In Mbeya
Stayed in Mbeya in order to accomplish some errands. My only bike riding was riding around Mbeya and back and forth to my lodge. The errands included:
1.) Get a new tire for my bike (as the ones that had been sent from the U.S. had been donated to TDA, because we couldn't find them on top of the truck when I left in Lilongwe) - tick!
2.) Do some internetting and blogging - tick!
3.) Make my phone work so that I can make phone calls, as I'm supposed to be able to do within East Africa - NOT tick!
However, while spending hours in the vodocom (Tanzanian telephone network) shop, trying to get my phone sorted, I did become friendly with the fellow who was trying to help. A loudspeaker on a truck kept going by outside, advertising oldies music at the Mbeya Hotel for the next night (Saturday). I asked him if he was planning to go and he said "yes". I said that I'd really like to leave the next day, but that if he insists on not getting my phone to work, then I may have to stay, in which case we may see each other at the dance place.
By the end of the day, my phone was not working properly.
-------------------- TODAY ---------------- TOTAL
Cycled ------------- 12 km (8 mi) ----------- 4,798 km (3,004 mi)
Lift ------------------ 0 --------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total -------------- 12 km (8 mi) ------------ 7,458 km (4,772 mi)
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, 26th April 2007
To: Mbeya
The first 18 km or so were much more downhill than up, so lots of fun riding. Started at an elevation of 5,000 feet in Tukuyu and dropped to 4,300 feet ... before seeing a sign that said "Alert! Road ascends for next 8 km!" I ascended for 1 or 2 km, and then the rain started. This time, I was not lucky enough to be near a town, but there was a house with a woodpile and a covering over the wood pile. Dashed in and sat on some wood! Only sat on that wood about 1 minute, however, before the owner of the house came out and invited me in. O.k.! This wood's not all that comfortable anyway (not that I was complaining). The people in the house were friendly and invited me into their living room. We talked a bit about the unemployment problem in Tanzania, but they didn't speak very good English, they spoke Swahili which I don't know, so conversation was limited.
When the rain stopped, I went back outside to continue my 8 km climb (or so I thought). I was doing some mental math and thinking that by the end of the 8 km, I'd probably be at the point where I would descend nicely all the rest of the way to Mbeya.
And then. Hahaha! Cruel joke alert! When we were coming the other way, don't I remember Jack telling us that we'd start off from Mbeya with a 25 km climb? O.k., so being the bright one that I am, I managed to put that in reverse and figure I'd end the day with a 25 km what? ... DESCENT! Well, the nice little 8 km climb turned into a 9 km climb and then a 10 km climb, and then eventually I stopped counting every km, but I did get very very tired. In fact, when I finally actually was towards the top, I came upon a group of women carrying wood on their heads and walking. I passed them. But at that point, I'd taken to stopping every 1/2 km to rest because I was very tired and it was steep and I was in granny geer and I was carrying a heavy load. So, every time I rested, they'd pass me. Then, I'd start up again and pass them. We started smiling at each other each time, but I was getting more and more tired and wondering "WHEN do I get to start my 25 km descent?" and smiling took energy.
Eventually, I passed another cyclist, who was walking his bike. But then, when I stopped to rest, he passed me again. He said, "Don't worry, you're almost there. Just 2 more turns." That gave me hope, but I still had to rest one more time before finishing those 2 turns.
I want to say, for the record, that the 25 km climb out of Mbeya that Jack had announced 1 month earlier in a rider meeting? It was 16 km, not 25. For those of you reading this, you may think, what difference does it make? 16, 25 - aren't they almost the same? NO, climbing another 9 km past the point where you thought you were going to start whooping and hollering - that is a cruel joke. I climbed to a total elevation of 7,500 feet before starting to descend. But then ... yeeeee haaaawwww! It was so much fun! Just cruised into Mbeya! By the time I got there, I wasn't even tired any more, just exhilerated!
Stayed at a place called the "Royal Zambezi", chosen because of its bar that includes 2 busy pool tables. Met George and his friend. George was staying at the same lodge, and I met him when I was checking in and asking the receptionist where the remote control for my t.v. was. Just as we were having this discussion about how I want my remote control, in walked George. He was nice, so we decided to go have dinner together down at the bar with the pool tables. Turned into a night of pool playing with George and others - fun. (Though I never did get my remote control.)
------------------- TODAY -------------- TOTAL
Cycled ------------ 71 km (44 mi) -------- 4,786 km (2,996 mi)
Lift ----------------- 0 -------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total -------------- 71 km (44 mi) -------- 7,446 km (4,764 mi)
In Saddle --------- 6 hours 18 min -------- 322 hours 14 min
Ascended --------- 3,006 feet ------------- 88,221 feet
The first 18 km or so were much more downhill than up, so lots of fun riding. Started at an elevation of 5,000 feet in Tukuyu and dropped to 4,300 feet ... before seeing a sign that said "Alert! Road ascends for next 8 km!" I ascended for 1 or 2 km, and then the rain started. This time, I was not lucky enough to be near a town, but there was a house with a woodpile and a covering over the wood pile. Dashed in and sat on some wood! Only sat on that wood about 1 minute, however, before the owner of the house came out and invited me in. O.k.! This wood's not all that comfortable anyway (not that I was complaining). The people in the house were friendly and invited me into their living room. We talked a bit about the unemployment problem in Tanzania, but they didn't speak very good English, they spoke Swahili which I don't know, so conversation was limited.
When the rain stopped, I went back outside to continue my 8 km climb (or so I thought). I was doing some mental math and thinking that by the end of the 8 km, I'd probably be at the point where I would descend nicely all the rest of the way to Mbeya.
And then. Hahaha! Cruel joke alert! When we were coming the other way, don't I remember Jack telling us that we'd start off from Mbeya with a 25 km climb? O.k., so being the bright one that I am, I managed to put that in reverse and figure I'd end the day with a 25 km what? ... DESCENT! Well, the nice little 8 km climb turned into a 9 km climb and then a 10 km climb, and then eventually I stopped counting every km, but I did get very very tired. In fact, when I finally actually was towards the top, I came upon a group of women carrying wood on their heads and walking. I passed them. But at that point, I'd taken to stopping every 1/2 km to rest because I was very tired and it was steep and I was in granny geer and I was carrying a heavy load. So, every time I rested, they'd pass me. Then, I'd start up again and pass them. We started smiling at each other each time, but I was getting more and more tired and wondering "WHEN do I get to start my 25 km descent?" and smiling took energy.
Eventually, I passed another cyclist, who was walking his bike. But then, when I stopped to rest, he passed me again. He said, "Don't worry, you're almost there. Just 2 more turns." That gave me hope, but I still had to rest one more time before finishing those 2 turns.
I want to say, for the record, that the 25 km climb out of Mbeya that Jack had announced 1 month earlier in a rider meeting? It was 16 km, not 25. For those of you reading this, you may think, what difference does it make? 16, 25 - aren't they almost the same? NO, climbing another 9 km past the point where you thought you were going to start whooping and hollering - that is a cruel joke. I climbed to a total elevation of 7,500 feet before starting to descend. But then ... yeeeee haaaawwww! It was so much fun! Just cruised into Mbeya! By the time I got there, I wasn't even tired any more, just exhilerated!
Stayed at a place called the "Royal Zambezi", chosen because of its bar that includes 2 busy pool tables. Met George and his friend. George was staying at the same lodge, and I met him when I was checking in and asking the receptionist where the remote control for my t.v. was. Just as we were having this discussion about how I want my remote control, in walked George. He was nice, so we decided to go have dinner together down at the bar with the pool tables. Turned into a night of pool playing with George and others - fun. (Though I never did get my remote control.)
------------------- TODAY -------------- TOTAL
Cycled ------------ 71 km (44 mi) -------- 4,786 km (2,996 mi)
Lift ----------------- 0 -------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total -------------- 71 km (44 mi) -------- 7,446 km (4,764 mi)
In Saddle --------- 6 hours 18 min -------- 322 hours 14 min
Ascended --------- 3,006 feet ------------- 88,221 feet
Wednesday, 25th April 2007
To: Tukuyu
If any of my old TDA friends are reading this, they may remember the fun riding day from Mbeya to just past the Malawian border. Remember all that downhill cruising?
So, here I was, going the other direction. It's o.k., since I'd been stressed out about getting to the border on time the first time, so I hadn't even ridden - I'd taken a bus. Now, here I was, riding it, but in the opposite direction! Let's just say that there was a lot of climbing. Climbed, all day long, and made it half-way to Mbeya. Slept at the wonderful Landmark Hotel in Tukuyu, and had fun chatting with some people over at a recommended nightclub, about 200 meters from the hotel.
But I'll start from the beginning. I woke up early and went to the border and discovered that the man at the Malawi exit control knew me and I knew him. How? He'd been playing pool with me last night! So, we chatted a bit and he waved me through and told me he hoped I'd come back soon.
Then ... climb, climb, climb ... no reprieve ... until ... the pig place! I don't even know what the
name of this little village was, but I pulled over when I saw activity and pulled into this ... place. I don't even know how to describe it, so I'll post 2 pictures that I hope will help. Let's just say that I knew very few people who would actually dare to eat at this place. But took a seat on a little bench with a wobbly table of sorts, ordered a soda and some pig and had a grand ol' time. I love street food and I think I'm 
lucky because my stomach is a bit tough, so I rarely get sick. I think it might stem from my mom's motto when we were young and camping that "a little dirt or ashes in the stew is good for you, so don't complain." It is good for you! It toughens up your stomach! Haha.
So, well, I ordered some pig and they wacked it off the hog (shown in photos) and grilled it. Mmmm, delicious! I shared some with the lady in this second photo, and the boy in the photo is a secondary student who asked me to send him his picture, so I'll have to try to do that.
After 30 or 45 minutes, however, alas, I moved on. Climbed and climbed, slowly, until it started to drizzle and then started to rain fairly hard ... just as I was lucky enough to be entering the town limits of the town of Shirika! I darted my eyes around quickly, trying to see a nice little place to go hole up for a bit and wait for the rain to stop. But as I was darting my eyes, the rain started coming down harder, so I finally just dashed over to a bench on a porch, outside a teansy little shop. It wasn't the greatest spot to hole up, but it was dry because of the overhang. It soon became very crowded on my little bench as others had the same idea of sitting there to get out of the rain. That was o.k. We all had a common purpose and there was a feeling of comraderie as we tried to stay dry. Eventually, the rain let up a
bit, and some people started wandering back out. That's when I took this photo, looking out from my little spot in front of the shop - in Shirika.
When I thought the rain may have stopped long enough for me to make it to Tukuyu, I took off. Only rode about 1/2 km, however, and was only on the outskirts of town, when it started raining again. Determined not to ride in the rain, I pulled over, this time at a nice place with tables and chairs. Stayed there for a good 2 hours, and was making jokes with the other customers that I was NOT going out in that rain! If it didn't stop raining, well then, I'd just sleep right there! (There was a lodge attached to the place where I had now taken refuge.)
About 5:30, it did stop raining, so I left. Only had about 10 km to go to get to Tukuyu, but those 10 km took me nearly an hour - climbed. In fact, I don't think it was ever flat or downhill the entire day. (O.k., it may have been flat as I rode through Shirika.)
Got to Tukuyu and went to the Landmark Hotel, which had been recommended to me. It was quite nice and cost 20,000 shillings (about $18). In the evening, wandered over to a nearby nightclub and chatted with some local people, which was fun.
------------------- TODAY --------------- TOTAL
Cycled ------------ 47 km (29 mi) --------- 4,715 km (2,952 mi)
Lift ---------------- 0 ---------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total -------------- 47 km (29 mi) --------- 7,375 km (4,720 mi)
In Saddle ---------- 5 hours 15 min -------- 315 hours 56 min
Ascended ---------- 3,113 feet ------------- 85,215 feet
If any of my old TDA friends are reading this, they may remember the fun riding day from Mbeya to just past the Malawian border. Remember all that downhill cruising?
So, here I was, going the other direction. It's o.k., since I'd been stressed out about getting to the border on time the first time, so I hadn't even ridden - I'd taken a bus. Now, here I was, riding it, but in the opposite direction! Let's just say that there was a lot of climbing. Climbed, all day long, and made it half-way to Mbeya. Slept at the wonderful Landmark Hotel in Tukuyu, and had fun chatting with some people over at a recommended nightclub, about 200 meters from the hotel.
But I'll start from the beginning. I woke up early and went to the border and discovered that the man at the Malawi exit control knew me and I knew him. How? He'd been playing pool with me last night! So, we chatted a bit and he waved me through and told me he hoped I'd come back soon.
Then ... climb, climb, climb ... no reprieve ... until ... the pig place! I don't even know what the
name of this little village was, but I pulled over when I saw activity and pulled into this ... place. I don't even know how to describe it, so I'll post 2 pictures that I hope will help. Let's just say that I knew very few people who would actually dare to eat at this place. But took a seat on a little bench with a wobbly table of sorts, ordered a soda and some pig and had a grand ol' time. I love street food and I think I'm 
lucky because my stomach is a bit tough, so I rarely get sick. I think it might stem from my mom's motto when we were young and camping that "a little dirt or ashes in the stew is good for you, so don't complain." It is good for you! It toughens up your stomach! Haha.So, well, I ordered some pig and they wacked it off the hog (shown in photos) and grilled it. Mmmm, delicious! I shared some with the lady in this second photo, and the boy in the photo is a secondary student who asked me to send him his picture, so I'll have to try to do that.
After 30 or 45 minutes, however, alas, I moved on. Climbed and climbed, slowly, until it started to drizzle and then started to rain fairly hard ... just as I was lucky enough to be entering the town limits of the town of Shirika! I darted my eyes around quickly, trying to see a nice little place to go hole up for a bit and wait for the rain to stop. But as I was darting my eyes, the rain started coming down harder, so I finally just dashed over to a bench on a porch, outside a teansy little shop. It wasn't the greatest spot to hole up, but it was dry because of the overhang. It soon became very crowded on my little bench as others had the same idea of sitting there to get out of the rain. That was o.k. We all had a common purpose and there was a feeling of comraderie as we tried to stay dry. Eventually, the rain let up a
bit, and some people started wandering back out. That's when I took this photo, looking out from my little spot in front of the shop - in Shirika.When I thought the rain may have stopped long enough for me to make it to Tukuyu, I took off. Only rode about 1/2 km, however, and was only on the outskirts of town, when it started raining again. Determined not to ride in the rain, I pulled over, this time at a nice place with tables and chairs. Stayed there for a good 2 hours, and was making jokes with the other customers that I was NOT going out in that rain! If it didn't stop raining, well then, I'd just sleep right there! (There was a lodge attached to the place where I had now taken refuge.)
About 5:30, it did stop raining, so I left. Only had about 10 km to go to get to Tukuyu, but those 10 km took me nearly an hour - climbed. In fact, I don't think it was ever flat or downhill the entire day. (O.k., it may have been flat as I rode through Shirika.)
Got to Tukuyu and went to the Landmark Hotel, which had been recommended to me. It was quite nice and cost 20,000 shillings (about $18). In the evening, wandered over to a nearby nightclub and chatted with some local people, which was fun.
