My Parts Unknown: Tanzania And Malawi – Recap

Tanzanias are an exotic lot. There are about 125 ethnic groups mostly of African descent. There are also those from Arab, Asian and European descent. There is one Albino in approximately every 1,400 births in Tanzania - the largest proportion in all of Africa. There was a gallery on the ‘ghost people’ of Tanzania at the National Museum in Dar. Some albinos have been victims of violence in recent years. This intolerance towards those different from us saddens me.

The name Tanzania derives from the two states that unified to create the country: Tanganyika and Zanzibar.

Tanzania is apparently one of the poorest countries in the world although you’ll be hard-pressed to see beggars or panhandlers or homeless people. Well, I didn’t come across any in Dar or Stone Town. China is one of its three largest trading partners.

When I was trying to catch some kip at the airport the night I had to camp there, I overhead some Nigerians (from what I gathered from their conversation) that they find the country very peaceful. However, they did note that the education level in the country is still lacking.

Malawi projects itself as the Warm Heart of Africa. And I did find some of its people way too friendly. Too friendly that the men can approach a foreign girl and just shake hands (sorry, it’s not in my culture). Too friendly that they can spot from a distance a foreign girl sitting alone has some gold jewellery on her and decide to approach her to sell things.

From what little I saw, I surmised that Malawi is poorer than Tanzania. It is what Malaysia used to be 50 years ago. Most people are poor. Everyone walks everywhere. The more fortunate ones have bicycles. You do see brand new cars in Lilongwe though. My guesthouse owner told me his sister and one brother left to find work in South Africa because the job prospects in Malawi are low.

Malawi is very green. It is very much agriculture-reliant. The soil must be very fertile because it’s green everywhere. The main crop is maize. There were heavy rains and floods last year which destroyed the crop.

I read that fuel is expensive in Malawi (well, I don’t know about now what with the plummeting global oil prices). Malawi has very good roads though, even in the countryside. It’s a good thing there aren’t many vehicles on the road to spoil the roads. There are many police check-points all over the country, just like in Lebanon.

I don’t know if Malawians aren’t familiar with foreigners because they sure look and stare at you like you’re a freak. Most speak good English so you can presume they have high contact with foreigners or learned it in school.

  

People in both countries have very strong B.O. It must be due to the relentless heat (I was starting to smell like an African too). But then again, the Middle East is also blessed with strong sunshine and high temperatures but they don’t smell as bad.

Here are some pictures of the trip (you may have seen some of them before):

 Darajani Market, Stone Town, Zanzibar

 The Old Dispensary, buildings and an alley in Stone Town, Zanzibar

 Fishing activity, Stone Town, Zanzibar

 The Palace Museum, Stone Town, Zanzibar

 The House of Wonders and The Old Fort, Stone Town, Zanzibar

The doors of Stone Town, Zanzibar

 Cats of Stone Town, Zanzibar

 Cats of Stone Town, Zanzibar

 More cats of Stone Town. Zanzibar

Dar Es Salaam

 Monkey Bar, Mangochi, Malawi

Cape Maclear, Magochi, Malawi

Malawi

My Parts Unknown: Tanzania And Malawi: Episode VI

Monday, 8 February 2016

I was up at 3 and couldn’t sleep. What if Jimmy the cabbie didn’t turn up? What if he couldn’t find the place? I was ready at 04:45 and left the room with my bags. I brought them to the living room and peered out. Darkness greeted me. No sign of Jimmy either. I paced and must have made Banet nervous. He was already in the kitchen, working on breakfast. He insisted I must eat before leaving although I had told him previously that it wasn’t imperative. Getting to the airport and making my flight was more important.

05:00 came and went with no sign of Jimmy. 05:10. 05:15. Finally, I asked Banet to open the door so I could walk out to the gate. It took him a while and when I got to the gate, the guard wasn’t there. Probably off to take a leak? I went back in. 05:20. Banet insisted I have something to eat so I poured some water for tea and had some toast. 05:30, I told Banet to call for a cab.

It took him another long while. He came back and told me the guard had no airtime to call for a cab. I didn’t understand why he needed to ask the guard to make the call so I asked if he couldn’t use the house phone. Banet then asked if I knew any taxi number. Say what? Why would I have any taxi operator number based in Lilongwe? Finally he found a name card of a taxi operator. The card looked old and I wondered if the number was still valid, if the taxi operator was still in existence. Still, it was the only number we had.

I asked Banet to make the call then he told me he didn’t have any airtime left either. What the -? He said he could buy airtime with MWK500 and I dug my wallet and gave him MWK500. It took an eternity for him to scratch the number to reload his phone. Man oh man oh man. I had carried my bag outside the gate by then and told Banet to wait with me.

