1 : Malawi Patrol – a General Briefing
In the weeks preceding the flight north to Malawi, Paul had carefully mapped out what should be seen and the route that should be followed. Having visited the country several times in the days when it was still Nyasaland and since after being re-named Malawi, his expertise and knowledge proved invaluable. In those days he had been a policeman, a calling which allowed him to extend his knowledge of ethnic languages. No better man could have organised this particular patrol and. He warned me, a Report would have to be submitted.
Malawi, once Nyasaland, lies at the southern end of Africa’s Great Rift Valley. Much of its activities lie to the south, presided over by Lilongwe, the capital. There are the businesses, the most popular tourist areas, the many wildlife parks and reservations. One of the continent’s smallest countries it is with a population approaching 13 million one of the more densely populated. Trapped in the Great Rift Valley Malawi is, of course, landlocked which, when standing on the shores of Lake Malawi, seems difficult to comprehend. That huge expanse of fresh water, Africa’s third largest, is around 585km long, running north to south, and 100km at its widest east to west. With other smaller and shallower lakes, it covers around a fifth of the country’s surface area.
Climate is tropical, although there is much variation in temperature between the low lying, often humid valleys bounding the lake and the mountain regions such as the Zomba Plateau and Mulanje Massif.
Compared to other countries in east and southern Africa, Malawi does not share their historical turmoils. In fact, from that perspective, its history could conveniently start, for my purpose, in the 19th century, with the arrival of David Livingstone, the missionary and explorer, the wave of missionaries that followed which influences yet remains, and the horrors of the slave ingenuous slave trade.
Perhaps it might be held that Malawi was born of colonialism. While that system has now disappeared, echoes remain in many of the fine buildings still be to be found, admittedly many of neglected, crumbling and clearly destined to end up as ruins. Vessels that once sailed on the great lake are not so numerous now; some of them now in their death throes lie as rusting hulks at Monkey Bay, sad reminders of a much more energetic past. At Malindi are the remnants of a once busy shipyard that once repaired and maintained local shipping. Now all that lingers are a old workshop used now for storage by local concerns, a boiler or two from the MV Ilala when it changed over to diesel. An iron boat rests unwanted on the sand; here and there other smaller items of an industry disappeared.
Colonialism is now part of Malawi’s history; what is still in evidence is the missionary movement. What was there before the first white man set foot there still remain and should, with recognition and conservation that Nature’s gifts are not infinite if left to Man’s promiscuous use. Overwhelmingly Malawi is a rural country; woodland (miambo) still covers over two thirds of the country. Alongside the lake’s side – and sometimes in - and up, up into the great mountain ranges woodland is in abundance. There are many different families of trees, of which the most recognizable is the unmistakable baobab. Huge in size and odd in shape, it is easily understood why it is known as the ‘tree that God planted upside down’. It is claimed that the baobab can live for up to 3,000 years. A relative of the balsa tree, this giant, generous in calcium, is a valuable source of food for elephants in times of drought.
It would be unusual to see much wildlife, birds apart, in these woodlands; locals have long since poached them into extinction unless the more far-seeing had already driven them into reservations and parks. It is a common story found pretty much everywhere in Africa. Once, when we were passing through a large area of much-depleted woodland, Paul remarked that years ago he could have driven there and had to slow down or stop for elephants on the move.
In the weeks preceding the flight north to Malawi, Paul had carefully mapped out what should be seen and the route that should be followed. Having visited the country several times in the days when it was still Nyasaland and since after being re-named Malawi, his expertise and knowledge proved invaluable. In those days he had been a policeman, a calling which allowed him to extend his knowledge of ethnic languages. No better man could have organised this particular patrol and. He warned me, a Report would have to be submitted.
