Goodbye Africa

Netebe Village
Yuyi and random baby at HIVE
Brave getting us Mahuluhulu
Sam and the Mahuluhulu (aka best fruit ever)
Saxophone marching in the parade

October 26, 2009

For my last post from Zambia I thought I would start with some random things that have happened in the past few weeks that I haven’t written about yet and then end with some general comments on the trip as a whole.

Last weekend there was a regatta being held out by the African Queen boat club. The rest of the volunteers were either at Chobe for the weekend or helping with the Indian festival being held at Amit’s sport’s club so I went to the regatta by myself. I was one of the only Mzungus (white people) there but it was a lot of fun. Each race featured three or four teams. The captain would down a coke and then run and jump in the raft. They then paddled down and around some buoys and back and then jumped out of the boat, grabbed their flag and ran to the master of ceremonies. The winners of each round then proceeded to the next round until they had a champion.

Last Monday while building at Maanu Mbwami School the vice president of Zambia came to speak to the community. Naturally Sam, Malou and I stopped building and went over to listen. His speech was less than inspiring. He promised to fix the broken water well in the community but also took credit for building the roads that the Japanese government was building in Livingstone. He even gave the government credit for building the new school buildings. That we were building. Brilliant. I found out the next week that the ruling party lost the local elections.

Last Wednesday morning while I was weighing babies at Linda Clinic, a program was being held by the government to give bikes to a peer-mentoring group. The group goes around to local communities and teaches children things like alcohol awareness and the dangers of drugs and alcohol through music, skits and talks. The bikes will help them reach farther away communities. The mentoring group started the program with a drumming and dancing bit where a few of the guys were dressed as woman. Then a few people spoke and the program ended with a skit and the presentation of the bikes.

Last Friday morning we went out to Netebe community. It is a rural village that has very little access to health care. Four of us went out to do home-based care while the other four volunteers stayed at the school to give health talks. We saw only five patients but did plenty of walking in between. It was not as gratifying as I thought it would be but it is mostly because two of the patients had no complaints and the others were chronic unknown problems that weren't life threatening and we weren't really able to treat.

Friday night we all went to eat at Ocean Basket. It was quite pricey but the food was fantastic. Afterwards we went to Fezbar for dessert. I had the apple crumble but there was also chocolate cake. We played some pool and then headed over to Limpo’s for a few drinks. At one point Charlotte went up to get us another round, which left me sitting by myself. A grown man tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to buy him a lager. I said no and then proceeded to ignore him but it seems that white people cannot go anywhere in Zambia without being asked for money or gifts. After Limpo’s five of us made a quick stop at Step Rite for some chicken before heading to a dance club called Fairmount. Around 3:30 am we called it a night and headed home.

The next day was Independence Day. We wandered into town in the morning to watch the parade but I was soon back at the house. I spent most of the day sleeping but apparently there were numerous festivities going on all around town. They included mostly music, dancing, speeches and alcohol.

Sunday morning I got a cab early and went to Zambezi Sun. They have a breakfast buffet that runs from 6:30 to 10:30. I sat down around 7:30 and did not leave until 10. In total I had six courses that included cereal, fruit, meat and cheese, muffins, an omelet, some breakfast meats and three glasses of fruit juice. When I went to get my first plate I loaded it up with fruit and then went to get some cereal. I had to put the fruit plate down to put milk in the cereal and it ended up falling to the floor. So, not only was everyone in the place looking at me but the plate had landed on my big toe and it was bleeding fairly significantly. I stood there for a while debating what to do. I decided that the hotel staff could clean up the plate so I hobbled back to my table with the cereal. I wrapped my toe up in the napkin and wiped the blood off of my sandal and proceeded to eat my cereal as if nothing had happened.