------------------- TODAY --------------- TOTAL
Cycled ------------ 47 km (29 mi) --------- 4,715 km (2,952 mi)
Lift ---------------- 0 ---------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total -------------- 47 km (29 mi) --------- 7,375 km (4,720 mi)
In Saddle ---------- 5 hours 15 min -------- 315 hours 56 min
Ascended ---------- 3,113 feet ------------- 85,215 feet
Tuesday, 24th April 2007
To: Songwe (Tanzanian Border)
Made some good riding progress today. Was very easy riding, almost completely flat, and, once again, beautiful. MALAWI IS BEAUTIFUL, north to south!
Almost only made it to yet another beautiful beachside resort, just 5 km past Karonga, today. Stopped there for a soda break and almost stayed, just like yesterday. However, after 2 hours of beauty and bliss, plus a nice chambo lunch, decided to move on.
Just as I was nearing the Tanzanian Border, it started to rain. Rain? What's that? It occurred to me how lucky I've been. Have not gotten seriously wet yet, on this entire trip. Managed to escape wetness today as well. It drizzled for about 10 minutes, then, when I was *almost there!* (maybe 500 meters to go), it started raining a bit more heavily, but within 2 minutes, I had zipped into my guesthouse-by-the-border for the night and put my bike under shelter. Phew! Avoided the rain again!
Enjoyed a wonderful evening of pool playing and chatting with my old friends of a month ago. I had stopped at this exact same place when arriving in Malawi with the TDA gang a month ago. I recognized some of the young fellows who were there, and they all asked me, "How was Malawi? How was Lilongwe? How was Thyolo?" because they'd remembered that I'd said I was going to those places. Also, the time before when I'd stopped there, I'd been in such a jubilant mood for reaching Malawi, that I'd bought a big plate of roasted meat and shared it around with everybody. They couldn't forget that. (I didn't repeat the same this time, but that's o.k.)
At one point, however, I got hungry and the little guest house where I was staying didn't have a restaurant, so somebody took me to the market to find food. When he suggested taking me to the market, I said, "What market?" He pointed toward the border, but I remembered coming through there with the gang a month ago, and there was no market there. He said, "It's behind."
Guess what?! There is a HUGE market, off to the right, as you pass through the border, coming from Tanzania toward Malawi. I mean HUGE! Completely hidden, you'd never know it was there if somebody didn't show you. Furthermore, once you go in there, border crossing is completely free and people are walking back and forth from Tanzania to Malawi, unimpeded. When my companion and I got close to going "behind" to where the market is, however, an official stopped us and asked about me. My companion told him that we were just going to the market. So he waved us through. At that point, I could have just slipped easily into Tanzania, no hassles. But I didn't. The next morning, I went through all the right channels, bought my visa, etc. Felt like a goodie-two-shoes.
Fun evening, revisiting with these young fellows whom I'd sort of "celebrated" with when I first entered Malawi.
------------------ TODAY -------------- TOTAL
Cycled ----------- 89 km (55 mi) -------- 4,668 km (2,923 mi)
Lift --------------- 0 --------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total ------------- 89 km (55 mi) -------- 7,328 km (4,691 mi)
In Saddle --------- 5 hours 31 min ------- 310 hours 41 min
Ascended --------- 543 feet -------------- 82,102 feet
Made some good riding progress today. Was very easy riding, almost completely flat, and, once again, beautiful. MALAWI IS BEAUTIFUL, north to south!
Almost only made it to yet another beautiful beachside resort, just 5 km past Karonga, today. Stopped there for a soda break and almost stayed, just like yesterday. However, after 2 hours of beauty and bliss, plus a nice chambo lunch, decided to move on.
Just as I was nearing the Tanzanian Border, it started to rain. Rain? What's that? It occurred to me how lucky I've been. Have not gotten seriously wet yet, on this entire trip. Managed to escape wetness today as well. It drizzled for about 10 minutes, then, when I was *almost there!* (maybe 500 meters to go), it started raining a bit more heavily, but within 2 minutes, I had zipped into my guesthouse-by-the-border for the night and put my bike under shelter. Phew! Avoided the rain again!
Enjoyed a wonderful evening of pool playing and chatting with my old friends of a month ago. I had stopped at this exact same place when arriving in Malawi with the TDA gang a month ago. I recognized some of the young fellows who were there, and they all asked me, "How was Malawi? How was Lilongwe? How was Thyolo?" because they'd remembered that I'd said I was going to those places. Also, the time before when I'd stopped there, I'd been in such a jubilant mood for reaching Malawi, that I'd bought a big plate of roasted meat and shared it around with everybody. They couldn't forget that. (I didn't repeat the same this time, but that's o.k.)
At one point, however, I got hungry and the little guest house where I was staying didn't have a restaurant, so somebody took me to the market to find food. When he suggested taking me to the market, I said, "What market?" He pointed toward the border, but I remembered coming through there with the gang a month ago, and there was no market there. He said, "It's behind."
Guess what?! There is a HUGE market, off to the right, as you pass through the border, coming from Tanzania toward Malawi. I mean HUGE! Completely hidden, you'd never know it was there if somebody didn't show you. Furthermore, once you go in there, border crossing is completely free and people are walking back and forth from Tanzania to Malawi, unimpeded. When my companion and I got close to going "behind" to where the market is, however, an official stopped us and asked about me. My companion told him that we were just going to the market. So he waved us through. At that point, I could have just slipped easily into Tanzania, no hassles. But I didn't. The next morning, I went through all the right channels, bought my visa, etc. Felt like a goodie-two-shoes.
Fun evening, revisiting with these young fellows whom I'd sort of "celebrated" with when I first entered Malawi.
------------------ TODAY -------------- TOTAL
Cycled ----------- 89 km (55 mi) -------- 4,668 km (2,923 mi)
Lift --------------- 0 --------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total ------------- 89 km (55 mi) -------- 7,328 km (4,691 mi)
In Saddle --------- 5 hours 31 min ------- 310 hours 41 min
Ascended --------- 543 feet -------------- 82,102 feet
Monday, 23rd April 2007
To: Ngala
Heading north, toward Tanzania, then Uganda. The next couple of days will be familiar territory, as we rode this same section going south, with the TDA gang!
Absolutely lovely day. Felt great to be on the bike. BUT, don't know how I'm supposed to go as far as I'm planning when there are so many great places to stop! Stopping at all the spots that we had to whizz past on our way down.
Planned to sleep in Karonga, but ended up sleeping at the marvelous Ngala Resort instead, on the lake. O.k., "resort" may be an exaggeration (though that is what they call themselves), but the $10 chalet rooms with stone showers sure were wonderful. I stopped at Ngala in the late morning, just for a soda break. I remembered going past here, on the way south, I was riding with Rachel at the time. We'd seen the sign that said "Ngala Resort" and I'd said "Hey! Resort!" but we'd both laughed because we'd only gone about 3 km since lunch at that time. 
So, we'd ridden on by without going in. Boy, did we miss something! This place is heaven on earth! Peaceful, serene, right on the beach, with a neat outdoor bar. This photo here was taken, looking out from the bar.
So, we'd ridden on by without going in. Boy, did we miss something! This place is heaven on earth! Peaceful, serene, right on the beach, with a neat outdoor bar. This photo here was taken, looking out from the bar. I planned to just sit and relax for an hour and then proceed. But one hour led to another ... and then lunch ... and then, "Can I see what the rooms are like?" ... and then, "What the hell." So, I slept there.
In the afternoon, one of the people who worked there walked me over to a about 1/2 km away, where there was a hot spring! That was neat. It was boiling hot (a fact that I know, because I put my finger in to check it out and he said "watch out!" but a second too late - no big deal).
In the evening, I saw this big ol' milipede (shown in photo). I said, "Ahh! What's that? A 
millipede!" to which one of the staff members wanted to run over and kill it. But I said, "Wait a minute! Let me get a photo first!" So, sad to say, but this photo was taken just moments before the demise of the poor millipede.
millipede!" to which one of the staff members wanted to run over and kill it. But I said, "Wait a minute! Let me get a photo first!" So, sad to say, but this photo was taken just moments before the demise of the poor millipede.------------------ TODAY ------------- TOTAL
Cycled ------------ 38 km (24 mi) ------ 4,579 km (2,868 mi)
Lift ---------------- 0 -------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total -------------- 38 km (24 mi) ------ 7,239 km (4,636 mi)
In Saddle ---------- 2 hours 15 min ----- 305 hours 10 min
Ascended ---------- 500 feet ------------ 81,559 feet
Friday-Sunday, 20th-22nd April 2007
Boat - Monkey Bay to Chilumba
Spent 3 days, riding the Ilala boat all the way north on Lake Malawi, from Monkey Bay to Chilumba. As I was riding my bike the 2 km from my lodge to the boat ramp on Friday morning, I came across the same cool-kat guy who'd been following me around last night. He was standing under a tree, talking with a white backpacker-looking-woman. He saw me first and said, "Hi!"
This morning, I wasn't afraid of him anymore because it was broad daylight, lots of people around, and I was about to get on the boat and leave Monkey Bay. I thought to myself, "Oh, I see you've found a new victim." I didn't say it, but should have. I just said, "Hi," and kept on going.
The next 3 days were lovely. Just relaxing on the boat, talking with fellow passengers and crew, reading. I stayed in one of the few cabins on the boat, which was really nice. Frankly, if I'd had a sleeping bag, I would have been perfectly happy sleeping on the upper deck floor, like others did, but I didn't have a sleeping bag, so the cabin was nice. No comparison between this cabin and the one we had with the TDA group as we crossed from Egypt to Sudan, by the way! The cabins on that boat had been ... ugh! The cabins on Malawi's Ilala boat were quite nice and clean.
I took quite a few pictures while on my boat voyage so I'll show a few of them here.
#1 is a view of Mozambique 
when we stopped at one of the 2 Mozambiquan ports.
when we stopped at one of the 2 Mozambiquan ports.#2 is a picture of our fine boat, the Ilala, taken when 
I got off at Likoma Island for a couple of hours. Likoma Island is one of the busiest and longest stops for the boat because this boat is one of the main sources of transport for people and goods going to/from the island.
I got off at Likoma Island for a couple of hours. Likoma Island is one of the busiest and longest stops for the boat because this boat is one of the main sources of transport for people and goods going to/from the island.#3 is a picture of Ruarwe, with a curious local 
paddling out in his canoe to see us better. Ruarwe is a small lakeside village that can only be reached by boat or footpath. No roads go to Ruarwe.
paddling out in his canoe to see us better. Ruarwe is a small lakeside village that can only be reached by boat or footpath. No roads go to Ruarwe.#4 is a picture of Moses, an engineer whom I 
made friends with on the boat. Nice fellow, we had some good laughs, and a long discussion one afternoon over whether drinking alcohol was "moral". He thought not, but that's o.k. In the background behind Moses is the port of Nkhata Bay.
made friends with on the boat. Nice fellow, we had some good laughs, and a long discussion one afternoon over whether drinking alcohol was "moral". He thought not, but that's o.k. In the background behind Moses is the port of Nkhata Bay.#5 is a picture of Arthur, with the Malawian flag waving in the background. Arthur was another nice crew member. 
When we arrived in Chilumba, after 3 days at sail, Arthur got off the boat with me and had a drink or two, before going back to duty and getting ready for the return trip (south back to Monkey Bay).
When we arrived in Chilumba, after 3 days at sail, Arthur got off the boat with me and had a drink or two, before going back to duty and getting ready for the return trip (south back to Monkey Bay).Thursday, 19th April 2007
To: Monkey Bay
Took a minibus to Mangochi, and then rode the bike from Mangochi to Monkey Bay. When I boarded the minibus in Zomba, they said it was a direct trip to Mangochi. I paid 500 kwacha of the 650 that I owed them and said I'd give the remaining 150 when I found change. When we were about half-way to Mangochi, the minibus pulled over in a minibus park and we were all supposed to get off and get on another minibus. I was none-too-pleased about this event, because it meant transferring my bags, my bike, and me, which was a nuisance. Furthermore, in the original minibus, I had been one of the first people to board, so I had a prime front seat and was comfortable. This new minibus was very, very crowded and I was cramped in the middle of it, holding my bags (which had been under the seat on the original minibus).
Nonetheless, there we were, ready to go. But then the old minibus guys came to the window and asked for their remaining 150 kwacha. I told them I wasn't giving it to them because they renigged on their deal. That minibus was supposed to be direct to Mangochi and now here we were, transferring.
They said, "It's the same thing."
I said, "No, it isn't. I was comfortable before and now I'm not."
They said, "We agreed on a price of 650 kwacha."
I said, "And we agreed that we were going direct with no transfers."
This went on for a bit and in the end, I paid them (of course). However, before paying them, the entire (crowded) minibus of passengers had gotten into the debate. Should the mzungu have to pay the remaining 150 kwacha, or not? Most seemed to think that I shouldn't because it was true that they had renigged on the deal. Some people were even yelling at the original minibus guys, saying, "You think you can always get away with this! But you can't! We are not cattle!" Others, however, thought I should pay on the basis that I had a lot of money anyway. I found that to be an irrelevant argument.
In the end, I paid, but even as we drove off, a few passengers were telling me that I shouldn't have. However, we were going to sit there all day long, waiting on that crowded minibus and not
moving, if I hadn't paid the remaining fare. I tried to get a picture of how crowded this bus was, from the inside, but it was so crowded that I really couldn't get a good shot. Here is what I got. (That guy had to pay extra to bring his mattress on-board, taking up a potential passenger seat.)
Got to Monkey Bay just as it was getting dark because it took longer than I thought from Mangochi. No problem. But then a young cool-kat man approached me, doing a lot of wiggling of his body and arms as he talked to me and talking jive.
He said, "Hey, wow, like cool. Where you going? I'll help."
I totally did not want his help because he was annoying and I didn't like him, and I didn't trust him either. I said, "I'm o.k., thanks." But he kept following me with his bike, telling me that he was going my way, anyway, etc. I kept trying to shoo him away, but he stuck to me like glue, saying things like, "Hey, cool, watcha thinkin of Malawi so far? Cool, huh?" Finally, he pointed to a lodge and said, "This is a cool place. I'll help you get a room."
I did not want his help to get me a room, in fact, I didn't even want him to know where I was staying. But it was almost dark and I didn't even know myself where I was staying yet. So I said, "I really am o.k.," and walked toward the lodge. He followed me. I said, "Are you going there, too, for some reason?"
He said, "These people are my friends. I borrowed this here bike from them. Gotta return it."
Oh, brother. I rolled my eyes. Tried to drop him but couldn't. Found the reception lady who showed me her "best" room (which was nothing like the Lilongwe Hotel - haha). The guy was STILL with us! I asked him why he was following us around. He said, "To help you talk with her. She doesn't know English."
I said, "We'll get by. It's o.k. You can leave." But he just stood there, so I asked the woman the price of the room and she said 1,200 kwacha. That's not really that much money (about $10), but it is a lot in Malawi for this dumpy room. I told her so, but she didn't say anything. I said I'd go find another place. I left. He tailed me.
