Mantis 'n Mulanje

OK, so first of all, I have a winner to announce. As the new top photo can attest, the big insect on my wall was, in fact, a Praying Mantis. And yes, my sister Heather won the prize. Congratulations, Heat! The prize is to be announced, however. I have some things in mind, but I just need to figure out what will be most feasible to send from here. Luckily for Heather, not only do I know her identity and mailing address, I'm also headed to the post office to pick up a box tomorrow, so I should be able to get her prize out right away! Congratulations! In the end, I think only 3 people guessed, so maybe the turnout will be better next time. We shall see. Perhaps I can work in a contest once or twice a month, just to keep my readers faithful. Stay tuned for more details ;-)

So, as I mentioned, Carlos and I decided to take a weekend trip, since today is Mother's Day, so most of us lucky government employees are "on holiday" today. Carlos survived the night on my couch last week Monday, and has agreed to be my friend, and in this case, my travelling companion for the weekend. Just as a note to all of you who know my relationship status, Carlos is only a friend, so don't get any ideas. He is very much a gentleman, and also a great person to have around when traveling, since he's been in Africa for awhile, and "knows the ropes." It's also not a bad idea to travel with a man here, as women are much more likely to be attacked if traveling alone or with other women. Especially in light of the transportation issues we experienced, I was really glad to have him around.

Originally, we were hoping to trek down to Liwonde National Park in my "new" (1994) Toyota Carina, but alas, the car was not ready in the end. The latest expected arrival date is tomorrow (Tues. Oct. 9th)--it's now been delayed at least 4 times, I think (I lost count last week). I'm keeping my fingers crossed, though not expecting too much. Hopefully the car will make it this time, as I had to cancel my class last Friday, since the driver from Chancellor College didn't make it to pick me up that morning (as I think I mentioned in my last blog). In any case, by week's end, I should finally have my wheels, and will be able to make good on the promise of a "driving saga" (wrong side of car, wrong side of road, yadda yadda yadda)-- stay tuned!

Speaking of transportation woes, Carlos and I experienced many during our trip, many of which are chronicled in the new pictures of our journey posted at left. It's a good thing that Carlos has lived in Africa for several years as a volunteer (Ghana and Ethiopia), so he is relatively unphased by the transportation situation. I, on the other hand, though having travelled to many places in the world, have never experienced anything like what we experienced on this trip. As I mentioned in my entry on Friday, I had to take a minibus for the first time into Zomba. That day, I was meeting Carlos to plan our trip. I discovered on the relatively short trip from Domasi to Zomba that the minibus experience isn't so terrible between these two towns, as it's not so crowded (though maybe I just got lucky that day), and I actually got a seat in the front, which is a bonus. Not so on Saturday morning. The ride from Domasi to Zomba was a bit more full, but nothing like we'd experience for the rest of the trip.

After finding Carlos in Zomba, we boarded another minibus headed to a town called Limbe, about an hour away. We were among the first to board the bus, but of course we couldn't leave immediately, as the custom here is to fill the bus before departing. There are basically no schedules. They leave when the bus is full, and then try to pack more people in along the way. This is the main reason I've been avoiding riding these things ever since I got here (that and the fact that they like to fill the tank with the engine running... yes, they did that on the mini-bus from Limbe to Mulanje... I almost had a heart attack...).

So, in the end, we ended up waiting for a good hour before departing, all the while trying to fend off the persistent salesmen taking advantage of the captive passengers. We did end up buying some water, a coke, and melted ice cream which I ended up giving to a poor blind man asking me for money for food. He was all too happy to take the melted ice cream instead, and I was happy to give it to him. Now I know that when I see an ice cream cart here, I shouldn't actually expect it to have a refrigeration system... what was I thinking?

So, after we departed, the full (well, in my view packed) bus stopped a few more times to pack more people in. Not only that, but many people were carrying luggage and other assorted items. Carlos and I were not very smart, as we sat in the seat just behind the driver, at first not realizing that they also seat people on a bench right behind the driver, facing toward the seats we were in. I chose the seat because it was next to an open window. This is my requirement for the mini-bus, so I thought I'd be just fine there, as my main requirement is air. As long as I have air, I'll be o.k. Well, before we left, they filled that small bench with more people. However, it is not the kind of seating with space for legs like you see on trains in which people are facing each other. You are literally on top of the person across from you, and you have to negotiate the legroom. Add to that the fact that I had a bag full of stuff which I put on the floor, and managed to get my feet on top of it. Eventually, I lost circulation in my right foot. It was not a pretty sight. Let's just say I will not be sitting in that place ever again, if I can help it. (Well, if the car comes, I may be able to avoid all the seats on the mini-bus, but we shall see...)

