World's best campsite? above Lake Malawi

Journal Entry 55

August 14th, 2005

"The Life of Brian"

 

For a changeup, I've attempted to follow quite closely what I've done and thought in the past eleven days to answer the question: 'What do you DO all day?'

Beware: I think this'll be a long one, and there's a good mixture of events, in normal text, mixed with thoughts and tangents [which are in square brackets]. The result probably tells a lot more about me than my route. But probably they all do. Get what you want from it.

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Tuesday last, woke up 6am-ish in Kigali, Rwanda. Planning to stay a bit, so I do my laundry first thing, then go out for tea and bread. I'm on my third tea, 8.15am, when it hits me: the ferry that I want to take down Lake Tanganyika leaves tomorrow. From Kigoma, Tanzania. At 4pm. That's 600km away, and this is Africa. The race is on! [Usually the first thing I do when I get somewhere is figure out how to get out. So I knew that 2 companies run buses to the border at 9am.]

Game on.

Mad dash back to the guesthouse. Take my sopping laundry off the line and pack it into my backpack [Travelling, I am a collector of plastic bags. I save 'em all. Big, small, blue, clear, red. You never know when you'll need one. And a bag full of wet laundry is precisely one of those situations.] [You need to double-bag in Africa. Bag quality leaves something to be desired.]

I have 30 Rwandan francs left (about 6 cents) when I get to the station. [Changing money is a game to me. It's all about having precisely what I need, no more, no less.] I dive into my international currency collection, and pull out 7000 Ugandan shillings, just enough for my ticket, one souvenir 100-franc note, and a pack of biscuits for the road.

Ride to the border, site of a beautiful waterfall. Take some pictures. Walk up a hill and into Tanzania. Have a 10-minute discussion with the border official about the price of visas these days. 150 km down.

Nine people in a taxi, then switch to a packed minibus. [A joke, compliments of my friend Ian: 'How many people can you fit in an African bus?' ... 'Two more.'] Back door flies open en route, several bags fly out. Not mine. Good good.

100 km further, the road turns to dirt. I find myself stranded, so order a meal at a little shack, hang my laundry to dry on their roof, and read a bit of 'David Copperfield' while I wait for something to happen. [I'm not good at this. I get restless. Pro-active always wins out over waiting, for me.] 30 minutes later, I walk over to a police checkpoint I'd seen back a ways. Within minutes, I get a lucky hitch in a lorry.

70 km further, in the dark, we pass Congolese refugee camps and little else. I arrive in Kibondo at 10pm. A dude named Moses brings me to the bus station and helps me find a hotel. I give him my new flip flops, which hurt my feet too much. He's happy. So am I. Still 260 km to go.

Wednesday last, up at 4.38am to catch a 5am bus. [5am in Africa? Right. But there's a reason you always show up when they say: 1 time out of 40, it WILL actually leave at that time. This was one of those times!] Did you ever play a game called 'Super Off-Road' on Nintendo? It's a dirt course with turns, bumps, and jumps that you drive a truck around. Fast. OK, make it a van, and add 20 passengers. And you have my present situation.

Four hours, one flat tire, one corrupt police checkpoint, and two dead dogs later, I'm at the next juncture. [Nobody gives a damn when we hit a dog. It has no cash value. In Mauritania, I was told that if you have to swerve to avoid hitting a person OR a goat, hit the person. The goat's worth $20. If anything, people were amused when we hit the dogs.] [Dog #2, in fact, left his mark: on impact, two turd shards nailed the window, and I thought, 'Wow, we nailed the shit out of that one,' Sometimes I quite amuse myself, like on this occasion, and had to try my best not to laugh out loud.]

Board another minibus, 100km to go, it's gonna be tight, morning's closing out. [There's strategy to this. Get as far into a bus as you can. I find that midway back, and next to a window, is best. You're best insulated from the overcrowding that way, and don't have people crawling over you, and you can easily buy stuff from vendors out the window.] We're getting close. That boat leaves at 4pm. At 1.20pm, we get a flat tire.

One bus to go. I get to Kigoma, 300 shillings left (about 25 cents). Race against time. Get money. Get new flip flops. Buy a pineapple. Get my boat ticket. Board, at 3.30pm! I made it! After 29.5 hours on the road, I had a full 30 minutes to spare...why the rush?! [There are so many timely meetings, coincidences, happenstances, of which if only ONE were lacking, I wouldn't've made it. It's always like this!]

This boat's going to take me to Zambia! Immediately on board, I meet Nico (German) who looks at me and wonders what the hell happened [the last 350 km were dirt roads, you can't imagine what I looked like]. I shower on board in a little cubicle under cold water. Boat departs.