Finally, when we were in the entranceway to the lodge, I said to the guy to please go away. I did not want his help. Thank you. Frankly, he was slightly scary and so I didn't want to be mean to him, so I tried to say it very, very directly, but with a smile. Finally ... he left.
I walked back out on the road, but didn't see any place else to go, so after about 5 minutes, I walked back into the very same lodge. There were some other guests there, so I walked up to one friendly looking woman and asked how much her room cost. She said 250 kwacha, single room, not self contained. The one the receptionist had shown me was a double, self contained.
The lady was very friendly, though, and I liked her right away.
She told me, "That boy you came with the first time..." and she just shook her head. "He likes to spend time with you mzungu. But he is a thief."
I laughed and said, "I know that. Thank you."
She and I went and found the receptionist who again showed me the very same room she'd shown me before and said the price was 500 kwacha. I said, "O.k., fine, I'll take it." I asked her why she had originally quoted a price of 1,200 kwacha?
She said, "That boy you were with, he is a thief and he told me to say that so that he could take the extra. And I was afraid of him."
I asked my new acquaintence if she wanted to sleep in my room, in the extra bed, because her single room was very stuffy, no windows, and very, very hot. She agreed. It turns out that the reason she was there was that the government had sponsored her and about 10 others to come to a 4-day seminar, to learn about better fertilizing and general farming techniques.
Then, I convinced my new friend to go out with me and find a pub with a pool table (of course). We did that and I played for a few hours and I was playing better than usual, so kept winning, game after game. It got the whole pub involved, as people kept trying to defeat me. That was fun. Around 9:30, my new friend and I went back to the lodge. When we got there, her fellow farmers asked her where she'd been. She smiled and told them that we'd been out having drinks and playing games. She seemed quite pleased with her outing. Of course, I bought all her drinks and snacks because she didn't have anything. No problem. It's funny. I have no problem buying people stuff or giving them money even. I just don't like to be cheated or scammed and have to hold my ground and "not be stupid" when it comes to that.
Took a minibus to Mangochi, and then rode the bike from Mangochi to Monkey Bay. When I boarded the minibus in Zomba, they said it was a direct trip to Mangochi. I paid 500 kwacha of the 650 that I owed them and said I'd give the remaining 150 when I found change. When we were about half-way to Mangochi, the minibus pulled over in a minibus park and we were all supposed to get off and get on another minibus. I was none-too-pleased about this event, because it meant transferring my bags, my bike, and me, which was a nuisance. Furthermore, in the original minibus, I had been one of the first people to board, so I had a prime front seat and was comfortable. This new minibus was very, very crowded and I was cramped in the middle of it, holding my bags (which had been under the seat on the original minibus).
Nonetheless, there we were, ready to go. But then the old minibus guys came to the window and asked for their remaining 150 kwacha. I told them I wasn't giving it to them because they renigged on their deal. That minibus was supposed to be direct to Mangochi and now here we were, transferring.
They said, "It's the same thing."
I said, "No, it isn't. I was comfortable before and now I'm not."
They said, "We agreed on a price of 650 kwacha."
I said, "And we agreed that we were going direct with no transfers."
This went on for a bit and in the end, I paid them (of course). However, before paying them, the entire (crowded) minibus of passengers had gotten into the debate. Should the mzungu have to pay the remaining 150 kwacha, or not? Most seemed to think that I shouldn't because it was true that they had renigged on the deal. Some people were even yelling at the original minibus guys, saying, "You think you can always get away with this! But you can't! We are not cattle!" Others, however, thought I should pay on the basis that I had a lot of money anyway. I found that to be an irrelevant argument.
In the end, I paid, but even as we drove off, a few passengers were telling me that I shouldn't have. However, we were going to sit there all day long, waiting on that crowded minibus and not
moving, if I hadn't paid the remaining fare. I tried to get a picture of how crowded this bus was, from the inside, but it was so crowded that I really couldn't get a good shot. Here is what I got. (That guy had to pay extra to bring his mattress on-board, taking up a potential passenger seat.)Got to Monkey Bay just as it was getting dark because it took longer than I thought from Mangochi. No problem. But then a young cool-kat man approached me, doing a lot of wiggling of his body and arms as he talked to me and talking jive.
He said, "Hey, wow, like cool. Where you going? I'll help."
I totally did not want his help because he was annoying and I didn't like him, and I didn't trust him either. I said, "I'm o.k., thanks." But he kept following me with his bike, telling me that he was going my way, anyway, etc. I kept trying to shoo him away, but he stuck to me like glue, saying things like, "Hey, cool, watcha thinkin of Malawi so far? Cool, huh?" Finally, he pointed to a lodge and said, "This is a cool place. I'll help you get a room."
I did not want his help to get me a room, in fact, I didn't even want him to know where I was staying. But it was almost dark and I didn't even know myself where I was staying yet. So I said, "I really am o.k.," and walked toward the lodge. He followed me. I said, "Are you going there, too, for some reason?"
He said, "These people are my friends. I borrowed this here bike from them. Gotta return it."
Oh, brother. I rolled my eyes. Tried to drop him but couldn't. Found the reception lady who showed me her "best" room (which was nothing like the Lilongwe Hotel - haha). The guy was STILL with us! I asked him why he was following us around. He said, "To help you talk with her. She doesn't know English."
I said, "We'll get by. It's o.k. You can leave." But he just stood there, so I asked the woman the price of the room and she said 1,200 kwacha. That's not really that much money (about $10), but it is a lot in Malawi for this dumpy room. I told her so, but she didn't say anything. I said I'd go find another place. I left. He tailed me.
Finally, when we were in the entranceway to the lodge, I said to the guy to please go away. I did not want his help. Thank you. Frankly, he was slightly scary and so I didn't want to be mean to him, so I tried to say it very, very directly, but with a smile. Finally ... he left.
I walked back out on the road, but didn't see any place else to go, so after about 5 minutes, I walked back into the very same lodge. There were some other guests there, so I walked up to one friendly looking woman and asked how much her room cost. She said 250 kwacha, single room, not self contained. The one the receptionist had shown me was a double, self contained.
The lady was very friendly, though, and I liked her right away.
She told me, "That boy you came with the first time..." and she just shook her head. "He likes to spend time with you mzungu. But he is a thief."
I laughed and said, "I know that. Thank you."
She and I went and found the receptionist who again showed me the very same room she'd shown me before and said the price was 500 kwacha. I said, "O.k., fine, I'll take it." I asked her why she had originally quoted a price of 1,200 kwacha?
She said, "That boy you were with, he is a thief and he told me to say that so that he could take the extra. And I was afraid of him."
I asked my new acquaintence if she wanted to sleep in my room, in the extra bed, because her single room was very stuffy, no windows, and very, very hot. She agreed. It turns out that the reason she was there was that the government had sponsored her and about 10 others to come to a 4-day seminar, to learn about better fertilizing and general farming techniques.
Then, I convinced my new friend to go out with me and find a pub with a pool table (of course). We did that and I played for a few hours and I was playing better than usual, so kept winning, game after game. It got the whole pub involved, as people kept trying to defeat me. That was fun. Around 9:30, my new friend and I went back to the lodge. When we got there, her fellow farmers asked her where she'd been. She smiled and told them that we'd been out having drinks and playing games. She seemed quite pleased with her outing. Of course, I bought all her drinks and snacks because she didn't have anything. No problem. It's funny. I have no problem buying people stuff or giving them money even. I just don't like to be cheated or scammed and have to hold my ground and "not be stupid" when it comes to that.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Wednesday, 18th April 2007
To: Zomba
Went to Zomba. Zomba is beautiful because of the Ku Chawe mountain and Zomba plateau. The weather is also nice and cool. I love Zomba. Mike Mittawa's (the one I used to go out with) home town is Zomba and many of his relatives still live there. So, I went and stayed with his brother and sister-in-law, Joe and Diane Namkwenye. Joe and Diane took me up to the family cemetary, where Mike was buried. We first stopped at the home of Mike's other brother, Noel, because he lives very near the cemetary area. While the 3 women (the 2 sisters-in-law and me) sat and ate pumpkin, the 2 brothers did an advance trek in to talk with the village chief, to ask permission to go to the cemetary, and also to take the visitor (me) there. I asked Joe quite a bit about this, later on.
I asked him, "Does the land where the family cemetary is, does that land belong to your family?"
He said, "Yes."
I asked, "Then why did we have to ask the chief's persmission to go visit it?"
He said, "We didn't *have* to ask, but it is just respect. The chief presides over all the land in the village, and watches out for it. So, we asked."
Anyway, they are related to the chief, somehow. One time, when Mike was visiting in the U.S., he told my Dad that his uncle was a chief, and that he (Mike) was in line to become chief if he wanted to. But he said he didn't want to because the chief has too much responsibility, people always knocking on your door, night and day. Dad thought this was neat, and from then on kept calling Mike "Prince Mike" because he was nephew to a chief.
So, we 3 women waited for the return of the advance party. While waiting and eating pumpkin, Diane asked Noel's wife (who is the mother to Young Mittawa) about Young Mittawa converting to Muslim. I'd told Diane and Joe that I was surprised to find that he was now a Muslim, but discovered that Diane and Joe didn't know about it. So, when Diane asked Young Mittawa's mother, she acknowledged the conversion by rolling her eyes and saying, "yeesss." So, we spent the rest of our wait discussing Young Mittawa and his 2 wives and 2 homes.
About 20 minutes later, the advance party of Joe and Noel came back and said that the chief had given his o.k. So, we all walked up to the cemetary, which was about 1 km away. I knew 2 1/2 years ago that Mike had died, his daughter told me about it just after it happened. Also, I wasn't even seeing him any more at that time.
Despite that, I was very touched to actually see the grave, so here is a picture of it.
Two graves over was buried his sister, Mabel, who Mike and I used to refer to as "crazy Mabel". She really was crazy. One time, Mike's fellow villagers called him and told him to come get his sister, because she was walking down the road, throwing pots and pans off her head. Nonetheless, she was always nice to me when she was in her normal states.
So, we stood around in the cemetary and did a prayer, and I asked if I could take this photo, and then we left.
I spent the night at Joe and Diane's. They had known several days in advance that I was coming, so they'd alerted their son, whom I knew and who was now living in California. So, the son rang from the U.S. that evening and it was nice to talk with him.
--------------------- TODAY ----------------- TOTAL
Cycled -------------- 84 km (51 mi) ----------- 4,541 km (2,844 mi)
Lift ------------------ 0 ----------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total ---------------- 84 km (51 mi) ----------- 7,201 km (4,612 mi)
In Saddle ----------- 6 hours 40 min ----------- 302 hours 55 min
Ascended ----------- 2,421 feet ---------------- 81,059 feet
Went to Zomba. Zomba is beautiful because of the Ku Chawe mountain and Zomba plateau. The weather is also nice and cool. I love Zomba. Mike Mittawa's (the one I used to go out with) home town is Zomba and many of his relatives still live there. So, I went and stayed with his brother and sister-in-law, Joe and Diane Namkwenye. Joe and Diane took me up to the family cemetary, where Mike was buried. We first stopped at the home of Mike's other brother, Noel, because he lives very near the cemetary area. While the 3 women (the 2 sisters-in-law and me) sat and ate pumpkin, the 2 brothers did an advance trek in to talk with the village chief, to ask permission to go to the cemetary, and also to take the visitor (me) there. I asked Joe quite a bit about this, later on.
I asked him, "Does the land where the family cemetary is, does that land belong to your family?"
He said, "Yes."
I asked, "Then why did we have to ask the chief's persmission to go visit it?"
He said, "We didn't *have* to ask, but it is just respect. The chief presides over all the land in the village, and watches out for it. So, we asked."
Anyway, they are related to the chief, somehow. One time, when Mike was visiting in the U.S., he told my Dad that his uncle was a chief, and that he (Mike) was in line to become chief if he wanted to. But he said he didn't want to because the chief has too much responsibility, people always knocking on your door, night and day. Dad thought this was neat, and from then on kept calling Mike "Prince Mike" because he was nephew to a chief.
So, we 3 women waited for the return of the advance party. While waiting and eating pumpkin, Diane asked Noel's wife (who is the mother to Young Mittawa) about Young Mittawa converting to Muslim. I'd told Diane and Joe that I was surprised to find that he was now a Muslim, but discovered that Diane and Joe didn't know about it. So, when Diane asked Young Mittawa's mother, she acknowledged the conversion by rolling her eyes and saying, "yeesss." So, we spent the rest of our wait discussing Young Mittawa and his 2 wives and 2 homes.
About 20 minutes later, the advance party of Joe and Noel came back and said that the chief had given his o.k. So, we all walked up to the cemetary, which was about 1 km away. I knew 2 1/2 years ago that Mike had died, his daughter told me about it just after it happened. Also, I wasn't even seeing him any more at that time.
Despite that, I was very touched to actually see the grave, so here is a picture of it.Two graves over was buried his sister, Mabel, who Mike and I used to refer to as "crazy Mabel". She really was crazy. One time, Mike's fellow villagers called him and told him to come get his sister, because she was walking down the road, throwing pots and pans off her head. Nonetheless, she was always nice to me when she was in her normal states.
So, we stood around in the cemetary and did a prayer, and I asked if I could take this photo, and then we left.
I spent the night at Joe and Diane's. They had known several days in advance that I was coming, so they'd alerted their son, whom I knew and who was now living in California. So, the son rang from the U.S. that evening and it was nice to talk with him.
--------------------- TODAY ----------------- TOTAL
Cycled -------------- 84 km (51 mi) ----------- 4,541 km (2,844 mi)
Lift ------------------ 0 ----------------------- 2,660 km (1,768 mi)
Total ---------------- 84 km (51 mi) ----------- 7,201 km (4,612 mi)
In Saddle ----------- 6 hours 40 min ----------- 302 hours 55 min
Ascended ----------- 2,421 feet ---------------- 81,059 feet
Tuesday, 17th April 2007
To: Blantyre
I went back to Blantyre today, to spend a last night at Nimia's house, and pick up my bike. Mrs. Kamoto went with me to Blantyre, and then we took another minibus about 15 miles west of Blantyre. The reason is that she wanted to show me where she and Mr. Kamoto had their plot of land and were building a house. The day before, they'd said, "Our child, next time you come to Malawi, we may not be here in Thyolo. We're getting ready to retire from Conforzi Tea Estate. We have to show you where to find us." So, that's why, today, Mrs. Kamoto spent the morning going into Blantyre with me and taking me to their plot where they were building the house. She kept saying, "Are you going to remember? Are you going to remember how to get here?" Frankly, I thought to myself that, no, I won't remember. But I'd written down the key information, such as the bus stage, and their phone numbers. I'd find them. But to reassure mummy, I kept saying, "Yes, yes, of course I'll remember. Don't worry."
Nimia and I had planned to go out tonight, but I ended up having a very bad cold, sniffing and sneezing. So, instead, she brought home a bunch of juice from work, and we stayed in, and talked until late in the night.
