Likoma Island and Blantyre
Trip Start
Oct 19, 2005
1
12
33
Trip End
Ongoing
Likoma Island,
Malawi
Friday, March 24, 2006
On Friday 17th March Ellie, drove me to the local bus depot for Shire buses in Lilongwe and 15 minutes later I was on a bus bound for Mangochi that went via Chipoka, my stop to catch the infamous Ilala, the ferry that transverses the length of Lake Malawi. Both of us were amazed at Malawian efficiency and waving goodbye, Ellie left. Both Kebba and Ellie had been fantastic hosts and I had loved staying with them. The bus then drove the "old town" and the market, a colourful mass of humanity trading and bartering to the city's bus station, where we proceeded to wait 2 hours for the bus to fill up. The last two passengers to ascend the bus were white and after much gesticulating and shouting, I was informed by a kind fellow passenger translating Chichewa into English "that I should move to sit with my friends." I explained that just because we were white didn't mean that we knew each other!
A lone Dhow
! It transpired that they were dutch medical students on their second day in Africa. About an hour into the journey we reach a road block, one of several that are strategically stationed around Malawi. 3 people in civilian clothes get on the bus and officially looking stare at the passengers. On spotting white people, we were made to open our luggage and show passports - duly done and then the bus would not start. We all disembark and the men sit away from the women and children on the verge where we wait and wait in the blazing midday heat. After an hour and half of waiting and being told that there was another bus and we just had to wait..a bakkie with an Australian woman drives past and sees us, realizing that she had given a lift to the dutch girls that morning from the backpackers to the bus station, she offers us the back of her bakkie and to take us to Salima, from where we can get a chapas (minibus) to our respective destinations. Gratefully we clamber in amongst pumpkins, supplies and other luggage. As the wind whipped us giving us a cheap facial by sending sand and dirt into our faces, matting our hair and the sun scorched our skin, we traveled through rolling hills to Salima. We climbed into a waiting Minibus where I engaged in conversation with a traditional doctor from South Africa who was developing his skills in Malawi..the conversation obviously moved into the realms of HIV/AIDS and the role of traditional doctors via explaining the throwing of the bones. On disembarking at Chipoka, I still had another 2 kms to get to the port
Another glorious African sunset
. It was by now 3 pm and I had left Ellie at 8 am in Lilongwe, about a 2 - 3 hour drive away. I was told to get on the back of a bicycle and my luggage was strapped to the back of another and I rode in style down the single road into Chipoka, where I was overcharged by the guys, but It still cost me less than a pound. I was dropped off at the waiting room for the ferry, which also served as a bottle store and compromised of street kids, school kids, fellow passengers and men, who had spent the majority of the day drinking chibuku and smoking Malawian gold. I was a great fascination for most of the children, but after not getting much reaction from me, most gave up to go fishing, except for two enterprising kids, thinking I would be a soft target. Over the next hour they inched closer and closer to me, attempting, I assume, to make me used to and comfortable in their presence - which I did not. They were soon joined by an older boy. They kept slyly eyeing my pockets with a fleeting look of hungry greed glinting in their eyes. I had about 1000 kwacha, which I would not have minded loosing - it is about 4 pounds, but I also had my cell in my pocket, which I kind of wanted to keep hold off.
The Ilala was supposed to have arrived at 2 pm and it was now 4pm and there was no sign off it
Arriving at Likoma Island
. The older boy was now getting impatient and teaching the younger ones to say "Give me money!" Which they duly repeated several times during which time they were joined by a number of other children, about 10 - 12, ranging in ages from 3 - 4 to 11 or 12. Capitulating, I opened a pack of apples and handed them out, realizing that some had never seen an apple, let alone eat it, I demonstrated how to bite into the skin and not to eat the core. Some took to the apples, whilst others spat out the flesh... so much for starving children and beggars can't be choosers! Okay slightly uncharitable, but by this time I am feeling incredibly vulnerable and pathetic. The older boy is checking out my waist trying to figure out if I have a money belt, my pockets, shoes, luggage, he catches a glimpse of my watch and I swear he openly salivates, no longer hiding his licentiousness. I ask them to leave in English, my Chichewa not stretching beyond hello, how are you, I am fine. He responds "Yes" Me "You know English?"
