Work and Play in the Warm Heart of Africa…
Minibuses, maintenance and mandasis
The art of catching minibuses can be put down to two factors. Get these right and you can leave promptly and maybe even have enough room to just stretch your arms to keep them from going numb. Get them wrong and you can sitting for hours in sweltering tin pressure cooker, slowly sizzling before you have even started moving. Blind faith and a splash of good luck. All you need. Simple! You get to the bus station and find a minibus going your way, its half full and the passengers have suspiciously little luggage. You consider if the obliging passengers are common ploy to imply the minibus is full and about to leave (when in reality its nowhere near ready), whilst deliberating the driver insists they are going “now,now”!
You can often tell the urgency of the something but the number of times its been repeated. If you make a command and the reply is ” yes” you can assume that it’s a no, whereas if the answer is “yes, yes, yes” then you may be in luck.
Anyway there seemed to be no other buses going in the same direction so we got on and crossed our fingers. In the next 15 minutes people got in, then got off, took a seat, shuffled around a bit, before the door finally closed and the engine spluttered into life. We turned the corner out of the bus station and even made it to second gear, before the brakes were slammed on, gearbox shifted into reverse and we backed round the corner and back into the bus station.
After a few more seat exchanges we were off and this time we made it further than second gear!!
Two hours of plodding along made for a grumbling tummy, so when the bus stopped at a major turn off lunch was grabbed through the windows from the wares of many street vendors. On the menu were groundnuts, chips and salad, lentils, samosas, apples, boiled eggs and giant mandasis the size of grapefruits.
So off we trundled and were bouncing along when all of a sudden a loud pop bought the bus to a screeching stop. A quick look out the window confirmed the inevitable flat tyre. A sigh resonated through the passengers and one by one 23 adults, 5 children and 1 chicken piled onto the hot tarmac. The driver looked at the flaccid rubber and walked defiantly to the verge on the opposite side of the road.
Picking up a large rock to looked on confused. It seems that the most effective way of jacking up a minibus is to drive it on to a large boulder, jack it up a bit further, with a few turns later, ping, off comes the tyre, on goes the spare (yes they even had a spare – can you believe it!!!), a few more turns and once again we are ready to set off! Simple!
So there it is for any future minibus journeys all you need to pack is a bit of blind faith and a pinch of good luck!
03.05.2015
No rest for the wicked!
So apologies for lack of blog been a crazy rollercoaster of a week. Monday began with a marathon trip to Salima to get a new starter motor for the dilapidated truck and then a tour of Salima’s local government.
We paid our taxes at the labour office, then for a good hour lingered in the narrow corridors of the police station waiting to see the officer in charge to find out how a waterbuck poaching case was being handled, or rather how it wasn’t being handled. After an age of trying to avoid the stares of incarcerated inmates in a holding cell opposite, we were shown into a small room, crammed with the desks of 4 police officers and a bench in which anyone making enquires would sit. In this room there seemed to be no formalities, no uniforms or specific paperwork- just a couple of guys in jeans and t-shirts writing in school exercise books and occasionally walking out to go and get a cold fanta and mandasis for lunch. The person we were speaking with had fixed a slimy grin to his face and proceeded to tell us that they had gone to arrest poachers but they all disappeared and so they had placed informants in the villages MI5 style. Obviously complete bullshit as they have no intention of ever arresting anyone, thus making it even more painful that they decided that after initially arresting the right people they let them all out on bail and wondered why they never came back. And all the while we had to smile and nod while the officer does nothing to hide the fact that he’s staring at your tits.
Then on to the Magistrates court for the sentence hearing of a poacher who was found cutting a live tree. Scheduled at 2 the hours slipped away until eventually we were told the hearing would be tomorrow.
Once back supervising the dinner of guests and then bed.
But no, a surprise phone call at 10 to ask if we could drive the scout to the hospital as he has malaria. Tuesday was filled with sewing up the holes in mosquito nets, again the court hearing was delayed and another midnight wake up after hearing gun shots on the western boundary fence.
Wednesday bought re painting the park entrance sign in my underwear so as not to get gloss paint on my clothes, and instead managing to paint myself as well. After a lots of scrubbing with paraffin I was temporarily clean again!! Today at last the court hearing was heard but despite there being evidence for the crime, for which the punishment was either a fine or prison sentence the guy was let off with nothing.
