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
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