Today I am just wrapping up some stuff around the house and around town. I might possibly go swimming this afternoon and will probably go out tonight. I need to remember to pack too. I tried to exchange some of my old clothes at the curios market but they kept wanting money on top of what I was giving them and I really do not want to spend money on souvenirs right now. I stopped by the post office as well but the package mom sent me is still not here (guess you’ll be getting back some really old cookies in a month or so…).

Back at the house the staff is on strike. Guess I will not be getting my lasagna tonight. Hopefully things get resolved. I would really like to see the drivers and rest of staff before I leave tomorrow. I have loved getting to know this town and the people in it. I am going to miss it. But I will be back. Someday.

That’s all until Thailand. I fly out tomorrow around 1:30 and will then be staying in Johannesburg for two days. On Thursday I fly out to Bangkok with a short layover in Hong Kong. I will be travelling around Thailand with eleven other people. I will post when I can but internet might be a little bit trickier there. Miss you all!

Bad Day

African Dancers at Linda Clinic
Charlotte teaching Life Skills
Maanu Mbwami School
Kids at Mwandi School
Maramba farm

October 24, 2009

This last week has been by far the toughest of my time here in Zambia. I have seen projects fail due to a lack of community support and I have been greatly disappointed in my own ability to help others. I have had some of my own ideas shot down and witnessed how some people within the organization don’t seem to care about the people we are working with.

On Monday I helped out with a building project at Maanu Mbwami School. They used to be taught in thatched roof mud huts that leaked during the rainy season and made learning difficult. They also lacked adequate classroom space for their pupils and, as a result, different class levels were forced to rotate classroom time and spent only a few hours a day in school.

We have already completed a one-room schoolhouse and are currently in the process of creating another two-room classroom block next to it. The leader of the school, Pastor Smokes, has recently been complaining that we were not working fast enough, but the biggest problem we have is that the community is not helping us build the school. There are only nine volunteers currently at the house and we are therefore unable to send more than two or three to the building project a day. When we were working at the last building site, Malota School, we had three or four men from the community helping us everyday. We need the support from the community not only for the sheer man power but also because if they take part in the building they will feel a sort of ownership towards it and take more pride in the building.

On Tuesday I was supposed to go to Mwandi community and help with home-based care, but the caretaker did not show up. This is one of the only projects I had not done here and I was excited to finally get the chance to do it. It is a poorer community, much like Nakatindi, and lies on the outskirts of Livingstone. Unfortunately the community support for the farming project and home-based care initiative is not there. A man named David had been running the farm and home-based care, but no one else was stepping forward to help. Last month David started taking classes at the local college. This meant that there was no one to take us out on home-based care and no one to tend to the farm. We have temporarily pulled out of the farming project and home-based care is receiving their final warning before we also pull out of that.

On Wednesday afternoon I helped out with a Life Skills Class for adolescents. During the course they learn about how to write a resume, interview skills, first aid, drugs and alcohol awareness and HIV prevention and awareness. I think it is a great class but we started late and were forced to end early when the kids were being pulled from the class to play in the nearby netball and football games. I did not teach the class the next day but a similar thing happened with the class ending early so the children could practice marching for the upcoming Independence Day festivities.

Thursday was a particularly depressing day. In the morning I went to Nakatindi community home-based care. One of the patients was a single mother of two. Her husband had left while she was pregnant with her second child and never returned. Both her and her 3-year-old daughter Elizabeth were HIV+ and taking ART, meaning that their CD4 counts were already below 300. The baby was 11 months old and his HIV status is currently unknown. He had tested negative at the age of 5 months but tested positive 3 months later. They took a third test but because the test samples for children under the age of 1 have to be sent to Lusaka they have to wait another two months for the results.

There is a chance that an HIV+ mother can transmit the virus to her child during childbirth, during birth or when breastfeeding. The mother can take medication right before birth to help prevent transmission and the baby takes medication soon after birth that is supposed to impart partial immunity for the first few months of life. Since almost no one around here can afford formula and the nutrients in breast milk are so important for the baby’s growth and development, mothers are advised to exclusively breastfeed for the first 6 months. Giving the baby other foods while breastfeeding may weaken the immune system and allow HIV transmission. After 6 months HIV+ mothers are told to stop breastfeeding and look into other food options for their baby.