After a fairly quiet day, however it seemed odd when our guests didn’t turn up for dinner. A few distressed phone calls later it transpired that they were stranded at the main gate and the scout had refused to let them in and then promptly got on his bicycle and cycled off.
Thursday was a mission to find chambo for the guests dinner and after dodging cyclists, goats and minibuses I was pleased with my driving. Just a little reversing manoeuvre to go… and oops!!! May have just reversed into a tree. But all was ok as the tyre of the bike we had in the back of the truck acted nicely as a bumper and the truck lives to fight another day!!!! We squeezed in time for lunch and ice cream den and after hearing that they had electricity for ice cream, ordered one each. Well it would be rude not to!! Then we purchased 4 plump fishies which we strung around a piece of palm leaf, hooked over the wing mirror and drove home. As you do.Thursday evening was interrupted by more gunshots- this time by the office.
Friday was more shopping but even harder was extracting an “essential” shopping list from the kitchen and tourism. After explaining that you do not urgently need 2 500g packs of coffee if you have only just opened one, and you definitely do not need washing powder if you still have 3/4 and as if by magic the list was dramatically reduced.
The afternoon bought some joy to the usually dull task of responding to emails. Laughing hysterically at intern applicants of masters students who have forgotten to capitalise their “i”s and mistook wondering for wandering, and to people who think its a great idea to repeatedly profess that we will be a great professional match. Lord give me strength!!
Friday night bought the interruption of the scout who thought we had to urgently come to reception to stop a python attacking the goose!
At last it was Saturday and time to relax and make cake!
19.04.2015
I need smore!!!
The most amazing thing happened today and I’m not sure my life will ever be the same again. Ever.
I, for the first time tasted the warm gooey, sugary, stickiness of smores – I have lost my smore virginity. The saying is “once you go black… ” well the same goes for smores. There is no going back.
***Warning smores are highly addictive, proceed with caution***
We had a group of American ex pats attending a church camp, and after discovering that us Brits had never heard of, let alone tasted smores they were keen to right this wrong. After describing the careful preparation of the snack we were ready. We eagily gathered round the campfire with our toasting sticks and honey crackers assembled with chocomelt. Marshmallows were impaled on the sticks and lowered so they hovered over glowing embers. Slowly they were rotated to form a crispy caramelised toffee outer shell, encasing a runny centre. Depending on your preference for gooeyness it is up to you to decide when to sandwich the marshmallow between the crackers and the cube of chocolate. Then you wait for 30 seconds, lips salivating, waiting until the chocolate started to melt to finally devour it. When finally ready the taste is out of this world, hot sticky sweet marshmallow gooey chocolate and crunchy wafer and upon finishing you immediately need another hit of smores!!
06.04.15
“The Best Restaurant in Malawi?” Yes Really!
The best restaurant in Malawi with no doubt has to be the Ice Cream Den. An understated little shack next there petrol station, opposite the bustling Kamuzu Road market. Inside there is a little seating, but most of the tables are outside in a shady courtyard, sheltered from the sun under a thatch roof and enclosed by a brightly painted green and yellow picket fence. The plastic furniture is reminiscent of a cheep and cheerful beach cafe, tables topped with shiny sticky plastic tablecloths and chair legs that bow if you move so much as an inch once you have sat down. But enough of that, you don’t come here for the décor.
Reason 1
They serve ice cream. End of.
Ok, yes I know I need more reasons than that! So you’ve been shopping for the whole morning and you’re hot and sweaty and all you need is the cool creamy taste of ice cream pouring out of the machine though a star shaped nozzle into a little plastic cup of heaven to boost your dwindling blood sugar. The jury remains out as to whether there is any actually cream or even milk in the ice cream. Currently bets as to the ice cream makeup include: milk powder, maize flour, sugar and water, though ratios are yet to be decided. Also though the menu states that you can have a cone or cup I have never been offered a cone so I don’t think that they really exist! There are also rumours that there are different flavours, a pink one that apparently doesn’t have a particular flavour- just that it is pink. But anyhow it tastes cold and creamy and sweet- what more could you ask for!
Reason 2
The drinks are really cold! No to be taken for granted in Europe but when its baking outside getting a super chilled soda is near impossible! Often they are about 8 or 9 degrees as the fridges struggle in maintaining a cold temperature when its so hot.
