A GREATER PURPOSE?

We try to report in words and pictures, the things we see and experience. Many people who travel along with us on this web site are unable to travel and love learning about life in other parts of the world. A 4th grade teacher tells us that she’s used our site to teach geography and history to four of her classes. Bob, a friend in Illinois that we met on a bicycle path, has referenced our site in a Thesis for one of his College courses. Or, a couple looking for a place to stay in Lisbon, Portugal stumbled across www.WorldRiders2.com and found the Casa S. Mamede. They stayed, enjoyed, met our pal Jose then wrote to tell us of their experience. Other Cycle Tourists offer tips about places we’ll visit or how to take better care of our bikes. Too many great stories like these to share here, but all are important and interesting to us.

How About WORLD PEACE?

Albert Einstein said it, we believe it, “Peace can’t be won, it only comes through understanding”! A shocking statistic we recently heard, 87% of our fellow Americans never apply for a Passport? How can we hope to understand if we never go there, never see the places, never talk with the people? Perhaps our words and pictures will help to span the gap? Governments, customs and cultures may differ but we find many more similarities than differences among the people that we meet. They all strive for good lives and hope for a better life for future generations.

We’ve got another year and another continent between us and HOME. Our hope is that you’ll continue to read as we ride and SPREAD THE UNDERSTANDING!!!!

Peace is Possible!

March 9, 2004
Malawi Border to Karonga
50 Kilometers

It was 1:00 PM by the time we pushed past the aggressive moneychangers, pedaled around the huge puddle of water at the gate and entered Malawi. There is no Visa required for US citizens so we thought it would be a simple crossing. We got the bikes up on a sidewalk then Cat went inside to get our Passports stamped. I was standing outside the window of the Immigration Office and could hear the conversation. She had filled out a form and handed it to him. He scanned down then asked how much money we have. We were both shocked and Cat asked, “Why do you need to know that”?

He made it clear that it was a question on the form and his duty was to get the answer. We talked back and forth through the window. I was behind the Officer, which seemed to make him a little nervous. Of course we were suspicious. What if he thinks what we have is a lot of money and calls a friend to let him know that we’re coming? It was clear that he wouldn’t clear us to enter until we disclosed our cash position. He did say that they must know that anyone entering will be able to provide food and shelter during the time they are in Malawi.

Okay, we decided that we might as well play the game his way. When Cat told him that we have 559,000 Tanzanian Shilling he wanted to know how many US Dollars we had. We made it clear that we only had T. Shilling. He sighed then said, you must change the Shilling to Kwacha before entering because there is no Bank or Money Exchange Office here. He was adamant that the banks further into Malawi wouldn’t change them. We complained and asked if there was someone changing money on this side of the Border? We had just run the gauntlet through the piranha pool of Money Scalpers on the Tanzanian side and didn’t want to go back there.

After explaining that he couldn’t officially be involved with the exchange of currency we asked him to just help us find a fair person. He asked us to wait and said he would find someone. When he returned we were both out with the bikes. Talking through the window he told Cat to come around the building to room # 9. We decided that I should be the one to go inside. I walked around then down the dimly lit hall and counted down the doorways. He came toward me and we met at # 9. Inside was another Immigration Officer and a heavyset guy. Mr. Big Bucks was the Money Changer, he spoke in local language and our friend living on the fringe of legality said that the rate of exchange would be 1 Kwacha for each 10 Shilling. That was a better rate than Robert at the Stockholm had told us to negotiate. I said that it sounded fair. Mr. Big Bucks pulled up his pant leg and pulled a wad of Kwacha out of his sock. (Kwacha socked away?) The counting process was an interesting rifling through piles of money. Our 559,000 shrunk to 55,900 but should have the same buying power.

Tom, that’s our now very friendly Immigration Officers name, wished us a safe journey. We asked if there are restaurant along the road and again he offered good advice. Pointing to a shack just outside the fenced area he said we should eat there. Why would we doubt him now? We pushed across the muddy area, through the gapping hole in the tall fence then up the slippery hill to the Café. Loud music and a dirt floor let us know that life here was going to be pretty much like the countryside of Tanzania. A guy sitting near us watched as we talked about the music then he shouted out to the waiter and he immediately turned it down. The rice and beans was as good as any we’d had and no more expensive at 185 Kwacha for both bowls and an orange soda. ($1.85 US). Well, it was filling and should carry us into Karonga.

The road is flat and we found ourselves surrounded by rice paddies. There are hills off to the right, in the distance and we got an occasional glimpse of Lake Malawi on the left. The map led us to believe that we’d be riding right on the shore but we were far from it most of the time.

