Tsalani bwino

I don’t think I’m very good at saying goodbye!  I find it difficult to accept that it may be the last time I see someone, until I am practically on the plane, and so I gave several people more than one goodbye hug, just to make sure.

My plane wasn’t till 1 p.m. and I had to be at Chileka airport at around 11.  So Mari and I got up at the usual time, finished off my packing and then went into work, so that I could go round and take a (really!) final leave of everyone.  I did my rounds of the admin building, catching Hugh in the process, and then went on to JP2, where I went up to say goodbye to Father John.  I peered through the glass panel in his office door, and saw that there were a lot of people in there, so started to walk away again, but he came running after me, and asked if I wanted to say good bye to everyone.  So I went into the office and had a communal farewell of the JP2 team, before saying goodbye to Father John in the corridor.

I was struck by the warmth of the good wishes I received from everyone, from the Director to the security guards, and how everyone wanted to know when I would be coming back again.  I kept finding myself saying I would really like to, and might manage it if Mari stays till May.

Mari and I then decided to escape to the Mount Soche for coffee, where we spent an hour or so, before driving on to the airport.  We were stopped by a police road block on the way, but escaped without a fine.  We got right through my trip without any difficulties, I think partly because of the novelty of 2 middle-aged azungu ladies (or 4 for that matter when we were travelling with Lin and Amanda) and the fact that we smiled sweetly and did our best to greet them in Chichewa each time.

I was reflecting, as we drove along, how strange Blantyre had seemed on the drive in from the airport, only a few weeks before, and how parts of the road had now become quite familiar.  We passed the architect’s football house, and the Carlsberg sign where you turn off to go to the house where they make soap.  I recognised some of the shop names that had amused me when I first arrived.  I wondered if I would find it strange to be home, with so many cars, and so many white people! 

Mari waited with me at the airport until the inbound plane arrived, and then, after a somewhat emotional farewell, I went through the passengers only door, and in through the passport check.  The woman checked my purse, to make sure I didn’t have too many kwatcha with me, and then I went through a crowded room and onto the tarmac to identify my luggage by pointing at it, following which they put it on the trolley to load on the plane.

The journey itself was relatively uneventful.  I think I got my culture shock out of the way at Johannesburg airport, which is very glitzy.  I sat in a corner with my book, and when I had finished that, I amused myself by texting my sister as my phone worked fine in South Africa, and the free texts (after the first 4) offer, seemed to apply in Africa (although not to texts to England).

My head was very busy trying to make sense of the last few weeks, and I didn’t sleep much at all on the plane to England, so I was happy to arrive, and find Jane waiting for me when I came out.  Home at last!

Yesu pocaniza

This week started with my final assembly.  Mari and I arrived early to catch the choir and confirm it was OK for us to sing.  This meant we were able to attend an impromptu choir practice at the side of the hall, and I was also able to catch Johanni and ask him to write out for me the Chichewa translation of “Thank you for making me feel so welcome.  I hope I can come and visit you again one day”. 

Mari and I sat with the choir, instead of in our usual place with the other volunteers.  As a result it was difficult to hear the rest of the JP2 contribution to assembly, as the students had obviously not been trained for reading in large halls!  (Unlike Mari and me, who, as children, were prepared for reading in church by being made to stand at the top of the stairs, and project our voices to the end of the hall.  It wasn’t actually a very long hall, but it obviously worked, as people used to comment that they always liked it when the Jones children read in church, as you could actually hear them!).

Father John then lead the meditation, which was sung in Chichewa, and delivered a reflection, in Chichewa and English, which included the story about the children who ask each of their parents where they come from.  Their father replies “from the monkeys” and their mother “ from God”, and when they challenge this inconsistency, the mother explains it by saying, “Your father comes from the monkeys, and I come from God”.  This was left without comment, other than that it is down to choice whether you come from monkeys or God, and the subject provoked some debate in the following day or two (which, come to think of it, was probably the point!).

After this it was time for our two songs which Linda obligingly videoed for me, so I have a permanent record of my sister and myself singing with the construction choir.