I went back to Blantyre today, to spend a last night at Nimia's house, and pick up my bike. Mrs. Kamoto went with me to Blantyre, and then we took another minibus about 15 miles west of Blantyre. The reason is that she wanted to show me where she and Mr. Kamoto had their plot of land and were building a house. The day before, they'd said, "Our child, next time you come to Malawi, we may not be here in Thyolo. We're getting ready to retire from Conforzi Tea Estate. We have to show you where to find us." So, that's why, today, Mrs. Kamoto spent the morning going into Blantyre with me and taking me to their plot where they were building the house. She kept saying, "Are you going to remember? Are you going to remember how to get here?" Frankly, I thought to myself that, no, I won't remember. But I'd written down the key information, such as the bus stage, and their phone numbers. I'd find them. But to reassure mummy, I kept saying, "Yes, yes, of course I'll remember. Don't worry."
Nimia and I had planned to go out tonight, but I ended up having a very bad cold, sniffing and sneezing. So, instead, she brought home a bunch of juice from work, and we stayed in, and talked until late in the night.
Monday, 16th April 2007
In Thyolo
Today is the day that I learned some interesting news about my nephew (Mike's nephew), helped sell beens, groundnuts, and cabbages at the market, played some pool with a cheering squad, and finally spent the evening in the home of mummy Gondwe.
Started off in the morning (like most days do, I've noticed). Went over to Young Mittawa's for breakfast. But before going, I went and bought a huge container of cooking oil and a large bag of rice for gifts. O.k., so far, so good. Now, I started walking over to the house that Philip had led me to yesterday, but then I got a little confused about exactly which path to take. So, I asked an adult where Young Mittawa lives and the adult told a kid to lead me there. That is so typical Malawian, by the way. They don't just point the way - they're going to take you by the hand, and take you there. So, anyway, the kid walked me down a path or two and then pointed to a house. I was starting to tell the kid, "No, this is the wrong house," because it wasn't the house that I was at yesterday.
But then a young woman came out and said, "Auntie! Auntie!" and smiled, and led me into the house and sat me at a table and then she left and went back outside.
"O.k.," I thought to myself as I was sitting there, "I'm confused. This young woman is calling me 'auntie, auntie', but she is not the lady that Young Mittawa introduced me to as his wife yesterday. And this is the wrong house." I continued to sit, for about 10 minutes. Finally, the young woman came back and took me outside, and pointed to another house, and said, "You eat breakfast there. But please come back and we chat when you are finished!"
I thought, "Huh?" but then saw that the other house was the one Philip had taken me to yesterday. Now, the light was finally starting to dawn. "Is Young Mittawa keeping two women?" I thought to myself. "This is juicy, but who am I supposed to give the cooking oil and rice to?"
I walked down to the other house, cooking oil and rice in hand, and was warmly welcomed into this other house, where the table was all set up for a large breakfast. Young Mittawa gave me big hugs and said, "Sit! Sit!" The wife whom I'd been introduced to yesterday was also warmly welcoming. I'm standing there holding my cooking oil and rice, but not knowing what to do with it, so I just put it down on the floor and took a seat. The wife was very pleasant and stayed for quite a while, but Young Mittawa and I were mainly speaking in English and she didn't understand English, so eventually she went off to watch the kids.
That's when I was finally able to ask Young Mittawa, "Brother, do you have 2 wives?"
He looked slightly embarrassed, but then told all. Turns out that he had converted from Christian to Muslim (which I found shocking because he used to be a very active church member), and now had 2 wives and 2 homes to keep them in. Oh my god!
"When did all of this happen?" I asked.
It happened just a couple of years ago. His father (Mike's elder brother), apparently, was none too pleased about it, but he had "learned to accept". So, I supposed that I could "learn to accept" as well, but I laughed.
"But, brother, you should have told me," I said, "Now I don't even know what to do with this," and handed him the cooking oil and rice. "Here," I said, "You figure out whom to give it to."
He took the gifts and said thank you and said, "Don't worry, auntie, I'll share them evenly." I laughed.
O.k., so my nephew is now a Muslim with 2 wives and 2 homes. What next? Young Mittawa next walked me through Thyolo, and it was lots of fun, seeing old acquaintances. Then I asked him about an old friend named Catherine. Catherine used to sell clothes and things in the market, but I have to admit that I mainly knew her from the bars, back in those days. I was pretty sure that she had probably died, since I knew that her husband had died of AIDS. So, I was greatly surprised and pleased when Young Mittawa said, "She's around! Still selling in the market!"
As soon as we were in view of Catherine, she screamed!! Came RUNNING towards me! Almost knocked me down with enthusiasm! Left a customer, in mid-deal. The customer was standing there, with her money in her hand now, not knowing what to do, while Catherine and I laughed and laughed and embraced. Finally, I said, "Catherine! Your customer," and pointed. Catherine said something to the woman in the stall next to hers and that woman came over and finished the transaction with the customer. I later learned that that woman was Catherine's older daughter, whom I never knew, because that daughter had lived in Lilongwe when I knew Catherine.
I spent the rest of the afternoon with Catherine, helping her to sell her produce. We talked and laughed the whole afternoon, while market shoppers and other vendors looked on. At one point, I went off and bought sodas for us all (Catherine, me, the daughter, and a young son who was also there). I suggested to Catherine that I wanted to help her sell her beans and groundnuts and cabbages, so she told me how much everything cost.
As the market shoppers walked around the stalls, I kept calling out, "Come! Come! Cheapi, cheapi! Good prices!" This would make us all laugh, but by the end of the day, we couldn't
deny that we'd made some good sales. Here is a photo of Catherine and the general market scene. I'm taking it from underneath her stall.
As we talked the whole afternoon away, I never reminded Catherine of the time when she wanted to beat me up because she thought I had slept with her husband (which, of course, I hadn't). One day, Tom (her husband), came to my house to look at a beat-up bicycle that I wanted to sell. While at the house, I offered him a beer and he stayed for about 1 hour, in the middle of the afternoon. Well, word got out and apparently Catherine had decided that I'd slept with him. This is pretty typical village mentality, and I knew it, so I probably shouldn't have allowed it to happen - "there's only one reason that a man would go to a woman's home." But, anyway, I was young, so I allowed it to happen. Two nights later, I went down to "Honolulu", the local bottle store (pub). As I drove up, I saw Catherine sitting on a beer crate on the veranda, drinking a beer. Totally oblivious of any potential problem, I got out of the car and prepared to go join her. At this, she stood up, roared like a lionness, and started to charge me! Oh my god! I've never fought in all my life! This was going to be a real one-sided fight! Her fists were flying and she was yelling words like "whore" and "other people's husbands", so, being the fairly bright person that I am, I figured it out. I prepared to put my arms over my head and defend myself, when Mike (Young Mittawa's uncle and the man I used to go out with) came running out of the bottle store, together with another buddy of his, and they stopped Catherine from killing me. I tried to explain to Catherine why it was that Tom happened to find himself at my house. Even Mike did not think I'd slept with Tom, and was defending me, and trying to help me explain to Catherine. But Catherine would have none of it. Her mind was made up and she kept struggling to get loose from Mike and his buddy, who were restraining her. Eventually, she calmed down and sat back on her beer crate, but she didn't talk to me. It took about a month to get over that one. But finally, one day, without anybody ever explicitly saying, "Are we finished with this silliness yet?" we started talking again. I guess she had decided that I probably hadn't slept with her husband, after all.
So now, 15 years later, here I was, helping her sell her beans for the day. I probably didn't have to remind her of the incident. I don't think it's the kind of thing you'd just forget. Haha.
At around 4:00, I started getting bored and wanted to go off with Catherine down to the local pub and play pool. They'd installed a pool table since I was last there.
I asked Catherine, "What time do you sell until?"
She said, "Until 5:00 ... or until dark."
I said, "That's a lot of selling, isn't it? Don't you think we've sold enough for the day?"
She laughed and said, "Yes, sister, I do!"
I said, "You want to go get a beer?"
She said, "Great idea! For old time's sake," and told her daughter to make any necessary transactions.
As we were walking out of the market, several of the other vendors asked Catherine where she was going. She said, "I'm done for the day. Going to get a beer with my sister." (She didn't add, "... who once almost slept with my husband, but didn't.")
When we got to the pub, Young Mittawa was there. I asked him if Muslims were supposed to be in drinking places and he smiled shyly, but showed me that he was drinking a soda. O.k., fair enough.
Then, Paul, who used to work for Satemwa Tea Estate (and apparently still does) came walking in. Later, Catherine's older daughter, plus another person whom I didn't know, came and joined us.
I was the only one of our group playing pool, but must say it was being done with a serious cheering squad. Every time I sunk a ball, they'd roar, "Yeeaahhhh!" Made me feel bad for my opponents, but was fun anyway. Then, every time I lost a game or sat down for some other reason,
there'd be another full beer sitting there at my spot - somebody'd bought another round. Here is a picture of my latest past time. Mainly, the reason I took the picture, though, was for the advertisement - "Probably the best beer in the world." That advertisement cracks me up.
In the end, only had 3 beers, however, because at 6:00, I had to say sorry to everybody (who wanted to party all night) because I had evening plans. Had promised to spend the evening at mummy Gondwe's. So, though disappointed, Catherine, her daughter, and Young Mittawa escorted me back to the Kamotos, where daddy Kamoto drove me over to the Gondwe house on the back of his motorcycle. Had a nice night with mummy Gondwe and one of my "brothers" (her children), Charles, and Tiwonge, a grandchild (aged 18) of the Gondwes.
Today is the day that I learned some interesting news about my nephew (Mike's nephew), helped sell beens, groundnuts, and cabbages at the market, played some pool with a cheering squad, and finally spent the evening in the home of mummy Gondwe.
Started off in the morning (like most days do, I've noticed). Went over to Young Mittawa's for breakfast. But before going, I went and bought a huge container of cooking oil and a large bag of rice for gifts. O.k., so far, so good. Now, I started walking over to the house that Philip had led me to yesterday, but then I got a little confused about exactly which path to take. So, I asked an adult where Young Mittawa lives and the adult told a kid to lead me there. That is so typical Malawian, by the way. They don't just point the way - they're going to take you by the hand, and take you there. So, anyway, the kid walked me down a path or two and then pointed to a house. I was starting to tell the kid, "No, this is the wrong house," because it wasn't the house that I was at yesterday.
But then a young woman came out and said, "Auntie! Auntie!" and smiled, and led me into the house and sat me at a table and then she left and went back outside.
"O.k.," I thought to myself as I was sitting there, "I'm confused. This young woman is calling me 'auntie, auntie', but she is not the lady that Young Mittawa introduced me to as his wife yesterday. And this is the wrong house." I continued to sit, for about 10 minutes. Finally, the young woman came back and took me outside, and pointed to another house, and said, "You eat breakfast there. But please come back and we chat when you are finished!"
I thought, "Huh?" but then saw that the other house was the one Philip had taken me to yesterday. Now, the light was finally starting to dawn. "Is Young Mittawa keeping two women?" I thought to myself. "This is juicy, but who am I supposed to give the cooking oil and rice to?"
I walked down to the other house, cooking oil and rice in hand, and was warmly welcomed into this other house, where the table was all set up for a large breakfast. Young Mittawa gave me big hugs and said, "Sit! Sit!" The wife whom I'd been introduced to yesterday was also warmly welcoming. I'm standing there holding my cooking oil and rice, but not knowing what to do with it, so I just put it down on the floor and took a seat. The wife was very pleasant and stayed for quite a while, but Young Mittawa and I were mainly speaking in English and she didn't understand English, so eventually she went off to watch the kids.
That's when I was finally able to ask Young Mittawa, "Brother, do you have 2 wives?"
He looked slightly embarrassed, but then told all. Turns out that he had converted from Christian to Muslim (which I found shocking because he used to be a very active church member), and now had 2 wives and 2 homes to keep them in. Oh my god!
"When did all of this happen?" I asked.
It happened just a couple of years ago. His father (Mike's elder brother), apparently, was none too pleased about it, but he had "learned to accept". So, I supposed that I could "learn to accept" as well, but I laughed.
"But, brother, you should have told me," I said, "Now I don't even know what to do with this," and handed him the cooking oil and rice. "Here," I said, "You figure out whom to give it to."
He took the gifts and said thank you and said, "Don't worry, auntie, I'll share them evenly." I laughed.
O.k., so my nephew is now a Muslim with 2 wives and 2 homes. What next? Young Mittawa next walked me through Thyolo, and it was lots of fun, seeing old acquaintances. Then I asked him about an old friend named Catherine. Catherine used to sell clothes and things in the market, but I have to admit that I mainly knew her from the bars, back in those days. I was pretty sure that she had probably died, since I knew that her husband had died of AIDS. So, I was greatly surprised and pleased when Young Mittawa said, "She's around! Still selling in the market!"
As soon as we were in view of Catherine, she screamed!! Came RUNNING towards me! Almost knocked me down with enthusiasm! Left a customer, in mid-deal. The customer was standing there, with her money in her hand now, not knowing what to do, while Catherine and I laughed and laughed and embraced. Finally, I said, "Catherine! Your customer," and pointed. Catherine said something to the woman in the stall next to hers and that woman came over and finished the transaction with the customer. I later learned that that woman was Catherine's older daughter, whom I never knew, because that daughter had lived in Lilongwe when I knew Catherine.
I spent the rest of the afternoon with Catherine, helping her to sell her produce. We talked and laughed the whole afternoon, while market shoppers and other vendors looked on. At one point, I went off and bought sodas for us all (Catherine, me, the daughter, and a young son who was also there). I suggested to Catherine that I wanted to help her sell her beans and groundnuts and cabbages, so she told me how much everything cost.
As the market shoppers walked around the stalls, I kept calling out, "Come! Come! Cheapi, cheapi! Good prices!" This would make us all laugh, but by the end of the day, we couldn't
deny that we'd made some good sales. Here is a photo of Catherine and the general market scene. I'm taking it from underneath her stall.As we talked the whole afternoon away, I never reminded Catherine of the time when she wanted to beat me up because she thought I had slept with her husband (which, of course, I hadn't). One day, Tom (her husband), came to my house to look at a beat-up bicycle that I wanted to sell. While at the house, I offered him a beer and he stayed for about 1 hour, in the middle of the afternoon. Well, word got out and apparently Catherine had decided that I'd slept with him. This is pretty typical village mentality, and I knew it, so I probably shouldn't have allowed it to happen - "there's only one reason that a man would go to a woman's home." But, anyway, I was young, so I allowed it to happen. Two nights later, I went down to "Honolulu", the local bottle store (pub). As I drove up, I saw Catherine sitting on a beer crate on the veranda, drinking a beer. Totally oblivious of any potential problem, I got out of the car and prepared to go join her. At this, she stood up, roared like a lionness, and started to charge me! Oh my god! I've never fought in all my life! This was going to be a real one-sided fight! Her fists were flying and she was yelling words like "whore" and "other people's husbands", so, being the fairly bright person that I am, I figured it out. I prepared to put my arms over my head and defend myself, when Mike (Young Mittawa's uncle and the man I used to go out with) came running out of the bottle store, together with another buddy of his, and they stopped Catherine from killing me. I tried to explain to Catherine why it was that Tom happened to find himself at my house. Even Mike did not think I'd slept with Tom, and was defending me, and trying to help me explain to Catherine. But Catherine would have none of it. Her mind was made up and she kept struggling to get loose from Mike and his buddy, who were restraining her. Eventually, she calmed down and sat back on her beer crate, but she didn't talk to me. It took about a month to get over that one. But finally, one day, without anybody ever explicitly saying, "Are we finished with this silliness yet?" we started talking again. I guess she had decided that I probably hadn't slept with her husband, after all.
