The Warm Heart Of Africa

Mbeya (Tanzania) --> Karonga --> Chitimba (with daytrip to Livingstonia) --> Nkhata Bay --> Chizumulu Island --> Likoma Island --> Nkhata Bay --> Lilongwe --> Blantyre --> Zomba --> Zomba Plateau --> (skipping through Lilongwe to the border town of) Mchinji --> Chipata (Zambia)

My stay in Malawi started in one of those towns that exists for no apparent reason. I later found out that it does exist for a reason: it's near to a mine (and mining company), apparently in an area where uranium is dug up. People go there to go to the mine (and the mining company), not to see the town. Still, not much to do there, right? Surprisingly wrong.

After first finding a suitably budget hotel I was relaxing in a local cafe waiting for their internet connection to start working when, lo, a foreign man walks in. I've seen him before - just a glimpe on the roadside - in Mbeya, Tanzania. He was Karim, and Egypto-Swede from Malmo and quite a friendly chap. We got talking; he was looking for a budget hotel. I knew of one (where I'd just checked in). We then had all day to find something to do.

As it turns out, Karonga has a museum. Quite a small one yet one containing a malawisaurus, a local mini version of a brontosaurus-type creature. Apparently, says the wee labels, northern Malawi is a great place to find fossils (something to do with lots of Rift Valley sediment washing over the area) and malawisaurus is proof of this. Like a lot of Malawi, Karonga is also close to Lake Malawi (aka Lake Nyasa, found in Nyasaland, for those still in colonial mode). It's a beautiful lake and very warm, ideal for swimming. So Karim and I had enough to fill our plates and keep us going for the rest of the day.

We planned to head south the next day to another town on the lake, Chitimba, and spend some time there. We got off to a very good start when we walked straight out of our guesthouse, opposite the bus station, and straight onto a bus which was leaving the bus station via our destination. The one minor shock about traveling in Malawi - loudly hailed as a backpackers' paradise - is the cost of transport. This has a lot to do with the cost of petrol, which hovers at somewhere around US$1.70 per litre. This is expensive, even for Africa. Petrol isn't cheap as you might expect (often $1 to $1.25 per litre in east Africa) but Malawi's petrol prices are eye-brow raising. Apparently the current price was arrived at following an 18% overnight hike in prices too which must have shocked the locals a bit when they got on the bus the next day. This also means that all foods which aren't locally produced (ie nearly anything in a tin or bottle, which inevitably comes from South Africa) is also steeply priced. Baked beans anyone? A can of Heinz will set you back at least $2 (although cheaper local brands exist). Anyhow, I degress. Off we go to Chitimba.

The most striking thing about Chitimba is that we nearly missed it by blinking. Having passed a few little villages and hamlets down the lake shore we stopped at a small collection of huts and shops. Karim, having chatted to some locals, turns and informs me that this is indeed where we had planned to get off (and do we still want to get off here, it's soooo small). I'm surprised - Chitimba got a dot and a place name on a number of maps and reaching a snap decision before the bus leaves we jump off. There's a local hotel - just the one - and a couple of camp sites. The camp site, which clearly caters to the sort of people who cycle the Tour d'Afrique and who were steadily filling the place up as the rolled into town, was more expensive than the local hotel, just to camp there. Karim then negotiated a 30% discount at the hotel anyway (it's the Egyptian in him, surely) and we had a place to stay. And, as it turns out, it was a very pleasant place to stay and we ended up there for about four days. The main attraction was the lake - conveniently located 100m away - and the sloth-paced lifestyle.

A routine quickly developed: wake up at whatever time suits, head over the road for some banana pancakes for breakfast, find something to do (swimming, walking) until late afternoon and then tucking into a dinner washed down with reasonably priced local brew. That was a winning routine and one which we happily kept up.

One significant departure from this routine - in exertion, not in activity - was a walk we did to Livingstonia. As the name suggests a Scotsman passed through this area at one time (and is apparently still revered). Livingstonia is a mere 16km from Chitimba but on a plateau up a massive hill. After a banana pancake start to the day we did just this walk and hard work it was. Ironically the hardest part was the start because even at 8am the heat was sapping although further up the hill there was plenty of shade over the steeper parts. It was hard work but ultimately very rewarding. And Livingstonia? It's even smaller than Chitimba but made up of a small, hodge podge collection of turn-of-the-century red brick colonial buildings. It had a small town beauty, a technical college, hospital and a museum. And beside the museum a restaurant we we tucked into a decent meal before the descent. The descent inevitably followed the same route although this time we stopped off to see a waterfall - all 115m of it. Great stuff but I'm not keen on standing on top of a 115m waterfall with no barrier between me and the edge (yes, I'm a coward when it comes to heights).