(It will probably come as a surprise to some how much I have enjoyed singing about Jesus, given my lack of religious belief.  It no doubt helped that the first song I learnt was in Chichewa, but as I commented in the blog entry about my first visit to the choir, the words for Jesus and Halleluya were easily identifiable, so I wasn’t under any illusions.  And the second song was in English, so Mari and I had been singing away all weekend, on and off, about how “Jesus makes everything right”!  I think it’s probably something to do with the combination of music and shared acts of celebration or worship that appeal to something other than my rational mind.  I have also noticed that in assembly I really enjoyed the sung meditations, and the reflections in Chichewa, even though - or perhaps partly because -  I couldn’t understand the words.

It has been interesting as well to be in a country where the vast majority of people have a religious faith.  I have kept quiet, for the most part, about my own position.  This is partly because I just wanted to experience things as they happened, without making myself, or my unusual position, the centre of attention, or allowing it to interfere with my ability to connect with what was going on around me.  So I have sung religious songs, and bowed my head for prayer at the end of choir practice and when the lunch was being blessed at college.  I have managed to deflect several invitations to lead prayer myself by deferring to others, as this felt a step too far for me, with one notable exception – of which more later!)

After the singing, Peter, the MD of Beehive, did a little farewell speech for me (also captured on video), and I made my little farewell speech in Chichewa.  Peter was very flattering about me, and said I was welcome to go back any time!

Father John came up to me after assembly and said he had been inspired by the choir, and in particular its ecumenical nature, and was thinking about exploring the possibility of working with them to make a CD or DVD of religious songs.  We agreed that Mari and I would take him to choir practice at lunch time, so he could talk to them about it.  At this point nothing further was said about a trip to the parish, so Mari and I went off to Blantyre to do some shopping for the children’s centre in an amazing fabric shop.  I also ordered a Malawi international football shirt for Martin, with his name and number on the back, and we ended up at the Mount Soche hotel for coffee, before heading back in time for our date with the choir.

We found Father John in debate with Hugh over lunch about the monkey story.  We managed to drag him away, and introduced him to the choir, to whom he explained his idea.  I didn’t understand what he said, as it was in Chichewa, but the smiling faces and a couple of outbursts of applause suggested that they were happy with his idea, and it was agreed that they would discuss it further.  On the way back to JP2, Father John renewed the invitation to visit the parish, and we agreed to do so the next day, if his, and Mari’s, schedules allowed.

Later in the day we also paid a visit to Father John’s spare room, which he has converted to a small chapel, so that he has an area for prayer and meditation while he is living at Mitsidi.  He also described his morning routine, which involves not only prayer and reflection before breakfast, but also dancing, which conjured up a rather wonderful image.  He is an interesting man; very easy to talk too, and entertaining company.

This was confirmed on Tuesday, when he took us on the promised trip to the tea plantation, and to visit a number of places in his parish.  It was a day of contrasts – we started in the beautiful house of the woman whose car he borrowed to take us, who is a wealthy benefactor who has built several churches and chapels in Malawi, as far as I could gather, and included lunch with a village family who are subsistence farmers, and had a cow, two pigs, several chickens and a dog in the back yard.  In between we visited several brothers from Father John’s order, and one of the tea factories, where they also process macadamia nuts. 

The tea plantations presented yet another different view of Malawi – vast expanses of bright green tea plants, with acacia trees planted amongst them, and every so often groups of pickers with big baskets on their backs, so that both hands are free, rather like the pictures I remember from the PG Tips packets when we were small.  We couldn’t see round the factory itself, as our visit was unscheduled, but we spent some time with one of the managers (I think) of the factory, who is a good friend of Father John.  The building in which he works must date from the 1930s I think, and it appeared that the furnishings did too – it was like an office from a 2^nd World War film.

Lunch was the highlight of the day.  We drove off down a dirt track and into a village, and stopped in a very well-kept garden, outside a small house.  Father John seemed equally at home here as in the big house where we had started our journey, and equally at ease with both sets of people – and both sets of people seemed equally pleased to see him.  We were ushered into the house, and served cold drinks.  We sat and chatted for a while to the two sisters who live there with their children, before being served with a delicious lunch of chicken, pork (the Father’s favourite apparently!), rice, peas and a leafy green vegetable.  Before lunch Catherine offered us water to wash our hands, and then Father John invited me to say grace.  In the circumstances it would have felt awkward and churlish to refuse, so I drew on childhood memories to find something suitable, and expressed the genuine feeling I had of gratitude, both for the food, and for the opportunity to meet people I would certainly not have met otherwise.

