After a week in Cape Mclear, I was planning to take a shared taxi to Zomba, but was lucky enough to get a ride from someone heading that way from Monkey Bay anyway. It was about a 4 hour drive, so I got to know the man driving me quite well. Unfortunately. Looking back, he kind of defines all that is wrong with people ‘helping in Africa’. He was a white English guy whose life had no meaning until he signed up with a Christian charity to volunteer in Africa, and ended up in Malawi. Apparently he split with the charity a while later, as he had different Christian beliefs, and has spent 3-4 months in Malawi every year for the last 15. 

His work is admirable, as he’s started three preschools which he helps run and supports a family. But like so many other projects, he had no answer when I asked what would happen if he wasn’t there, other than that was why he was needed. I didn’t ask what would happen when he could no longer be there. The other aspect that bothered me was that apparently he was inserting his religious beliefs into the education. Great. 

Anyway, I got a free, quick ride without any incidents (which was lucky as he informed me when I got in the car that apparently the insurance had expired- he was renting the car from a local for what seemed like a high price to me- and we went through about 10 road blocks), gave him a “donation” for the ride and got a free prayer in exchange. Welcome to the weird world of African charity.

I had forgotten to download an offline map for Zomba, so asked for directions a couple of times and soon found the hostel I had been recommended, which of course was also a charity project. When I asked to camp, they kindly told me to pitch my tent in the back, as the front would soon be overrun by children on an overnight field trip. Memories of camping in Argentina when Marieke was deathly ill came back to me….

Luckily by the time I got sick in Zomba the kids were gone, and I was able to read my book in peace. When I wasn’t reading, and catching up on internet (this was the first wifi I had in 10 days), I was hiking the plateau, which is gorgeous, green and great exercise. I also had the easiest visa extension process of my life, as I walked five minutes from the hostel to a decrepit looking building that must have built in the British era, walked into an empty room, into another empty room, where I found a man with nothing to do who gladly stamped my passport with an extra month, for 5000 kwacha, or about $10. Bargain.

I had planned to spend two or three nights in Zomba, but between lots of people to talk to (it was definitely the busiest hostel I had seen since getting off the overland tour three weeks ago), the hiking and gorgeous landscape, the abundant berries, getting sick, and the wifi that was on for at least half the day when we had power, I ended up spending 4 nights. Which worked out well as on my last night I ran into the traveling family I had first met in Livingstone in Zambia, and shared a taxi with them to Mulanje the next day.