes closed. Elim then took me to a party in Phakalane - this is the most hideous place - it is a new suburb of Gabs, based around a golf course with the most disgustingly ugly, ostentatious houses. These are huge houses on tiny plots of land with no consistency of design - think the OC crossed with Footballers Wives (reference is probably only relevant to those in the UK) and you'd be getting close to the visual.
However, we partied at a friend of Elim's house until the early hours of the morning and made it back in time for me to say goodbye to Lindsay as she was leaving the house at 5:45. Collapsing into bed at 6, I woke up 3 hours later in mad panic about all the last minute chores I had to do before leaving Botswana!! Managed to complete all of it, which included going to see a childhood friend, Puso and his wife and kids at their home, just outside of Gabs, onto 'bandit' country - Mogoditshane to say goodbye to friends there, a goodbye dinner with Daphne and then lunch with Esther and Melissa on Sunday, before getting the 8pm bus out of Gabs for Lusaka.
The Adventure begins
I board this luxury bus and manage to bag 3 seats to myself and settled in for the ride, just as we were pulling out of the depot, Elim and Melissa (traditionally late - but in Botswana this is normally okay, as everything is late) drive alongside the bus, leaning out of their car frantically waving at me, saying goodbye over our cell phones. It was a hilarious moment. I then settled back in for the ride, we had DVDs, snacks and a man dying from AIDS with a hacking cough that I kept hoping wasn't TB in an air-conditioned coach. Through a dark and stormy night we drove - we hit continuous rain at Palapye, stopping occasionally to pick up other passengers we made it to Nata at 3:30 am. Here we were able to stretch our legs and buy some food. I am not sure about you, but I'm not really hungry at 3:30 am, so didn't buy anything - big mistake. I had some snacks with me, Pringles, peanuts and apples - thank god for the apples (see later!) So pretty much survived on that diet for the next 36 hours. From Nata to Kasane we flew over bone wrenching, body jarring potholes until we got to a rain sodden border and swollen Chobe river. Huddling under the little shelter on the ferry across the Chobe, whilst being hassled for 5 pula, my first doubts of the sanity of what I was doing started. At the Zambian side, we were hassled to change money - in retrospect should have done it as I would have gotten more for my pula than at the Malawian border - not much call for Botswana currency there!! I paid the extortionate amount of US$ 65 for a visa to enter Zambia. For some reason the Brits are charged 3 times that of Americans, Australians etc to enter Zambia!! Peeved at parting with so much cash and not even a nice visa to show for it, I huddled with the other passengers, lorry drivers, tsotsi (petty thieves and criminals), foot passengers who were trying to negotiate a ride with the heavy goods drivers, under the small awning of the little immigration/ custom hut waiting for customs to check our luggage. On realising how much of hassle and chore this would be the custom officials eventually let us go, without us having to open our cases in the mud/ puddles/ rain and dirt. By 9 am we were on our way driving through the low lands of Zambia to Lusaka.
The adventure continues
I tried to contact a friend of a friend who lived in Lusaka, but got no answer, so with nowhere to stay I got off our bus and went straight to find out about buses to Lilongwe...The next direct one was either Wednesday or Thursday, no one was quite sure including the guy selling the tickets. On asking how I could get to Lilongwe I was told to get the bus that was just leaving for Chipata and there I could cross the border to Malawi. Chipata is the closest Zambian town to the border post. So whilst being slightly ripped off I exchanged 110 pula for the bus fare of 65,000 Zambian Kwacha and hopped on an already crowded bus. The doors shut behind me and in trying to get past a man, a fridge and various bags, made the whole bus laugh as I lost my balance just as the driver jolted the bus out of the station and disappeared behind the said fridge. I got up smiled, bowed and waved! What else can you do? The only spare seat I could immediately see was next to a young guy, called Michael, who wants to train as an accountant, preferably in England. We chatted for most of the 7 hour journey to Chipata, in-between bouts of sleep, about the UK, Zambia, AIDS, politics and football. I got pulled into a heated discussion from a group at the back of the bus, about religion, politics etc, when we pulled over so people could buy dried fish from hawkers along the side of the road. One optimist and entrepreneurial guy tried to sell me a fish for 20,000 Kwacha - this is at least 10 times the amount they were charging the Zambians.