We could not linger long, as Father John had a meeting at 4, so we took some photos of us with the family, and then set off back to Limbe, to return the car, stopping briefly at the parish house, to meet another brother.  It turned out, due to a misunderstanding, he had made us lunch as well!  Father John checked all the dishes, and took the pork with him for later, so at least it didn’t all go to waste!

We made the journey back in excellent time, stopped for a quick cup of tea, and then Father John’s friend drove us back to Beehive, partly by way of the President’s jacaranda-lined avenue, which is gloriously purple at the moment.

Mari and I went back to Mitsidi to prepare for our evening, as we had agreed to go out for dinner with some of the other volunteers, to the Ryalls Hotel in Blantyre – dead posh!  It was a lovely evening, with very nice food.  We travelled over with 8 of us in the blue pick-up – boys in the back.  When we dropped them off in Chilomoni, they all queued up to give me a hug goodbye.

Final weekend at Mitsidi

My final weekend at Mitsidi was spent quite quietly, partly because of the fuel shortage, but to be honest it was quite nice to have a bit of time and space to digest what had been a very busy week.

On Saturday Mari and I joined Linda on a trip organised by the Malawi Society to visit a young couple (South African/Malawian) who make soap and other cosmetics in their home, using local ingredients.  It was an opportunity to dip our toes into expatriate life in Malawi – there were a range of, mainly English, people, most of them in business of one kind or another, and several of whom had lived in Malawi for more than 30 years.  They were very welcoming, and we had several interesting conversations about what it is like to live in Malawi in a very different way from the experience that Mari is having, and to observe change over a long period of time.

The house we visited was a beautiful one storey building, with lovely gardens, and a dinosaur made out of natural materials, which apparently the termites were now beginning to eat!  The couple had three boys, and there were a couple of other children there too, so it felt quite a family occasion.  We were provided with Mzuzu coffee and a variety of home-made cookies, as well as opportunities to sample the products, make our own soap bars out of off-cuts, and watch the husband making soap, which needs to be stirred for about 45 minutes, in this case using an improvised whisk, involving attaching an ordinary kitchen whisk to an electric drill.  He commented that when he first started he had not imagined that the main qualities required of a soap maker would be upper body strength and endurance!

The local ingredients they used were baobab oil and macadamia oil, which is apparently very close to the oils in human skin, and therefore easily absorbed.  They also made a range of decorative items from baobab nuts and other natural materials.

After this excursion we had lunch with Linda at La Caverna, which is a very pleasant restaurant.  I spent the afternoon at home, reading and writing, while Mari went to a barbecue at David’s which I skipped as I had a slightly dodgy stomach, and didn’t want to risk leaving the house.

On Sunday Mari and I went back to Michiru nature reserve, which we had visited the previous week with Hugh and Chris, this time just with Chris, to attempt trail 3, which is the steep one, with trail 4 running off it to go up to the summit of the mountain.  We left reasonably early – about 8.00 -  in order to avoid the heat of the day, but fortunately it was also a much cooler day that earlier in the week, which was good, as the walk ended up taking us about 5 and a half hours in the end.

Mari and I both found it quite strenuous, but Chris was very patient, and didn’t complain when we stopped frequently to “admire the views”.  Actually the views were fantastic, and the change in scenery at different levels was quite striking, with different trees growing higher up, including an area of conifers which had been recently burned, it appeared in order to smoke out either rabbits or hyraxes – a small mammal that lives in rocky areas.  We could see where the holes whatever animal it was had been dug out.

Higher still we could see trees with very red leaves, which when we reached them we found were the new leaves coming, while the old, rather dried-up leaves were still on the tree – it seems spring and autumn come at the same time in Malawi!

We saw quite a few baboons during the early stages of the walk, and a couple of antelopes higher up, and a shed snakeskin on the path – but luckily not the snake itself, as I did not want a repeat of the scorpion incident!

It really felt as if each time we thought we were about to reach the peak, another one appeared behind it, but at last we arrived, and were rewarded by wonderful views in all directions.  We were enjoying these, and our picnic, when we were gradually joined by a group of children and young people, who proceeded to sing hymns – so it was a musical lunch!

