Lake Malawi and Juho's birthday

 Blantyre was soggy and rainy. We hibernated in our cabana, watching Californication and dreaming of sunshine. The day we left for Monkey bay, a few hundred kms up north on the edge of Lake Malawi, the mud was so thick that walking a few meters to the bus stop was almost impossible.

A homeless man lay shivering in his faded rags and bare feet, barely sheltered by the run down bus station. We dug through Juho’s bag for his airplane blanket and covered him, another local man watching on thanked us “Your time will come sister”, hopefully he meant a time when someone does something nice for us, not that we will one day also be homeless and shivering at a rundown bus station in the far south of Malawi.

The bus scheduled to depart at 9am, departed just past midday, meaning that we arrived in Monkey bay just as night was starting to fall. As we pulled up, a man leapt onto the bus, asking where we wanted to go and promising to assist us, I was wary, but Juho not so much and shortly after we were wandering off into a field, escorted by 3 large Malawian men.  My female sense of safety kicked in and I demanded that Juho stop and that we find some other form of transport. We took what was available: Bicycle taxis. And so there we were, pelting down a dark, dirt road, on the back of rusty retro bicycles, teenaged boys cycling as fast as they could.  Looking over our shoulder s we could see the 3 Malawian men, also on bicycle taxis in hot pursuit. 

It turned out Isaac, Austin, and the other guy (whose name escapes us) were just local men desperate for some tourist business. Being wet season and being Africa (a continent that gets such a bad rapt, many tourists are scared off) it could be many months in-between business transactions and these men were determined not to let their catch get away. After Juho bought the men each a beer, we allowed ourselves to be talked into a snorkeling, boat trip, on the condition that it was not raining the next day. Well someone must have prayed to the anti-rain gods, because when we awoke the next morning, the sun was shining and the men were eagerly waiting outside. We set off for town where they collected food, firewood, a cooking pan, a large fish, a knife and eventually a boat to take us to a nearby island for snorkeling.  It was a really nice day, snorkeling amongst the  schools of blue fish, and squealing as they nibbled our feet. The guys cooked up a feast on an open fire, presenting us with heaped plates and insisting that we eat the whole fish. After much protest that we were beyond full, and could eat no more, they hungrily polished off the remaining food.

Juho is always insisting on trying the local beer, but even he was not a fan of the local “shake-shake “ beer. The warm ‘beer’ is brewed within a carton, not dissimilar to a milk carton, and has a watery consistency, filled with chunks of god knows what. Awful stuff. Apparently it becomes stronger the longer you leave it, so after a week the potency is so strong, you will be knocked off your feet after a few swigs.  

The next day the fellas popped up again to help us organize and bargain some transport to Cape Maclear. They were so thankful for our business it broke my heart. We had given them less than we would spend on a restaurant meal and a bottle of wine. We told them that we would much rather support the local community than some foreign owned tourist venture and that really struck a chord with them. 

We bumped across the mountain on the back of motorcycle taxis to Cape Maclear, I’m sure the young boys would have taken us on their bicycles, but it was time for an upgrade.  After checking into our simple bamboo hut, a mere meter or two from the water, we wandered up the beach.  Bumping into a couple we knew from Monkey bay, we sat down on a balcony, overlooking the lake for a beer. Shortly after, some local kids, sensing a business opportunity set up on the sand below and launched into their musical act. Four young boys, a homemade drum, guitar like instrument fashioned out of  a plastic container and some very enthusiastic hip grinding  “West Life Boys” ( yep, that was their band name, painted onto their instruments) performed such hits as “Who let the dogs out” and Shakira’s “Wakka-Wakka”. Pure gold. Today is Juho’s birthday, and in absence of any decent gifts available for purchase , I have hand washed all of his dirty clothes. In Africa it is the small things that count.

Juho’s words

It rained for 7 days and 7 nights, but still no sight of Noa nor his boat. The magic stick of Moses would have been really handy to keep our feet dry. Anyway we made our way up north to Monkey Bay and Cape Maclear at the shore of Lake Malawi and it’s shining here. Lack of transport makes it bit different to travel. Busses go only between the main cities and after that you just have to use your imagination. There is still always ways to go: Mini-busses, utes, taxis, motorbikes, bicycles or just walk. Now we have reached Cape Maclear, it’s one of the main backpacker destinations in Malawi. Although we’re traveling in the off season so it’s basically empty. There seems to be few other travelers with their cars. We decided to chill here for a week and celebrate my birthday by having a pizza and using internet. Pretty simple but at least it’s not freezing like back home.

Shake - Shake, The most disgusting beer ever, but it's cheap.

West Life Boys, That singer had better moves than Mick Jagger