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| Shire River, Majete |
“Getting There”
Half the fun of
an overland trip in Africa is getting there. On our recent two week adventure to
Malawi we spent about as much time driving to and from Malawi as in the country
and our experiences along the way are part of the adventure. While entering and
exciting countries while flying might be an inconvenience (passport control,
customs, etc.), doing it over land in a vehicle in Africa can best be described
as…chaotic. When approaching a border your vehicle is immediately inundated
with what we like to call “stickies” (due to their adherence and "stick to it" nature) – the crush of humanity that approaches
your vehicle like flies on dead meat offering to “help” you through the
process. There’s currency to exchange, SIM cards and airtime (for cell phones)
to buy, forms to fill out, offices to navigate, etc. If I wasn’t feeling
physically assaulted, I might find it interesting to study, as a sociologist.
How do they decide who gets “assigned” to you?
There’s an
abundance of people who want your US dollars for Mozambican Meticals or
Malawian Kwacha. Any one of the “helpers” could charge you three times as much
to get you insurance that would cost you a third of the price if you could find
your way to the insurance office on your own. Unfortunately, the people officially in charge aren’t much
help as there is little signage telling you where to go first for what
(passport stamping, visa getting, temporary import permits and insurance for
the vehicle) or how to avoid being ripped off by “the stickies.” It’s as if
they silently condone the efforts of their country mates to make a living. It’s
a dog eat dog world out there at the border crossings.
We’ve done this
a few times so I’m getting smart (Paul likes to call it “scrappy” as I haggle
with “stickies” over exchange rates). First, check the exchange rate online
before you leave. A guy at the Malawi border offers to sell me Kwacha for 300
to 1 to the US dollar – I know it should be 400 so don’t take his offer
(imagine the mathematical gymnastics that go into converting that exchange
rate!!). When one of the “helpers” offers to fill out the forms for us (which
he will expect to be compensated for in return when it’s time for us to leave),
we refuse. When another sprints off to get our needed vehicle insurance, we don’t
buy it from him and learn later his “offer to help” is 3 times higher than what
we can buy it for on our own. We know something is up when we refuse to buy it
and he immediately cuts his asking price in half.
A trip that
spans four countries (Botswana, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and Malawi) requires a
dozen entries and exits. It can be exhausting, especially when the rules change
and new visas with photos are needed at the Mozambican border which takes more
than an hour and a half to get processed (this is evidenced by my “mug shot”
the first time through where I look like a pissed off, strung out drug user,
ex-con, ax-murderer – it is a REALLY bad picture and I make every effort to
smile on the one needed for the way back through and end up looking only
slightly psychotic). While we “could” get visas in advance, that would mean a
ten hour drive (in the wrong direction) to go to the capital of Botswana to get
them processed. We’re probably better off dealing with it at the border,
despite the added chaos.
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| Road Work, Zimbabwe |
Once
successfully through the borders, we travel in country observing landscapes and
livelihoods as we go. Road works, traffic accidents, and street protests
occasionally block our way and slow our progress. Products are sold in belts or
waves as we put distance between us and home – coal, firewood, tomatoes,
potatoes, bananas, woven baskets and mats, bird cages, large woven structures
that might be chicken houses (?), and small creatures on a stick that we came
to describe as “mice kabobs” (we think we saw tails!). Fortunately both of us
have a high tolerance for long hours of driving/riding (some days as much as
ten hours). By 5 PM each day I start to ask, “Where are we sleeping tonight?”
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| Coal sack transporters |
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| Grass carriers on the road |
“Hard Work Doesn’t Always Mean Success”
There is much
said in the United States about “work ethic” and we are socialized to believe
that hard work will result in success. But having driven over 2,900 miles
through Zimbabwe, Mozambique and Malawi over the last two weeks, it makes me
wonder about this line of goods we’ve been sold. Don’t get me wrong, I think
hard work matters but I don’t think I’d say that its presence is any guarantee
of success or absence any guarantee of failure. While on the road we witnessed
people working far harder than I ever have in my life and what will their
payoff be? If they are lucky…survival. Especially in Malawi, a relatively small
country with a fairly large population (slightly smaller than Pennsylvania with
a population of 17 million; Botswana is the size of Texas with only 2 million!