On the way down we took the long way round the rest of trail 3, and made it back feeling quite pleased with ourselves.  We drove back to Mitsidi for showers and snoozes, and then I joined Hugh and Linda to talk them through where we had been on our holiday, as they wanted to look at a map, and get a sense of how far we had been.  Shortly after I arrived Mari and Chris came down armed with pop corn and gin and tonic, and we ended up all mucking in to make omelettes for our dinner.  It was a companionable and enjoyable end to the weekend.

Last week at Beehive

This last week has flown by, and most of it has been work.  It has also been very hot, so I have been working in a state of dripping sweatiness that I rarely experience in England, even in a sauna!

When we knew I was coming out here for a month, I agreed with Mari that I would deliver one of the short courses she and David have put together for their students, to keep them motivated and engaged during the delay to the opening of the children’s centre.  I had imagined, rather unrealistically as it turned out, that we would find some time to prepare this either while we were away or during the weekend, but actually I found myself, on Sunday night, drinking juice while Mari and Chris  had gin and tonic, and working up an outline, which Mari and I discussed briefly before going to bed.

Luckily we had Monday to pull things together, and by the end of the day we had a full outline, all materials ready, and a set of adapted scenarios courtesy of Mari and David, which related to everyday situations in a children’s centre in Malawi, rather than neighbour disputes in the UK.  David had also prepared Merton and Sutton Mediation Certificates for everyone who was expected.

The day had started, as usual for a Monday, with assembly, which is attended by a majority of Beehive workers, and conducted in a mixture of Chichewa and English.  Each week a part of Beehive is responsible for leading part of it, and this week the construction choir was singing, resplendent in the “Beehive construction choir” T shirts that Brian and Sue donated before they left.  One of the songs they sang was the one that Linda and I had learned when we visited them in the first week, so I got the words out of my handbag and Mari, Hugh and I sang along.  Nothing in Malawi goes unobserved, and Peter Nkata immediately commented on this, and asked if we would like to sing something for assembly.  We declined!

Assembly is also the opportunity to introduce new arrivals, and this week it was Father John’s turn.  He is the new Principal of the JP2 Leadership and IT Academy, and Mari’s new next door neighbour.  He is originally from Mozambique, but came to Malawi as a refugee at the age of 17.  He has travelled widely and speaks several languages very well.  He delivered both his meditation and his introduction of himself in Chichewa and English.  He is a tall and imposing figure, with a lot of presence, and seems very kind, but I thought I discerned a hint of sternness as well!  I particularly enjoyed listening to his meditation in Chichewa, as he speaks very expressively, and I am beginning to be able to pick out one or two words I understand – though not enough to know what he was talking about!  It was easier with the introduction, as country names, dates and numbers are the same, so I had worked out that he came from Mozambique, how long he had been in Malawi, and a few other details about him, from the Chichewa version.

There were also all-important announcements about Wednesday, when the Civil Society had called for a vigil, in protest at some of the government’s actions.  The vigil was called off, but the Civil Society asked Malawians to stay at home for 3 days, and pray for Malawi.  Beehive advised their workers to do whatever was necessary to stay safe, and to stay away from any unrest.

At lunchtime Mari and I visited the choir again, armed with one copy of the words to “Morning had Broken”.  Since we were last there, the children’s centre building has been painted white inside, which has really made a difference – it feels much more like a room, and less like a building site, even though there is still plenty to do.  Martin, the choir master, arrived before most of the choir, and we had to sing him the song, which he picked up really quickly.  He then floored us slightly by asking us for the alto, tenor and bass parts!  When we told him we didn’t know, he just made them up himself.

It was amazing to watch him in action, singing all four parts and pulling everything together, with the command “Sing!”  At the end Mavuto came over and asked us to bring more copies of the words, which we agreed to copy for him the next day, and give to him at Marc’s English class.

Both Tuesday and Thursday were taken up with the course – “Staff relationships, teamwork and conflict resolution”.  Both days the group size was about 25, which is the largest group I have delivered training to, particularly when I have been leading on all sessions.  Mari was a great support, but because it was my subject matter, I was basically in charge.  It was lovely to work with Mari’s students for a whole day and to see how some of the exercises and games we routinely use in the UK translated into an African context.

