Heading South

Rachael and I left for the south on a mission to see as much as possible in a few days. Our first major stop was Zomba, the old capital. Not much of a city but beautiful sights including a large elevated plateau from which you could see the city below as well as a dam creating a large reservoir up in the mountain. We stopped for a picnic in a secret spot, one not well known to tourists but word gets around the Peace Corps (and that’s not the only thing that gets around, hey-oh!). There was thick mist sweeping across the surface of the reservoir as we sat on the edge of a small peninsula under a thatch hut enjoying our delicious fresh, local veggies and fruit. The mist cleared just long enough for us to see the waterfall and snap some pictures. We continued up the mountain to reach the hotel perched at the highest point. It was quite a spot to stay but out of our price range, although not terribly expensive. We goofed around the property, negotiated some great prices for some curios (souvenirs) and were back on the road south, but not before talking a walk around a beautiful botanical garden at the base of the plateau. I’ve loved hearing the Malawians sing during this trip at various points and during our walk around the dreamy gardens we ran into several people assembled in a small clearing singing. The sound was great and I could hear some hallelujahs mixed in.

We made it to Mchinji by nightfall and were at basecamp on Mt. Mulanje as full dark settled on the mountain. We stopped for directions a few times and at one point we asked a couple of ladies walking alongside the road with their payload balanced on their heads. The older lady approached us firmly holding her heavy load on top of her head with both hands and very delightfully pointed us in the right direction but gave us some entertainment as we pulled away. It’s a common movement or dance that the ladies do here, during which they oscillate at impressive frequencies from their knees to their chest displaying fast wavelike motions up and down their bodies. It pretty much made my whole trip. We settled in and prepared for our infamously difficult hike early the next morning. Visitors are required to have a guide on the mountain and some use a porter if they have equipment for overnight stays. The day before was the annual porter race that was won by a Malawian, reportedly barefoot, who completed 24 treacherous, steep kilometers in just over 2 hours! That is infinitely more impressive to me than a similar marathon time. If you could see the mountain you would agree. I just couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of the accomplishment. I considered myself in moderately good shape at the time of our hike but even just making it part way up the mountain moving as fast as we could, which was just a couple kilometers, mind you, took us 2 hours. It was a beautiful hike and the perfect temperature. The mist cleared toward the top of the mountain as we ascended so our view was unobstructed. We had a snack at the highest point we were able to make it to near the overnight hut for those who want to summit. The summit of the peak we wanted to attempt was to dangerous due to the rain the day before so we went back down a different trail to see a large waterfall. The water was a little too cold for my taste but a crazy Brit took the plunge. It was a quiet hike and we only saw people coming back down from a failed summit attempt at the top.

We headed off to Blantyre, the largest city in Malawi, and really the only one that resembles a city in a developed country. Malawi is a small country relative to its African neighbors and the ex-pat community is proportionately small, so you get to know most of the asungus (foreigners) if you are living here. Just about everywhere we went Rachael ran into someone she knew, even on the mountain! We saw a bit of the city, stayed in a nice lodge, and made some new friends before heading back to Lilongwe.  One of my favorite parts of Malawi is the plethora of food sold on the side of roads. People have little farm stands setup by every road selling the fruits and vegetables from their gardens. The best items I saw were burned mice. As a consequence of the obsessional sweeping and burning the Malawians partake in on their fields; they end up with burnt, dead mice so why not sell them? As we drove the highway, every so often, someone would jump up and lunge an arm into the road with a dozen or so mice dangling from a stick. We made it back to Lilongwe in record time for Rachael.