Five minutes passed. Still no cab came.

I was already squatting and whimpering at this stage and told Banet to call the number again. Come on man! I must make that flight, I simply must! My flight back to Dar was scheduled for 07:15 and I was supposed to fly home later in the afternoon from Dar. All in all, we waited about 15 agonising minutes before cab arrived. And would you believe it, the cabbie had to refuel! But to his credit, he drove like a man possessed all the way to the airport through the fog and all.

We reached the airport in record time. The fare was MWK20K so I paid him MWK16K and the balance in USD. I had to have my ticket re-checked and guess what, the airline computer system was down ^&*()__!!# I still managed to check in my bag before check-in closed but had another problem at immigration. The smug pompous arrogant uncouth gruff immigration officer asked if my passport was diplomatic. I looked at him puzzled and said no. He barked why the stamp was for gratis visa in my passport and stressed that if I wasn’t on diplomatic passport, I should have paid for a visa. So I explained to him that I didn’t need a visa. He wasn’t convinced and asked me to come around so that he could show me his computer system and yeah it showed the same thing as what was shown to me in Friday. Exasperated, I told him what happened on Friday. He still wasn’t happy and was barking at his colleagues. Then he told me he needed to check with the office and took my passport with him.

I waited. 7 minutes later, he came back grumbling in his native language. He then duty stamped my passport, still muttering and then waved me through. Without any apology. Well, you know what? FU. What would it take for some people to apologise and admit their error? Would it be demeaning to them if they do so? If you didn’t want to admit your error, just say something to the effect that you didn’t know why the system showed otherwise.

I went to the boarding gate and good thing there was a TV showing the weekend’s matches so I watched them and calmed myself down. We were then called and oh guess what, we had to walk to our plane because the shuttle bus was out of order. Really, I think that’ll be my first and last visit to Malawi.

Guesthouse

We landed at Dar at close to 11:00 and after clearing immigration and getting my bag, I went out and sat down to wait. I went in the departure area at 15:55 to check-in. Again, I had to have to my ticket verified before I could drop off my bag. Next, I cleared immigration and went to the boarding gate. I was checking my emails and timeline when we were called to be ferried to the plane.

It was an uneventful flight and I managed to squeeze in a movie. I was about to doze off when we landed at Doha at 23:00. I cleared security transfer and went to wait for my flight home.

Tuesday, 9 February 2016

I boarded the plane at 01:15. Sleepy as I was, sleep was as usual elusive. We landed at 14:05 and I was home by 15:30. I had to clean the mess left by my brother’s family - WTF - amidst unpacking. Yes, everything had to wait until I returned home from Africa to be cleared.

But yes I would do it all over again if I have the rezeki, health, means and time. Now, if only flights to Africa don’t cost a bomb!

My Parts Unknown: Tanzania And Malawi: Episode V

Saturday, 6 February 2016

I woke up early and went out at 06:30. It was already bright by then. I went for a walk and bought some bread at the bakery before turning back and venturing another path. There were some houses, police station, post office and the Malawi Defence Force Marine Unit quarters. I returned to my room after an hour of walking and had a simple breakfast.

I had arranged for one of the owner’s brothers to take me to Cape Maclear this morning at 08:30. They charged me MWK7K for the ride to and fro. Cape Maclear was about 15 km away and I told Yusuf (the brother) to pick me up at 1 p.m. He dropped me off at some shops near the marketplace of the village Chembe. I was surprised to find the village was actually huge (a local boy later told me there were about 15,000 inhabitants in the village). I walked through the village and before long, I felt like a walking freak from the way everyone was looking and staring openly at me. Some children actually ran after me demanding that I gave them some money. Annoying pests.

 On the way to Cape Maclear

 The main crop here is maize

The roads in Malawi are very good

The plan was to spend about 3.5 hours by Lake Malawi just relaxing. I had my book, water and some food. I found a shady place to sit and was just sitting there enjoying my solitude when a guy approached to offer me a boat ride to a nearby island. Well, a few more guys approached me all offering to take me out on a boat to an island where I can go snorkel, at a cost of course. I was chatting to the local boy (he runs a souvenir stall at the lodge outside of which I had stopped to rest) when a couple of men came up looking sinister. The first guy shook my hand (Mister, in the first place, I don’t go around shaking hands with men even those I know, what more strangers!), introduced himself as Eric and offered me, yes, a boat ride. I declined him. Then he said he’d give me a special price and again, I declined him. Finally he asked what if he took me for free and I said no, I wasn’t interested in riding a boat in the first place. He finally took the hint and left with his friend. I told the local boy I didn’t like Eric (I had my internal antenna giving off warning signs when he approached) and the boy said he didn’t like him either and explained that was why he kept quiet all the while.

