Lake of Stars Music Festival here I come.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to convince anyone else to take up the adventure. Flying solo… no problemo. Despite only meeting her the previous weekend, I called Anna in route and arranged to meet her in Lilongwe.
Getting there was the first adventure.
Hitchhiking in Africa for some reason doesn’t have the same ominous overtones as you find in the rest of the world. Or perhaps I am just oblivious to them. Anyway, if the Lonely Planet Bible says it’s ok, I’ll believe it’s ok. The first hitch was easy. A friend of a friend of a friend who was going to the boarder for some dubious reason with a carcass of a goat in the back of the truck. Luckily, I got the front seat. As I passed through the boarder I eyed up the vehicle registration window. There was a man who I recognized from doing grocery shopping at Shoprite and had heard he was one of the long term Catholic Priest from Europe. He stopped to let several Africans climb into the bed of the pick-up truck and nodded when I asked for a lift too. The next phases wasn’t as smooth as I waited for sometime with a roadside plant seller for the next vehicle. Everything that passed was exploding with passengers or hitchers. Finally a lift.
After a bit of miscommunication, I met Anna and another former VSO volunteer, Nilesh. Nilesh would be my host for the evening and I’d meet Anna the next afternoon for a lift with yet another volunteer. The volunteering network is amazing. Not only had I managed to make it all the way to Mangochi on the south banks of Lake Malawi, I had done it cheaply, and happily discovered that one of the volunteers in Malawi works with a person who has a house DIRECTLY ON the site on the festival. We could cheaply camp here and the extra money would go to the orphanage. Win-win.
The next three days were sans shoes as we lazily made our way between the camp and the two stages. White sand and palm trees. Tempting waters (albeit infested with bilharzias) for mid-afternoon cool down swims. Although vigilant security made sure there was no swimming after dusk. Hippos and crocodiles… enough said.
The music was a mix of international and African artists. The Maccabees and SWAY. Local reggae set the atmosphere with the Black Missionaries and others performances. During the day, as people slept off hangovers beachside, theater troops and small musicians entertained the wary. A string of Deejays played dance music until well after the sun came up. It’s one of those things… you might as well be one of the ones enjoying it because you sure as hell can’t sleep through it.
Most mornings I’d seek a couple hour refuge in my hammock after watching the sun paint the sky pink and unveil the mountains of Mozambique across the lake. Except one morning. A rather gianormous baboon was investigating my sleeping spot… I might have been hallucinating from lack of sleep. But to be safe I decided to go for a nap on the beach. I really have no desire to get that close with the African wildlife.
Anna and Nilesh were skipping the last day and heading back to Lilongwe. I, however, wasn’t quite ready to leave, rationalizing that since I came all this way missing one day of work would be ok, so found an alternative ride. At every speedy bump, every hole in the road, we had to get out of the car so that it wouldn’t drag. I didn’t say I had a luxury ride.
Luke used to work in the north of Malawi and was extending his trip to go back to check out the projects. They were exciting sounding… to a farming nerd. And seriously what is another couple of days off work if I’m going to go see something that is somewhat-relevant to what I’m working on. So the next morning we set off for Usisya.
You can only get to Usisya two ways. The treacherous road or the weekly ferry. Time was not on our side so we were left to travel via the former. Through the hilly mountainous landscape. The way car ‘road’ gave way to a menacingly steep slope. What would happen if two cars tried to pass??? Usisya is a village of brick houses with thatched roofs. ‘Streets’ of white sand. Mammoth balboa trees. Brahma cattle that the walking ‘cowboys’ would wrangle into stick enclosures at the water’s edge. Fisherman’s nets lay on the sand or strewn across the handmade canoes that appear ready to tip at the slightest fraction of movement.
I check out the clinic with the local Peacecorps volunteer, a school, and community gardens. But mostly I just soak in the atmosphere. After all, I am on vacation.
The after-festival party was happening all week in Nkhata Bay. Crystal blue waters that could easily be mistaken for the sea. Not only was there a reunion of festival co-conspirators but I happen into a troop of VSO vols from Zambia. Crazy world… how does it all seem to come together???
Nevertheless, all good things must come to an end.
I opt for public transport for the return trip to Chipata. As it would be dark soon this seemed the safest option. Seemed. The taxi loaded 7 people into the car… plus the driver… and 4 people in the trunk. Good thing I only packed a bag big enough for a 3 days. Night had set and there was no electricity along the road. The car stopped. But this was not the boarder. Where were we? The driver said I’d have to walk the last kilometer as we was out of gas. However, he wasn’t so happy when I refused to way the full fare. This was not the boarder. Two tomato sellers escorted me safely to immigration. I was the only person attempting the border crossing. 30-day tourist visas to Malawi are free. However, the immigration fellows where seeking a ‘rich’ tourist to give them a bit of extra cash. I was not going to fall victim to corruption. They said I had overstayed my visa… I was not in Malawi for 30 days. I’d have to return to Lilongwe to immigration… impossible at this time of night. But they could help me for a mere $50 US. No thank you, I’ll sit here until morning. After nearly 30 minutes the border guards realized I was A. not going back to Lilongwe and B. not going to pay them. Passport stamped.
Seems my luck had run out. The shared taxi waiting on the other side in Zambia wasn’t so willing to take a single passenger for the same cost as a car full. As we wait I try not to notice the numerous cracks in the front window and the lack of one headlight. Again, not a luxury ride. After 30 minutes of waiting I venture to suggest that it would be better to make some money than nothing at all. Anyway I’m 100% certain he’d squeezed in a few extra passengers over the course of the day. I bargain hard, the speedometer sores, and we’re off to Chipata. I’m looking forward to home…
***
A couple weeks later…
Spontaneously I decided to meet John and Betty in Lilongwe (they are proud owners of a 4-wheel drive vehicle) and then travel with them (and John’s brother and an America guy) to Nkhata Bay for a long weekend. I was feeling a bit under-appreciated at work as the boss seems not to understand why his cross-boarder trading idea is not good for the economy or the farmers in the long run (besides slightly illegal… as if anything completely legal goes down on the ‘Dark Continent’). So off to Malawi for the weekend… again.
Less stress… equally enjoyable.
Opting to go back to Lundazi (north of Chipata) with John and Betty to try my luck at meeting a local marketing effort called “It’s Wild”. I had heard that it was a similar business modal as the one I was trying to set up with CDFA. Interesting project to say the least. I spent the day with a personal guide seeing the processing of rice, peanut butter, honey, and high-energy-protein-supplements.
Met a group of VSO’s for pre-dinner drinks at the Lundazi ‘Castle’. Really a mini-castle from colonial times (not-so-long-ago) on a mini lake home to two random and famously out of place hippos.
3 am bus back to Chipata… just in time to head straight to the office. Yeah.
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