It was 4:30 as we pulled into Karonga. After a failed quest for wine we followed the arrow on a sign, down a side road that deteriorated from paving to hard rock to sand. It was a tough push the last 500 meters. The façade on Club Marina is the best of it. They have a room with bath, even hot water but it is pretty basic. We leaned the bikes at the gate and drank a couple of beers. Still hoping for a bottle of wine with dinner we asked the bartender and he said he could get some. We told him of our quest to most possible stores but he was confident. He needed cash, 549 K’s. We gave it to him and he lopped away. We hoped he’d succeed or at least come back with our money? By the time we had finished our beers he was back, empty-handed.

There is only one towel? We asked for another and were told that they have no more? Hey, we share everything else, why not a damp towel?

Dinner, alone. I ordered a half chicken and received 1 leg and thigh and two breast pieces. Sounds like a lot but it was a scrawny old sportsman. What little meat there was, was tough as nails. Cat had steak and ate every bite. We moseyed back to the open-air bar, I switched to soft drink and Cat had another beer. There was a European looking guy there but he paid little attention to us, seemed to be in his own little world.

We were in bed by 9:00 PM.

March 10, 2004
Karonga to Chitimba
90 Kilometers

Up at 6:00 AM but lay back til 6:45. Packed, loaded and ready for breakfast by 7:20 but they weren’t ready for us? The night watchman tried to tell us that the kitchen would open at 6:30, Cat pointed to my watch and let him know that they were running late, very late. He pointed to the driveway and the staff who were just coming in. The girl who spoke good English told us they’d have food in just a few minutes.

We took a little walk toward the lake. The grass was wet and when it started to get deep the ground felt soft. We turned back 50 meters (100 feet) from the lakeshore rather than risk a mud bath. Back in the restaurant the nice woman working there told us that she was ready to come warn us not to go farther just as we turned back. She said that the mud is so deep that you can sink completely under, very dangerous.

Breakfast served by our Guardian Angel was good. No juice but good eggs and sausage. The instant coffee is called Choffy, Nestles Chicory Coffee.

Our dream of early start was shattered, it was 9:00 by the time we made a stop at a bakery we’d seen last night and picked up some muffins and cookies. The road was generally flat but we did have 4 pretty steep hills 3 of which we had to push. Road kill comes in various shapes and sizes. A huge, at least 1 ½ meter (3 foot) long lizard lay looking up at the sky as if to ask, “What hit me”?

The Lakeshore continued to move toward the road then away, again. We passed by a fishing village, took a picture then wished we’d stopped for lunch as we rode into the countryside.

Ngara Kid

Another 10 K and another small village. Dennis, a neat young guy asked to help us. He led us around the small alleyways looking for food. He kept saying that the Cafes were temporary and of course they looked it. A woman told him that she could have rice in about 30 minutes, we decided to have a cold drink and move on. I bought Dennis a Coke, he was in 7th heaven. The other locals gathered around and he sort of swaggered as he told about leading us.

He wanted our address but when I asked if he had an e-mail address he didn’t understand and began writing his regular address. His friend, Cuthbert McCarthy Manata jumped in to explain e-mail. I called them our guide and our teacher. I took a picture of Dennis but another guy, kind of sinister looking, pushed into the frame. There was an old guy sitting nearby, sewing what looked like girls school uniforms. He was watching the show with intent. I took his picture then showed it to him. He really got excited and everyone pressed in to see it.

Onward to Chilumba and a late lunch. There was a group of older people, more men than women, sitting out front of the restaurant. The manager reminded us of pictures we’ve seen of Malcolm X. Probably the thick square black rimmed glasses he was wearing. The cold drinks were very cold, we had Fanta Pineapple. The rice and beans were rice and beans but the greens they served with them were very good.

We had been wondering if we had passed into another time zone when we entered Malawi? The slow start at breakfast and now the clock here. Our watch read 3:00 PM, the clock was on 2:00. Yes, Malcolm confirmed that it was 2:00 PM, it kind of made us feel badly about the way we treated the staff before breakfast this morning. It also explained why we were the only ones at dinner last night.

The group consensus was that Chitimba was about 10 K’s down the flat road. It would be 20 and 2 more pretty good hills. Cat’s tail feathers are in flames, she has a terrible case of saddle sores. They’re caused by the sweat we pour out in the hot sun and by riding in wet cloths when it pours rain. The rains came, thick and wet. We pulled the ponchos out and covered ourselves then rolled and stashed them a few minutes later. The clouds parted the sun shone and it was hot and sweaty, again. And then, we pushed, again.

