Enter Malawi: First Impressions

Fifty is the most important number for us today. Its 50 days since we set off cycling from Kampala, Uganda, a journey that so far has taken us through Rwanda, Tanzania and, as of six days ago, Malawi. For all of these countries 50 is also an important number. Tanzania celebrated 50 years of Independence in December 2011, Rwanda and Uganda will follow suit in 2012 and Malawi a couple of years later. 50,000 is also the number of Kwacha (Malawian currency) that we could get for the $200 that we changed today on the Mzuzu blackmarket. The exception to the rule is the number 4000, which represents the number of kilometers we have so far cycled, as of this morning’s arrival in Mzuzu.

We left Tanzania last Wednesday with a tinge of sadness, the county had been good to us in many ways. There had been breathtaking landscapes and close animal encounters. We had built a strong routine of morning chai and rice or ugali lunches and there was always a plentiful supply of fruit and veg for our evening meals. The country and people, I felt, had a palpable sense of optimism and opportunity, physically represented by the homes and businesses which grew on most street corners. The African Leopard to the Asian Tiger. We entered Malawi with a certain naivety; we had been warned of sporadic fuel shortages and, from a recent Guardian article, the dubious exploits and policy of, to use his official title, His Excellency President Professor Bingu wa Matharika. Arguably nothing terribly unusual for an African country.

As we crossed the border into Malawi we expected little to change but at the same time we were alert, keen to form our first impressions of the new country. Most notably for us the road, compared to a relatively busy stretch in Tanzania, the M1 of Malawi was almost devoid of cars, buses or trucks. Instead it was a footpath, used preferentially by bikes, people and carts. A matatu or taxi may slip past every 5-10 minutes or so, but these were a secondary use. From the hills of Tanzania we had come to expect brick houses, with corrugated roofs, while here thatch and wattle predomidated and barefoot children streamed towards us shouting “money, money, money”. Perhaps our heightened senses detected more of a change, and first impressions are rash in their nature, but life did feel more basic than the Tanzania we had left. We reserved our judgement, after all from the humble beginnings of our journey in Tanzania we had found a bountiful country.

Some way still to go...

The first major town we arrived in was Karonga where we planned to stock up on food and cash. We stopped at the road side “People’s Superette”. Excited by the size and grand looking chain store, I urged Rick to “get whatever look’s nice”. A few minutes later Rick returned with two 500ml bottles of water and two expensive packs of biscuits. Although the shelves were full, the variety was worse than a roadside grocery we had experienced so far. We headed into town for cash and further investigation and, after a visit to the local market, eventually came out with our good for the evening and some cash for the next few days. After the rigours of mountain climbing over the past few days, our plan was to make our way to hilltop retreat of Livingstonia the next day. Despite a relatively relaxing morning of downhill I was shattered and had to force myself to eat dinner before turning in for the night.

Sleep however is a magical thing, and the next morning we were crushing our way down the M1 slipstreaming a speedy Malawian cyclist, excited at the thought of rest days ahead.  About mid-morning brought a technical failure. All through our cycle locals have been amazed by our tyres; how can they keep going for so long! After a blow out and a tyre inspection we found my tyre has split in 3 places, luckily we had a spare tyre so after 40 minutes we were back on the road, and arrived at the base of the Livingstonia escarpment. 

Grinding up Livingstone escarpment

Following two reports of an impossible climb, requiring at least a 4x4 (if not a helicopter), we had convinced each other that we should hitch up the hill to our campsite at Mushroom farm. As we sat over lunch we watched and waited for vehicles, and surveyed the hill. None came and our impatience got the better of us, and an hour and a half later we were 750m above the lake. Perhaps it was the endorphins, the thought of a rest day or just the incredible views, but we felt more refreshed then than during the last tired couple of days. We relaxed that evening over a couple of well-earned beers, in a hammock over looking Lake Malawi. A view which provided nightly light shows of lightening storms and latterned fisherman below. And, after I recieved some good news about a job offer, it was a position we weren’t keen to move from, and we spent the next couple of days in the same camp, exploring Livingstonia and the local Chombe Plateau.  

Relaxing on Chombe Plateau, with dog

A well worn spot on the Malawi tourist map, Livingstone was one of the first missions to East Africa, established by Dr Robert Laws in 1894 in a mission to bring “Commerce, Civilisation and Christianity” to the area. Today it is a quaint hill-top town which, on the surface, represents a Malawian Utopia, lines of Pine shade the street and beautiful brick houses, neatly laid out on the road toward the Hospital , Technical College and Church. The town is meant to be dry, although littered “Tyson” and “Black Punch” packets tell a different story.  We wandered to the Stone House museum, one of the original mission houses, the house felt (and smelt) like a Spartan Scottish guest house. The museum told the story of missionary arrival and their role in abolishing the slave trade, although the oddest museum piece was definitely the actual crockery and cultlery used by the Zambian President during his visit in 1978.

Sunrise at Mushroom Farm

Over dinner that evening we heard a little more about the situation in Malawi. Started by governmental control of foreign currency transaction, food prices have doubled over the past two years as inflation has taken hold. This is then compounded by the inability of Malawian companies getting hold of foreign exchange to import goods. The prime example being oil, no oil at the pumps means no distribution of goods and hence higher prices. It’s a sad situation underpinned by weak economic policy, all those present that evening felt that Malawi had regressed significantly over the past two years, since the re-election of His Excellency.

For us however, things weren’t going to be so bad, empty roads and hugely inflated exchange rates ($1 is 250 Kwacha, instead of 160) for the dollar play well into our hands. The last couple of days were spent negotiating some more off-road tracks back on the M1 to our town destination of Mzuzu where we will stock up for the next journey to Blantyre, arriving on the 29^th March.