Reason 3
They do a mean veg curry with rice for 900 kwacha – that’s $2!!! They pile on the rice, even if you ask for a small portion so there is double what you can eat even if you are super hungry. The curry itself is tasty and crammed with vegetables. They have lots of other things on the menu but if you order something complicated like burger or chips, you could find yourself on a slippery slope to a long wait and begin to salivate over that tasty looking tablecloth or the bottles of ketchup on the table.
Reason 4
The staff are really friendly and chatty and one always remembers my name because his wife is called Ruth. They also always get me and Gen mixed up as we look similar and then get really confused when we are both together. Also they give us lifestyle advice, like telling us if we’ve been working too hard because our feet are too dirty, and if a Malawian is telling you that your feet are dirty, its definitely time to get a shower.
Reason 5
They sell ice cream. Did I mention that?
01.04.15
This little piggy went to market…
If you ever thought shopping was simple think again!
So you set off for town at 7, because no matter how efficient you think you are going to be, the simple task of shopping always seems to swallow a whole morning. Why you ask? Well this is why…
Once you’re in town, you go and meet Kateris, our chef who isn’t yet here and is still at his house. Why? Because he was sure that we wouldn’t possibly be at the meeting place at the right time. So after 20 mins waiting for him we finally begin deliberating over what we actually need to buy and things that are non essential, so finally 45 mins after arriving we are finally ready to shop. We split up in the market, I shop for fruit, someone does veg, another rice and flour, Kateris tomatoes and onions. Only Kateris can buy tomatoes and onions because he is adamant that the best come from the most evil ladies who quote the most ridiculous prices if there is a mzungu in sight! So we round up and tick off our list, but then Kateris will remember that as well as volunteers, we also have to buy for visitors and we couldn’t possibly have bought them at the same time and allocated the correct monies later because that would be far too logical, so with a big pinch of déjà vu we start the process again.
Once the veg shop is done we drive to Salima town, our first call being the supermarket Chipiku. Here there is much debate as to why the coffee is different, although the coffee is the same they have just changed the packaging – a fact that has Kateris and the shop assistant very confused. I sneak it into the basket to save explaining but Kateris has already busied himself in whether or not we actually need baking powder.
After Chipiku a further shop in Peoples is often needed as there is always something that has been remembered and that is desperately, life threateningly important. In this case it was Sobo, fruit squash, which although had been remembered couldn’t be bought in Chipiku because they only stock the magenta pink raspberry flavour which is so unnaturally pink that it is evident that the squash has never even seen a raspberry.
We then drive to the butchers for meat and eggs, then on to Nyama world for chicken, because we still like our chicken nicely wrapped in plastic – as opposed to strapping a chicken to bicycle handlebars by its legs and cycling home with a frantic chicken trying to fly off!
Its is usually once we have completed this loop of shopping that someone will remember that they have to use the bank, or they are in urgent need of soap, or that there are documents we need signing or we have to go to the police station. So we drive back around in circles 2 or 3 more times, stuck on a never ending shopping carousel until everyone is hot and dizzy and tired.
Then finally we are finished and ready to go home for lunch, shopping done for the week.
Or so you thought….
…until a few days later few days later when someone will remember that we have no toilet paper for the guests that are arriving imminently!
31.03.15
The most utterly pointless items in Malawi
Make up!
I have never been one for shovelling on the foundation or clogging my lashes with thick with mascara so they resemble spiders legs. My fresh faced look is entirely down to the fact that my make up skills are limited to moisturiser, mascara and lip salve. Give me eyeliner or ask me the difference between foundation or primer or whatever else they try to sell you in the cosmetics department and I’m completely clueless. So it was kind of a relief to find that putting on any kind of makeup was totally in vain, as not long after it had been applied you would find it streaming in rivers down your face.
Pants!
Its hot. You sweat…lots!!! So ditching the knickers makes things a whole lot easier. It’s one less thing to get sweaty, makes for a nice breeze and saves doing as much laundry – which can only be a good thing.