The birthrate in Malawi is 5.66 children born/woman!!), roads serve not only as
thoroughfares for vehicle traffic but as highways of human survival.
Here the
roadsides are populated with people working hard just to survive. On their
bikes or their heads they carry large sacks of coal for heat and cooking,
bundles of grass for thatching their roofs, lumber to build their houses or
sell to make a meager profit. On our trip back down from Zomba Plateau, on
slippery muddy roads that made me nervous in our 4x4 vehicle, we met one man,
George, who made an indelible impression on us. As we round the corner he has
stopped to wait for his friend to reposition the boards he has balanced on his
shoulder. He stands with his bike, both tires flat, weighted down with long
boards of “waste lumber.” The top of the plateau is occupied by pine forests
that logging companies cut down at certain times of the year. The “waste” they
can’t use is left behind for people like George to buy for 200 Kwacha (about 50
cents). He explains to us that if he purchases the boards and carries them down
to the village below, he can sell them for an 800 Kwacha profit (about $2 USD). It
will take him all day to do it. He wakes up before dawn cracks to make the
ascent. Finds a couple of suitable discarded boards at the top of the
mountain and spends the rest of the day carefully making his way down the
twisty turning wet muddy mountain roads. It looks physically arduous. I’m
exhausted just thinking about it.
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| Log transport on Zomba Plateau |
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| Transporting lumber off Zomba Plateau |
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| Making "working capital" |
The remarkable
thing is that George’s enthusiasm is overwhelming. He explains that he is working
for four months in order to raise “working capital” because he is an artist. He
then asks to give us his website for his work (http://artpapertechnology.weebly.com/) and then proceeds to explain his work
(right down to stating “mission” and “background” and rattling off what we
assume is a verbatim description of what’s on the web page). He explains how he
would like to stop deforestation by using waste papers to make art. We give him
our cards and when he sees I am a professor, he literally claps his hands
together with excitement bringing an embarrassed smile to my face.
After meeting
him, he keeps returning to our thoughts. We should have given him some money.
We should have loaded him and his lumber on our vehicle and taken him down the
hill. We didn’t think quickly enough, we were overwhelmed by his determination.
As was the case with George and an unknown number of other people we saw
everyday out our vehicle window, we were humbled by their hard work. We talked
a lot about our cultural espousal of a “hard work ethic” and how it is
sometimes used to explain why some people are poor and others aren’t (i.e. if
you just worked harder you could
succeed). While we admired George’s hard work to accumulate “working capital” so he
could get back to his art, we feared he was navigating a very heavily load down a
very steep hill that would probably lead to survival but may not lead to “success”.
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| View from Zomba Plateau |
“Pleasant surprises along the way”
Throughout our
travels we encounter pleasant surprises along the way. One example is buying
fresh berries at the top of Zomba Plateau. We purchase strawberries,
raspberries and gooseberries from sellers as we climb our way to the top of the
mountain. When traveling, fresh produce is the first thing to go, so this find
is a pleasant surprise midway into our trip. Similarly, on our return trip
through Mozambique we find ourselves with some extra Metical and I keep my eyes
peeled for a bakery. As a former Portuguese colony they make the best Prego
rolls and our purchase keeps us in a bread wonderland for days. At the gate to
Liwonde National Park we buy homemade peanut butter and baobab jam (baobab
trees bear large fuzzy pod shaped fruit filled with sweet tart like Styrofoam textured
chunks – which make a great jam, by the way). While refilling at a fuel station
in Kariba, Zimbabwe two zebras walk by the vehicle as Paul washes the
windscreen after they graze on the lawn outside the station. Only in Africa!