We rolled into Chitimba at 4:00 PM, Malawi time. The Chitimba Camp is another tough ride/push down a dirt and sand alleyway. The gate is falling down, but a girl ran and held it back as we passed through. The bikes lay at rest and we swigged, Cat a beer and me, Ginger Beer. The official greeter is a guy named Precious. Nice but sort of affected. The place is like a surfer joint but no surf on the lake.

Precious did push Cat’s bike through the sitting area and down to the room, through the beach sand. Cat pushed and I pulled to get mine and it wasn’t easy but then Precious didn’t ride all day and, he’s only 22 years old. The shower is dark and cold. Cat found a big black bug that turned out to be a cricket. Then as she stepped under the cool water she spotted a huge black wasp hanging on the water pipe. I came to the rescue. By the way, the 1,000 Kwacha ($10.00 US) doesn’t include towels or toilet paper.

We had picked up wine at the PTC Super Market, we had it cooling and went to the bar to enjoy a glass. There were several other Muzungus, one named Joe form Wales, wanted to know what we were doing here. He had hitched a ride, in fact he is hitch hiking the African Continent. Unfortunately just as Cat told him that her Mother was born in Wales the group called out to him, they were leaving.

John, the half owner, was at the bar. We talked and learned that he and his X girlfriend, Della had been backpacking around and saw the place. Got a good deal, cleaned and fixed and he says they’re doing well. He seems a little tired of the routine and the place still needs a lot.

Another guy, Tom, the only other guest in the hotel, sat with us and we traded stories during dinner. The menu is fixed, the dinner is pasta. That seemed okay until they told us, no soup or bread? As John headed toward his room he handed off half of his plate of chips. We split them 3 ways.

Tom is from a small town, Maynooth, Ontario, Canada. He owns a back packers hotel called The Algonquin. The biggest building and the biggest business in town. Great for his lifestyle, he loves to travel and backpack around. So, he spends his summers working his tail off then has the winter months to explore. His travels are pretty much limited to the Southern Hemisphere since winter at home is summer in the south. If you’re headed toward Maynooth look him up at www.Algonquinbackers.com.

We hit the room, snuggled down under our mosquito net and slept by 9:00 PM.

March 11, 2004
Chitimba to Rumphi
51 Kilometers on Bikes, 29 in Pickup

The sun also rises at Chitimba but it rises earlier than we’re used to. By 5:30 AM the sun was peaking through the cracks around the door and voices of the fishermen launching started our day. I went out on the sand in my t-shirt and underwear to get a picture. When I saw the panorama and orange light streaming across the huge lake I had to walk to the shore. It is down through a muddy trough then up onto a sandbar. The fishermen were launching in the lot next to the Hotel. I went crazy on pictures and knew for sure, at that moment that we had to have a better telephoto camera. I wanted to see pictures with the expressions on the faces of those fishermen as they set out in their tiny hollowed out log boats.

Breakfast at 7:00 but the fire wasn’t burning yet so it was a delay. Then the bad news, no juice and no toast. Okay, eggs and sausage will have to do. When they delivered it was egg and sausage. They were out of eggs, too. I did try one of their pancakes. It was like a crepe but pretty good when smothered in jam.

Of Fear and Fatigue

The road is flat and swings out around a point about 14 kilometers to Chiweta. A pipe rail stops traffic there and the Police seemed to hold us for some reason before finally lifting it. They did point out a shop where we could get water then one asked Cat if we were armed. “Armed, what do you mean”?

“There are some bad people on the hill and they’re armed. You had better find a weapon of some kind”, he said in thick accent. She suggested that they should come along and protect us. They said, “We have warned you, that is all we can do”.

A guy 84 years old started talking with us, telling about his work on the water project here, over the years. He has a friend in Netherlands and wants to write him another letter. He was promised that his friend would send money and he wants to write again to find out what has happened to him. He needed some money for stamps. I hated to refuse him but everyone here seems to have a need and they all think that we’re rich.

The children here all ask, and they are much more forceful in their ask then those of Tanzania. As we ride the word Muzungu resounds through the trees and crops. It’s as though, like the dogs of Russia, they seem to smell us coming? They run beside us in groups, all holding out their hands, all asking. “You give me my money”!

It is a 16-kilometer climb and most of it is steep. The road swirls out of town and up, into the clouds. Hot sun burned down on our necks during the first phase. We began pushing and spent the rest of the morning slowly, painstakingly moving up. After an hour we got into a cloud cover and the shade felt great. We were now making slow progress, stopping every few hundred meters. Then the cloud turned to mist, the mist to drizzle and at last a tropical downpour. Our clothing was wet now but to avoid soaking we donned the ponchos. Cat’s tail was now so painful that it hurt to walk or ride.

