Tuesday, February 16, 2016

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