Clean clothes
Yes sorry more sweaty spiel!! My apologies!! But the lifespan of spanking fresh laundry is pretty short. I now have my clothes organised depending on their particular aroma. There’s washing powder fresh, then comes the “worn- a- bit” category that has that kind of lived in whiff, although not a harsh smell, just a sort of neutral aroma. Then there are the clothes that are a bit funky smelling – the sort you have to peel off your back after a hard mornings work, these have to be saved for future sweaty occasions when close contact with other humans is minimal. It is then when this clothing category has been recycled worn again and then recycled some more then can it move into the laundry bag. Repeat this process until clothes are either: threadbare, stained beyond salvageable or the pale colours have greyed to black, or all of the above. At this point, by wearing such clothes you no longer resemble a human being, more an overgrown yeti or Stig the dump, it is now that these clothes have to be condemned and consigned to the bin.
Clean feet
OK so it sounds strange, I know! But you get up, scrub your feet, put on flip flops, walk along a dirt track for 50 metres and whoah look my feet are black once more! It took 30 minutes in the lake after a week of walking around to rediscover that my feet were actually pink – to say it was revolutionary was a huge understatement!!
22.03.15
Cake day!!!
The days merged together and passed in a blur of sunshine, breezy zebra-dodging cycling, rackets of birdsong and clear starry nights. You only need to blink and woosh the week had evaporated quicker than the remaining puddles under the midday sun. But on Fridays it was necessary to stop and savour the day. Sweet sugary smells wafted from the kitchen teasing and tempting everyone in the vicinity to stray from their work and sample the delights on offer. Friday was cake day.
I had picked up the tradition of cake day in the first restaurant I worked in at 15 and it was taken very seriously. After a busy lunchtime service there was no better way to relax then with a slice of cake, boosting moral that would last the entire weekend. And now over 3000 miles from home there was no reason why it couldn’t continue.
There was no denying that the flavours of produce in Malawi were mind blowing, the sun working its magic, intensifying the flavours far beyond what any European glasshouse could offer! But while all the fruit and vegetables were good for you, the ultimate guilty pleasure was cake. The fact that it was a complete labour of love made savouring every crumb so important! From careful mixing, greasing the saucepan functioning as an impromptu cake tin, to making the fire and waiting patiently for the wood to burn, then lowering the cake into the ground, covering with glowing embers, waiting and salivating until finally, it is ready.
Still warm from the oven we slathered it liberally in chocolate icing and cut thick wedges into the sponge, banana bursts expelled with every incision. Silence at the table and we allowed the sugar to linger on our lips and the flavours dance on our taste buds. It was pure unadulterated joy.
13.03.13
Its a hard life…
The sun had bathed us in golden light all day, it had been perfect. The sky deep blue, the air warm but not humid, rays gently turning cheeks a light caramel colour and a light breeze cooling your face. We made a plan to go to Sunset Deck for sundowners, cycling the short journey and allowing time to relax with a few beers before sunset. By this time the sun had surrendered its heat and cool air wafted in from the sprawling wetland. Cast in shadow, you could make out lily pads carpeting the water and wading Jacanas, framed behind long grass. Slowly the powder blue sky was tinged with a little red, mixing together to transform the heavens into a pink haze and the clouds a moody purple. As the sun sunk deeper into its pit, flares of blood orange, crimson and saffron shot up, silencing us and transfixing our eyes.
08.03.2015
Hey good lookin’, what you got cookin’?
Kateris is our chef at Kuti, who always manages to keep us smiling and our bellies full with his food. Sitting down to dinner is comparable to advent, everybody waiting eagerly to lift the lid of the dish and discover what is inside. In the last week we have eaten many great meals, pasta and meat balls, rice, coleslaw, vegetable curries, chicken satay all of which are devoured within minutes. But Kateris is a dark horse, often waiting until we have already been wowed by the spread to play his trump card, he sees our eyes light up and we never fail to be amazed! Such treats include fruit salad: a mix of avocado, mango, pineapple, banana and lime, each fruit left to ripen slowly under the sun until it is saturated with juice and sugar and ready to burst. Its very true that fruit has never tasted so good. But while fruit is abundant, the flavours of cheese and chocolate seem a distant memory to our salivating taste buds. Occasions when these foods are available can be the highlight of the week. When Kateris made a chocolate cake covered in icing, our eyes must have popped out of our heads we were so amazed, savouring every mouthful, wanting to make it last forever. Sadly it didn’t last long between 6 of us, so until the next time we have to quench our appetites with chocolate and cheese dreams.