Not long after, one elderly guy passed by and stopped. He wanted to sell me some recycled stuff that some women made. Yes, I get it about supporting the environment and empowering women but the things he had - bookmarks, photo frames, cards - didn’t interest me. I couldn’t help thinking the book marks I gave out before as souvenirs were never used because well, sadly people don’t read much in the first place. As for photo frames, well, no one uses them much anymore and besides, it wasn’t as if I had so much space in my bag.

The local boy I was chatting to kept mentioning his souvenir stall. He wanted to show me his souvenir stall so much until finally I thought ‘OK, let’s see what you got’ and followed him. Well, I don’t mean to sound snobbish but nothing in his shop attracted me. Besides, I didn’t want to buy any tacky souvenirs or trinkets. He wanted to sell me a necklace made of some seeds. It wasn’t expensive at all but I didn’t want to buy something just for the sake of buying. Yes, I know it’s good to support the local industry and that at least he was trying to run a business instead of begging. But I’m a backpacker (except that I have a trolley bag instead of a backpack) and I didn’t want to buy some tacky useless souvenirs (sorry, it had to be said. I feel like throwing most souvenirs I receive too for they are just tacky). Then the boy said he hadn’t any breakfast yet. Oh great. Go on then, play to my guilt. I gave him the pack of biscuits and made my escape.

I was reading when two men approached me. One of them exclaimed, ‘Miss, you must be very rich!’ and pointed to my bangles. I didn’t realise it but my sleeve had run up exposing my bangles and he saw them. I was very shocked and looked around to see if there were other people nearby in case they wanted to rob me in broad daylight. The man continued, pointing to my bangles, ‘This is gold and this is silver and this is gold. You must be rich.’ I didn’t correct him that the silver bracelet was actually stainless steel. I laughed out and lied, ‘Oh, these are just gold-plated. Not real.’ They looked surprised and like they’d never heard of the concept of gold-plated jewellery. Turned out he wanted to sell me paintings done by his sister. The paintings came in three sizes. None particularly appealed to me because I didn’t come to Cape Maclear thinking of buying paintings. Finally I told him that I didn’t want to buy anything, that I just wanted to be left alone, that I just wanted to read and be left in peace. I told him it was presumptuous of him to think I wanted to buy anything and that I felt bad about not buying when he’d laid everything out.

Before I left that morning, the rest house owner had told me that he wanted to show me some key chains and souvenirs that he made on my return from Cape Maclear. Oh boy. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes when he said it. Seriously, I was beginning to think Malawians think of foreigners as walking moving cash cows. Moo! Karrrchinnnggg!

I left my perch at 12:40 and walked back through Chembe village, wary of any possible men hiding and jumping out on me. Attacking me for not buying anything from them, for declining their offers. I met up with Yusuf at the spot where he dropped me off and we rode back to Monkey Bay. It was too hot to be outdoors so I stayed in and tried to have a siesta.

I ventured out briefly in the evening. Again, what was with all the stares and looks? I was getting mighty sick of it. I bought some grilled corn (it was hard to chew) and some buns and doughnuts from the grocery store before returning to my room. That evening, the rest house owner came over and knocked on my door, no doubt wanting to show me his handmade key chains and whatnot, but I was in the bathroom and so ignored him. I was getting sick and tired of people viewing me like I’m some kind of freak but still wanting to sell me things I don’t have any need for.

Now, the owner’s friend, James, told me he saw me at Lilongwe airport. He then told me he could arrange with his friend, Jimmy, to pick me in Lilongwe and bring me to airport on the morning of my departure. So I told him where I’d be staying in Lilongwe and told him to tell Jimmy to pick me up on Monday morning at 5 a.m.

I had to get up early the following morning so I was in bed by 20:30. It was too noisy to sleep though; it sounded like the whole of Monkey Bay was partying.

Sunday, 7 February 2016

I woke at 00:30 then at 02:30. I finally got up at 04:30 and got ready. I finished packing and had some food then went out just after 05:00. I was told the bus could come anytime between 06:00 to 06:30 (the shopkeeper told me it could come after 05:00). Well, I wasn’t going to miss that bus.

I walked a bit around the rest house and was turning back when I encountered a young man. He was shirtless and he made as if to shake my hand. No, sir, you’re not my mahram so I wasn’t going to shake your hand. He proceeded to ask me something in a loud voice and when I looked at him, puzzled, he repeated himself, his voice rising higher each time. I looked around to see if there was anyone else around then I walked away from him slowly. Thankfully, he didn’t follow or attack me. What a strange person and scary too.