So now, 15 years later, here I was, helping her sell her beans for the day. I probably didn't have to remind her of the incident. I don't think it's the kind of thing you'd just forget. Haha.
At around 4:00, I started getting bored and wanted to go off with Catherine down to the local pub and play pool. They'd installed a pool table since I was last there.
I asked Catherine, "What time do you sell until?"
She said, "Until 5:00 ... or until dark."
I said, "That's a lot of selling, isn't it? Don't you think we've sold enough for the day?"
She laughed and said, "Yes, sister, I do!"
I said, "You want to go get a beer?"
She said, "Great idea! For old time's sake," and told her daughter to make any necessary transactions.
As we were walking out of the market, several of the other vendors asked Catherine where she was going. She said, "I'm done for the day. Going to get a beer with my sister." (She didn't add, "... who once almost slept with my husband, but didn't.")
When we got to the pub, Young Mittawa was there. I asked him if Muslims were supposed to be in drinking places and he smiled shyly, but showed me that he was drinking a soda. O.k., fair enough.
Then, Paul, who used to work for Satemwa Tea Estate (and apparently still does) came walking in. Later, Catherine's older daughter, plus another person whom I didn't know, came and joined us.
I was the only one of our group playing pool, but must say it was being done with a serious cheering squad. Every time I sunk a ball, they'd roar, "Yeeaahhhh!" Made me feel bad for my opponents, but was fun anyway. Then, every time I lost a game or sat down for some other reason,
there'd be another full beer sitting there at my spot - somebody'd bought another round. Here is a picture of my latest past time. Mainly, the reason I took the picture, though, was for the advertisement - "Probably the best beer in the world." That advertisement cracks me up.In the end, only had 3 beers, however, because at 6:00, I had to say sorry to everybody (who wanted to party all night) because I had evening plans. Had promised to spend the evening at mummy Gondwe's. So, though disappointed, Catherine, her daughter, and Young Mittawa escorted me back to the Kamotos, where daddy Kamoto drove me over to the Gondwe house on the back of his motorcycle. Had a nice night with mummy Gondwe and one of my "brothers" (her children), Charles, and Tiwonge, a grandchild (aged 18) of the Gondwes.
Sunday, 15th April 2007
To: Thyolo
Wow! The tea, tea, tea, everywhere tea, makes
Thyolo, in southern Malawi, beautiful. Here is a picture of some tea, taken from the road.
Left my bike at Nimia's and took a minibus to Thyolo. Got off the minibus in Thyolo and asked the first woman I saw if she knew the house of the Kamotos. The Kamoto family were good friends to me. The children a bit younger than me, and the parents older. But Mr. and Mrs. Kamoto always called me "mwana wathu". Our child. I thought to myself, "Please, God, please let them be alive. Please let them be alive. Please let them be alive."
The lady said, "Oh! Kamoto!" and started leading me to their house. I knew where their house was anyway, but had just wanted to see the lady's reaction when I asked.
As I was walking with the lady, a man came running up to me and said, "Leigh Anne!"
Immediately, I recognized him as the Kamoto's eldest son, Philip. I said, "Philip!"
He asked where I was going. I said, "To your house!" He laughed happily and took over the leading role from the lady!
I asked, "Are your parents fine?" And by that, I really meant, "Are they alive?"
He said, "Yes! Yes! Mummy and Daddy are fine!"
When we arrived at the house, there they were, mummy and daddy, sitting at the dining table. Joy of joys! Hugs, embraces, insistences that I spend the night. Blah, blah. So, we had a nice reunion, and talked about many other old friends from Thyolo. Sadly, many of them had died, mainly from HIV. "Oh, Stevie, I'm sorry, he died in 2002." Or, "Oh, Tom, died in 1999. Sorry, mwana wathu." But many were still around and mummy and daddy would say, "Alipo!" She's still around!
After some time, Philip led me over to "Young Mittawa"s house. Young Mittawa, as he's called, even though he's almost 40, is the nephew to a fellow I used to go out with, named Mike Mittawa. (Mike also died, 2004, but I knew about that at the time that it happened.)
It was so nice to see Young Mittawa. "Auntie!" he said when he saw me. We talked and he wanted to insist that I sleep at his place, but I told him I'm already booked into the "Kamoto Lodge". So we made plans that I'd come over the next morning for breakfast.
Back at the Kamotos, I asked about mummy and daddy Gondwe. I was as close to their family as I was to the Kamoto family. The Gondwes and Kamotos were also very, very good friends with each other. We all (Gondwes, Kamotos, and myself) used to go watch local soccer matches every Sunday afternoon together. When my Mom and Dad came to visit me from the States, we had a wonderful evening and dinner together with the Gondwes, in their home. The Kamotos, however, gave me the sad news that daddy Gondwe had died, just last year. Ooohhhh. So, I wanted to go see mummy Gondwe, and we went over there with the Kamotos.
It was great to see mummy Gondwe, but in the end, it meant that my stay in Thyolo had to be prolonged. She INSISTED that I spend the evening and sleep at her house. I told her that I was already at the Kamotos, but she INSISTED, over and over. She finally said, "My child, you can't leave Thyolo without sleeping at your late daddy's home." God, how can you refuse that? So, we agreed that I come back and sleep over the next night.
Wow! The tea, tea, tea, everywhere tea, makes
Thyolo, in southern Malawi, beautiful. Here is a picture of some tea, taken from the road.Left my bike at Nimia's and took a minibus to Thyolo. Got off the minibus in Thyolo and asked the first woman I saw if she knew the house of the Kamotos. The Kamoto family were good friends to me. The children a bit younger than me, and the parents older. But Mr. and Mrs. Kamoto always called me "mwana wathu". Our child. I thought to myself, "Please, God, please let them be alive. Please let them be alive. Please let them be alive."
The lady said, "Oh! Kamoto!" and started leading me to their house. I knew where their house was anyway, but had just wanted to see the lady's reaction when I asked.
As I was walking with the lady, a man came running up to me and said, "Leigh Anne!"
Immediately, I recognized him as the Kamoto's eldest son, Philip. I said, "Philip!"
He asked where I was going. I said, "To your house!" He laughed happily and took over the leading role from the lady!
I asked, "Are your parents fine?" And by that, I really meant, "Are they alive?"
He said, "Yes! Yes! Mummy and Daddy are fine!"
When we arrived at the house, there they were, mummy and daddy, sitting at the dining table. Joy of joys! Hugs, embraces, insistences that I spend the night. Blah, blah. So, we had a nice reunion, and talked about many other old friends from Thyolo. Sadly, many of them had died, mainly from HIV. "Oh, Stevie, I'm sorry, he died in 2002." Or, "Oh, Tom, died in 1999. Sorry, mwana wathu." But many were still around and mummy and daddy would say, "Alipo!" She's still around!
After some time, Philip led me over to "Young Mittawa"s house. Young Mittawa, as he's called, even though he's almost 40, is the nephew to a fellow I used to go out with, named Mike Mittawa. (Mike also died, 2004, but I knew about that at the time that it happened.)
It was so nice to see Young Mittawa. "Auntie!" he said when he saw me. We talked and he wanted to insist that I sleep at his place, but I told him I'm already booked into the "Kamoto Lodge". So we made plans that I'd come over the next morning for breakfast.
Back at the Kamotos, I asked about mummy and daddy Gondwe. I was as close to their family as I was to the Kamoto family. The Gondwes and Kamotos were also very, very good friends with each other. We all (Gondwes, Kamotos, and myself) used to go watch local soccer matches every Sunday afternoon together. When my Mom and Dad came to visit me from the States, we had a wonderful evening and dinner together with the Gondwes, in their home. The Kamotos, however, gave me the sad news that daddy Gondwe had died, just last year. Ooohhhh. So, I wanted to go see mummy Gondwe, and we went over there with the Kamotos.
It was great to see mummy Gondwe, but in the end, it meant that my stay in Thyolo had to be prolonged. She INSISTED that I spend the evening and sleep at her house. I told her that I was already at the Kamotos, but she INSISTED, over and over. She finally said, "My child, you can't leave Thyolo without sleeping at your late daddy's home." God, how can you refuse that? So, we agreed that I come back and sleep over the next night.
Saturday, 14th April 2007
To: Blantyre
Went all the rest of the way to Blantyre today. More nice cycling, and then a fun evening at my friend, Nimia's, house. A workmate friend of hers also came over.
I started daydreaming with her about retiring and moving to Malawi. Getting up and going to work every day, even when you don't feel like it, is really over-rated, anyway. I was asking her, "Do you think I could live fairly comfortably on about 70,000 kwacha a month?" That's about $500 a month, which is about what I could have to live on if I retired right now. Nimia said, "Oh, yes! You could live just fine on that in Malawi. Probably couldn't afford a car, but..." I said, "That's o.k.! Who needs a car? I could use my bike!" We went back and forth like that, thinking about what kind of house I could afford and what kind of lifestyle. O.k., it wouldn't exactly be kingly, but it would be just fine. But what about health insurance? She told me that her insurance is very good and she'd be medavaced to S. Africa if there was something that couldn't be done in Malawi, and it costs about 25,000 kwacha/month. Well, there is about $180, right there. But what about all the other responsibilities and people depending on my
financial help? And what about all my family and friends in the States whom I wouldn't be able to afford to go see anymore? Well, maybe it's time they started to come and see me - isn't it their turn? Oh, maybe not. And what about ... oh, never mind. O.k., o.k., o.k., just dreaming... Dreaming is allowed, isn't it?
Nice night. Here is a picture of me and Nimia on her sofa.
-------------------- TODAY ----------------- TOTAL
Cycled ------------- 50 km (31 mi) ----------- 4,527 km (2,836 mi)
Lift ---------------- 110 km (69 mi) ---------- 2,590 km (1,725 mi)
Total -------------- 160 km (100 mi) --------- 7,117 km (4,561 mi)
In Saddle ---------- 4 hours 39 min ----------- 300 hours 55 min
Ascended ---------- 1,450 feet ---------------- 80,638 feet
Went all the rest of the way to Blantyre today. More nice cycling, and then a fun evening at my friend, Nimia's, house. A workmate friend of hers also came over.
I started daydreaming with her about retiring and moving to Malawi. Getting up and going to work every day, even when you don't feel like it, is really over-rated, anyway. I was asking her, "Do you think I could live fairly comfortably on about 70,000 kwacha a month?" That's about $500 a month, which is about what I could have to live on if I retired right now. Nimia said, "Oh, yes! You could live just fine on that in Malawi. Probably couldn't afford a car, but..." I said, "That's o.k.! Who needs a car? I could use my bike!" We went back and forth like that, thinking about what kind of house I could afford and what kind of lifestyle. O.k., it wouldn't exactly be kingly, but it would be just fine. But what about health insurance? She told me that her insurance is very good and she'd be medavaced to S. Africa if there was something that couldn't be done in Malawi, and it costs about 25,000 kwacha/month. Well, there is about $180, right there. But what about all the other responsibilities and people depending on my
financial help? And what about all my family and friends in the States whom I wouldn't be able to afford to go see anymore? Well, maybe it's time they started to come and see me - isn't it their turn? Oh, maybe not. And what about ... oh, never mind. O.k., o.k., o.k., just dreaming... Dreaming is allowed, isn't it?Nice night. Here is a picture of me and Nimia on her sofa.
-------------------- TODAY ----------------- TOTAL
Cycled ------------- 50 km (31 mi) ----------- 4,527 km (2,836 mi)
Lift ---------------- 110 km (69 mi) ---------- 2,590 km (1,725 mi)
Total -------------- 160 km (100 mi) --------- 7,117 km (4,561 mi)
In Saddle ---------- 4 hours 39 min ----------- 300 hours 55 min
Ascended ---------- 1,450 feet ---------------- 80,638 feet
Friday, 13th April 2007
To: Dedza
Beautiful, beautiful day. The road from Lilongwe 
to Dedza, which is on the way to Blantyre, makes great bike riding. A bit hilly, but not mountainous. I have two photos here, to show the view on that road.
to Dedza, which is on the way to Blantyre, makes great bike riding. A bit hilly, but not mountainous. I have two photos here, to show the view on that road.
Got started a bit late, after a buffet breakfast at the Lilongwe Hotel. That, plus several rest stops during the day, made me a bit pressed for time by the end of the day. Finally, with only about 10 km to go before Dedza, I decided that I wasn't going to make it before dark, because I was about to start what looked to be a long climb. That could take an hour, I thought, and I only have about 45 minutes of daylight left. So, I pulled over to hitch a ride. Two kids across the road were selling avacados and potatoes. They were very sweet boys. Of course, they started off with, "Give me money." All introductions have to start off that way. I think they learn it in school. The teacher says, "When you see a mzungu, you are supposed to say 'Give me money.' Now, let's practice." And all the school kids say, "GIVA MEA MONEY, TEACHA!"
But after they realized they weren't getting any money out of our relationship, they didn't seem to mind and were still very charming. A few cars went by, but they were not big enough to take my bike. The boys could see I was getting edgy because it was getting late and I didn't want to be out there after dark. One of the boys said, "Don't worry, madam. A truck will come to take you." I smiled at him. A few minutes later, a pick-up truck stopped. Both boys ran across the road to help me run my bags and bike down to the pick-up and put them in the back. As we were driving off, they waved, "Bye-bye!"
Slept at the Dedza Pottery and Lodge place. They make beautiful pottery and they also have a beautiful lodge there. I highly recommend it for anybody passing through that area.
--------------------- TODAY ----------------- TOTAL
Cycled -------------- 76 km (48 mi) ----------- 4,477 km (2,805 mi)
Lift ----------------- 10 km (6 mi) ------------ 2,480 km (1,656 mi)
Total --------------- 86 km (54 mi) ----------- 6,957 km (4,461 mi)
In Saddle ----------- 6 hours 36 min ---------- 296 hours 16 min
Ascended ----------- 2,178 feet ---------------- 79,188 feet
Cycled -------------- 76 km (48 mi) ----------- 4,477 km (2,805 mi)
Lift ----------------- 10 km (6 mi) ------------ 2,480 km (1,656 mi)
Total --------------- 86 km (54 mi) ----------- 6,957 km (4,461 mi)
In Saddle ----------- 6 hours 36 min ---------- 296 hours 16 min
Ascended ----------- 2,178 feet ---------------- 79,188 feet
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Thursday, 12th April 2007
To: Lilongwe
I left the house of Martha's kids and grandkids this morning. Before leaving, Honesta came back over and we had tea and bread. Rode down the escarpment back to the main rode. That 
escarpment really is pretty. I'd forgotten. Here is a picture of the road I was riding on.
escarpment really is pretty. I'd forgotten. Here is a picture of the road I was riding on.Shortly after reaching the main road, I stopped in a place for a cold drink and a rest. I sat out on the veranda with my own thoughts. I was feeling a bit sad. Here I had been so excited when we reached Malawi with the TDA group. I remember the day that we crossed the border from Tanzania to Malawi. I had almost felt like I was "home". It was so, so exciting. I was even starting to imagine moving back to Malawi, maybe getting work at Chancellor college, in beautiful Zomba. Now, a week later, I was feeling like Malawi was a ghost country. All my friends were dead. O.k., not Nimia.