07.03.2015
Mzungu in da club
It was the last night at Kuti of our co manager, Charlie, so we were off into town to celebrate, but to really get the party started we had a few drinks and card games at Kuti. Learning a new card game is best when sober, as increasing levels of inebriation do nothing to help our brains in understanding the new rules, especially as the price of losing was paid in vodka shots. When we had done some damage to 2 bottles of vodka and a bottle of brandy it was time for 12 of us to pile into the truck and bounce along the road to Salima to hit the clubs. The Malawian club has a fantastic structure: outside there is usually a courtyard with people milling around (sometimes used as an overspill for the inside dancefloor) there is also an outside bar, pool table and tv, often with someone cooking (carbs and fat being universally recognised as the best alcohol absorbents!) Inside, another bar and tv and a large dance floor lined with mirrors and there may also be an upstairs room with seating and another tv.
Inside the dancefloor was packed, lights flashed in a myriad of colours and the music blared out with a mix of Zambian and South African dance music and some British pop. We grabbed some beers put our dancing shoes on and took to the tiles,dancing with our group or any locals that happen to dance their way over. The Malawian dance style is also quite different in that there is often lots of bump and grind and hand holding, obviously nothing serious but often hard to explain later if caught on camera!
I didn’t bother me that we were the only 3 mzungu women here, nobody gave us a second glance and if there did happen to be any trouble we had Joseph, Nason and Patrick from Kuti to step in.
It was gone 2am by the time we rolled back into Kuti and we dropped off at our houses. It had been a heavy night and when you are awake most days at 6 and your idea of a late night is 9:30; bedtime was long overdue and I suspected that the impossible of sleeping in would be challenged tomorrow!
06.03.2015
Lessons in Chichewa
There is no such thing as lie ins in Malawi. The sun peaks its sneaky head over the horizon at about 5:30 filling every corner of the house with golden sunlight and by 7, the tin roof was sizzling ready to fry anyone below it. Between 6 and 7 in the morning was my favourite time of the day, the air was still fresh with morning dew and the aromas of damp grass and earth hung in the air. It was also the quietest time of the day: the choir of crickets and croaking frogs that had played an all night symphony had ceased and so had the dawn chorus and the cockerel that acknowledged the sunrise.
After waking the first job of the day is making fire for breakfast. This was easily done on a clay stove, the bottom piled with logs, twigs and straw. Breakfast favourites were cornflakes or fried eggs on bread, and not forgetting tea and coffee, the fuel that was crucial for all bodily functioning.
After breakfast we we joined by two of the guys on the tourism team, Joseph and Nason. With a few minutes before work they taught us some phrases in Chichewa
“Mwadzuka bwanji” it means hello/ how are you
My turn “madzuka…”
They laughed at me ” no its mwa, mwadzuka”
Ok “Mwadzuka bwanji”, I scribbled down the phonetic spelling yo remind me.
They smiled, then Nason explained that if you were talking to an elder or a group of people you would use Mwadzuka, but if you were talking to a friend or peer you would drop the M and just say ” Wabwenoa bwanji” He continued, “so the reply is I’m fine thank you, how are you , Ndazuka bweeno kia ino zikomo” and to this you would reply “Ndazuka”
Ok my turn ” Ndazuka” There was a little round of applause.
The they guys taught us some other useful words, a casual hello often to children is “wawa”,thank you is ” zikomo” and my favourite, goodbye is “tiwonana”.
After a few conservation rounds we chatted about how long they had been at Kuti. Nason said he had been there 4 years but Joseph 7. We asked them if they had any children.
Joseph smiled ” I have two girls, one is 6 and the other is 3″
“I am unlucky” Nason began ” I have only one daughter who is 2 and a son who is 5″
Joseph chuckled ” I will be big bweno!”
We asked why Nason thought he was unlucky to only have 1 son where in lots of parts of the world a son would have been far more preferable.
He explained that if you have a daughter, any man that was to marry her has to pay the father money. So that explained why Joseph was looking so pleased with himself!