Him "Yes"
Me "You haven't a fucking clue what I am saying do you?"
Him "Yes"
I'm now starting to shake, hating myself for feeling so vulnerable, paranoid, a single white female in Africa, I felt very alone and desperately trying not to show any weakness or fear.
Bourganvillea
. I didn't give a rat's arse about the money, I just didn't want to feel on guard every single second. All this was being witnessed by the glazed vacant half-closed eyes of the chibuku drinkers, who I knew wouldn't come to my rescue if anything went down. I also know it's going to get dark in about an hour and where I was, was not safe for a westerner. Malawi is a very safe place, but you have to be vigilant and wary. Just then I notice a man walking on the port side of a chicken wire fence and then going into a security office. Needing no further encouragement, I pick up my bags "Show's over folks!" and head towards the security office, where the guard welcomes me and allows me to stay with him. I feel so pathetic, I had had such a wonderful time traveling to Malawi and in Botswana and this was the first time that I had hated being a white woman traveling alone in Africa.During the night, members of the town came over and talked to me and then news arrived that the Ilala hadn't even left Monkey Bay, the stop 3 hours before Chipoka, and was not going to until 11 pm at the earliest, so by committee it was decided that I would stay in Chipoka's premier lodge - a 600 kwacha a night guest house. Yes it was a dive, redefining the word basic, but it had an en suite toilet that flushed but no basin. I was escorted there by the local primary school teacher, who did offer me a bed at his house - "You can sleep with my daughter" "Thanks but no thanks!" I am sure it would have been fine, but it is slightly inappropriate and could have been misconstrued
broken down outside lilongwe
. He told me he would come for me at 2 am. By this time I had got hold of Ellie and relayed all that had happened, so she kept phoning me to check I was Okay - Brilliant!At 2 am the teacher reappeared - the Ilala hadn't left Monkey bay, so I could stay and he would come and get me when they could see the ferry from the port - however, sleep was being hard to come by, so I said I would go to the port with him and wait there. However there was a slight issue of money. I had no change and neither did the security guard. So at 3 am I am wandering around a dark and deserted Chipoka, with all my luggage with two strange men looking for a bottle store to give me change. We follow the sound of music and came across two stoned and drunk men weaving to the rhythm of the beat that was pumping out of a huge speaker rigged up in an outside hut. They had no money with them, but one owned a store, so we duly set off following him. I at this point laughing inwardly at what I was doing, totally against the guide books advice of following 3 African men down quiet streets in the dead of night.
Money exchanged I went back to the port where the ferry was spotted at 5 am and docked at 6 am. I fell into the bed, once I was shown my cabin and slept all morning. The Ilala, known for its tardiness and ability to find rocks, takes about a week to travel up and down the length of the lake
Cheerleading at the footie match
.On the Ilala was another westerner, Jack a freelance travel journalist, going to Likoma Island too...so we chatted for most of the journey..he was going to Kaya Mawa the expensive place and me to Mango Drift the cheap place.
Likoma and The return journey:
Likoma is an idyllic island. As mentioned above there are basically two places to stay, Kaya Mawa, which consists of luxury stone and reed chalets built on outcrops of rocks and accessed from the main land by a series of bridges and at the moment a boat. The other is the much cheaper option of Mango Drift, a series of stone and reed chalets and dorms right on the beach interspersed amongst beautiful bougainvillea, a bucket shower and flush toilet! It was fantastic just to open the shutter of my $4 a night chalet seeing the beach and clear crystal waters of the lake beyond.