Now try explaining this to a woman who is unable to afford enough food for herself, let alone her two children and has no source of income. When Elizabeth was a baby a group of nuns from the Catholic Church had brought formula and other food to the house but when those nuns went back home there was no one to continue the program. The baby had also just finished a round of TB treatment while the mother and Elizabeth still had a month left of theirs. They had been treated for a cough but it was still present while the mother also suffered from severe chest pain.

We advised them to go to the clinic, although they had already been there many times and have run into problems with either the clinic not having the medications they needed in stock or just not being able to help them. We gave them some Panadol but there was not much else we could do. It is so hard to see a family in a situation like that and be so powerless to help them.

Sure, I could give them money or buy them food, but what good is that going to do them when I leave? Like the nuns it would be a short-term solution to a long-term problem. The children will most likely be orphans soon and being HIV+ and on ART so young, their future is bleak. I could sponsor one of the children (which I have thought about) but then I think about all of the other children out there in the same situation and it all seems so hopeless. What good am I really doing here? I give someone Panadol for a few days or a week of multivitamins or clean and dress their bedsores once and then what happens? What if we aren’t able to send someone to home-based care? Do the caretakers go out in the field without us? They have no supplies of their own and although they are supposed to be trained to handle and treat the things we see, when we go out in the field with them they just translate and show us to the next patient.

I agreed that home-based care needed to be changed. The patients, the caretakers and the community are too dependent on us. If we are not able to be in the field, there is no one left to do it. I was involved in the writing up of the new home-based care sheets and I agree with some of it, but I think we went too far in the other direction. They cannot help themselves as much as we want them to be able to. They cannot go to the clinic every few days to get painkillers and vitamins and they cannot afford to buy dressings for their wounds or to buy antibacterial creams. Our new policy of limiting medication and telling everyone to go to the clinic seems both uncaring and naïve. It makes it seem as if African Impact has no idea what life must be like for them.

And it is not just during home-based care that I wonder what good I am doing. In the clinics, what good does taking someone’s vitals do if the doctor isn’t going to look at it? We are supposed to help ease the load on understaffed clinics, but when a nurse asks me to come help her with baby weighing and then leaves in the middle because she is tired, or I go to find a nurse to man the pharmacy and find three staff workers hanging out in the back room, I find it hard to see how we are helping. I could say similar things about many of our other projects as well, like when the teacher sends her class over to art club because she is tired and wants to take a nap.

Things aren’t all bad here. The Maramba farm and home-based care projects are excellent. There is a dedicated group of community members that run the farm and go out to visit patients in the morning. The food from the farm is either given to patients in the community or sold at the market. The proceeds then go to maintain the home-based care program and also to help orphans in the community. Adult Literacy and HIV education classes are also held at Maramba farm and are excellent programs that promote lifetime learning and sharing of knowledge in the community.

Another excellent program is the home-based care course. This 10-week course is designed to train the next group of caretakers. They learn about a large range of topics including wound care, counseling, physical therapy and medications. The hope is that we can work together with them as a team and that they can function on their own when we are not around.

We also have some new project ideas in the works. One idea is to do health talks in the mornings at the clinics instead of just helping with vitals and filing. The topics of the talks range from nutrition and hygiene to HIV and opportunistic infections. The nine volunteers at the house have all taken a topic and will prepare two pages worth of notes for future volunteers to use for these talks. My friend, Sam, is working on another idea. He wants to contact Food International and see if we can work as a referral company for them. We would identify patients that are in desperate need of food and give Food International the name and address. They would take care of the rest.