After I'd been sitting there for a little while, not feeling morose exactly, but just a bit sad, 3 professional looking men, a bit chubby with suits, drove up and went inside. I could hear them in there, chatting with each other, and 2 of them started a game of pool. I went inside to watch and asked if I could challenge. They said, "Sure." So, I ordered a beer (pool doesn't go with soda, some things are just like that and you can't fight it) and stood by the window, watching. The 3rd one started talking with me, asking about my journey, etc. (They could see my loaded down bike outside.) I told him I'd been up to Down to find an old, old friend of mine.
He asked, "Was she still there?"
I said, "Well, sadly, she passed away. Just one year ago."
Strangely enough, he was quite comforting, that man. He didn't just say, "Oh, I'm sorry." I could see in his eyes that he really did feel for me, and maybe for Malawi in general. Everybody is losing friends and family to AIDS. But we got philosophical about it and said things like, "Well, life goes on," and we really meant it, you could tell. Life DOES go on. Malawi is not a ghost country. There are lots of people, living, working, laughing, playing pool. He told me that he and his 2 friends were on their way to see another friend, who was in the hospital. I told him I hoped things would be o.k., and I meant it.
Then, somebody won, so I took my turn at a game of pool.
Then, all four of us went into another part of the bar and sat down and chatted about another 20 minutes. They bought me a beer. Finally, they said that they had to go see their friend. I said that, yes, I've got to go too, to get to Lilongwe before dark.
Funny enough, talking with those 3 people, whose names I never even got, made me feel like everything is o.k., just go on. When I got back out on the road, there was a nice breeze, perfect cycling weather. I rode the rest of the way to Lilongwe, humming most of the way.
(Went back to the plush Lilongwe Hotel - my god, I could *live* at that place! Haha.)
----------------------- TODAY -------------------- TOTAL
Cycled ----------------- 55 km (34 mi) ------------ 4,401 km (2,757 mi)
In Saddle -------------- 4 hours 6 min ------------- 289 hours 40 min
Ascended -------------- 920 feet ------------------ 77,010 feet
Wednesday, 11th April 2007
To: Dowa
Rode up to Dowa today. Wanted to find Martha for some great rejoicing! Rode up, up, up the escarpment. Very beautiful.
When I arrived in town, my heart was thumping. How exciting to be here! I recognized everything, it hadn't changed a bit. Only that the old market was no longer being used because the government had promised to revamp it. That had been 2 years ago, but the revamping hadn't started yet. So, ALL the market vendors were now just selling their stuff on the "main" road, making "downtown" Dowa very busy. (I love using terms like "main road" and "downtown" when describing Dowa. This is a very small village, accessed only by dirt road. Nonetheless, there is a hospital there.)
So, I arrived and saw a man sitting on a beer crate, having a Carlsburg, on the front porch of the PTC grocery store. I wandered over, parked my bike, and walked up the 2 or 3 steps to the porch.
I asked the man, "Excuse me, sir, may I ask some advice?"
With a friendly grin, he said, "Yes."
I said, "I'm looking for an old, old friend of mine. Her name is Martha Manda. Her husband works at..."
He interrupted, with a smile, "... at Action Aid. Mr. Manda was a security man at Action Aid."
I said, "Yes! That's right! Do you know them?"
He said, "I know them very well... and I know you too."
This shocked me. "Really? You remember me?"
He said, "How could I forget you? Didn't you used to work up there at Red Cross? You and your sister, Martha, used to go walking hand in hand through town, all the time. Always laughing." He grinned when he said that. He finished with, "I've lived here for a long time."
This was very exciting! I asked if he could direct me to Martha's house.
He said, "I'm sorry to say that Mr. Manda passed away. That was ... 3 years ago. After that, Martha moved back to her home in Nkhotakhota."
Well, I thought, that's o.k., I've been to that home before. It's over by the lake. I'll just follow her there. Not that I didn't care about Martha's husband, of course I did, but Martha was never too keen on him anyway. Apparently, after making a lot of money working in the coal mines in South Africa, he then came back to Malawi and spent it all entertaining girlfriends. Martha and I used to giggle and plot about how she was going to start a business, become independent, and dump him. We started a business together once, raising chickens, but it flopped. (Nonetheless, Mr. Manda was always very curteous and polite and nice to me - it was sad that he died.)
"But how can I contact her in Nkhotakhota?" I asked. "Does she have a neighbor or anybody with a phone?"
This man was so friendly, typical Malawian. He'd just been sitting there on that beer crate, passing the time, watching the world go by. But now that his services were needed, he was ready to help. He said, "Wait a moment. Her old neighbor is selling groundnuts at the market. Let me go find her and ask." So, he left his beer crate and I sat down on it and waited.
After about 10 minutes, he came back with Honesta! The neighbor to Martha! I knew her! She came walking up the steps, smiling widely, and said, "Leigh Anne! Leigh Anne!" with an embrace that lasted forever. We were both giggling.
Then, when she stepped back, she had tears as she started saying, "Martha... Martha...," and shaking her head. My heart sank and my eyes started swelling, but I waited for her to say it. She finally said it. "Martha ... anamwalira." She died. So there I was, twice in two days, crying. But at least this time it was with a friend, at least someone I knew, rather than with a random "medical person" whom I didn't even know. We hugged and embraced and cried and hugged and embraced and cried for a long time.
Finally, I asked, "Liti?" When? It was just one year ago, 15th Jan 2006. Apparently, she'd written me a letter, about 1 year before. Honesta said that she'd told her that she was going to write to Leigh Anne. I never received that letter and I wonder where it went. Probably to Dad's house, but maybe using an old address. I was thinking that if I'd just received that letter, or maybe if I'd just come a little sooner, I might have been able to help, with medicine. She had AIDS.
But then Honesta and I smiled to each other and she told me she couldn't believe it was really me, that she never thought she'd see me again. She and I had sat down on beer crates, and the friendly man who apparently knew me had also sat down, and we were chatting. Honesta was telling me that I'd have to come to the house, Martha's children are there, when a young man came riding by on his bicycle. He stopped his bike and walked slowly up the porch steps of the grocery store, looking at me. He grinned and said, "Leigh Anne?"
Surprised (who is this person, I thought?), I said, "Yes?"
He said, "Oh, no!" and cried and laughed at the same time as he came running the rest of the way up the steps. But he could see that I was confused. "I'm Blessings," he said, "Martha's son! Don't you remember me?"
Rode up to Dowa today. Wanted to find Martha for some great rejoicing! Rode up, up, up the escarpment. Very beautiful.
When I arrived in town, my heart was thumping. How exciting to be here! I recognized everything, it hadn't changed a bit. Only that the old market was no longer being used because the government had promised to revamp it. That had been 2 years ago, but the revamping hadn't started yet. So, ALL the market vendors were now just selling their stuff on the "main" road, making "downtown" Dowa very busy. (I love using terms like "main road" and "downtown" when describing Dowa. This is a very small village, accessed only by dirt road. Nonetheless, there is a hospital there.)
So, I arrived and saw a man sitting on a beer crate, having a Carlsburg, on the front porch of the PTC grocery store. I wandered over, parked my bike, and walked up the 2 or 3 steps to the porch.
I asked the man, "Excuse me, sir, may I ask some advice?"
With a friendly grin, he said, "Yes."
I said, "I'm looking for an old, old friend of mine. Her name is Martha Manda. Her husband works at..."
He interrupted, with a smile, "... at Action Aid. Mr. Manda was a security man at Action Aid."
I said, "Yes! That's right! Do you know them?"
He said, "I know them very well... and I know you too."
This shocked me. "Really? You remember me?"
He said, "How could I forget you? Didn't you used to work up there at Red Cross? You and your sister, Martha, used to go walking hand in hand through town, all the time. Always laughing." He grinned when he said that. He finished with, "I've lived here for a long time."
This was very exciting! I asked if he could direct me to Martha's house.
He said, "I'm sorry to say that Mr. Manda passed away. That was ... 3 years ago. After that, Martha moved back to her home in Nkhotakhota."
Well, I thought, that's o.k., I've been to that home before. It's over by the lake. I'll just follow her there. Not that I didn't care about Martha's husband, of course I did, but Martha was never too keen on him anyway. Apparently, after making a lot of money working in the coal mines in South Africa, he then came back to Malawi and spent it all entertaining girlfriends. Martha and I used to giggle and plot about how she was going to start a business, become independent, and dump him. We started a business together once, raising chickens, but it flopped. (Nonetheless, Mr. Manda was always very curteous and polite and nice to me - it was sad that he died.)
"But how can I contact her in Nkhotakhota?" I asked. "Does she have a neighbor or anybody with a phone?"
This man was so friendly, typical Malawian. He'd just been sitting there on that beer crate, passing the time, watching the world go by. But now that his services were needed, he was ready to help. He said, "Wait a moment. Her old neighbor is selling groundnuts at the market. Let me go find her and ask." So, he left his beer crate and I sat down on it and waited.
After about 10 minutes, he came back with Honesta! The neighbor to Martha! I knew her! She came walking up the steps, smiling widely, and said, "Leigh Anne! Leigh Anne!" with an embrace that lasted forever. We were both giggling.
Then, when she stepped back, she had tears as she started saying, "Martha... Martha...," and shaking her head. My heart sank and my eyes started swelling, but I waited for her to say it. She finally said it. "Martha ... anamwalira." She died. So there I was, twice in two days, crying. But at least this time it was with a friend, at least someone I knew, rather than with a random "medical person" whom I didn't even know. We hugged and embraced and cried and hugged and embraced and cried for a long time.
Finally, I asked, "Liti?" When? It was just one year ago, 15th Jan 2006. Apparently, she'd written me a letter, about 1 year before. Honesta said that she'd told her that she was going to write to Leigh Anne. I never received that letter and I wonder where it went. Probably to Dad's house, but maybe using an old address. I was thinking that if I'd just received that letter, or maybe if I'd just come a little sooner, I might have been able to help, with medicine. She had AIDS.
But then Honesta and I smiled to each other and she told me she couldn't believe it was really me, that she never thought she'd see me again. She and I had sat down on beer crates, and the friendly man who apparently knew me had also sat down, and we were chatting. Honesta was telling me that I'd have to come to the house, Martha's children are there, when a young man came riding by on his bicycle. He stopped his bike and walked slowly up the porch steps of the grocery store, looking at me. He grinned and said, "Leigh Anne?"
Surprised (who is this person, I thought?), I said, "Yes?"
He said, "Oh, no!" and cried and laughed at the same time as he came running the rest of the way up the steps. But he could see that I was confused. "I'm Blessings," he said, "Martha's son! Don't you remember me?"
I said, "Oh my God! Blessings!" and stood up and gave him a big hug (which embarrassed the 25-year-old, but I didn't care). When I first knew Blessings, he was just 10 years old. But now, he told me, he had a wife and children and they are all living in Martha's old house.
He insisted that I come spend the night. Honesta said, "I'll go close up my market stall and come. We'll talk and talk!" So, I went in the store and bought quite a few beers and lots and lots of sodas, knowing there'd be plenty of kids around, and some cooking oil and bread, and other essentials, and off we went.
When we got to the house, I remembered it right away. "My sister's house," I thought. "My sister's compound," I thought. "My sister's outdoor kitchen," I thought.
And then people started showing up, and I didn't always recognize them at first. Martha's daughter, Rose, now aged 21, and also married with children. Another son, Charles, also with children. They led me inside and I sat down and they kept bringing in children and putting them on my lap and saying, "This is your grandchild, son to Blessings," and "This is also your grandchild, daughter to Rose," and "Even this one. Another grandchild. Daughter to Blessings." 
And they kept saying to the children, "Wonani agogo." Look at your grandma. Here is a picture of Blessings and a few of the kids. And here is 
another picture of me with a couple of the "grandkids".
We had a party and a feast that night. Of course, they killed a chicken. Always makes me feel bad when they do that, when you know they can never eat chicken. But it was o.k., I knew they wanted to do it. Eventually, Honesta came and so did her husband. So did her daughter, Doreen, whom I only remembered as a baby on Honesta's back - but she was now 14.
We talked and laughed and told some stories about Martha and I told the one about when we had reached the ranks of sisterhood. I knew Martha pretty well, but had never slept at her place before. Then, I moved away from Down and down to Thyolo, in the southern part of Malawi. A few months later, I came back to visit and slept at her house for several nights. The first night, when it came time to sleep, Martha came to me with a bowl of water and said, "Leigh Anne, do you want to wash your feet?" I said, "No, that's o.k. I'm clean." Martha shrugged and we slept. The next day, we spent the whole day talking and laughing, fetching water and peeling potatoes. When it came time to sleep, Martha came with a bowl of water and said, "Achemwali, sambaani mapazi." Sister, clean your feet. She and I both laughed and laughed and I cleaned 
my feet. In one day, I had gone from "Leigh Anne" to "Sister" and she had gone from a polite question ("Do you want to wash your feet?") to a command ("Wash your feet.").
I leave you with one more picture of some folks in the house that night, including Rose, the daughter. It was a nice night, all things considered.
-------------------- TODAY ------------------ TOTAL
Cycled -------------- 46 km (29 mi) ----------- 4,346 km (2,723 mi)
Lift ----------------- 20 km (12 mi) ----------- 2,470 km (1,650 mi)
Total --------------- 66 km (41 mi) ------------ 6,816 km (4,373 mi)
In Saddle ----------- 4 hours 20 min ----------- 285 hours 34 min
Ascended ----------- 1,300 feet ---------------- 76,090 feet
Friday, April 27, 2007
Tuesday, 10th April 2007
Within Lilongwe
One of the things I love about Malawi is the proliferance of bottle openers. They are 
everywhere, attached to posts, on key chains, everywhere! You are never at a loss as to how to open a bottle. Here is an example of one in a chibuku bottle store. You see it there, attached to the counter, very conveniently placed?
Then, if there is not an official bottle opener, most Malawians have great bottle opening talents. Like, for example, using one bottle to open another. 
Or, for example, just opening with your teeth as Honesta's husband is doing in this photo. Honesta and her husband have been long time neighbors to Martha, from Dowa. That story is for tomorrow.
I decided to spend the day looking for my old friend, Colins, a.k.a Swivle Hips, who used to work as a radiologist at Kamuzu Central Hospital. Colins got the nickname Swivle Hips because of his great dancing ability. One time, Colins and I and Nimia and 2 other old Peace Corps buddies, we were all at the lake (Lake Malawi) for the weekend. We were sitting around at a bar, having some beers and chatting. An old man came by and wanted to sell something. It took a lot of deciphering to figure out that it was supposed to be a carving of a boat and paddle. It was very, very bad! In our good-spirited mood of the day, however, we decided, well, at least he's not begging. Trying to actually "earn" a living. So, Colins and I paid 1 kwacha each, for a total of 2 kwacha, for this carving. The others (Nimia and the 2 Peace Corps buddies) laughed at us. This was shortly before I left Malawi. So, we decided that Colins would keep the boat and me the paddle. That way, we'd always have a connection. A couple of times, we wrote letters and always asked, "Do you have the paddle?" "Do you have the boat?" Once, in 1998, I came to visit and Colins showed me his display of the paddle.
