Last I wrote I was in Nungwi, chillin' like a villain on the beach - not at all my thing, but the rest well required. I finally got my mojo back on the last day after spending some much needed time by myself.
We then got the boat back to Dar from Stonetown. I didn't feel as seasick this time (so I figure it must have been the malaria tablet last time) however, I can't say the same for the others; projectile vomiting ahoy.
After another night in Dar, we spent the whole day driving to Iringa in south west Tanzania. It was a long and boring day with very little to report.
The next day we were up early again (4am ish) to set off for Malawi. We crossed the border just after lunch, changed our money and arrived in the campsite too late to do any activities, but early enough to feel bored.
Having done no exercise for 3 weeks or more, I decided to do one of more strenuous activities: a 34km walk from the camp to Livingstonia, 1800 metres up, where David Livingstone first set eyes on Lake Malawi. Only myself and a girl called Ivonna signed up (she is one of Canadian girls I mentioned above - though she was very pleasant having now rested in Zanzibar). We started at 6h30 and made it to the top of Livingstonia at 11h30am...Ivonna didn't quite make it to the top, so our guide, Wisdom, rushed me up and back. The top wasn't that impressive anyway as the lake was very far away and the mist made it such that the sky and the lake merge together.
However, the views on the way up were incredible. And the waterfall about two thirds along the track was amazing. A cliff at one end with the water falling what, seemed to me as hundreds of metres to the rocks below (but was probably more like 30/40 metres, as Victoria Falls is meant to be 110 metres...my weak spot is blind measuring). Then it descends into a colossal valley that continues into the distance. I have photos that I will put up on facebook when I get back.
Our guide was interesting and impressive. He was doing his best to save money, mostly through wood carving (a big trade in Malawi, especially in selling to tourists) and taking trekkers up to Livingstonia. He was saving for university in Lilongwe (the capital) where he wants to study mechanics and engineering. Eventually, he hopes to escape Malawi to find a better life somewhere else. An impressive challenge he's set himself.
I was so exhausted when I made it back that I fell asleep in the bar on a couch, curled up in the fetal position. I eventually got some energy to go have a look at the wood carvings made from ebony and some other wood they collect from the forests of Malawi. I was quite interested in finding a nice chess set...made with a lion and lioness as king and queen, leopards as bishops, giraffes as knights, elephants as rooks and wildebeest or men as pawns. Unfortunately only the huge sets had safari themed pieces, the travel sized/foldaway sets had quite ugly pieces...so I declined, hoping I would find better at the next campsite (writing this with hindsight, I now deeply regret my decision).
Luke and Robin had bought plenty of things, a mask being the main purchase, that Luke helped carve. They had become good friends with Mike, otherwise known as Banji, their carver and salesman. He'd offered to take them out for a drink that night. I thought it would be a great idea to get away from the institutionalisation by the truck; the word of the day is truck-stitutionalised.
He took us to a local pool bar, where we played against the local pool sharks. Mike's goal was to save enough money to study law in Lilongwe (similar to Wisdom). His reasoning was that the town needs a lawyer, or someone with credibility, to overcome the local traditions that cause so many injustices. For example, if a few people have a dream about someone in the village, the witchdoctor (I'll get to him in a minute), will deem that person a witch (black kettle, meet pot). They then scratch three markings on his forehead with a razor blade so that everyone is aware of his stigma. Then, when anything bad happens in the village (e.g. rape, theft, etc...) the witch will be accused and executed. The other injustice of which Mike spoke was that husbands whose wives die, get to have the late wife's younger sister as compensation for their loss. I was impressed that this kid has his head on so straight and wanted to transform the unjust sociological structure for something more just and flexible.
He took us to another bar, where supposedly everyone else from our group had gone - they had not. Regardless we had a great time. The locals were merry, to say the least, dancing and shouting. The bar was barely made of four walls with a bar made of bamboo and bin bags (that wobbled when leaned upon) and tires for comfort seating.
The drink of choice was what can only be described as puke milk called Chitoku. It came in cartons, look like watered down greying milk with chunks. Luke tried some as said it tasted like a puke burp - graphic I know, but the truth is the best description.
A dvd player provided music. We danced to the world cup theme song. The locals love football, they all have arsenal, ranger, man united shirts on. So it got pretty wild, but always merry and safe.
The rest of the crowd had been to visit the witchdoctor during the day. For a few dollars, he guessed your age, profession or some other obvious fact and then made up some rubbish about your future. I hope people were skeptical...but some came back with a glint of genuine belief in their eyes. Well it turns out the witchdoctor they saw, is but a fisherman. Yup. An old fisherman that throws on a rug, waves some sticks about and makes a fool out of you while you pay for the privelege.
Well, he was in the bar. And he was hammered. He tried to barter with us: reading our dreams for a beer...but we weren't sold on the idea. Though he did openly admit to our friend that he was a fisherman.
We made it back to camp, got up early and set off to Kande beach where we are now. I have more to tell but the generator is about to be shut off (having been off all day), so I better sign off quickly!
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