I think as you get to know an organization better it gets easier to see the flaws in their philosophy and their programs. Sometimes it also gets harder to see their good points. A major problem for the organization is consistency. With such a high turnover of volunteers every month it is difficult to make sure that every one stays consistent with the guidelines. It also makes progress within projects difficult. For example, the sports volunteers have had some great programs in the past including one called Come Play Girl that encouraged girls to become more involved in athletics. Eventually though the volunteers that started the program left and the program stopped.

I believe in a lot of things that African Impact is doing for the community. I see a willingness to fix programs that do not work and put on hold projects that are not helping the community or are not sustainable. I really have enjoyed my time here and I feel like I have learned a lot. I am still sorting out in my mind how much good I have done but if nothing else, at least I have had this experience and will hopefully be able to use what I have learned.

An African Funeral

October 18, 2009

I have seen a lot of death here in Africa. The day before I left for Malawi I heard that one of the guides who bring tourists across the Falls to Angel’s Pool died. One of the tourists got into trouble when they were crossing a bit of water and the guide went in to save him. Unfortunately the guide ended up just taking the man’s place and drowned. I heard that his body remained there for a while and eventually washed over the Falls.

When Mark and I were in Malawi we passed by a car accident involving two large semis. One was completely overturned and sideways on the road while the other’s cab was slightly skewed but was being held upright by the trailer. It seemed like everyone in the small town was there. A dead body could be seen in the ditch with a sheet covering the upper half. I don’t know if he was one of the drivers or a pedestrian that was walking in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And finally, last Saturday one of our night guards died while on duty. I was still on my way back from Malawi but apparently he collapsed and started throwing up blood. They called the paramedics but he was pronounced dead soon after they left the compound. His name was Noel and I had talked to him on numerous occasions. In fact he was the last one that Mark and I talked to before we left for Malawi and he wished us happy travels. He was young too. Maybe in his mid-20’s although he looked much older. He was HIV+ but I never did find out exactly what killed him.

His funeral was held Tuesday morning. Many of the volunteers including myself attended. We were driven first to the funeral home where they collected the body and put it in the casket. We then led the motorcade to the Catholic Church across town where they held a mass in his honor. There was much singing and an offering was taken to help the family with the funeral expenses. They had communion and toward the end some family members and close friends got up and told stories about Noel and the life he led.

At the end of the ceremony the casket was carried to the back of the church and left open as the mourners filed past. The immediate family left the church last. The women wailed and some of the men even broke down crying.

We loaded up the vehicles again and drove out to the cemetery for the burial. Again there was much singing. The priest said prayers and read from the bible. Noel’s fellow security workers lowered his casket into the grave and after a blessing of the first shovelful of dirt, filled it in. Since gravestones cost a lot of money the dirt is piled up about three feet above ground level to identify where someone is buried. At the end people were called forward and given a flower to put in the grave. They began with the parents, then grandparents, siblings, other relatives, coworkers, neighbors and church members. African Impact was even called and Sam stepped forward to do the honors. The ceremony ended with speeches from the family, his church and his security company along with thanks to those that had provided transport.

Things may be done differently here in Zambia but the Christian concepts of life and death are the same, even if they have to deal with it at a much younger age. Almost all of the 100,000 inhabitants of Livingstone are some sort of Christian and attend church every weekend. Mass is much the same except the music is livelier, with people dancing and clapping as they sing (including the alter boys), and mass is longer, sometimes lasting over two hours.

It is this faith that seems to keep the community together in times of hardship. They look not only to each other but also to God in trying to figure out why things happen as they do. And although it may take a long time for living conditions to improve here, I have no doubt that the friendliness and strength of these people will persevere.

Malawi 2: The Lake

Cliff jumping at Nkhata Bay
Puppy on Chizimulu Island
Island children
The witch doctor and me
The cathedral

October 15, 2009

On October 2nd Mark headed back to Livingstone while I headed to the ferry dock with Art; a Peace Corps volunteer staying at Venice Beach who had just finished his work in South Africa. After first buying a second-class ticket for the Ilala Ferry I was persuaded to upgrade to the first-class deck ticket for the day and half journey to the islands.