Malawi, once Nyasaland, lies at the southern end of Africa’s Great Rift Valley. Much of its activities lie to the south, presided over by Lilongwe, the capital. There are the businesses, the most popular tourist areas, the many wildlife parks and reservations. One of the continent’s smallest countries it is with a population approaching 13 million one of the more densely populated. Trapped in the Great Rift Valley Malawi is, of course, landlocked which, when standing on the shores of Lake Malawi, seems difficult to comprehend. That huge expanse of fresh water, Africa’s third largest, is around 585km long, running north to south, and 100km at its widest east to west. With other smaller and shallower lakes, it covers around a fifth of the country’s surface area.
Climate is tropical, although there is much variation in temperature between the low lying, often humid valleys bounding the lake and the mountain regions such as the Zomba Plateau and Mulanje Massif.
Compared to other countries in east and southern Africa, Malawi does not share their historical turmoils. In fact, from that perspective, its history could conveniently start, for my purpose, in the 19th century, with the arrival of David Livingstone, the missionary and explorer, the wave of missionaries that followed which influences yet remains, and the horrors of the slave ingenuous slave trade.
Perhaps it might be held that Malawi was born of colonialism. While that system has now disappeared, echoes remain in many of the fine buildings still be to be found, admittedly many of neglected, crumbling and clearly destined to end up as ruins. Vessels that once sailed on the great lake are not so numerous now; some of them now in their death throes lie as rusting hulks at Monkey Bay, sad reminders of a much more energetic past. At Malindi are the remnants of a once busy shipyard that once repaired and maintained local shipping. Now all that lingers are a old workshop used now for storage by local concerns, a boiler or two from the MV Ilala when it changed over to diesel. An iron boat rests unwanted on the sand; here and there other smaller items of an industry disappeared.
Colonialism is now part of Malawi’s history; what is still in evidence is the missionary movement. What was there before the first white man set foot there still remain and should, with recognition and conservation that Nature’s gifts are not infinite if left to Man’s promiscuous use. Overwhelmingly Malawi is a rural country; woodland (miambo) still covers over two thirds of the country. Alongside the lake’s side – and sometimes in - and up, up into the great mountain ranges woodland is in abundance. There are many different families of trees, of which the most recognizable is the unmistakable baobab. Huge in size and odd in shape, it is easily understood why it is known as the ‘tree that God planted upside down’. It is claimed that the baobab can live for up to 3,000 years. A relative of the balsa tree, this giant, generous in calcium, is a valuable source of food for elephants in times of drought.
It would be unusual to see much wildlife, birds apart, in these woodlands; locals have long since poached them into extinction unless the more far-seeing had already driven them into reservations and parks. It is a common story found pretty much everywhere in Africa. Once, when we were passing through a large area of much-depleted woodland, Paul remarked that years ago he could have driven there and had to slow down or stop for elephants on the move.
Elephant bull snorkelling in the Shire river, Malawi Nov 2007
Of the local people, you never lose sight of them. Whether on foot or riding much-prized bicycles, they pass up and down the long roads in a seemingly never ending line. At times, there would be quite a gap between one group and the next; at other the lines seemed almost endless. You began to wonder if the whole country was on the move, stopping only at the many busy roadside markets or the small cluster (sometimes down to just one hut) of trading enterprises. There were surely just too many of these places of trade to be waiting just for the tourist industry and I wondered if bartering was the dominant exchange medium in a country so poor.
Compared to this movement of people, villages past, attractive places of local brickwork and thatch, were often deserted or perhaps just one or two people moving within them. Remembering how often one passed lonesome trading stalls left unmanned, honesty must have held high priority.
Photography played an important part in my Patrol. People approached were never unwilling to stop and pose. Some were delighted and pleasantly surprised when they received a monetary donation; others clearly expected it but were too polite or nervous to ask; some were quite belligerent in their demand for payment first. Paul would tackle the third group, charming them out of their socks and seeing they received no more than the other two groups!
The roads along which we travelled were like the curate’s egg, good in parts. At times there were long stretches through which it was virtually impossible to avoid the potholes gathered in blatant ambush. Not all was bad: there were some good, hard sand roads and not a few excellent tarred roads which, judged by the number of road works passed, would one day be more the norm for Malawi.
oOo
No comments:
Post a Comment