Once we got to Limbe, we learned from that mistake, and took a spot further in the back of the bus, again next to a window (closed, but with an open window in the seat ahead of us). This time, the bus filled up quickly, so we also left quickly, which was good. However, this bus was a bit more crowded and much louder than the first bus. Everyone on this bus was talking, and loudly. Luckily, there were no screaming babies (amazingly, that's a rare occurrence here... happy people from birth, methinks). So, we were a bit more comfortable on that leg of the journey, though we did have to survive that gas stop (mentioned earlier).

So, eventually, we got to the hotel, very weary from all the mini-bus mayhem... My shorts were literally wet with sweat (a fact which Carlos nicely pointed out... I guess he has no sweat glands in that region of his body, as he seemed genuinely amazed at how much I had produced. Too much information? Sorry! -- this is becoming quite an issue for me though, as it's getting hotter and hotter, and no, there is not any A/C anywhere, including the mini-buses -- maybe the car?? we shall see...)

So, we got back to the hotel, found the room (with 2 beds... don't worry!) to be o.k.-- shower was pretty weak, and toilet needed 3 tries to flush, but overall not bad, as it only cost us about $14 U.S. per night... not bad!

Once we dumped our things, we went outside to find the restaurant, got a table/chairs set up outside so we could see the mountain (for about 10 minutes before the sun went down), and then had some food and a couple of beers. I ended up ordering Chambo (the most common fish here), but it wasn't the best choice as we were sitting in the dark, and I had to de-bone most of it. Other than that, it was an excellent meal at the end of the day, and I was starving!

While we were waiting for our food, a man came up to us and introduced himself as Stephen, letting us know that he was an experienced guide who could help us get to and up the mountain. I had read in my trusty guidebook that a trail guide is a necessity at Mulanje, as the trails are not very well-marked, and finding your way around can be treacherous or fatal on your own. So, after talking with him a bit and checking with the hotel manager in the morning, we decided to hire him. Of course, once we set off in the morning (about 8 a.m.-- yes, I'm becoming a morning girl!! After dinner and a couple of beers, I was out like a light before 9 p.m.!! Can you believe it? I can't...), we found that this isn't the kind of guide you expect in many places. He wasn't even carrying a backpack, never mind food, water, or any type of transportation. He brought only himself, and first walked us to the market to pick up some snacks to eat on the trail. We ended up buying some bananas, bread rolls, and water, for Stephen and ourselves. We wanted cheese, but as I've discovered, that is a precious and rare commodity here in Malawi.

After buying the food, Stephen told us we needed to go to the "transport area" to get a ride to the mountain. Because it was Sunday, he assured us that it would be difficult to find a bus, and that we may have to hire a private driver. We first tried the bus transport area, and of course there were no buses to the mountain (though, I must admit the place he took us was different from the place we found our minibus this morning... so, could be a "racket," most likely...) So, we ended up going to this other area that was rather desolate and found a guy with a very small pick-up truck to take us to the mountain. In the meantime, we also found a guy who was willing to lend us a backpack, as I didn't have mine because Deliwe mistakenly took it for an overnight with a friend of hers who was getting married on Saturday. So, when I was getting ready to pack on Saturday, there was no backpack. I had to use my trusty soft, expandable briefcase from China in order to pack my things. Though it's a great bag, it's not a great hiking bag. In any case, we borrowed the backpack, took a good look at this very questionable small white truck (see pic at left), and said, "well, what the Hell?"