The Ilala consists of three levels. The lower level is comprised of the second and third class passengers. There are men, mothers and children strewn out amongst the crates and barrels of produce and building supplies. It is a lot cheaper but is crowded, dirty and there is a real chance of theft. The middle level contains the cabins, a bathroom for use by first class passengers, a dining room as well as some crew lodging.

The top deck was very empty. There were approximately ten or so Mzungus plus a few well to do locals. A canvas covers half of the deck giving much needed shade. There is a bar that offers cold soda and beer and sells biscuits for a very reasonable price. They bring around a menu and take our breakfast, lunch and dinner orders all of which cost around $4. Mattresses may also be rented for $2 and can be used to sleep on the deck under the stars.

James, a medical student that just completed a medical rotation in Tanzania, Tyse, a backpacker who works with state of the art communications technology, Art and I hit it off instantly and spent the two days playing cards, drinking Carlsberg and telling stories about our travels. Art in particular had some interesting tales to tell including how to slaughter a cow and the usefulness of buckets and paper plates in relation to human waste. There were also a group of Spaniards on the deck and two Finish guys named Eli and Elikah.

We reached Chizumulu around 7:30 pm on Saturday night. Eli had approximately the same travel plans that I did and disembarked with me. Despite the fact that the place we stayed at did not have any running water and the electricity went off every night at 10 pm, it was very relaxing. I spent most of my time reading and playing a local Malawian game called Bow. On Sunday I took a walk around the island and met a local named George that invited me to come visit his family. He also introduced me to the boat maker and attempted to teach me some Chichewa, the local language.

Monday morning Eli and I walked to the other side of the island to catch the Dow that runs between Chizimulu and Likoma only to find out that it was not running that day. We trudged back over to Wakwenda Retreat to wait for the motorboat that would be coming that afternoon. It was crowded and hot but we figured it would be a short hour or hour and half ride between the islands. False. We stopped at three different ports on the islands before we finally got off at the fourth four hours later. A taxi had been arranged for us and we rode in the back of a pickup truck to Mango Drift. They didn’t have any dinner left for us but the showers were lovely and the beds were quite nice.

The next morning I woke up early and sat in the hammock and read. Eli joined me around 8 am and we went out to explore the island. First stop: the witch doctor. When we reached his compound we were required to take off our shoes. We then carried a stick in our left hands across the yard and gave it through a tree to a young girl. We then sat outside waiting, watching the monkey they had tethered to a pole and after a while we were invited inside.

The room had mats set out on the floor and Eli, our translator and I sat down in the front row. The doctor sat behind a pulpit on a strangely decorated stage. There were hospital signs as well as signs proclaiming that God is Love and God is Great. A pile of animal furs were heaped on the rafters and in front of the doctor was a bed with incense burning before it. Above the doctor’s head hung a picture of Jesus as the good shepherd. The doctor himself was dressed in black priestly clothing. What hair he had was kept long and in dread locks.

Many other people joined us in the room and the ceremony began with chanting and singing. He then took some time to explain to Eli and me how he had come to be a witch doctor. When he was young he was cursed by someone and was forced to drop out of school early. He got his knowledge of the plant and herbal remedies he used from the spirits but believed that it was only through the power of God (the Christian God) that people were healed. It’s a strange mix of traditional and Christian culture.

He then presented some cases of people he had healed. A young boy came limping forward that was completely unable to walk when he arrived. He also introduced us to a young woman who had been told she would lose her leg. He proclaimed her healed but she still had two giant sores on her foot. The rest of the ceremony consisted of a group of women giving thanks to the doctor for what he had done for them. They presented him with a chicken and basket of food. Singing and chanting ensued and a white powder was rubbed all over the doctor’s and the woman’s face.