Nkhata Bay, next on the list, is one of the premier backpacking spots in Malawi. One of the main features of Nkhata Bay is that it is the embarking point for the ferry ride to the islands of Chizumulu and Likoma in Lake Malawi. Although these islands are well to the west of the lake - well inside the dotted line marking the Mozambique border running down the middle of the lake, they are still Malawi's. Consequently, a lot of people heading to these islands congregate at Nkhata Bay which coincidentally has loads of campsites next to crystal clear waters. Upon arriving it turned out that the waters were not quite crystal clear - the lakeside waters were muddy for the first 100m out due to heavy rainfall washing into the lake - and I was informed that there was "crocodile activity" in the area. A crocodile had been observed swimming into the reeds juuuuust across from the campsite three weeks ago to the day of our arrival. Another had been seen more recently splashing around on the other side of the harbour. "Don't worry," said the owner, "they don't attack people unless you step on them." Which, considering the muddy water, did a lot to dissuade me from swimming. I did splash around in waist deep water a couple of times but it just wasn't the same.

A few days later the MV Ilala, a 50-year-old ex-Scottish ex-steamer which used to take people on the Firth of Forth, arrived at Nkhata Bay. Armed with tickets we boarded in the late afternoon and headed for the foredecks, home of the economy class. Economy class is also where the cargo is stored (there isn't a hold) although the gangways also double for the storage of considerable amounts of luggage including piles of sugarcane stalks stashed on the floor. Karim and I found that the cargo was incredibly comfortable and made for a good recliner. The trip was fine although a little slow - 50-year-old ships don't go fast, even with diesel engines - although the main discomfort comes from the anti-social timetable. The Ilala leaves Nkhata Bay at around 6pm and arrives at its first stop to the south, Chizumulu Island, at about 3am. Chizumulu Island has a few hundred inhabitants and consequently no-one's bothered with things like, say, a wharf for the Ilala to stop at. Instead they lower one of the lifeboats and fill it up with passengers, their luggage and cargo and drive it (with outboard motor power) to the beach. The passengers then take their possessions and carry out a mini beach landing. Everyone who wants to get off gets off and then they start loading the passengers from the beach. The whole routine can take some time and it isn't helped by the pitch black illuminated by minimal torch light.

However, quite by good judgement I expect, the campsite on Chizumulu is about a 1 minute walk from the landing site and easy to find. Karim and I, along with a few others we met at Nkhata Bay, were joined by about 20 German volunteers which delighted the camp owner (Nick, from England) no end: combined we were the second largest group of tourists to arrive during his camp's existence. The Germans, and prettymuch everyone else for that matter, by stint of numbers not stereotype, drank Nick's bar dry over a few days which isn't as hard as it sounds as it's near impossible for Nick to get replacement drinks. It also helped a lot that Nick encouraged people to stay up 'til dawn and have a few nightcaps rather than retire to bed and actually have to pay for a night's accommodation. The German volunteers were in some ways quite lucky. Apparently now in modern Germany instead of doing a national (ie military service) service it is now possible to select to do social service instead - same deal, giving your time etc but for social causes rather than for defense against the red peril - which includes the possibility of doing such a service overseas. Why aren't I German?

Indeed Nick's place, Wakwenda Retreat, was a delightful place but had the catch of having to pay tourist prices for food. Was there an alternative? Oh yes, the was. There was a run-down ramshackle shed at the end of the beach, just past Nick's property which happened to be a restaurant. For a very reasonable price - similar to the mainland - they would serve a monstrous portion of vege and rice. They started catering for two - Karim and me - and by the third night were catering for a large group of Germans, a handful of Israelis and a smattering of others. But what about breakfast? Well, the locals have little else to to but fish, which they do at night by torchlight creating the photogenic but difficult-to-photograph spectacle of strings of torches stretching across the lake. This also means that fish are for sale and for $0.70 per fish I was able to pick up a freshly caught and gutted, cleaned fish to barbeque in the mornings for breakfast.

After spending three days on Chizumulu we headed by local boat to the second island of Likoma, very close and clearly within sight of Chizumulu. The dhow picked up a most of the tourists from Nick's place and a few locals and, under motor power, headed to Likoma. Except the engine died halfway across. After tinkering with the engine to no avail the sail was raised. A cunning Plan B except that the wind was not blowing. Well, just, and thankfully in the right direction although the heat was intense and the sky clear. The good news is that the boat dropped everyone off directly at Mango Drift (conveniently built around a huge mango tree, otherwise they'd have to rename it). Camping on the beach for anyone? Fantastic weather thrown in with some decent and reasonably priced meals? Of course. The other pleasing thing about Likoma Island is that it has something resembling a town, coming complete with a market and shops, something to pass the time. Also, and quite extraordinarily, it comes with a English-style cathedral built of rock and (in the only departure from European cathedral architecture) a corrugated iron roof. The remaining two days were passed relaxing on Likoma Island mixing in beach (sadly lacking the rocks and associated brightly coloured fishes of Chizumulu) and walks to town. We also happened to be in town for the official opening of a new water source (well or pump, something like that) complete with MP, NGO rep and lots of local dancers and musicians.