The bus rolled in at 06:25 a.m. and I went up after paying for my fare. This time, I sat next to a girl on the left-hand side of the bus (the one with the two seats together). We struck a conversation and she told me later that I was the first Muslim she’d met who isn’t dark. We pulled into Salima at 10:30 and again the bus stopped for half an hour. I couldn’t help noticing people selling tomatoes along the way. So many tomatoes and it’s not as if the people there eat a lot of pasta with tomato sauce. I mean, I’m sure the scene wouldn’t look odd in Italy. I did wonder how long the tomatoes would stay good in that kind of heat.

There were dark clouds overhead as we neared Lilongwe. We finally panted into Lilongwe bus station just before 1 p.m. I ignored the cabbies and walked down to the main road where I had sighted some bajaj from the bus. I rode one to Longonot Guesthouse in Area 3 of the city. Lilongwe is very well spread out but it turned out that the guest house was less than ten minutes away from the bus station. Still, it felt like in a different world altogether. The houses are bigger and so are their lawns and gardens. The golf course is nearby and I surmised that it was a posh area. The guesthouse itself is a big bungalow with about 23 rooms and a large garden.

I had problems at check-in – Banet, the young man manning the reception was new – and it took almost an hour before I was given a room. I had to change rooms later because there was no water from the sink tap. Nor could I flush the toilet or turn on the shower. We tried the next room – same problems – and finally settled on the room after that. As Banet was going to cook for some guests, I managed to use the kitchen so I made some soup for my late lunch. I debated walking to Lilongwe Wildlife Centre but it started raining just as I was considering it so that was that then.

I went out for a walk around the neighbourhood at 5 p.m. and noted that the neighbourhood was indeed affluent. I met with the owners and had to endure their explanation about my booking – about them having to pay booking.com and that I must top up so that they could forward it to booking.com. (And just a few days ago, booking.com emailed me to say that the guesthouse had notified that I did not arrive. Seriously, WTF? I emailed back booking.com to say that not only did I check in and made to wait an hour before I was given a room, I even met the owners later that afternoon. Booking.com then apologised on behalf of the guesthouse and informed it would share my response with the property.)

I returned and decided to have a shower. The water came out all yellowish before it turned clear gradually and the water was spraying everywhere. It wasn’t a satisfactory shower at all and I had a quick shower, which turned out to be a good idea because the lights went out shortly after. The blackout lasted more than an hour (there was a brief power outage in the afternoon too for all of ten minutes) and Banet came after a while to distribute candles. When the power came on again, he came around to spray our rooms.

I had another early night as I needed to get up early again the following morning.

To be continued

My Parts Unknown: Tanzania And Malawi: Episode IV

Thursday, 4 February 2016

My iPad alarm sounded and I jumped out of bed immediately. I freshened up, changed, finished packing and left 20 minutes later. I remember thinking it strange that my iPhone alarm didn’t sound but turned it off anyway. I was surprised to hear noises outside and even the woman who checked me in was up. She was talking to two men inside the motel compound. She gave me a funny look and I said I had to go. One of the men told me to be careful and I stopped and asked if he would be willing to walk with me. He didn’t move an inch so I left, reciting prayers in my heart.

I walked in the semi-dark and was surprised to note that there were people up and about. ‘Don’t these people sleep?’ I wondered as I walked. I noticed that there were a few other girls walking by themselves and told myself if it was safe for them, it should be safe for me too. I got to the airport about seven minutes later.

When I walked to the chap who checked documents at the entrance to the departure check-in area, he looked at my e-ticket and said, ‘Your flight is tomorrow.’ I looked at him puzzled and said, ‘No, it’s today.’ He then produced his mobile phone, searched for the date and showed me, ‘It’s 4 February. Your flight is tomorrow morning.’ I was still confused and was about to argue when I looked at my iPhone. OMG. He was right. See, even though I used my iPad to access wifi over there, it was on Malaysian time for some reason. My iPhone, however, was on local time (probably because it was on roaming mode?). So my iPad was on Malaysian time and I overlooked this when I set my alarm. Which meant I woke up and arrived at the airport 5 hours earlier than I was supposed to. Yes, I’m such a ditsy scatterbrain absent-minded lass. I debated if I should return to the motel to sleep but quickly dismissed the thought: there was no way I was going to walk there and back again in the dark on the dirt road. I saw there were other backpackers and settled down to wait. Yes, five hours of wait.