Eli and I were then given a chance to take pictures with the doctor and since he is a very short man the people in attendance got a big laugh out of this. Eli then consulted the witch doctor on a problem he was having with his nose. He was given some white powder to snort and told to come back with some face lotion so that the rest of the powder could be mixed in with it. This would cost $20. If Eli were a black man he would have gotten piercings in his eyebrows where the medication could be injected directly. We left as soon after that as we could and headed to the other side of the island.

There is a large Cathedral on Likoma Island. In fact it is the second largest in Africa. The tall stone walls were built in 1905 and the newer tin roof was put over top in the 1980’s. The stained glass is dull and half missing but the church is in use and is generally well taken care of.

We explored town a bit longer and then headed back toward Mango Drift. The children we passed asked us for all sorts of things like water bottles, pictures and our addresses. My favorite, however, is when they held at their hands and said “give me my money” like you had stolen it from them.

On Wednesday morning we headed back to the mainland. We took the motorboat again although it was far less crowded this time. Empty soda bottles and items that would be sold at the markets in Nkhata Bay replaced the building supplies, full soda bottles and food products needed to supply the islands. It was a miserable seven-hour journey due to the sun and the fact that my stomach was cramping up again but we made it to the Bay before dark and walked over to Myoka Village Backpackers.

The next few days were possibly the most fun I’ve ever had. I met some really great people and there was so much to do. I went swimming the first morning and we took the rowboat out in the afternoon over to a beach to go snorkeling. That night we drank, told travel stories, danced and played pool. The staff at Myoka kept the music going all night and could be found dancing around the pool table, behind the bar and on top of the bar.

The next day we went on a boat trip to another beach. We fed some fish eagles, jumped off of a small cliff, snorkeled and played some beach games including volleyball. That night they had a giant BBQ buffet set out with steak kabobs, BBQ chicken, sweet potato fries, homemade garlic bread, vegetables and peanut sauce!

I met a fellow traveler, Graham that was going to Zambia the next morning and offered me a ride in the back of his pickup. I debated and then decided that it would be cheaper and I would get to Chipata much faster. The next morning we were on the road by 9 am and reached the border at 2 pm. Graham drove around Chipata until we found the bus depot and dropped me a resthouse about a block away. I spent that night reading and was on the 5 am bus out to Lusaka the next morning. I got duped again by the bus boys but got back to Livingstone by 10:30 pm. I even got to watch some interesting Nigerian movies on the way.

Overall my trip to Malawi was fantastic. I met a lot of amazing people and did some very unique things. My opinions about what is “nice” have changed considerably in regards to transportation, lodging and food and, like most westerners that come to Africa, I have learned about patience. The people of Malawi are among the friendliest in the world and most places I traveled were virtually crime free. But it is nice to be back in Livingstone again and get back into the projects. I’ve only got two weeks left here and I plan on making the most of it. Hope all is well back home!

Malawi 1: Mt. Mulanje

Venice Beach Backpackers
Bicycle taxis
Mulanje Massif
Top of Sapitwa
Mark and Shanu resting

October 14, 2009

On September 25 Mark and I got on the overnight bus to Lusaka and began the long journey to Malawi. We spent Saturday night in Lilongwe and woke up early Sunday morning to catch the express bus to Blantyre. Unfortunately while looking for the bus an overly enthusiastic chap showed us to a more inexpensive bus that promised to get us there in the same amount of time. It would leave at 8 am and take 4 hours. Unfortunately the bus did not leave until it was full (around 9:30) and after six hours of travel we were still nowhere near Blantyre and since the bus was close to empty we were put on to a different bus. We arrived in a suburb of Blantyre around 5 pm and caught another minibus to Mulanje. I soon learned that this was typical of public transport in Africa.

