Lilongwe Malawi: Meet Davie Msusa, a 25 year old hawker in the "people's market." As I approached him he briefly moved his hand down to cover his crotch which prompted me later in our protracted conversation to ask the meaning of commonly seen gesture. "It is just something men sometimes do to cover a slight sense of embarrassment... a holdover from days when many people wore little or no clothes. It is a polite cultural thing with no real significance these days when everybody does wear clothes."

Hello from tiny-hidden Malawi in the heart of Africa,

I just found this postcard under some dirty clothes in the bottom of my backpack, all stamped and ready to mail. So, off it goes almost two months since I left Malawi. Please excuse the stale smell. 20 Oct 2001 FB

With (First World) South Africa behind me, I once again feel like I am in the "real" Africa. I had planned to take buses north, but I finally got tired of trying to work out the logistics and booked a flight out of Johannesburg to Lilongwe Malawi with what should have been a brief stopover in Blantyre.  Malawi Airline for reasons mysterious rescheduled the flight. There I sat stuck in Blantyre an extra four hours along with a couple other stranded passengers like Rob. Rob turned out to know a lot about Lilongwe and briefed me on what I would find there. He also volunteered to have his driver drop me at his hotel when we arrived. By the time we landed in Lilongwe the sun had already begun its disappearing act.

Rob's hotel, the Meridian wanted $150 per night and recovering from my disappointment took off walking in the dusk looking for a cheaper alternative. I walked the last 30 minutes in the dark with a teenage stranger "going my way" who spoke passing English. For 20 minutes he assured me we would soon arrive at a "nice" motel. As we passed fewer and fewer signs of habitation I questioned my sanity and became wary of my young companion. Sensing my nervousness he kept insisting that we were quite safe in the dark along this highway where an occasional passing car would light our way for a few seconds every now and then. Eventually we did reach a motel compound and I settled for the best room in the place despite the fact it easily made my worst hotels of Africa list: no shower, bare rough brick walls, un-stretched indoor-outdoor carpet, no TV, sagging twin bed, and miles from any other civilization. For that I paid about $54, outrageous!

The next morning I ate my toast, nibbled the over cooked egg, drank my instant coffee and walked the 5km to town where I found a delightful place called the Korea Garden Lodge at $44 per night.

Lilongwe is the capital of Malawi, but for some reason they built all the new government buildings in an area about ten kilometers removed from the real city (which they now call Old Town). The old town seems to cater to foreign tourists; lots of locals selling handcrafts on the streets.

A creek separates the old town from the real old town where the people's market is located. While wandering the market I again noticed a guy cover his groin when we made eye contact. I stopped to talk with Davie Msosa about the market and eventually got around to asking him about the crotch-covering move. "It is just a modesty gesture to cover slight embarrassment, a holdover from days when men wore little or no clothing in public," he told me.

I checked on Internet access and decided $15 to $20 per hour made it rather expensive entertainment. A brand new Shop Rite super market opened two days after I arrived. The place hosted mobs of shoppers suggesting a huge previously unmet pent up demand. No small wonder as I could find no other modern stores anywhere in the city.

One day while having lunch in the cafe favored by foreign tourists I met Mikako Mori, a 28 year old Japanese "Peace Corps" volunteer teaching science in a small town some distance from Lilongwe. She says teachers employed by the government make $30/mo to start and career teachers might eventually get raised up to $100/mo tops. The wages of unskilled labor might be $30/mo or about a dollar a day! My $5 lunch would cost nearly a week's pay at that rate.

Peace,

Fred Bellomy 23 August 2001

Mzuzu Malawi: Some of the mini-buses plying the roads.

Peace,

Malawi: A group of school children ran out to watch the bus and its passengers when we were forced to make an unscheduled stop on the run from Mzuzu to Karonga Malawi. They spent most of their time looking and waving at the rare white "muzungu."

The next morning I grabbed the first bus leaving for the northern most town in Malawi, Karonga. What a mistake that turned out to be. Three hours into the ten-hour trip our bus experienced engine trouble and we pulled over to the side of the road near a remote boarding school to wait for help. There we sat for nine hours being told every hour or so that we soon would be rescued. Finally, at 21:30 another bus arrived to take us the rest of the way. We arrived at 03:00 far from any habitation. I demanded they take me to a good hotel.

After much shouting, yelling and screaming they provided a "guard" to would walk me about 5km to the "best lodge in the town." He carried a baseball sized rock for our protection. In pitch dark and unable to see the ground, carrying my 20kgm backpack with no idea where we were, we finally arrived at the lodge only to discover it fully booked... or so the sleepy guard said. So, on we walked to an alternative suggested by the guard, a compound surrounded by an eight foot high wooden fence. This second place had room and by now I felt ready to take anything offered at whatever rate asked. My room featured a rustic iron spring bed complete with mosquito net, a toilet with a showerhead over it, cold running water, no toilet paper and one bare light bulb. For this they demanded the outrageous room rate of $6! The next morning I ate my included prison breakfast of toast and instant coffee and headed off in the direction of town in search of more transportation north.

The central bus area had the usual mob of touts all wanting me to use their company's vehicle. I looked them all over and finally settled on one of the newer buses, again buying two seats for comfort and safety. A young Malawian girl served as conductor and spoke understandable, if limited English. Soon underway I immediately noticed we were in for a very dusty ride. This time I remembered the large clear laundry bag stuffed in my backpack and pulled it out. Experience told me that without protection my still new looking soft luggage would be quickly covered with tenacious red micro-dust. An earlier test had established that the laundry bag would just fit snugly over my backpack. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten the test had been conducted before my now budging bag had been fully packed. With unflinching determination I struggled with the laundry bag, inching the clear plastic down over the upright blue backpack, tugging and pulling to stretch the protective layer slowly to the bottom. The bus had become strangely quiet as I worked to solve my little problem. In a matter-of-fact voice, the man sitting directly across the isle from me said something in Nyakyusa-Ngonde, the local language. Instantly, everyone in the bus burst into fits of laughter. Puzzled, I asked the conductor what the guy had said. Blushing slightly she replied "He says he thinks you need a bigger condom..."

The ride to the Tanzania border took less than an hour and the crossing posed no problem on the Malawian side. On the other side however, another surprise awaited. 

Peace,

Fred Bellomy 27 August 2001