On the whole things adapted pretty well – but there were a few things that were harder, or didn’t really seem to work.  It seemed to be harder to get students to share personal experiences, and draw on those rather than speaking in general terms.  Some of our instructions seemed to cause considerable confusion – it seemed to be necessary to break them down into stages much more than I would normally do.  But we got there in the end.  And it was clear from many of the things they talked about when considering what might cause conflict in the children’s centre, and how they might approach resolving it, that they have learned a lot from Mari and David over the last year or so.

The highlight for me, on both days actually, was the team working exercise in which they had to build a tea cup out of 3 pieces of paper and one piece of sellotape about 3 inches long.  We gave them quite a long time to do it, and it was fascinating to watch how different teams approached it.  Quite a few of them spent quite a few minutes looking blankly at each other, but after a while they started to experiment, and by the time I gave them 5 minutes to finish off, on the first day most teams were standing around their tables, excitedly putting the finishing touches to their creations.

We subjected all the cups to 2 tests – the most attractive cup, judged by Sarah – and the most effective cup, judged by holding each cup over a bucket and pouring a measured amount of water into it and David timing how long it took for the water to come through.  The winners on both days held water for well over a minute, while the losing cups leaked almost immediately.  On the Thursday, the cheers and whoops as this test was carried out confirmed the reputation of the group as the noisiest class in JP2!

After both classes we handed out certificates, and took some photos, so that I can see if I can get a good news story about MSM into the Wimbledon Guardian when I get back.  We shall see!

On Wednesday, because of the planned day of action, Beehive volunteers were asked to stay at Mitsidi, and Vince arranged a series of meetings to discuss things of relevance to all of them, starting at 8.30.  This meant a relatively late start to the working day (Mari’s normal working day starts at 8 so we have been leaving Mitsidi between 7.00 and 7.30 most days) and we trundled down to the big house at about 8.30, after breakfast, to find Giacomo and David making breakfast for themselves.

Vince reported that all appeared to be quiet, and advised us that if we wanted to go to the site we could, but that it was best to go on foot, as vehicles would be more likely to attract unwelcome attention.  He suggested that a quiet day at Mitsidi was probably the most sensible option.

I stayed with them for a long and complicated discussion about the relative positions of containers on the site, and how best to move them around, but left Mari and co. to their children’s centre meeting after that, and went back to the house to do some writing.

After the meetings Mari made soup for everyone, and we all ate lunch together.  Mari and I spent a quiet afternoon and evening, including a swim and a lounge by the pool, while the younger volunteers took the vehicles and went to see what it was like in central Blantyre. 

Apart from the course, Thursday was notable for running out of diesel on the way to work, halfway up the track from Mitsidi!  It was a hairy moment, as the handbrake on the blue car is a bit dodgy, and we were on a fairly steep slope.  Sarah went back to get some help, but fortunately some other cars came up the hill, and the occupants came to our rescue, and manoeuvred the car to the side of the road.  One of the them was driven by Father John, who then kindly gave us a lift to the site.  Luckily we had set out early, to make sure we got there in time to prepare for the course.

Another highlight of the week was dinner with Mari’s friend Mary, at Chez Maky.  We sat on the khonde, overlooking the lights of Blantyre, and had a really enjoyable evening eating, drinking and chatting.

On Friday we walked into work – I have come to really enjoy the walk – through the houses at the back at Mitsidi, and up the hill to a road lined with kiosks and people selling food at the side of the road.  Lots of children call out to us as we go by, and adults sometimes greet us, and sometimes just stare, usually with interest rather than hostility.  Mostly a greeting in Chichewa calls forth a response, and a smile.

I spent some of the morning writing, and some helping Linda with her spreadsheets.  As I was sitting in her office, some loud music started up from outside.  It sounded rather as if someone had parked a car under the window with the stereo playing, but it turned out that the school opposite was having some kind of event, and the music, which was a weird mixture of religious music and pop, was coming from quite a distance away.  It lasted most of the rest of the afternoon.