If you are looking for an authentic African public transport experience there are a few things you need to have in order to qualify:
o A live chicken
o A breastfeeding mother
o Street vendors at your window at every stop
o No less than 25 people in a 15 passenger van
o People getting in and out via the back window
o Must take twice as long as stated time

After two and half days of travel we were ready to climb Mt. Mulanje. Well almost ready. We headed over to Chitakale and stopped by People’s to stock up on food and water for the trek. After that we went to Info Mulanje and hired a guide/porter and planned out our route. We left one bag of stuff at the office and set off up the mountain with our guide Shanu carrying the other bag.

We walked by the tea plantations that surrounded the mountain and up over the rolling foothills. The next bit was quite steep but after about three hours we made it up to the plateau. The Mulanje Massif is comprised of a large plateau region that consists mainly of open prairies and patches of forests. Above this rise twenty majestic peaks the highest of which is Sapitwa, meaning “don’t go there” in the local language. At 3002 meters it is the highest point in Central Africa and we set out to reach the summit. We spent the next three hours trekking across the plateau to the Linchenya Hut. We cooked up some macaroni and cheese and were asleep by 8 pm.

The next morning we woke up early and were hiking by 7 am. The morning was fairly easy and offered some fantastic scenery. We reached the Tuchila Hut around 10:30 am. Originally the plan was to stop off for a half hour lunch break before climbing to the summit. However it started to rain and we were still at the hut at 1 pm. I was a bit concerned that my shoes were not good enough and that the rain may have made things too dangerous but I eventually convinced myself to climb up to at least the first ridge.

It was quite steep and at times I wondered how I would ever get back down but when we reached the top of the first ridge the second ridge didn’t seem very far away. The next bit was my favorite part of the climb, going over and under branches, between rocks and jumping from rock to rock. When we got to the top of the second ridge we could see the summit and I knew I couldn’t stop now. So it was down again, over rocks, through narrow gaps and up until we reached the summit. It was chilly at the top and the cloud cover prevented us from getting a good view but it still felt good to have gotten there. There was a plaque at the top of the summit in honor of a Brazilian man that had died attempting the climb without a guide. Many of the locals believe that the mountain is cursed and will not go near it.

The way down was tricky but we made it back just before dark. A group of 15 Germans had just arrived at the cabin and we settled in for the night. The cabins themselves are very well kept. There is a caretaker present at each that takes care of the cleaning and provides drinkable water and firewood. There are, however, no showers and the only toilets are long drops that don’t have any seats.

The next morning we were up early and started the four-hour hike down to the forestry station. My legs were sore and walking downhill all morning was tough my knees. I was also experiencing stomach cramps but we made it down by 11 am and paid the hut fees. We then wandered into the nearby village to wait for a minibus to take us back to Chitakale. The first one was full and instead of waiting for a second one we decided to take bicycle taxis, which allowed us to take in the breathtaking scenery around the massif.

After picking up the other bag and getting some pizza we got back in a minibus and headed toward Blantyre. We found a bus that said it was going to Monkey Bay and would be there by 6:30 that night. We grabbed a snack and I was going to use the bathroom but it was honestly the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. There were feces all over the floor and women were peeing out in the open by the sinks and the doorway. I got out of there as fast as possible, deciding that I would rather hold it.

The minibus arrived in Mangochi at 8 pm and told us that it was the last stop for the night. We were quite upset. We were used to them lying to us about how long it would take but never about the final destination. The bus driver redeemed himself a little by driving us around until we found a place to stay. He even stopped by his house and showed us his pet monkey. We ended up at the Holiday Inn (not quite US standards) and I took a much needed shower.

The next morning we went to Monkey Bay and checked into Venice Beach Backpackers. We were the only ones staying there and had the beach to ourselves. It was nice to relax after so much climbing and traveling. I even got to help some local girls fish with a mosquito net. We wandered into town later that night to check the ferry prices and get some dinner. It was dark by the time we headed back but it’s a very safe area and the locals were very helpful on pointing us in the right direction.

The next morning Mark was gone before I woke up. He had to get back to Livingstone to work so I would be on my own for the next week. For more about my trip to Malawi stay tuned for Malawi 2: The Lake.