We arrived 14 hours late, so after dumping my bags and a hearty breakfast, I headed up the hill to the main village, across vale sliding down moving shale, along faint paths with kids running up to me, waving 'ello, ello!" "What's my name?" and "give me money!" Turning right I continued walking until one of the five vehicles on the island stopped to give me a lift
Ellie and Kebba's house
. Being a Sunday, I thought I'd go and check out the local church.... this is the 3rd largest church in Africa and serves a potential congregation of no more than 6000. The service was in full swing when I arrived, it normally lasts for about 3 - 4 hours. I made the huge faux pas of entering on the right where all the men were sitting, the woman and children being on the left.. so I creep across to the other side amongst stares from both men and women. There is no organ, and all the singing is led by the many choirs and all in Chichewa.That afternoon it was football, one of the 12 local teams was playing a team from the neighbouring island. The pitch was dirt with patches of grass, huge vales and rolling hills, strategically placed ridges and divots. In a mixture of bare feet and booted studded shoes the players gallantly ran around chasing a ball whose bounce was suspect at the best of times! The crowd actually soon became more interesting than the game, with a running, dancing and singing cheerleading group of women that continually circled the pitch, surging fights as spectators rushed to see the fight and others ran away as the flaying arms came crashing towards them. That night I dined with Jack and the managers from Kaya Mawa on a 3 course meal of Thai fish cakes, sirloin steak etc all for the grand price of $5 instead of $25! Bargain!
Ellie with twins
The next day I awoke with the sun and went for a swim in the bath like waters of lake Malawi, snorkelled marvelling at the beautiful fresh water fish and then lay about in a hammock - tough life! Waiting for the Ilala the next day, I took on the Mango drift staff at Bao, the local game, and won 3 games then lost 3. Not sure if they were allowing me to win or not, but it was a useful way to kill time.
Got on the Ilala and met a mad Dutch man, an American, David who was somewhat suffering from a flu type illness - transpires it wasn't malaria, an over worried German couple, and a crazy Brazilian, Marcel. The American, David and I along with one of the Kaya Mawa staff, Wilson, got off again at Chipoka to get a mini bus to Blantyre. Wilson looked after me on the island taking me to the football game and continued his duties on the Ilala and at Chipoka, where I was greeted like a long lost friend. In fact the security guard who had looked after me the first night, hearing I had arrived, cycled the 2 - 3 kms to the main road to see me.
3 overflowing mini buses later... a washed away bridge that was replaced by 2 bouncy planks of wood, just wide enough for one foot, that threatened to snap at every footfall, substituting as a way across a the fast flowing torrent and with a new found flexibility - I never knew my legs could get into such positions...
Fishermen in lake malawi
. we arrived at Doogles in Blantyre. Oh we lost Wilson along the way, he decided to shake us and visit his sister instead. I stayed at Doogles for 3 nights reconfirming why I disliked overland trucks and sleazy older white south Africans (sorry if I am offending anyone). Plans to go to Zomba never materialised as I decided to get out of Blantyre on a bus heading for Jo'burg that could drop me off at Tete in Mozambique. The saving grace of Doogles were a few fellow travellers, Maggie from Ireland who had become a resident in the campsite, having been there for over a month, 3 Norwegian girls doing their practical in sociology and Amanda from England and Marcel, the mad Brazilian from the Ilala... I now have somewhere to stay in Sao Paulo..useful!Leaving Doogles, offers of ketamine, malawian gold, screaming gap year students and weird local expats behind, I headed out of Blantyre on a bus on Saturday morning, just as Elim's contact from Lusaka called me to say he was going to be in Blantyre that evening and Wilson from Kaya Mawa called to say he too would be Blantyre. It's all about timing, short of telling the bus driver to stop so I could get off and find a minibus back to Blantyre, there was little I could do, but continue south to Mozambique.
I'll send out the next installment of Mozambique tomorrow...I know you can't wait. Photos too will follow tomorrow - need to download!!