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| Berries from the top of Zomba Plateau |
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| Paul washing windscreen as zebras walk by |
We also have
the opportunity to snorkel with the cichlids in Lake Malawi on a kayak trip from
Cape Maclear. Cichlids are small multicolored fish in blues, purples, and
yellows and the experience is like swimming in an aquarium. The amazing array
makes the “death paddle” from the mainland to the island worth it (OK…so it
wasn’t really a “death paddle” but I did have a bit of a panic trying to get
Paul to steer our two-man kayak into the side swiping rolling waves I was
convinced were going to capsize us thus creating an impossible in water return
to the safety of the kayak. Obviously, I’m here to tell the story, so we didn’t
die, but I did have to do the bulk of the paddling on the way back as Paul’s back
(which he broke when he was 28 years old in a Tanzanian bus accident) didn’t really like
the rolling action of the wind inspired waves. I proudly referred to this as my
“water rescue” for the rest of the trip and I (partially) redeemed myself for
the hissy fit I had on the way out ;o)
All along our
way we see new and interesting trees (giant candelabras, an abundance of baobabs,
totally cool strangler vines, some unidentifiably strange “ball" tree), birds and
wildlife (including many Nyala, which we don't have in Botswana). Waterbuck and warthogs are in abundance in both Majete and Liwonde.
We see more (HUGE) crocodiles and hippos on the Shire River than I’ve seen
anywhere else in Africa (we’ve been reading about David Livingstone’s Zambezi
Exposition and all those killers on the river make his efforts even more
impressive). The elephants, only fairly recently reintroduced at Majete after
being poached to extinction, are a little twitchy (acting tough as they pass behind
our vehicle with ears flared) but eventually settling down as we sit with them
for some time. We enjoy watching them peel the bark off of branches like
getting corn off the cob – something we’ve not seen before. Each night we enjoy the ever
present African sunset, that just can’t be beat!
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| Giant Candelabra |
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| Strangler vines in Liwonde |
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| Strangler vines at Liwonde |
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| Unidentified "ball" tree |
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| Water buck at Majete |
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| Hippos in the Shire River, Majete |
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| Croc on the Shire River, Majete |
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| Elephants eating bark in Majete |
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| Cheeky ellies outside the back window, Majete |
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Nyala at Majete
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Sunset from atop a mountain in Majete
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| Sunset, Liwonde |
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| Sunset Cape Maclear, Lake Malawi |
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| Sunset Cape Maclear, Lake Malawi |
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| Campsite and "Richard Parker", Majete |
“Night Visitors: All things great and small”
Our evenings
involve setting up camp, cooking dinner on our two gas canisters (we are canister
cookers not campfire cookers, more ecofriendly), and sundowners, of course (the
African tradition of drinks at sunset). At times we have night visitors, or
creatures that come into camp at night. Our first night at Majete WildlifeReserve, for example, I hear
the iconic sawing sound of a leopard (it is a bizarre but instantly
recognizable sound which best approximates sawing wood – strange but true). On our second night at Liwonde National Park,
between the cheering and gasping of the staff over the final game of the World
Cup, we hear the crunching of a herd of elephants making their way through
camp. For this, I wake up Paul, as they
are mighty close and we watch them in the light of the full moon sneak through
camp, gently navigating through tents, careful not to step on anything. Their
shadows, cast on a reed wall by the security light, make them appear as if they
are burglars tiptoeing their way through camp. Shortly after we lose sight of
them we hear a loud “CRUNCH!” and in the morning learn that they failed to
navigate the narrow passage way by the pool and inadvertently destroy part of the
reed wall around the pool. Oops!
In Kariba, all
night we hear the large flapping wings of fruit bats. We have inadvertently positioned
our tent under a giant fig tree and they eat, and poop, all night long. Our
tent looks like it’s gotten caught in a brown rain storm. That’s not going to
be fun to clean!
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| Cape Maclear "campsite" at Ecolodge |
We are also
visited at night by tiny creatures which, ironically, end up causing us more of
headache than the larger ones. At our “campsite” at Cape Maclear (I put that in
quotes because we are basically camping on the lawn of the Ecolodge which is not really a campsite – but that’s another long story for another time…),
at 4 AM, we are invaded by ants. Sadly our luxurious lawn location is right on
top of a hidden ant hill and it takes them until the middle of the night to find
their way through the Velcro sealing off the small vent at the lower side of
our tent (it allows the air out of the tent as you are folding it up and while
it is “closed” they manage to get in). Paul announces that he is being bitten
by something and when we turn on our headlamps we find our bedroll is loaded
with tiny ants and they are pouring in through the air vent (they haven’t made
it to my flesh yet… there are some advantages to flipping around so much in bed
at night that you get rolled up in the sheets like a burrito! Paul calls it my “crocodile
roll”). In any case, we quickly get up,take the entire bedroll outside the
tent, vigorously shaking out all of the blankets and sheets, sweeping up the
survivors in the tent and then spraying the inside and outside of the tent with
DEET. That seems to do the trick!