A Terrible and Dangerous Place!

Near the summit we found a small village and stopped for soft drinks. I leaned the bikes and stood the guard as Cat bought the drinks. There was a group of pretty bad looking guys milling around, playing soccer with a rag ball. One of them started dancing to the loud music coming from a building nearby. He danced in front of me, sort of flaunting and laughing at us. Then he dropped down and did pushups. I just watched as though it was a normal thing he was doing. The then strangest event we have witnessed, yet. The largest guy squatted down over a hole where termites had started to swarm up. He acted like a chicken, as he jumped around scooping the bugs up and eating them. Even the other guys seemed to watch with awe, he was definitely the leader.

Cat got her second warning from the gal in the little store. When she took the bottles back the gal leaned out her little window and said, “This is a terrible place and very dangerous. You must ride as fast as you can and get away from here”. Now she was really frightened and I was beginning to try to figure a defensive plan if we were attacked. The best I came up with was to turn and sprint back downhill if we feel threatened.

We walked away through the gang of tough looking guys and pushed on up the hill. The idea of riding away fast was a joke, the grade continued at 7-10%. We rounded the curve above the village and saw that three of the guys were walking behind us. Then two more guys started down from above. We felt trapped, Cat flagged down the next passing car. Two young guys listened to our fears and concerns then said, “You don’t have to fear but we will follow”. They stopped and got out, pretending to check their trunk and wheels. We pushed as fast as possible and they slowly started driving along behind us. Once we were safely past the two uphill guys they honked and drove on. What a kind thing to do for a couple of Muzungu strangers!

As soon as we topped out we mounted and flew down the other side of the mountain. It had taken 4 hours and 20 minutes to make the climb. We were bone tired and still had 50 kilometers to ride. It was getting late, too. The sun, based upon the time change, now sets before 6:00 PM. We were now pushing hard in slowly rising terrain, following a river upstream. We stopped, opened a can of corned beef then sat on the edge of the road and ate. Cat didn’t like it much. It reminds her of Dog Food. She did force down a couple of pieces of bread with some spread on them.

Warning, Don’t Cycle on this Road, After Dark!

At 5:00 we pulled into another village. We had decided that we should hook a ride into Rumphi (pronounced Rumpee). It’ll be dusk in half an hour and the Police had also warned us not to be on the road after dark. It’s still about 30 Ks and we have no idea what the terrain would hold in store for us. There was a 6-passenger pickup sitting out front. Cat asked and we met the guys who were driving. They were sitting on the porch stoup drinking beers. She asked if we could ride with them to Rumphi and after looking at each other the leader said, “We don’t have enough room for you and bikes”.

She was slightly deflated but went out to the road and began hoping for another. There were no cars or trucks passing. I stood near the two guys then one said, “If you can get the bikes and your bags on the truck we will drop you in Rumphi”.

I began tearing down the bags and hollering at Cat. She didn’t get the message at first. We lay the bags on their load of firewood as they looked on. Then they helped us lift the bikes up and I strapped them to the truck. When we originally asked for a ride we thought they were concerned about us as much or more about whether the had room. Then, as we began putting our handlebar bags, helmets and water bottles inside they started getting in. Three guys across in the front then we saw what they meant. There were two more guys waiting to join us in the 3 across seat. By holding our bags and helmets we squeezed over and they crammed in. We were off to Rumphi.

Down the highway 24 kilometers then off to the right 6 more, into the mountains. Rumphi is snuggled into a valley and strangely the pavement ends at the town border. The guys, James and Edward dropped the others off then took us to the door of the Countryside Inn. They and staff helped us unload. I slipped James a 500 Kwacha and he was almost embarrassed. I said, “For some gasoline”. He shrugged then said thank you. Thanks to him and Edward we were in a safe place and darkness was just rolling down the hillside above.

They stored the bikes in a room near the desk. We carried the bags with clothing and the computer into the tiny room. The bed is large, so large it takes up most of the room. The bath and toilet are tight and everything will be wet when we shower but there is hot water. What a bargain for 600 Ks ($6:00 US).

I took a trip to the PTC Super Market and found wine! They put it in the freezer for us at the restaurant.