So, I went to where he used to live but he wasn't there any more. So, I started snooping around the hospital where he used to work. People said that he wasn't there any more, but most of the people I talked to hadn't been there long so they didn't remember him. Finally, I found another medical guy, named Mcpherson, who was nice. He hadn't been there long either, but said he'd ask around for me. When he came back, he had one of Colin's old classmates with him, who looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, sister. Your friend died. He was in a minibus accident, up north. It must have been shortly after you were here last. He died in 1999." I wasn't expecting this, but right there in the hospital, with lots and lots of people around, I started to cry. Only briefly, though. Then, I said, "I guess that's life, isn't it?" He said, "Yes. I'm sorry." Mcpherson gave me his e-mail and phone number. Somehow, I feel like keeping in touch with him, as though he can somehow be a replacement for good ol' Swivle Hips, which he can't, of course.
---------------- TODAY -------------------- TOTAL
Cycled (in LL)--- 24 km (15 mi) ------------- 4,300 km (2,694 mi)
In Saddle -------- 1 hour 45 min ------------- 281 hours 14 min
Ascended -------- 280 feet ------------------- 74,790 feet
Monday, April 9, 2007
Monday, 9th April 2007
In Lilongwe
When I left Kiboko Camp this morning, Janey tried to only charge me for a dorm bed, even though she had given me a private (staff) room. I didn't let her get away with it, and at least insisted that I pay for a private room.
However, didn't actually leave Kiboko Camp until 11:00. Came to this internet place to check e-mail and completely update the blog. That took a couple of hours. Now it is 2:30.
Have decided to go stay in the plush Lilongwe Hotel tonight. That'll be fun. I woke up feeling about 90% fine this morning. Had a pretty bad headache, but the miracle drugs made it subside quickly. I guess it takes longer than you'd like to admit to completely recover from death's door. Am now completely finished updating the blog, and feeling GREAT! Tomorrow, I will not be 90%, but rather 110%!
Tomorrow is real GET SERIOUS time in terms of getting back on track with the bike trip! Haha. I'm excited. It will be a big ride up to Dowa. I'm going to go up there, to try to find my old friend Martha. Haven't seen her in 9 years. I've only ever gone to Dowa by bus, but it is a long ride, up, up, up, once you take the Dowa turn-off, off the main road. I think it will be fun to actually ride it on my bike... After a last good-night's sleep in the plush Lilongwe Hotel!
When I left Kiboko Camp this morning, Janey tried to only charge me for a dorm bed, even though she had given me a private (staff) room. I didn't let her get away with it, and at least insisted that I pay for a private room.
However, didn't actually leave Kiboko Camp until 11:00. Came to this internet place to check e-mail and completely update the blog. That took a couple of hours. Now it is 2:30.
Have decided to go stay in the plush Lilongwe Hotel tonight. That'll be fun. I woke up feeling about 90% fine this morning. Had a pretty bad headache, but the miracle drugs made it subside quickly. I guess it takes longer than you'd like to admit to completely recover from death's door. Am now completely finished updating the blog, and feeling GREAT! Tomorrow, I will not be 90%, but rather 110%!
Tomorrow is real GET SERIOUS time in terms of getting back on track with the bike trip! Haha. I'm excited. It will be a big ride up to Dowa. I'm going to go up there, to try to find my old friend Martha. Haven't seen her in 9 years. I've only ever gone to Dowa by bus, but it is a long ride, up, up, up, once you take the Dowa turn-off, off the main road. I think it will be fun to actually ride it on my bike... After a last good-night's sleep in the plush Lilongwe Hotel!
Sunday, 8th April 2007
In Lilongwe
Continuing to recover and feeling much, much better! Seems to get worse at night and better again during the day. The malaria drugs Dr. Huber gave me are for 6 days, so that's 3 more days, but I feel like I'll be strong enough to move on tomorrow.
Janey continues to be the kindest sweetest person EVER. Most of the day I slept, but I actually left Kiboko Camp grounds for a couple of hours today and did some internetting (blog updating). When Janey saw me walking toward the gate, she came running after me.
"Leigh Anne!" she said.
When I turned around, she said, "Are you sure you'll be o.k., dear? You need rest. Where are you going?"
I smiled and said, "I'm feeling fine." I felt so overwhelmed with warmth that a stranger would care so much though, that I walked back and gave her a hug. "Thank you for caring," I said.
She said, "Don't overdo it. Take a taxi if you get tired."
I said, "O.k."
By evening, I knew that tomorrow I'll be ready to leave. Ready to continue my adventure! Janey repeated how amazed she was with my quick recovery. She said that she's had malaria 5 times (has lived in Africa all her life) and has never recovered so quickly.
How can one repay somebody like her? Not possible, I guess. I'll probably never see her again. Just go on with life and try to do the same thing yourself to somebody else one day. I guess.
Continuing to recover and feeling much, much better! Seems to get worse at night and better again during the day. The malaria drugs Dr. Huber gave me are for 6 days, so that's 3 more days, but I feel like I'll be strong enough to move on tomorrow.
Janey continues to be the kindest sweetest person EVER. Most of the day I slept, but I actually left Kiboko Camp grounds for a couple of hours today and did some internetting (blog updating). When Janey saw me walking toward the gate, she came running after me.
"Leigh Anne!" she said.
When I turned around, she said, "Are you sure you'll be o.k., dear? You need rest. Where are you going?"
I smiled and said, "I'm feeling fine." I felt so overwhelmed with warmth that a stranger would care so much though, that I walked back and gave her a hug. "Thank you for caring," I said.
She said, "Don't overdo it. Take a taxi if you get tired."
I said, "O.k."
By evening, I knew that tomorrow I'll be ready to leave. Ready to continue my adventure! Janey repeated how amazed she was with my quick recovery. She said that she's had malaria 5 times (has lived in Africa all her life) and has never recovered so quickly.
How can one repay somebody like her? Not possible, I guess. I'll probably never see her again. Just go on with life and try to do the same thing yourself to somebody else one day. I guess.
Saturday, 7th April 2007
In Lilongwe
In the morning, I woke up in the clinic, feeling just hunky dorey. I lay there, examining the ceiling a bit, before Dr. Huber came in and said, "Good morning!" in a chipper voice. I said, "Good morning!" in an equally chipper voice.
I told him that I was feeling fine and thought I could go home. "Home". O.k., back to Kiboko Camp, more like. He agreed. He told me he couldn't believe my recovery. That I was a miracle patient. He'd expected me to be deathly ill for a couple of days at least.
Well, things weren't exactly perfect. As soon as I got out of the bed to go use the loo, the effort of that brought on some nausea and headache. But I could certainly live with it! Felt like I was back in the world of the living!
When I walked back to Kiboko Camp (only 500 meters from the clinic), the first person to oh-so-kindly greet me was a woman whom I didn't recognize. She said, "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"
I smiled and asked, "Are you one of the two who helped me when I was lying on the bathroom floor yesterday?"
She said, "Yes."
I gave her a big, big, big huge hug and thanked her.
It amazed me, though. If I fainted, how did I manage to fall without wacking my skull against one of the sinks, or the concrete floor? I don't remember anything. But maybe, in my delirious state, I hadn't fallen? Maybe I had just decided that this would be a good place to lie down? So I asked her.
My benefactor said, "You fell. You went down hard. THUD!" She said the THUD very loudly. It made me wince. Yeeks! I felt very lucky that I'd not cracked my skull open.
Janey continued to act with such kindness. She said, "We need to find you a room." She searched her books, fiddled and fidgetted. I said that I could stay in a dorm bed. She said, "Oh, no, you can't do that, you'll need lots of rest. Just hold on." Finally, she said, "O.k., dear, follow me." I don't know who she displaced or what she did, but she placed me in one of the staff rooms. None of the regular guest rooms were available.
Although feeling 500% better, I spent most of the day sleeping. Sometimes my headache would come on, or some nausea would come on. But then I'd take one of Dr. Huber's nausea pills or miracle pills and things would be o.k. and back to sleep. Sometimes I'd feel fine and get up and walk around a bit. But after 45 minutes or an hour, I'd feel a bit drowsy and go lie down for a 
"nap." Three hours later, I'd wake up.
Though I'm completely back in the land of the living, I can't help but to wonder about that "I crossed and my wife died" bridge. I leave you with another view of that bridge, from the other side.
Friday, 6th April 2007
In Lilongwe
I think I may have had the worst night of my entire life last night. It’s possible that I’ve had a worse one, but I don’t remember it.
Despite taking panadols, my head was not just achy. It was BANGING. Half the night I was sweating and couldn’t get cool enough. I didn’t think it was fever, I just thought it was hot outside. The other half the night, I was absolutely freezing and literally shivering. Tried doubling up the blanket to get more warmth, but the effort and movement involved in doubling the blanket made my head bang more.
When the sun finally came up, I thought, “I have got to see Elaine.” But the thought of getting up to go find her was nearly unthinkable. A few times, I’d move my leg a few centimeters and then stop again, just lying there. Finally, I thought, “I HAVE to go see Elaine, before they all leave!” I managed to swing my legs to the floor and walk, slowly, over to where Elaine was sleeping. All I could think was, “Please, please, please help me. Take me to a clinic if you need to. Do whatever. Just help. Please.” I know that is a pathetic way to think, but it’s all I could think. Elaine was very soothing and gave me 2 strong pills to help the headache.
I went back and lay down. The pills didn’t work. Not even a teansy, teansy bit. I don’t care how strong they were. They didn’t work. After about 30 minutes, I called out for the help of anybody who could hear my voice. "Hello?" I said. "Hello?"
Jack heard and came. Very nicely, he said, "Yes, Leigh Anne. It's me, Jack." I remember his voice through the tent wall because it was so caring sounding.
I asked him to please let Elaine know where I was. Not much later, Elaine came by. She talked to me gently, gave me 2 more pills, but told me not to take them for a while. She told me that I should really go to a clinic today.
I felt desperate. I didn’t have the strength to help myself. The effort of opening my eyes was painful. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get up, organize a taxi, do whatever needs to be done, get to a clinic, explain the problem. I knew I couldn’t do that. Nimia, whom I had spent the day with yesterday, had gone up north to visit her mother-in-law.
I thought of another very good old friend, Martha Manda from Dowa. Martha had been a very good friend, she even named a child after me. The problem was that she doesn’t have a phone. The only thing I knew was that her husband works for Action Aide in Dowa. I asked Elaine. “Can you go find my friend, Martha, in Dowa, and bring her? She’ll take care of things. She’ll come. I know it.”
Elaine said, “We can’t do that. We have a border crossing today. We are about to leave. You need to go to a clinic.”
I felt a bit betrayed. I paid for this entire TDA trip, all the way to S. Africa. It is true that I was leaving here, in Lilongwe. But we were still together, they hadn’t left yet, and I was all paid up. I was sick. I needed help. Couldn’t they see that?
“She doesn’t understand,” I thought to myself. Out loud I said, “Can you please try to contact Martha’s husband? He works at Action Aide. When you tell him, I know Martha will come.” Martha is poor. She probably wouldn’t even have the transport money to come to Lilongwe. But if she heard that her old friend was asking for her, she’d scrounge around at her neighbors, get the money, and be here by early afternoon. I was 1,000% sure of that. And then … I’d be saved. She could take care of everything, get me to a clinic, whatever. I know that sounds dramatic, but that’s how I was thinking.
But Elaine said, in her gentlist of voices, “I’m sorry, we can’t call. We are going. Thor already has the engine running. I’ll ask the owners of this camp to check in on you in a few hours.”
I said, “O.k., thank you.” She left. Everybody left.
The next couple of hours are somewhat of a haze, but I remember lying there with tears for part of it. I honest to God thought I was going to die. I started thinking about my life and thinking that it had been a pretty good one, but I wish it didn’t have to end like this. I wondered things like, who is going to tell my family? Nobody even knows me at this camp. If I could get to a clinic, I might stand a chance, but I can’t get to a clinic. I remember taking the other pills that Elaine had left, thinking: if this reduces the pain, which was also now nausea, just enough, then maybe I’d be able to get there on my own.
The pills didn’t work.
Once, when I was sure I was going to throw up, I did manage to come down from the bed and crawl out of the big huge tent I was in and heave in the grass. It was mainly dry heaves though, with very little “stuff”. I then lay down there in the grass, with my feet halfway in the tent, because of not enough energy to turn around and get back in the tent. After I’m not sure how long, I felt my head was on fire from heat (the sun), so I wiggled myself around and now my head was lying inside the tent and the rest of me was outside. Don’t know how long I lay like that. I could hear voices in the distance and thought, “Oh, please, somebody, call a doctor.”
Then, I was sure I was going to diarrhea. I lifted my head slightly and opened my blurry eyes. The bathrooms and toilet stalls were about 50 meters away. I stood up barely and started walking toward the stalls. The stalls were very blurry and I was delirious and weaving. I got there. One was occupied. There were only two. I remember looking in the second one and thinking, “Oh, thank god there’s toilet paper. I don’t have time to wait for this other one.” But I was *very* delirious. I remember thinking, “Please, God, let me make it to the seat. Then I’ll be o.k.” That’s the last thing I remember for a while.
When I woke up, two very kindly looking Malawian women were putting their cool, damp hands on my forehead and face. Two angels from heaven. I was lying on the bathroom floor. The concrete floor was also cool. I remember thinking, “This feels nice. I’ll just stay here a bit.” But then I noticed that in the process of however I got down there to the floor, I’d also spoiled myself with diarrhea. My honest to god first thought was, “I don’t care. I’ll just lie here in my mess. It’s o.k.” But then I thought, “No, I should try to go sit on that toilet.”
I said, “I have to go to the toilet.” I tried to get up, but failed. The ladies pulled me up, sat me down, and closed the door. A couple more bouts of diarrhea later, and then I realized I had to vomit. I asked for a bucket. I could hear them out there, scurrying, trying to get a bucket, but they weren’t scurrying fast enough.
About 5 seconds later, I asked again, “Is there a bucket?”
One of the ladies said, “It’s coming.” More scurrying. But it didn’t come fast enough. Now, in addition to my soiled underwear, there was barf all over the bathroom stall floor.
To make a long story short (well, I haven’t made it very short, have I?), the owner of the camp, named Janey, was called for help. When I finally cleaned myself up as much as possible and took off my underwear (my shorts were almost o.k., so I just wore them without the underwear), and came out of the stall, Janey was there. She asked when I started feeling sick, etc, and then she and her husband, Tom, drove me to a clinic.
Janey is my hero. She didn’t even know me. But she stayed there with me, at the clinic, calling me “honey” and “dear” and making me feel almost o.k. Dr. Huber examined me. He asked me if I felt feverish. I said, “No. Just headache and body ache, all over.” He took my temperature. I had a temperature of 39.3. I don’t know what that is in farenheit, but apparently it’s high because he said, “You DON’T feel feverish? You have a temp of 39.3!” He took a blood slide and exclaimed, “Oh my god, this is exciting! I’ve never seen so many parasites!” I lifted my head from his desk and asked, “What is it?” He said, “Malaria 4+. Very deadly. I can't believe you've been walking around the last 2 days with this stuff.” He went and discussed it with Janey, who I guess was acting on my behalf, and they decided that I should be admitted. I was also dehydrated and needed a drip.