The drive itself was relatively uneventful, except for the fact that Carlos and I decided to sit inside the cab (as recommended by the guide) instead of in the back of the truck. This ended up being a very bad idea for me, as I was in the middle, trying to keep my legs out of the way of the stick shift, and feeling extremely claustrophobic. Ya, even worse than the mini-bus. In the meantime, the driver was haggling out the window with the guide about the price (we agreed to 1,300 kwacha, but he wanted 1,500 kwacha-- a difference of about $1.40, which does go a long way here in comparison to back home). I was getting a bit nervous as he got more agitated, but luckily the road was relatively wide and not too steep or full of rocks, etc. (a veritable "highway" compared to the roads in Ethiopia, according to Carlos)--his driving was also marked by frequent engine shut-offs allowing him to coast downhill to save gas. In any case, we eventually got there, and the guide explained to us that he had to pay the driver the extra 200 kwacha in the end. I think he wanted us to help him out, but considering the conditions we'd just faced, we held onto our extra change.

We then headed up the trail, and from there it was very calm, peaceful, and enjoyable. My only true complaint was the heat. One reason we'd decided to go to Mulanje (which is the highest mountain in Malawi) was the hope that the higher altitude produced cooler temperatures than we experience in Domasi (where I live) and Zomba (where Carlos lives). However, we did find it to be almost as hot as our respective residences. After about 1.l5 hours of relatively steep uphill hiking, we were welcomed to the beautiful sight of a waterfall and large natural swimming pool... UGH! I forgot my swimsuit! After a bit of hemming and hawing (and Carlos' admission that he's not a fan of deep water), not to mention my shyness at the sight of many "Muzungus" in the area, we found some shallow pools which were devoid of people, and eased our way in... me in full clothing, him and Stephen without shirts (sucks to be female...). Stephen actually jumped right over the harrowing rocks, crossed the river, climbed up the other side, and jumped right in. He showed no fear. This experience reminded me a lot of a trip I took with my boyfriend in June to Sedona, AZ. Though the town itself didn't thrill me much, we had a great experience swimming in a natural pool there, where many people were scrambling up the rocks and jumping in. I never could get the courage up to do it back then or now, but it's a lot of fun watching other crazy people do it!

So, we found this small waterfall where we could dunk our heads in, get refreshed, and then hang out on the dry rocks. I forgot to mention that I'm not as good a rock scrambler as I used to be, so one reason we stayed where we were was my fear of climbing this particularly large boulder with a steep, straight face. I just stopped, took my shoes off, handed them to Stephen, and got in the water. Ya, I'm a big chicken in my old age.

So, after about an hour in and out of the water, and a lunch of bread, bananas, and water (mmm, scrumptious), we headed back down the trail. The trip back was also relatively uneventful, only marked by my continuously slow pace. I'm always bringing up the rear, and the boys were always way ahead of me. Sometimes they were out of sight, not even concerned about me, or waiting up for me. I guess this could've bothered me, but I tend to be a lone hiker generally anyway, so it was alright. Perhaps they got sick of my incessant rambling... No, couldn't be that. Carlos even took off with some random French Canadian woman who apparently had an argument with her husband (we saw them on the way up, and then once on the way down, and then suddenly she caught up to us coming down, not long after they'd passed us). I stayed with the guide, and Carlos and this woman hiked ahead of us, and eventually diverted off of the trail at one point, eventually finding us later. Hmmm... Carlos says it was all perfectly innocent. I'm sure it was ;-) Even though we were very close to the main road at the bottom, this just shows how important the guides are... there were many trail diversions, and it was extremely difficult to know which way to go.

So, eventually, we made it down the mountain, took a few pictures of the lovely scenery, including some wood thieves and lovely chalets(see at left),then it was time to find a ride back. Can you guess what time it was? Well, being that this is very much a morning/daytime culture, we were actually back by about 1 p.m. because Stephen was concerned about finding a ride before dark... remember, "dark" is at about 5:30-5:45 here. Pitch black starts at 6 p.m. It's like that all year round. I'm still getting used to it.

So, we walked down the road, through the village, actually found a small bottle store where we could replenish our water supply (which was in serious need of replenishing), and then found the "bus stop." HA! I thought Stephen was kidding, but that's really what it was (see pic. at left). It basically consisted of 2 dirt roads coming to a T-intersection, with a couple of small vegetable stands set up nearbye, and some people whose job it was to help hail down any random vehicle passing by (mostly trucks) and see if they'd let any human cargo on board. So, we planted ourselves near a tree and waited. It looked like we'd be waiting a very long time, so when Stephen said that these "truck hailers" could also fetch us beer from the bottle store for a small fee (basically the bottle deposit they collect when they return the bottles), we said, YeeHA! Let's get us some beers, eh? So, we sent the young man running for the bottles, and of course a couple of vehicles came right away... lucky for me, they weren't taking any human cargo (you know I grew up in Wisconsin right? I had to risk my life to wait for that bloody beer...).