[Now, going back to Kigali, Rwanda, I could've saved this two-day race through hell by just going to Burundi and catching a boat from there. It's only 4-5 hours' drive. But, see, I do use caution. 97/100 people here say it's fine now, with the cease-fire and all. But it didn't feel right. Neither did the three-day trip that I wanted to do in the eastern Congo last week, which I also skipped. Some people back home seem convinced that I'm jumping through war zones indiscrimately...very far from true. My decisions are well-thought-out.]

Thursday last, full day on the boat, down the big long lake that divides Tanzania and the Congo. Occasional stops near villages. There aren't docks, so goods come and go via smaller boats. Quite a spectacle. I read, wander around, eat meals in the lower deck [I had one upper-deck, first-class meal. It was okay, but I prefer the cheaper, more lively, if slightly claustrophobic feel of lower-class], chat with Nico and Albrecht, two Hamburgers.

Friday last, get off the boat in Tanzania. [I can't count how many times I've done this. It ONLY made sense, financially and logistically, to take this boat if I was going ALL the way to Zambia. But I changed my mind, even though my ticket was to Zambia, getting off at the last Tanzanian stop.] [For the record, I wake up about one night in three, not knowing where I'll be sleeping that night, and frequently change my mind en route, according to my feeling at that moment in time.]

Joined Nico and Albrecht. Spent the afternoon in the back of a dump truck with 25 others, driving through more MMBA [An old British guy introduced me to this acronym: 'Miles and miles of bloody Africa'. So true: dirt roads through nothingness; rolling hills and savannah and dusty villages.]

Saturday last, up at silly o'clock [thank you Angel, for that expression], to catch an all-day bus [with a few dozen people standing in the aisle] through more MMBA. Albrecht continues on to Malawi, after bumping his head on a sign and bleeding profusely [If I do come in harms way in Africa, it will be likewise, or possibly falling into a hole in a street.]

I'm down to no money again, and get cash. I quest for a new journal. [The QUEST: these things keep me going for days. The concept is that you invent a quest, like getting a new journal, or some decent non-Chinese AAA batteries, or the perfect toothpaste. Then you spend eons of time wandering a city looking for the object. I've passed many such days. They always take you places you hadn't planned, and quite often you forget what you were questing for in the first place. But it's always fun and interesting.]

I'm very picky. I visit 8 stationery shops and don't find what I want. Quest unfulfilled. No matter. Another day. [I didn't find the journal for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes you just don't know why until much later. My philosophy is to accept fate, yet still try my damndest when I can.] Giving up the search, Nico and I talk to a local who recommends his favorite little hole-in-the-wall, where we have a killer meal!

Sunday. So we're in Mbeya now. Southern Tanzania. A morning breakfast at the market. Catch a ride to visit Ndozi Crater Lake. Get dropped off at some turnoff, pretty close to the middle of nowhere. No guesthouse, but a small bottle shop near the roadside has a room to spare, and we take over the proprietress' room as well. After wheedling our way out of paying 'admission' to this public site, we start our supposed 5 km walk. We end up going too far, then backtrack, then hitch in a lorry, then meet some fellow mzungus. [End of the story is that coincidence after coincidence leads to our finding the way to the proper path, and if one thing had happened different we'd've never found it, being far from obvious.]

We'd started this walk in dry scrub-land. And minutes later we'd entered rainforest! After a losing bout with evil biting ants, we made our way to the thickly-forested, mist-enshrouded crater rim, and one of the best-ever picnic sites, where we feasted on pineapple, oranges, and bread with honey. [Few things beat a good picnic.]

Back at the shop where we'd opted to sleep the night, we're told there's no food, but we follow some kid to a little village. En route we're invited for 'pombe'--local corn beer, served warm. Sound bad? It is. But in no time, we've gone from no meal, to a cludged-together meal of our own tomatoes and onions (and a packet of curry spice I carry with me) chopped over fried plaintains and potatoes. All is well.

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This is getting long. Sorry. I accelerate.

Monday, Nico and I split. I cross into Malawi. It takes three buses, and a long hot walk [ditching my pack with a security guard after walking 1.5 km fruitlessly] around the town of Karonga in search of a bank with an ATM that may or may not exist (which, miraculously, I find). [And somewhat accidentally find a perfect little journal for a dime...see? Everything works out for a reason...eventually.] End up at Chitimba Beach on Lake Malawi. It's filled with overland trucks. [An interesting anomaly...these are trucks filled with Westerners on organized trips through Africa. Way too organized for me, but convenient I suppose. They're here today, gone tomorrow.] [Weird for me, being used to staying in African hotels filled with, well, Africans, to going to a beach full of white people in beach towels and bottles of Carlsberg in hand.]