I had a vague thought of, “Admit?! This is going to cost a lot of money.” But my main thought was, “I don’t care. Admit me! Admit me! Save me!”
Dr. Huber’s wife came and took me to my room. This was a very small clinic and nobody was on duty because it is Easter Friday, so Dr. Huber and his wife comprised the entire staff. Several injections for malaria, nausea, and general headaches later, plus the needle in my arm for the drip, and I was lying there in the bed, almost comfortable, for the first time since last night. Mrs. Huber asked, “Is there anything else you need now?” I smiled coherently and said, “I think I’m o.k.” She left and I dozed. When I woke up a few hours later, I noticed that my headache was only barely there.
I slept most of the rest of the day, except for every once in a while when Dr. Huber would come in and give me some injection or change my drip package. By evening, I was feeling much, much better. Even sat up and ate some cup-o-soup and bread. Janey came by to check on me and bring me a few things that she’d found among my stuff. Mainly, my phone. That was sure nice of her, she must have rummaged through a lot of stuff to find that phone – it wasn’t in an obvious place. When she came by, she remarked, “Wow, what an amazing improvement! Six hours ago, you looked at death’s door.”
I said, “I know! I feel much better!” and smiled. I still had a headache and felt nauseous, but the difference between how I felt now and how I’d felt in the morning was like night and day.
Then, despite sleeping most of the day, I managed to sleep all night. For several hours during the night, I was feverish and sweating and my sheets got all wet. My headache came back in full force, but then I took some of the “miracle pills” that Dr. Huber had given me and the headache subsided. The sweats also eventually subsided and I slept again.
I think I may have had the worst night of my entire life last night. It’s possible that I’ve had a worse one, but I don’t remember it.
Despite taking panadols, my head was not just achy. It was BANGING. Half the night I was sweating and couldn’t get cool enough. I didn’t think it was fever, I just thought it was hot outside. The other half the night, I was absolutely freezing and literally shivering. Tried doubling up the blanket to get more warmth, but the effort and movement involved in doubling the blanket made my head bang more.
When the sun finally came up, I thought, “I have got to see Elaine.” But the thought of getting up to go find her was nearly unthinkable. A few times, I’d move my leg a few centimeters and then stop again, just lying there. Finally, I thought, “I HAVE to go see Elaine, before they all leave!” I managed to swing my legs to the floor and walk, slowly, over to where Elaine was sleeping. All I could think was, “Please, please, please help me. Take me to a clinic if you need to. Do whatever. Just help. Please.” I know that is a pathetic way to think, but it’s all I could think. Elaine was very soothing and gave me 2 strong pills to help the headache.
I went back and lay down. The pills didn’t work. Not even a teansy, teansy bit. I don’t care how strong they were. They didn’t work. After about 30 minutes, I called out for the help of anybody who could hear my voice. "Hello?" I said. "Hello?"
Jack heard and came. Very nicely, he said, "Yes, Leigh Anne. It's me, Jack." I remember his voice through the tent wall because it was so caring sounding.
I asked him to please let Elaine know where I was. Not much later, Elaine came by. She talked to me gently, gave me 2 more pills, but told me not to take them for a while. She told me that I should really go to a clinic today.
I felt desperate. I didn’t have the strength to help myself. The effort of opening my eyes was painful. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get up, organize a taxi, do whatever needs to be done, get to a clinic, explain the problem. I knew I couldn’t do that. Nimia, whom I had spent the day with yesterday, had gone up north to visit her mother-in-law.
I thought of another very good old friend, Martha Manda from Dowa. Martha had been a very good friend, she even named a child after me. The problem was that she doesn’t have a phone. The only thing I knew was that her husband works for Action Aide in Dowa. I asked Elaine. “Can you go find my friend, Martha, in Dowa, and bring her? She’ll take care of things. She’ll come. I know it.”
Elaine said, “We can’t do that. We have a border crossing today. We are about to leave. You need to go to a clinic.”
I felt a bit betrayed. I paid for this entire TDA trip, all the way to S. Africa. It is true that I was leaving here, in Lilongwe. But we were still together, they hadn’t left yet, and I was all paid up. I was sick. I needed help. Couldn’t they see that?
“She doesn’t understand,” I thought to myself. Out loud I said, “Can you please try to contact Martha’s husband? He works at Action Aide. When you tell him, I know Martha will come.” Martha is poor. She probably wouldn’t even have the transport money to come to Lilongwe. But if she heard that her old friend was asking for her, she’d scrounge around at her neighbors, get the money, and be here by early afternoon. I was 1,000% sure of that. And then … I’d be saved. She could take care of everything, get me to a clinic, whatever. I know that sounds dramatic, but that’s how I was thinking.
But Elaine said, in her gentlist of voices, “I’m sorry, we can’t call. We are going. Thor already has the engine running. I’ll ask the owners of this camp to check in on you in a few hours.”
I said, “O.k., thank you.” She left. Everybody left.
The next couple of hours are somewhat of a haze, but I remember lying there with tears for part of it. I honest to God thought I was going to die. I started thinking about my life and thinking that it had been a pretty good one, but I wish it didn’t have to end like this. I wondered things like, who is going to tell my family? Nobody even knows me at this camp. If I could get to a clinic, I might stand a chance, but I can’t get to a clinic. I remember taking the other pills that Elaine had left, thinking: if this reduces the pain, which was also now nausea, just enough, then maybe I’d be able to get there on my own.
The pills didn’t work.
Once, when I was sure I was going to throw up, I did manage to come down from the bed and crawl out of the big huge tent I was in and heave in the grass. It was mainly dry heaves though, with very little “stuff”. I then lay down there in the grass, with my feet halfway in the tent, because of not enough energy to turn around and get back in the tent. After I’m not sure how long, I felt my head was on fire from heat (the sun), so I wiggled myself around and now my head was lying inside the tent and the rest of me was outside. Don’t know how long I lay like that. I could hear voices in the distance and thought, “Oh, please, somebody, call a doctor.”
Then, I was sure I was going to diarrhea. I lifted my head slightly and opened my blurry eyes. The bathrooms and toilet stalls were about 50 meters away. I stood up barely and started walking toward the stalls. The stalls were very blurry and I was delirious and weaving. I got there. One was occupied. There were only two. I remember looking in the second one and thinking, “Oh, thank god there’s toilet paper. I don’t have time to wait for this other one.” But I was *very* delirious. I remember thinking, “Please, God, let me make it to the seat. Then I’ll be o.k.” That’s the last thing I remember for a while.
When I woke up, two very kindly looking Malawian women were putting their cool, damp hands on my forehead and face. Two angels from heaven. I was lying on the bathroom floor. The concrete floor was also cool. I remember thinking, “This feels nice. I’ll just stay here a bit.” But then I noticed that in the process of however I got down there to the floor, I’d also spoiled myself with diarrhea. My honest to god first thought was, “I don’t care. I’ll just lie here in my mess. It’s o.k.” But then I thought, “No, I should try to go sit on that toilet.”
I said, “I have to go to the toilet.” I tried to get up, but failed. The ladies pulled me up, sat me down, and closed the door. A couple more bouts of diarrhea later, and then I realized I had to vomit. I asked for a bucket. I could hear them out there, scurrying, trying to get a bucket, but they weren’t scurrying fast enough.
About 5 seconds later, I asked again, “Is there a bucket?”
One of the ladies said, “It’s coming.” More scurrying. But it didn’t come fast enough. Now, in addition to my soiled underwear, there was barf all over the bathroom stall floor.
To make a long story short (well, I haven’t made it very short, have I?), the owner of the camp, named Janey, was called for help. When I finally cleaned myself up as much as possible and took off my underwear (my shorts were almost o.k., so I just wore them without the underwear), and came out of the stall, Janey was there. She asked when I started feeling sick, etc, and then she and her husband, Tom, drove me to a clinic.
Janey is my hero. She didn’t even know me. But she stayed there with me, at the clinic, calling me “honey” and “dear” and making me feel almost o.k. Dr. Huber examined me. He asked me if I felt feverish. I said, “No. Just headache and body ache, all over.” He took my temperature. I had a temperature of 39.3. I don’t know what that is in farenheit, but apparently it’s high because he said, “You DON’T feel feverish? You have a temp of 39.3!” He took a blood slide and exclaimed, “Oh my god, this is exciting! I’ve never seen so many parasites!” I lifted my head from his desk and asked, “What is it?” He said, “Malaria 4+. Very deadly. I can't believe you've been walking around the last 2 days with this stuff.” He went and discussed it with Janey, who I guess was acting on my behalf, and they decided that I should be admitted. I was also dehydrated and needed a drip.
I had a vague thought of, “Admit?! This is going to cost a lot of money.” But my main thought was, “I don’t care. Admit me! Admit me! Save me!”
Dr. Huber’s wife came and took me to my room. This was a very small clinic and nobody was on duty because it is Easter Friday, so Dr. Huber and his wife comprised the entire staff. Several injections for malaria, nausea, and general headaches later, plus the needle in my arm for the drip, and I was lying there in the bed, almost comfortable, for the first time since last night. Mrs. Huber asked, “Is there anything else you need now?” I smiled coherently and said, “I think I’m o.k.” She left and I dozed. When I woke up a few hours later, I noticed that my headache was only barely there.
I slept most of the rest of the day, except for every once in a while when Dr. Huber would come in and give me some injection or change my drip package. By evening, I was feeling much, much better. Even sat up and ate some cup-o-soup and bread. Janey came by to check on me and bring me a few things that she’d found among my stuff. Mainly, my phone. That was sure nice of her, she must have rummaged through a lot of stuff to find that phone – it wasn’t in an obvious place. When she came by, she remarked, “Wow, what an amazing improvement! Six hours ago, you looked at death’s door.”
I said, “I know! I feel much better!” and smiled. I still had a headache and felt nauseous, but the difference between how I felt now and how I’d felt in the morning was like night and day.
Then, despite sleeping most of the day, I managed to sleep all night. For several hours during the night, I was feverish and sweating and my sheets got all wet. My headache came back in full force, but then I took some of the “miracle pills” that Dr. Huber had given me and the headache subsided. The sweats also eventually subsided and I slept again.
Thursday, 5th April 2007
Rest Day - Lilongwe
Met up with an old friend, Nimia, today! Great fun. We reminisced about our wild and crazy days, from back when. We were laughing about how we've both become a bit boring since then. This blog may not indicate it, but my normal life pretty much consists of: work, run, watch t.v., sleep. SLEEP, by the way. Nimia and I were talking about how we didn't seem to need any sleep back then. How was that possible? I need LOTS of sleep now!
Felt head-achy most of the day, took several panadols throughout the day. Otherwise, felt o.k.
In the evening, played one last game of poker with George and Tiffany. That was fun. I went out when I went all in with George on the following hand.
Flop: 3d 9c 10h
Me: Jc Ah
George: Qh Kd
I had the upper hand, as I just had to avoid a J, Q, or K on the next 2 cards. Means my chances of winning were about 36/45 * 35/44 = 64%. A bit higher even, since if he hit the Q or K, I could still win if I hit the A. But... He hit his queen and I went out.
Didn't mind too much because I was feeling very tired and head-achy, so went to bed (8:00 p.m.). Planned to get up early and say good-bye to all my friends as the headed off for Zambia.
Met up with an old friend, Nimia, today! Great fun. We reminisced about our wild and crazy days, from back when. We were laughing about how we've both become a bit boring since then. This blog may not indicate it, but my normal life pretty much consists of: work, run, watch t.v., sleep. SLEEP, by the way. Nimia and I were talking about how we didn't seem to need any sleep back then. How was that possible? I need LOTS of sleep now!
Felt head-achy most of the day, took several panadols throughout the day. Otherwise, felt o.k.
In the evening, played one last game of poker with George and Tiffany. That was fun. I went out when I went all in with George on the following hand.
Flop: 3d 9c 10h
Me: Jc Ah
George: Qh Kd
I had the upper hand, as I just had to avoid a J, Q, or K on the next 2 cards. Means my chances of winning were about 36/45 * 35/44 = 64%. A bit higher even, since if he hit the Q or K, I could still win if I hit the A. But... He hit his queen and I went out.
Didn't mind too much because I was feeling very tired and head-achy, so went to bed (8:00 p.m.). Planned to get up early and say good-bye to all my friends as the headed off for Zambia.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Wednesday, 4th April 2007
To: Lilongwe
I woke up early in the morning, in order to catch an early bus to Lilongwe. Today is the day that all my TDA friends are reaching Lilongwe. I wanted to get there today as well, as per the plan. To get all my things and say my final farewells. But I was still something like 350 km away.
Left my guest house at 6:15 a.m. and boarded a minibus for Lilongwe at 6:45 a.m. So far, so good. Nice and early. An hour later, we're still sitting there. We finally left at 8:45 a.m., two hours later, and I was thinking that I could have slept in. Oh well.
The biggest problem came shortly after we started moving. I didn't feel too well. The minibus was crowded. Fortunately, I was sitting by a window, which helped slightly. After 2 hours, the minibus had to stop at a police check and I took the opportunity to go relieve some diarrhea. Felt a bit better for a short while. But an hour and a half later, I had to ask the conductor to please ask the driver to stop. "I'm feeling sick." How could he refuse that? Did he want me to barf all over everybody? So, they pulled over pretty quickly and I ran into the bushes for another round of diarrhoea and no barfing, though I thought I might.
Felt slightly better after that for a short while, but when we hit Lilongwe, in the stop and go traffic, things got REALLY bad. My eyes were mainly closed, but sometimes I'd open them dileriously. Kept putting my head out the window to puke on the street, but failing. I noticed many of my fellow cramped-in Malawian travellers looking at me worriedly, clucking, and saying things like, "Poor mzungu. Really sick." I WAS really sick. Sweating profusely, beads dripping from my forehead. My neighbor, sitting scrunched next to me, patted my back a few times (I was leaning my head against the seat in front of me) and said, "Be calm."
When the minibus finally arrived, it was about 2:00 p.m. People outside started asking me if I needed a taxi. Several of my kind fellow passengers told me not to trust "just anybody." Then, I tapped one of them and said, through my sweat and delirium, "Can you help me get a taxi?" He and another lady helped me, very nicely. Got my bags and bike out of the minibus for me and walked me over and put me in a taxi and told me how much to pay the man. They were so nice.
But then, miraculously, by the time I reached Kibuku Camp, where all my fellow TDA friends were, I already felt 1,000 times better! Maybe I just needed some fresh air, I thought. A bit tired, but otherwise fine. If you keep reading, however, you'll see that this was just a prelude to
worse times to come.
Since I didn't manage to get any pictures of me with my head hanging out the minibus window, trying to puke all over the streets of Lilongwe, I'll instead leave you with a picture that Ruth took of me a few weeks ago, when we crossed the halfway point - half way across Africa!
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