“It’s Gone Better”
For the final
leg of our return trip we decide to take the Kariba Ferry down Lake Kariba as
an alternative to driving the whole way. Paul has always wanted to make this
trip and it’s our wedding anniversary so we decide to splurge and take the
ferry (it takes 22 hours overnight and includes meals and “accomodation”). We’re
not sure of departure times so we stop at the Zimbabwean Tourism Office in
Harare and ask. We’re assured that it leaves every day at 8 AM but when she
tries to call the office in Kariba, no one answers. She mentions there are
other ferries, if for some reason that doesn’t work. So we say, “why not”, withdraw
the needed cash for the trip (ATMs are few and far between so we need to get
the money in the big city) and hit the road (several hours out of our way
North). By the time we arrive that evening the gates are locked but the night
watchmen assures us the ferry leaves in the morning and shows us the boat (not
quite as glamorous as we had hoped (“accommodations” = cushions on the floor in
a common room) but we’ve driven all this way, so we’ll make the best of it). He
gives us the owner’s cell number but when we try to call, first, we can’t get a
signal on the satellite phone because there are so many trees at the campsite
we’re in and then, with the assistance of the campsite manager who offers to
use his cell phone, no one answers. We’ll plan to be at the dock at 7 AM (an
early morning after a long day of driving) and hope for the best. Sadly, as we’re
finishing dinner the camp manager comes over with the ferry owner on his cell
who informs us that the ferry only goes once
per week and not until Monday (it is now Thursday night). Tragic!
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| Kariba Dam, Zimbabwe |
The next
morning we find the Kariba Tourism Office and confirm that there are no other
options. On the way, we see a sign that reads, “It’s gone better” as the slogan
for a company (who came up with this marketing tool??). We repeatedly use it to
describe our Kariba debacle.
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| Dust love notes on the dashboard |
We spend the
next full day and half geographically recovering from this misinformation from
the tourism office in Harare on a road best described as “unfriendly” by the
Tourism Office in Kariba. It is so dusty, everything we own, is covered in red
dust including us (Paul looks like a red head with his white hair coated in red dust, I am best described as "strawberry blond"). We can only laugh and try to see this as a metaphor for life or marriage
(the dusty travel day is our anniversary). Things may not always go as planned,
and sometimes the road can be rough (and dusty), but in the end, you’ve got to laugh
and enjoy the adventure! We spend all day waving at small kids along the road
who probably have never seen two white people covered in dust in a striped
safari vehicle (I call it “Richard Parker” after the tiger in “Life of Pi”) barrel
through their small village. We are quite the spectacle! People come running.
In the end we
both agree that our favorite campsite was the unofficial one we found at the top
of a mountain outside Chizarira National Park in Zimbabwe on our anniversary
night. While it wasn’t on the ferry traveling down Lake Kariba as we had
planned, it was quiet, without a person in sight or hearing distance, and under a
blanket of stars and a stunning view of the Milky Way.
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| Anniversary Night Bush Camp |
“Returning Home”
Our last night
of camping is spent in Botswana. We are pleasantly reminded of how lucky we are
here when we see an abundance of animals on our drive back into the
country grazing on the side of the road (impala, kudu, and warthogs) and bigger
elephants at the watering hole at our campground than we’ve seen during our
travels out of the country. At night we are serenaded by the call of male lions
all around camp. The parks in Malawi have few, if any, predators (they are
often close to villages which means they get killed by locals if they stray too
far). A park without predators feels like a meal without pepper (assuming you’re
a pepper lover, something is just “missing”). Malawi is a beautiful country
with a stunning diversity in landscape – rivers, mountains, plateaus, lakes; definitely
worth the miles, dust and border chaos to visit.
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| Sabe Star |
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| Water buck on the Shire River, Liwonde |
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| Me - Lake Malawi Sunset |
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| Paul and his GoPro |