Tuesday, I hang at the beach. Buy some bracelets from local kids [I abhor giving handouts, but I'm happy to contribute in this way. These kids are making wonderful little bracelets from copper and electrical wire, and bits of rubber tubing!] I dig out a water bottle from the trash, having left my latest one on the last minibus [I've bought less than 10 bottles of water in Africa. Usually I only buy one when I need a new bottle, as I fill them with local water wherever I go. Then I keep it until it cracks or I lose it, generally a few weeks per bottle.] [And I've yet to be sick from water in Africa.]

Having travelled nearly non-stop for a solid week, I spend the day relaxing, reading, and playing guitar, and walking to the village for food instead of eating with white people at the expensive guesthouse. And I've probably got bilharzia now from the lake. I'll take some pills in six weeks to nip that one.

Wednesday, I leave my friends: a local kid named Emanuel, a samosa-shop owner named Niga, and a tea-shop owner whose name I forget. [I go through VERY different moods in regards to sociallability. I'd recently been quite isolationist. And then I travelled with Nico, who interacts quite a bit, so I slip back into 'observer' mode. Then back on my own, I flick the switch into my interaction-self again. It's all mood-dependent, not in a good-mood/bad-mood way though, some sort of natural cycle though, it seems.] [The instinct of knowing who talks to you because they want money vs. those who are genuinely friendly--less than 1 in 10--seems to develop over time.]

I head up to Livingstonia [named after the famous David Livingston, of fame from Stanley's 'Dr. Livingston, I presume?' which actually isn't a very interesting story], a village 1000m up an escarpment from Lake Malawi. Spectacular! Hitch a ride with some French overlanders after waiting on a corner for 2 hrs. They take me 6km too far however, basically because their guide is an asshole, and I have to walk that distance along a trail through cassava fields to get to my guesthouse.

Here, I set up my tent on the most spectacular tent-site I've had in my life: on the edge of a cliff, overlooking Lake Malawi 3000' below. [I don't use a sleeping pad, quite used to hard surfaces by now.] [I don't have a ground sheet either, and have worn holes in the bottom of my tent. I don't really care, but I have a suspicion that will change once I have to camp on wet ground.]

[Book supply running low...I'm always on the lookout for swaps, but disdain most anything claiming with covers claiming 'New York Times #1 Bestseller' or '____ arrives home one day to find...' or '...when ____ is accused of a terrible ____' or 'the latest thriller by ____' You get my message.] [Ultimately, I do manage to swap for two quality books though: 'David Copperfield' and 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' for 'A Room with a View' and 'Confessions of a Middle-Aged Opium Eater'.]

Thursday and Friday. Walk up to Livingstonia village, an old Scottish mission town full of red-brick buildings. Hang out at a bakery run by a Zambian woman, dipping milk-scones in tea. Back at the camp, I relax, read, practice guitar some more. Plan my future home and contemplate life while listening to Yo La Tengo. Invite myself into the guesthouse kitchen and watch them cook, jotting down recipes and ideas [...something I commonly do, usually without asking. If you ask, they can be shy and say no. If you just stand there and smile, they're usually quite obliging.] Alone for these three days, sitting about, eating nice dinners by an oil lantern above the lake below, whose surface glimmers with the lights of fishing boats at night, just like stars!

That's my last eleven days. And I write this. [I've been asked how long these entries take. Well, I usually spend about 30 minutes perusing my journals and jotting down key notes. Then about 90 minutes writing it. And I usually go back once more for about 30 minutes more, doing a quick spelling check and moving things around. This one's been about average time, though that last check was closer to 45 minutes this time 'round.]

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All in all, it's been a pretty regular spell [in whatever sense 'regular' can mean.] For those interested in what I do DO all day, I trust it's filled in some blanks. For the rest, I've bored your tails off, or you've just skipped down to this part. But they'd all be like this, if I didn't edit out so much of what happens on a day-to-day basis.

[My recent days, I've decided where I go from here. It's sometimes difficult to discern between what you really WANT to do, and what people/books tell you that you should do. You have to be quite in tune, not always as easy as it sounds.]

So I've come from Rwanda, southwards through Tanzania, and into Malawi, where I reside for the moment. Life continues to be a well-played game of Tetris. No pause button. Pieces keep falling, keep fitting into place.

'His sentient nature was intrinsically joyous, and novelty and change were in themselves a delight to him. As they had come to him with a great deal of frequency, his life had been more agreeable than appeared. Never was a nature more perfectly fortunate. It was not a restless, apprehensive, ambitious spirit, running a race with the tyranny of fate, but a temper so unsuspicious as to put Adversity off her guard, dodging and evading her with the easy, natural motion of a wind-shifted flower.' (Henry James)

[My quotes are usually taken from something I've recently read. I have a habit of dog-earing pages, marking margins, copying down bits and pieces I like. I try to choose ones kinda applicable to put at the bottom of my entries. This one's from 'The Europeans'.]

 


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