My journey started with a few days in Lilongwe, capital of Malawi since 1974, a hot and dusty city with a bustling marketplace, heaps of NGOs and government buildings, and a muddy river running through the middle. I stayed with Undule Mwakasunguru, director of the
Centre for Human Rights and Rehabilitation and a colleague of Dr. Bob's.
The bus trip to Lilongwe, like the dozens of trips that would follow it, involved periodic stops where a handful of local merchants, each selling the same product, jostle for window space and the prospect of making a sale. For an entire day on Mozambican buses, for instance, I survived quite comfortably on freshly roasted cashew nuts and pineapples – purchased from my bus seat.
I managed to squeeze in one day on the shores of Lake Malawi, a vast and beautiful lake spanning much of Malawi's eastern border. Its abundant fish supplies provide most Malawians with their protein of choice. Some of these fish also happen to be colourful and exotic, drawing large crowds of Western scuba divers and snorkellers. I enjoyed an afternoon of solo kayaking along the coast.
You can't drive five minutes in Malawi without passing a field of maize – a less sweet, tougher variation of North American corn. This type of maize can be found throughout Africa, but in Malawi it's rare to find anything else. I met an American researcher looking into agricultural policy and ways to diversify Malawian farming. To date, the entire agricultural sector revolves around maize, which is used to make
nsima, the country's staple starch.
The town at the base of
Mt. Mulanje, the glorious mountain range where I spent Christmas. For four days, I hiked between quaint colonial mountain huts, some more than a hundred years old, with Nathan – a MAC intern working in Inhambane, Mozambique (
his blog is full of great photos) – and Maureen, an Australian volunteer.
This waterfall is one of the dozens – hundreds – we encountered during our hike. Swimming in mountain streams and drinking ice-cold mountain water were two highlights. This stream happens to be where we spent Christmas Eve – if you look closely, you can see our hut poking above the trees.
A dramatic (and shamelessly staged) picture of me looking into the sunset on Christmas Eve, deep in contemplation and natural-world awe.
This is the best I could do to capture the steepness of our Christmas morning ascent up Sapitwa, the range's highest peak at 3,000 metres. It was an arduous and entirely rewarding climb, although the descent was decidedly less enjoyable. After dense, dark grey rain clouds ambushed us seemingly from nowhere – the weather formations were spectacular – the ensuing rain made the rocks slippery and we resorted to sitting down on our backsides, edging inch by inch down the mountain.
Again, the weather formations. The clouds rolling through this valley, as dusk approached on Christmas day, created a continuous stream of National Geographic scenes. This is the silhouette of a solitary cedar, one of the few cedars to have been spared by rampant legal, then illegal, deforestation on the mountain.
Logging continues unabated, with these superhuman transporters hustling up and down the mountain with pounds of pine and other wood on their heads. Watching them negotiate the steeper inclines is something else. (Thanks to
Nathan for this photo.)
Christmas on the mountain! With Nathan, Maureen, and two lovely couples who happened also to arrive at Chembe Hut, Mt. Mulanje, in the afternoon of December 25th. A Christmas I won't forget. After leaving the mountain, I spent another couple days in southern Malawi, visited the colonial capital Zomba, then took off for the Mozambique border. Tomorrow, ten (or eleven) pictures from Mozambique...
This photo, of me atop Mt. Kenya's Point Lenana, has no relation to the above comments. I thought it might help to reflexively spark interest in my blog, which has nothing to do with Mt. Kenya or hiking.