Friday, 5 February 2016

We had to get up twice because the cleaners wanted to wash the area so first we got up to make way and the second time, we got up so that the benches could be returned to their original place.

Finally, it was time to check in. Phew! I had to have my e-ticket checked at fastjet’s ticketing booth before I could drop of my bag. We had to fill up immigration forms and clear the immigration before proceeding to the boarding gate. There’s a prayer room for Muslims and there’s also wifi in there.

We had to board a shuttle bus to the plane at about 05:45. I tried to catch some kip but wasn’t successful. We landed at 06:55 local time (Malawi is an hour behind Tanzania) and was shuttled to the terminal building. I had checked the Malawian visa requirements before going (but of course!) and was therefore surprised when the immigration officer told me that I needed visa. Told them I’d already checked and ascertained I didn’t need one. He told me to come around the booth and then showed me his computer system which stated an error or something before checking with a colleague. They consulted a list and yeah, Malaysians don’t need visa to enter Malawi. The colleague wanted to be doubly sure so she told me to wait while she made a phone call. And finally they were satisfied that I didn’t need a visa. Next time I probably should print off that visa regime document eh. The first officer then processed my passport & wrote ‘gratis visa’ in my passport. He also made a long remark somewhere about my case then waved me through, saying he’d also be in Monkey Bay that weekend.

I’d read that there are no airport buses and that I would have to take a taxi to the city. Well, the taxi to the city cost a whopping USD35 and yes, they only accepted USD. I told the cabbie I wanted to take a bus to Monkey Bay which is at the edge of Lake Malawi. The airport is 20 km from the city by the way. I’d also read that there’s an 08:00 AXA bus to Monkey Bay but the flight delay meant I would be cutting it close. The cabbie assured me that I could make it to another bus and he made some phone calls.

We arrived at the terrible bus station some 40 minutes later (we were stopped by traffic cops directing the flow at least twice) and the cabbie accompanied me to the bus. It was horrible to say the least. The bus was dilapidated with cushions torn showing their spongy insides. Some seats were even detached from their frame. Seriously, think of the worst Metro bus in KL and it was 10 times worse at least! There was a compartment beneath but the conductor carried my bag up and placed it on the overhead shelf. There were three seats on one side of the aisle and two seats on the other side of aisle. I told myself to look at the ride as an experience and boarded it after paying MWK2700 for my ticket (that’s < USD4. I had changed USD80 at the airport for Malawian Kwachas; USD1 yielded me MWK720) and sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. In the end, I waited 2 hour and 15 minutes!!! Yes, that’s right, I waited for 2 hours and 15 minutes (did I ever mention that I like to time things?) before the driver even got on the bus. Some passengers waited even longer!!! In the meantime, a few ‘entrepreneurs’ had entered the bus trying to sell their goods. Then one man came up and walked around handing out leaflets. I surmised from what little I could read that he was selling pizzas (?!) and suddenly he started talking in a very loud voice, kind of preacher-like. On and on he went. He left after 15 minutes of sermon and after a while, a woman came up. I thought she was a fellow passenger but that was before she opened her mouth. Oh man, talk about direct selling. On and on she went and at one point, I looked up and saw her waving around a box of what looked like tea. What the -? I was getting pretty annoyed at the long wait and the loud booming annoying voice didn’t help. Still, I couldn’t help but admire their boldness. I wouldn’t be as brave facing strangers and trying to sell something. I looked around and I think most of the locals were not the type to go up front for a spot of public speaking either. As annoying as it was, you gotta admire these people for having that courage.

No one seemed to want to sit next to me (I was by the window in the three-seat) until a mother with her small children came up. Her three small children sat next to me and she sat a row behind (I only realised she had a small baby when they disembarked many hours later). A man came and told the kids to huddle up so that he could sit so the three kids were sandwiched between us. It took us two hours to reach Salima where we stopped for half an hour. Every time the bus stopped, whether at a major bus station like Salima or by the roadside, a few boys would approach the bus carrying water, snacks, eggs, tomatoes and even mats to sell to the passengers. It took us more than four hours to reach Monkey Bay Salima and we finally limped into Monkey Bay after 5 p.m. Well, bus station sounds too grand when it was just a dusty field. I crossed the road, saw a rest house and walked in. I enquired if they had rooms and checked one out before deciding to stay there. The rent was MWK10K for two nights.

The rest house was family owned. One brother took me around to see the local sights: market, maize mill, mosque, church, school and Lake Malawi. You could take a ferry to Mozambique from Monkey Bay. I bought some biscuits from a grocery stall and a bottle of 5-litre water from a bakery. I was too knackered after the long day and was in bed by 20:30.

Along the way to Monkey Bay

To be continued