As the guys got off the bus, they all shock my hand wishing me safe travels my sister. Everyone was overly concerned about me and the safety of my luggage which was stowed in the back comparment under the bus with a whole load of onions. They all kept checking no one was taking it, whilst I was trying to be the laid-back unsuspicious westerner....Actually it never occurred to me to check my luggage was okay...however, after my attention had been drawn to the fact I should be concerned, I did breathe a sigh of relief when I found my rucksack still there and untouched. Through the highlands of Zambia, under the white ghostly light of a full moon, we drove/ bounced - the hills stretch across from the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) and are part of the great rift valley. I think the bus took off at least twice on hitting a pothole at full speed, my back and neck were sore from the constant reverberation of the wheels banging along the bumpy road. We got to Chipata after midnight, where taxis were lined up waiting to take passengers home and me to the border. Knowing African borders, and having been there the next morning, there is no way I would want to spend the night out in an isolated, desolate border post with the money exchanges/ thieves and other criminals, waiting for the sun to rise so I could then get a ride to Mchinji, the next town in Malawi. Michael grabbed us a taxi and we drove to 3 guests houses to try and find one that accepted US dollars. Eventually we managed to persuade a guest house landlady to accept 27 US dollars for a basic room with communal shower/ bathroom - although I was the only one in the guest house, I had sole use. There was no light in the toilet and the bathroom was invested with mosquitoes and smelt of urine. But the room was clean and there was the all important net over the bed - spraying myself comprehensively I fell into bed, having finished my supply of water taking my anti-malaria tablet. Listening to the whine of the mozzies, I fell asleep and had my first dream about my flat in London, since leaving - must be the Larim! I was rudely awoken by my alarm at 5:30 am - I had had 4 1/2 hours of sleep, my body ached. I savoured my last apple, sucking all the juice off my fingers - it was to be the only sustanance I would have until I reached Ellie and Kebba's house in Lilongwe. The taxi that had brought me to the guest house the night before picked me up at 6 am and we made our way to the border, meandering past potholes and wobbling bicycles with percariously balanced goods on the backs. Cars here just hoot at cyclists, expecting these unbalanced weaving machines to steer off the road, so the cars can pass - there is no thought of overtaking! Just as we were nearing the border - we could see the notice in the distance we ran out of petrol! Luckily the taxi driver had a trusty assistant who ran up the road to the border to get a plastic gerry can from one of the many cyclists that transport fuel across the border. Whilst the assistant was gone, I realised I hadn't negotiated a price - not really with it in the morning! I had 10,000 Zambian Kwacha, 4x1 US $ bills, 2 US$50 bills, some pula and not much else. The price quoted in the guide book of US $5 is for sharing not singular which worked out to be 70,000 kwacha - petrol soooo expensive was the response to my flabberghasted face. But it only cost me 65,000 to get from Lusaka to Chipata! Anyway he agreed to accept a mixture of pula, kwacha and dollars for his troubles.
The adventure continues
I lug my rucksack across the border, through no mans land to the Malawian border post, being hassled to exchange money. I know I need about 500 Malawian kwacha to get to Lilongwe and have no desire to change US$ 50 note and thus make me a target for thieves, so I manage to persuade one exchanger to give me 1000 Malawian kwacha for 100 pula - not exactly a good exchange, but there is no call for Botswana pula on that route! On exiting the border post, I am shown to a car and told it will take me to Mchinji. Cool as that is where I want to go - getting wise I ask "how much?" "1,100 Kwacha." Errr I was told it would be 200 Kwacha to Mchinji and 1,100 would blow my budget for getting to Lilongwe, if I had it!! The surrounding crowd smile and shake their heads, "if you want to pay 200, you have to wait for other passengers." "Okay, I'll wait." The "other passengers" transpires to be 5 adults and 2 babies - so there are 9 human beings in total in this one salon car. I had been pulled over at gun point in Botswana for this many people in a car, but in Malawi, the army manned check points just waved us through.
When I got to Mchinji, I was pointed at a mini-bus, just bigger than a Volkswagen van, to clamber in. There were about 25 people crammed into this vehicle and we kept having to disembark as the engine kept overheating and water needed to be obtained and poured into the engine, which meant a complicated maneuvering of seats. Eventually I made it into Lilongwe past villages of crumbling houses and barns of drying tobacco leaves. Lilongwe is very green and pretty with big trees and colourful flowers. It is very spread out over undulating hills. I am staying with Kebba and Ellie, guys that I met in Gabs, briefly, who have been incredibly welcoming and hospitable. Kebba is a paediatrician and Ellie works in Public health, joining Unicef on Monday to develop their HIV/AIDS strategy for treating kids.
I leave tomorrow on another adventure - a bus to Chipoka and then I catch the Ilala, the ferry that runs the length of lake Malawi to Likoma Island, where I am staying for 3 nights, then I catch the Ilala on its way back down and head to Blantyre and then Mozambique.
I am not sure when I will update this again, but hope you've enjoyed reading about my adventures...unfortunately I have no photos of the trip as I did not want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself, by taking pictures.
