Taking down last year’s calendar I was struck by how beautiful the December photograph was, showing a beach on Lake Malawi. Reminded me of Cape Maclear, where we had camped back in the 80s.
I loved Malawi. I don’t think I have ever come across people who were friendlier. What got me set on Malawi back then was reading Laurens van der Post’s Venture to the Interior. It made me want to see Malawi’s Mount Mulanje. After a five-hour bus journey from Blantyre, and a night in a grubby “government rest house”, we started our hike up Mulanje – me in a skirt because President Banda had forbidden women to wear trousers. It was drizzling but beautiful, winding through the misty forest. At last we came to the mountain hut. It was just one big room, no beds, but it had a fireplace. To our amazement, the firewood was from the endangered Mulanje cedar tree, which grows only on mount Mulanje. We were torn: stay wet and shivering, or burn the wood. It was with delight and guilt that we warmed ourselves in the wonderful fragrance of that fire. A friend who had been to Malawi had urged us to go to Cape Maclear where we could sleep on the beach. “Just take a bus to Monkey Bay and ask for Mr Stephen. He has a bakkie and will take you there for a few bucks.” It was as easy as that. There were about 20 people crammed onto that bakkie, everyone except us were local people going to villages along the sandy road. We got there in the dark, hauled out our sleeping bags, and crashed. I was woken by the call of a fish eagle. The sun was just rising, and there before us was the shimmering lake, and not a soul but us. Andy had brought a stash of brown rice and every second day we walked to a village to buy fruit. Fishermen sold us bony fish that we grilled using a “grid” made from wire we had found. We packed a lot into that month-long trip, ending at Nyika Plateau National Park. We hitched a ride on a tractor to get into the park from where the bus had dropped us on the road to Rumphi. I remember a kind ranger driving us to see the magnificent juniper tree forest. He even shared his lunch with us. And a researcher and his wife invited us for dinner as word had got around that we had run out of supplies. The little shop only sold things like oil and mielie meal. They were a lovely couple. I felt a bit bad as they had slaughtered a chicken for us. It had even had a name. Aunt Gertie. I will never forget Malawi, and the kindness of the Malawians. So: a new year, a new travel. The Dalai Lama said: “Once a year, go some place you have never been before.” I like that. It could be across the world, or just around the corner.
