Day 16. Fri 25th August.
Bangula
I don't try and walk all the way to the secondary school this time, I
have learned my lesson, and I manage to grab a bicycle taxi outside the
Aska. However, after a while I get the feeling that the trip is taking
longer than it should. I am sure we have gone past the school, but the
driver ignores my protestations and just keeps pedalling. I have
forgotten that there are two secondary schools in Bangula - he has
taken me, not unreasonably, to Bangula Secondary School, not Kalambo
Secondary School.. Luckily I realise what has happened before he
manages to get away, and he pedals me down the hill again to the right
school.
I arrive at Kalambo eventually and am welcomed by Mr. Makina, and the
unpronounceable Deputy Head Mr Tamvolaminga, who wasn't around on my
first visit, although I did meet him last year. The kids enjoy
looking at the pictures that have been sent over from England (and
comment on the poor handwriting!). One of them has a camera of his own,
and wants a photo of me with him on his camera. Then everyone wants to
be in a photo with me, so we have an extended photo session. Then I say
goodbye to Mr. Makina and his staff and head back to town.
Much as I would like to revisit the primary school and show them the
pictures, I am not prepared to spend the entire weekend holed up in
Bangula until it reopens on Monday. Nor do I particularly want to trek
all the way back to Blantyre for the weekend only to have to come back
down again, so I decide to draw a line under our education project and
embark upon the rest of my trip, which basically involves getting up to
Chinteche for the Lake Of Stars festival
the following weekend. Although I do have a whole week, I need to call
in at Lilongwe on the way, and Chinteche is as far north of Lilongwe as
Bangula is south, plus I would very much like to visit the lake (this
is my fourth visit to Malawi and, apart from one night at Palm Beach
last year I have never actually seen the lake. Cape Maclear seems to be
the place to go - apart from being the malaria capital of Malawi it is
allegedly very beautiful, if a bit of a tourist trap. Also, I very much
want to see the Billy Riordan project, which is where my friend of last
year Chris Murphy ended up after he left PAW.
By 10 I am back on the minibus to Nchalo. Non-stop Bangula to Nchalo
should be an hour's drive but it takes longer in a minibus, and
this one stops everywhere and takes nearer two. Then the minibus from
Nchalo to Blantyre boils over climbing the Shire Highlands, showering
the driver with boiling water when he takes the lid off the radiator. I
am convinced they will never get it going again, but as always they are
remarkably resourceful, and we are back in Blantyre by two. However, I
reckon it is too late to try and get to Cape Maclear today (how right I
turn out to be!) so I head for - where else - Doogles. In true Malawian
fashion the minibus has, for no apparent reason, stopped on the Haille
Selassie road instead of at the bus station outside Doogles, so I have
to walk the last mile or so. As I alight from the minibus I am pounced
on by two Malawians who want to sell me something - a taxi ride I
think. However they are haranguing me in Chichewa, which seems a little
silly as I am fairly obviously European. I am busy getting the straps
on my rucksack sorted and try to ignore them, but it has been a long
day, and they finally get on my wick, so I stand up and explain to them
in no uncertain terms that I don't want whatever they are
selling, that it is pointless going blah blah blah in Chichewa as I do
not speak the language, and that they should go away and stop bothering
me (but not quite in those words!). For a split second I wonder if I
have gone too far, then they then remind me of what I love about Malawi
by bursting out laughing and imitating my "blah blah blah", much to the
delight of a phone card seller in her booth, and several other passers
by, who have witnessed the episode and join in the merriment. I
shoulder my pack and set off for Doogles with the spring returned to my
step.
In the Doogles bar I run into Alastair
again, and Maureen. Alastair and I and another guy pop over the road to
the Safari restaurant for something to eat. It's very nice, and makes a
change from Doogles' burgers.
On my return I hear guitar music drifting down the corridor, and,
following it to its source, find a whole crowd of young Brits
sharing a dorm. As far as I can work out they have only been in Malawi
two days and are going to be teaching at various places around the
country. We chat for a while, and they play music for me, and then they all head off to some sort of
induction course being held in the bar.
Then I meet Hamish and Ian who are travelling from Nairobi to the Cape
in ten weeks - they have one week left and have only got as far as
Malawi! - and Barney, a garrulous Irishman who gets a little nasty when
he gets the (erroneous) impression that I am getting too friendly with
his Malawian wife. The situation is diffused by a charming Englishman
with a large moustache who turns out to be Geoff, who actually owns
Doogles. He also used to own the Cactus club where Chris and I spent a most enjoyable night
last year, but that is now apparently closed. Geoff and I have a good
chat over a beer, and I tell him a bit about the project.
My next task is to find a way of getting to Cape Maclear. I have put a
notice up on the board, and have also asked around. Several people have
suggested that I try someone called Leon, a dutchman who lives at Cape
Maclear but is rumoured to be in Blantyre. It seems that the rumours
are true as he does turn up, and is indeed driving to the Cape tomorrow
and would be happy to give me a lift, so that's the next leg of my
journey planned.