Mari and I ate our lunch and then went off to choir practice.  Today the choir were practising a song in English, so at least the words were easy to pick up!  When Martin and Mavuto realised that I was leaving on Wednesday, they suggested that the choir should sing with us in assembly on Monday.  As this weeks JP2 are supposed to be leading assembly, they asked us to check with whoever was organising it whether this was OK.  Mari spoke to Chrissy, who works in admin, and she said she  would check for us, but thought that it would be all right, so we passed this on to Mavuto.

Mari and I then had to go into town to change money, and then go on to Torrent vehicle hire, to settle our debts for the car hire last week.  When we returned, Chrissy borrowed the car, and we walked back to Mitsidi, and went for a swim before dinner.  On the way to dinner,we bumped into Father John, who embraced me warmly, and said he wanted to invite me to his parish near the tea plantations for the weekend, so I could see something of village life!  Sadly, I had to decline, as we had already made arrangements for the weekend, but he said he would take me on Monday instead.  If it comes off, it should be a most interesting trip!

We lingered over dinner till about 9 o’clock – pretty late for Mitsidi, and then Mari and I came back to the house to go to bed.

Loweruka ndi lamulungu

The main event of Saturday was dropping Lin at the airport.  We stopped for coffee with her before her flight before leaving her with big hugs all round outside the entrance.  It is very different without her.   I am finding things to keep me occupied while Mari is working, but it is not the same as having someone else to go off and explore with. 

The rest of Saturday was spent catching up on washing, getting Mari’s hair cut, and updating the blog – we had stopped into the Mount Soche hotel to pick up another Skyband card so I could finally upload the things I had written about the last week or so.

In the evening we had a civilised gin and tonic on the khonde with Chris, Mari’s new next door neighbour, followed by a vegetable cheese bake cooked by Mitsidi’s very own domestic goddess, my sister!

On Sunday we went for a walk at Michuri nature reserve with Chris and Hugh, and took a picnic of egg mayonnaise sandwiches, cheese straws (made by guess who!) and salad.  We went in Hugh’s land rover, and on the way he explained the corrugations phenomenon we had experienced on the road to Cape Maclear – apparently it’s something to do with lorries and stones, and the best way to drive on it is to find the speed at which you catch the resonance, and then effectively skim along on the top of the bumps, rather like aqua-planing!  It’s interesting to travel with a civil engineer for a change – you get a different perspective on life.

When we arrived I had my first experience of a pit latrine – a pretty civilised brick built one, but an experience nonetheless.  I have to say though, it beat a lot of Spanish and French hole in the floor loos I used in my youth in terms of cleanliness!

I walked back up to the car park, closely watched by about 3 Vervet monkeys, and we all set off (the people not the monkeys) up trail 2.  I would describe the terrain as rather like an English mixed woodland, but with all the undergrowth completely dried out, and the temperature at least 30 degrees.  In a similar way the mountains here remind me of Snowdon, but bigger and with heat.  No doubt some of the many geographers in my family will be able either to tell me why I feel like that, or that I’ve got it completely wrong!

The monkeys were the only animals we saw except for one small antelope, that legged it as soon as we came crashing along.  However, Hugh and Mari were in their element, stopping every few yards to peer through their binoculars and debate what species of bird was in the next tree, and even stopping to consult the book from time to time.  The sun grew hotter and hotter, and it was quite a relief to reach the picnic area, which was well-shaded.  There were quite a few Malawian families, also enjoying picnics and barbecues, and a park ranger, complete with rifle, who discussed hornbills with Hugh.

After lunch we finished off trails 1 and 2 (taking in the hornbills on the way) and met David, Giacomo and the others, heading up the trail with their picnic as we made our way back to the car park.

Once we got home, Mari and I had a swim, followed by another gin on the khonde with Chris, and dinner of cottage pie, cooked by Linda this time.

Zomba

Zomba struck me as one of the most pleasant towns we have been through in our travels – even the small houses looked more prosperous and cared-for, and everything was very green.  It used to be the capital of Malawi, and has many lovely old colonial buildings too.  It is dominated by the Zomba plateau, which rises up high above the town – already quite high above sea level – and has spectacular views from the top.