It was also at Mango Drift that I learned from the dive master cum manager that Lake Malawi is 700m deep ("!!" I thought); the sort of number that can only be achieved with a Rift Valley for help. Apparently, although it hardly ever rains, the lake weather is very changeable and can go from dead calm to blowing a gale within an hour. How do you know when things are getting out of hand? Watch the local fishermen. With handbuilt dugouts between them and 700m of Davey Jone's locker below them they're understandably the first to pack in and go home when things are looking out of hand.

Time to head back to the mainland which means another ride on the MV Ilala. Once again we board in the evening, this time getting on after dark and, after a stop at Chizumulu, we head to the mainland. However for reasons unknown, upon arrival there is no unloading and the Ilala just sits in Nkhata Bay for the best part of four hours waiting until sunrise. And then it heads to the bay just south and unloads there, using the tried and tested lifeboat rather than the solid looking wharf in Nkhata Bay.

After a day of relaxation (I didn't sleep all night on the boat) accompanied by Super 14 action on South African satellite TV and a good night's sleep we got together a group to head to the capital Lilongwe by catching a ride with a delightful old chap who runs a backpackers in Cape McLear. It turns out that he's been in Southern Africa for a good few decades, and in Malawi for a good chunk of that time. What's changed since he first arrived? "It's got worse since colonialism," he says, "the roads aren't as good." (And other things besides but I can't remember. Bottom line: the infrastructure's just worse and not much is better).

And Lilongwe? Don't bother. Pleasing as it may seem, and yes, there's nothing wrong with it, it's a new capital and has the same pleasing features of any large city suburb. It's green. There are shopping centres and some markets. There's nothing else. Dodoma, Tanzania's village-like capital, starts to look like a metropolis in comparison. That's it. A day after arriving we left and headed to Blantyre an ex-capital of Malawi and thankfully one with a bit of verve.

And yet Blantyre for all it's relative buzz and bustle wasn't a town with tourist attraction. It eclipsed Lilongwe by having a bona fide town centre with buildings more than a storey tall but these buildings were still banks and supermarkets. I had a good look around the market - not bad - but it was like most other markets I'd seen in Africa. Again, after a couple of nights it was time to move on.

The last stop, Zomba, proved to be a revalation in comparison. The town itself was not the attraction which stands just to the west: the Zomba Plateau. This large slab of rock does exactly what it says on the tin; it's a huge plateau rising several hundred metres above Zomba itself. Karim and I stayed in Zomba town then, next day, leaving most of our things in storage, walked to the top of the plateau, a walk which took most of the day. We had a brief search for accommodation: brief because there were few options: a campsite which was just a field but with a campsite price tag and a reasonably priced double room at the local trout farm, sadly empty of trout, which we took. We had use of a wood-burning stove and invested in a bowl of potatoes (price: $0.70) from a local to form the mains for dinner. Dinner was fantastic, the potatoes delicious, and we retired for the night with big plans for the following day.

Except that in the small hours Karim wakes me with urgency: there are ants, he says. I'm doing alright, what's he on about? We find the light and sure enough there's a massive ant trail leading right across his pillow, right where his head should be resting. There are ants along the skirting boards too. Not good. We check the spare room: ants. We check outside and there are several ant holes emerging into the garden within metres of the building. I should point out that these ants are about 1cm long and are most certainly not the wee, near-microscopic things found in more temperate zones. Karim finds the management people who turn up for a brief inspection then come back a few minutes later with some DIY chemicals to fumigate to rooms. It works well and the ants pack up and head elsewhere within minutes and a good night's sleep is restored. And a good thing too: Zomba Plateau is a big place (bigger than expected) and a great place to walk around. Most of the tracks pass through managed forest and fields however on the eastern edge of the plateau there are a series of lookouts that look out over Zomba town towards Lake Malawi and Mozambique. It would be an understatement to say that the views were amazing with the low, fast-moving cloud giving a real 'top of the world' feeling. It was a sensational sight and basically we sat down, had breakfast and then sun-bathed for a couple of hours, enjoying the moment. After a walk back past other viewpoints - the King's lookout where Emporer Haileselase spent a few days meditating and the Queen's lookout where the Queen Mum stopped by - we bunked back in our ant-free room and then returned to Zomba the next day.

Malawi comes to an end: the following morning Karim and I part after three weeks together, his destination Mozambique and Zimbabwe and me heading west to Zambia.