05.03.2015
Pick-up-truck selfies and beach bums
After a manic muddy weekend Sunday came at last to relieve us of our duties, giving us an excuse to head to the beach, we slung our bags onboard then clambered into the back of the taxi, a rusty pick up truck and set off for Senga Bay. Blue as far as the eye can see; azure waters meeting cobalt sky broken only by a few wisps of cloud and golden sand snaking around the edge of the lapping water. After a quick refresh of cold beer we were off into the warm water of the lake and no sooner had we got our feet wet, we were joined by a group of children eager to play. Splashing around with the ball we played together – occasionally your feet being ousted from underneath you a cheeky pair of hands around your ankles. We swam, splashed, ate, drank and dosed all day, not leaving the beach until the last crimson orange flame had been consumed by the encroaching darkness.
02.03.2015
Tough Mudder!!!
After a week of making the villas tidy, scrubbing shower blocks of bat shit and peeling and shredding mountains of potatoes and cabbage the day was finally here. Kuti’s first (hopefully with many more to come) mud run in and of the Malawian Red Cross helping with the flooding that has displaced over 200,000 people in southern Malawi. Swamps, puddles, trenches laden with obstacles and a 7km run lay in wait for eager contenders. The turn out was fantastic with teams from the local running and football clubs, lads from the British Army and residents from all over Malawi. However the guys from the local teams cleaned up, the winner sprinting most of the course with a time of 16 minutes. After a well earned shower, braai and lots of cold beverages an exhilarating day came to a relaxing end with lots of smiles all round.
01.03.2015
Time to saddle up!
The easiest way of navigating the paths of Kuti was by bicycle. The idyllic notion of pedaling in the warm air, sunshine on your face and cool breeze on your back was irresistible. It was also the best way to see the animals; the height of the bike giving you extra inches over the tall grass. You could stealthily sneak up on the grazing zebra and the butterflies that gathered around the puddles would scatter in the air like a coloured confetti cyclone.
Rubbing oily hands on my trousers, I pulled the bike upright and set off. The chain had no staying power and came off at every opportunity so each time you stopped the chain had to be coaxed back into its rightful position. A smooth track had long vanished; tyre tracks and gushing rivers from recent downpours had each carved their path into the soft soil leaving deep trenches in their wake. The bike juddered and bounced along, the broken gears slipping between a gentle pedal and a manic flurry that meant in the hot sun it seemed to take an age to get anywhere, or at least anywhere fast. If you ever seemed to pick up any speed this had be quickly lost if you needed to stop, as non existent breaks meant you either slowed gracefully to a halt, or flung your entire body into the grass or nearest tree. Also with no suspension or saddle padding, week of bumping and bouncing along left your legs aching constantly and I was certain my lady bits would never be the same again!
28.02.2015
The wheels on the bus….
Arriving in Lilongwe was akin to being thrust head first into a greenhouse. Warm air laden with vapour from the recent downpour and the smell of lush countryside engulfed everyone in its path. Not far from the airport we were to pick up the minibus to Salima. On opening the door we climbed into the empty spaces on the benches, loaded on our luggage and waited for the off. With 12 people on the bus, 3 in the drivers cab, shopping bags, 5 mammoth backpacks, a fridge, and a toilet seat (though luckily no chickens) there wasn’t much room to spare, but still the door opened with 2 more passengers to carry. We shuffled, squeezed and contorted our bodies and with a lot of luck the door eventually was eventually shut. Packed nose to armpit with our neighbours, it seems there is never not enough room for one more! The engine ignited and groaned under the weight of its cargo, and with a heavy foot on the gas, it wearily heaved itself off the dirt and on to the tarmac road. At last we were off.
The views along the way were incredible, land that in the dry season was parched and barren had been transformed with the rains into a kaleidescope of greens. After a sweaty hour and a half of bouncing along the road we pulled in Salima and extracted our seized up bodies and numb bottoms, forcing ourselves into an upright position. Though no humans were harmed on the journey, we did hit an unfortunate goat that was completely unresponsive to frantic horn beeping and sadly didn’t make it.
24.02.2015
“Not all those who wander are lost…” J.R.R Tolkien
So here it is!! After much planning and preparation the day of voyage has arrived and it seems so have a swarm of butterflies. They’re good nerves though, leaving the grizzly grey Heathrow rain for the warmer lush Malawian pastures and the warmer Malawian rain! But although the end of one chapter the beginning of a new (literally) with the start of my travel blog which will keep you updated with the latest stories, sunshine and storms from the Southern hemisphere.
22.02.2015
thesafarichef 