We stayed overnight in Annie’s Lodge, chosen partly for its name, and partly because someone Mari knew had stayed there and liked it.  The dinner and breakfast were good, and it was set in lovely gardens and a peaceful setting, but the family room we had, left a few things to be desired.  There were cupboard doors hanging from one hinge, the shower leaked, and then the tiles squelched when you walked across the floor, and the windows were so high up you couldn’t see anything out of them.  They also only gave us two clean towels between three of us, there was a cockroach in the corner, and the fan didn’t work!  All these things, and the fact the three of us were sharing a room, rather reminded me of going round Spain by Interrail in my 20s.  An extra towel, a can of Doom and a replacement fan dealt with most of the problems, and we spent a reasonable night.

Next morning, after breakfast, we set off up the mountain, along the winding dirt road to the Ku Chawe Lodge – a very posh hotel right next to the famous craft market.

Business was quiet in Zomba craft market till we arrived.  There are about 20 to 30 stalls, lining the road beside the hotels, and the stall holders hang around, some of them chatting, others carving things to sell.  As soon as we were out of the car they were upon us, encouraging us to come and look at what they had, and promising us “a very good discount”.

We had a lot of fun, walking up and down and working out what was there, exchanging banter with the stall holders, who were very good natured, and telling them all that we were looking now, and then going for a coffee at the hotel while we thought about what we wanted to buy.  We were in a  good position for bargaining, because Mari lives here and has shopped in Blantyre craft market, so she knew what we should be paying for most things.  This was a good tactic – “Pooh! I can get the same in Blantyre for X kwatcha” brought a smile and a more reasonable offer, or an invitation to “Tell me what you can afford to spend today”.  I also enjoyed walking away and listening to the price drop with every step.  We got some good bargains, and some lovely things to take back with us.

After coffee in the hotel we set off again, up the dirt road.  We stopped briefly at a waterfall, and then at a reservoir, with wonderful reflections in the water – it was a very peaceful place, as even the traders who usually make their way up there at weekends had not bothered on a Friday.  We hardly saw a soul.  We went on up to Queen’s view – apparently named for the Queen Mother, and then to Emperor’s view, where Haile Selassie spent some time meditating and praying in 1965.  The views were stunning, even though quite hazy.

Our plan was to make our way right round the dirt road which goes all the way round the edge of the plateau, and then drive back to Blantyre in time for dinner at 6.  Unfortunately we managed to take a wrong turn – in fact several wrong turns!  We went up a grass road at first, but soon decided this was not right, and turned round to go back to the junction.  Initially when we took the other road we thought it was correct, but soon the bracken shoots growing out of it made us doubtful.  We pressed on though, until we reached some rocks, and the road came to an abrupt end.  The problem was, there was nowhere to turn round a pick-up.  What now?

Lin managed to reverse pretty efficiently about half way back along, but then the road rose steeply, and the tyres had no grip in reverse on the sandy soil, so the wheels started to spin and dig themselves in.  We kept trying for a while, putting down sticks and grass from the side of the road to try to give more grip, and trying to stick to less soft parts of the road, but we were not able to make much headway.  So Lin and Mari went off to look for a place wide enough to turn the truck, and I sat in the cab, contemplating the prospect of being stuck all night on the Zomba plateau, with nothing but half a packet of Marie biscuits and a two litre bottle of water between three.  It was very peaceful up there – so peaceful that the chances of a passer-by to rescue us seemed remote, and the prospect of ringing the posh hotel and asking them to send out a rescue party, though embarrassing and probably expensive, seemed preferable  to a night on the mountain.

Lin and Mari came back and we agreed to give their place a try.  Lin had spent some time clearing some of the undergrowth beside the road, and we managed to get the pick-up about three quarters of the way round before the back wheel started spinning again, and we were stuck.  We used the rubber car mats to try to get more purchase, and moved a bit, but I think we were all feeling that daylight might run out before we managed to turn round.

Just then, round the bend, came an older man, walking with a stick, and carrying a panga – a kind of machete.  He greeted us in the usual Malawian way, we explained we were stuck, and he at once set to work with the panga, chopping down a small tree to clear more space and flattening out the bank in front of the pick-up.  He made quick work of it, and then helped push the truck until, at last, we had turned around.  It was such a relief!

We had to drive home much of the way in the dark, which we had hoped to avoid, as Malawian roads are full of potholes, and cyclists do not generally have lights, but we made it without further mishap, and appeared, rather late for dinner, and covered from head to foot in dust, with tidemarks where we had washed our hands.