Soon, the boy returned with our 3 beers, and we drank them happily (though Carlos complained that his wasn't cold enough... whatever!). Of course, I took about 2 or 3 swigs, and then it came. The big, white truck. Our salvation. We HAD to board, but my beer was 3/4 full! I couldn't just dump it carelessly the way Stephen and Carlos did! So, I handed the kid 200 kwacha for his trouble, kept my beer in hand, and went runnin for the truck. This was a huge pick-up truck, with about 10 people in the back and several bags of maize meal (the stuff they use to make the nSima flour). There were also a couple of bikes laying on top of the bags. I parked myself next to a guy holding his bike down. At first, I thought I could stand, but then I noticed that I was only about a foot from the back of this truck, which had no back... no tailgate thingy... what do you call those? The part that holds everything in on the back of a pick-up truck. It didn't have one, so there was about a foot between me and most certain death and/or dismemberment. I decided to crouch down, and hang onto this guy's bike with one hand, and then grab the (very hot metal) side of the truck with the other hand. Ya, it was harrowing. Ya, it was nuts. Ya, it was Malawi. And ya, I missed the mini-buses.

Eventually we stopped and the guys unloaded the maize meal. By this time, I'd given up on the beer, as I tried to take a couple of swigs after we departed, and almost knocked my two front teeth out due to the constant bouncing on boulders, holes, and whatever else was in the road. After the maize was gone, I moved to the other side, next to Carlos, and was "sitting pretty" on the bottom of the truck bed, feeling a bit more secure, though by this time covered in red dust and feeling like an egg in a frying pan. I managed to get a couple more photos of the view from the truck (see at left), and was ready to call it a day.

We soon made it back to town, and Stephen jumped very easily from the vehicle. Carlos, trying to follow his lead, also made the leap of faith, but unfortunately got it shirt stuck on a piece of metal sticking up from the truck bed. Though this looked really funny at the time (and I think I laughed out loud), it caused him to lose his footing and he landed on his right foot strangely, and ended up spraining it pretty badly. Needless to say, he was not a happy camper after that. He had to walk very slowly back to the hotel (about a mile or so away from the drop-off point). Though it was a long walk, it was a pretty one, so I took a few more pictures while helping Carlos along (see at left.)

Once we got back to the hotel, I took out my trusty trail first-aid kid (thanks to Eastern Mtn. Sports in Ithaca, NY) which we luckily didn't need in AZ in June, but this time it came in handy. After trying to wrap Carlos' foot and almost cutting off his circulation, we decided that what he needed was ice, elevation, and beer. Thank God for all those years of running cross country and track in high school in Wisconsin (no, I didn't use the 'beer therapy' until college, don't worry-- I was such a nerd in High School!). I knew about the ice and elevation from all of my ankle sprains suffered as a result of a combination of clumsiness and narrow (i.e. weak) ankles. So, that's what we did. I went to get some ice from the restaurant, some beer from the bar, and Carlos felt much better after about 3 beers and a bit of ibuprofen from the first aid kit. We also made use of the medical tape, which we used to strap the ice onto his foot. I think I've missed my calling. I should definitely have gone to nursing school. Hmmm...

Eventually, Carlos was feeling well enough to hobble over to the motel next door to get some food and a bit more therapy. This time, we topped off the beer with a couple of gin and tonics, featuring the fabulous Malawi Gin. That really killed the pain for Carlos, luckily not leaving either of us with a hangover this morning, amazingly. I love this gin. This gin is dangerous. I should be careful around this gin. I should give it all away. To the next lucky winner!

So, that about ends the saga of Mount Mulanje. We returned today in relative comfort, actually getting a front seat on the mini-bus to Limbe, and then a ride from Carlos' country rep for his volunteer organization (IFESH) in a fancy big pick-up truck with air-conditioning, so it was like being in a completely different world. We made it back comfortably and safely, and I even got dropped off right at my house in Domasi. Wow. What a ride.

OK, I'm done for now. Tiwonana Mawa!