The Massacre in Madrid

Dinner too was a bargain and, they had a TV in the restaurant with BBC blaring out the news. The big story is Massacre in Madrid. Three trains were blown up in the Madrid commuter system killing almost 200 and injuring 1,200. The knee jerk reaction was to blame ETA, the separatists Basques in the Pyrenees Mountains. The news is asking whether it might have been Al Qaeda and the Basques have denying having anything to do with the atrocity. President Aznar immediately said that they would crush the terrorists who carried out this slaughter. Later, we saw a wonderful quote of Albert Einstein, “Peace isn’t something that can be won, it will only come through understanding”. Now, ain’t that the truth?

Dinner was good and another bargain. We were tucked into our safe little room in our oversized bed by 9:00 and ready for sleep.

March 12, 2004
Rumphi to Mzuzu
63 Kilometers

The restaurant opens here at 6:30 AM and we wanted to be there ASAP. Close, we did get in before 7:00. The news is all Madrid, still no real suspects, still pointing fingers at ETA. Breakfast was very good and another real bargain. We had dinner, a good nights sleep and breakfast all for less than 1600 Ks ($16 US). The wine was an extra but we were definitely well under budget.

Our legs are shot, we have decided that we shouldn’t ride more than 4 days in a row. And, we have also decided that if we’re faced with another killer hill and distance like yesterday we will try to hook a ride up rather than wearing ourselves out pushing. We want to keep our Odyssey as pure as possible and live up to our promise to Terry to keep the rubber on the road but there is a physical limit. Between the fear factor and fatigue we felt more than justified taking the ride, in our minds.

The ride was pleasant except for our tired legs and burned out butts. It is down from Rumphi to the highway then small rolling hills through a fertile valley for much of the morning. Some of the hills have pointed peaks that add to the drama of the landscape.

A stream of women, most carrying a baby on their back, began moving along the side of the road as we rode. Ah, a clinic, one woman, a doctor we think, was weighing babies in a basket. There were dozens of women with babies in line and more coming from all directions. Rudimentary medical care but at least advice, even hospitalization for the sick, we’ve heard. Nearby, another boost toward the 21st Century, an open air school packed with kids doing their lessons. Our passing caused a disruption but the teachers didn’t seem to mind.

The road continues to rise and fall, more rise than fall most of the time. The crop roadside is a corn and tobacco patchwork. We stopped and I pulled across the road into the yard of a farmer, Anthony. He raises corn and tobacco. The tobacco is definitely the cash crop and brings money to his table. It takes corn off some of the other local tables. He was proud of his place and allowed a picture of his drying shed. As we rode on he yelled out, “Go in peace”!

A stop for soft drinks at a tiny grocery store. The guy, Neston and his wife reminded me of my youth and the little store I owned in the little town of Boron, California. It is a tough business and they have so little inventory. Their customers all look hand to mouth and make small purchases. Our store was larger and better stocked but we still had to struggle to make ends meet.

Lunch in a larger than normal village. The restaurant was busy and the woman in charge reminded us of Anna in Moshi. She scurried about, talking to customers and making sure they had the food they wanted. We posed a difficulty for her. We wanted our safe and sane beans and rice. She told us that they were finished with beans then said they’d cook more for us. Shortly she was back to tell us that they couldn’t do more beans. Well, they did have the coldest Pineapple drinks we’ve had yet. Then, when she brought the rice she had a small bowl of beans, left overs, for each of us. And, a plate of the greens, the casaba leaves.

Cat sat in a chair with view of the bikes. It was warm in the place but we needed food, we needed fuel. Our legs muscles are burning almost as bad as our tail ends. There is a coat, hat and walking stick hanging on a roughhewn plank wall. I was drawn to the look of it then when Cat pointed out that the had said USA on the band, I had to have a picture. The old guy seated nearby enjoyed the photo then sort of hung around, probably wanting a little money but I resisted. We also had a nice conversation with one of several nicely dressed people as they exited. John is like Superintendent of Schools for this district and in charge of curriculum. He gave us his office address, which is near the Hotel we hope to stay in, in Mzuzu. Then he added his cell phone number and invited us to call if we have any problems. These kinds of people, John, Anthony, James and Edward more than make up for the discomfort we felt with the suspicious looking, termite eating guys back on the hillside.

Onward and back into the hills. As we entered the village of Ekwendeni we fell in with another cyclist, Pastor Arthur. He was riding into Mzuzu to get maize to feed his family. He told us that his village has no corn and it is the only affordable food. He and his wife have 3 children and they are out of food. He’s 35 years old but looks younger. His bike actually looks older than he does. It slipped the chain off three times as we rode.

The Lord Helps Those That Help Themselves!

He is a Pentecostal Pastor in a parish of very poor. He says that he takes little jobs to get by. Of course, as we rode he began to tell us how much he would like to go to the US and study. He even got close to asking us to sponsor him. I suggested that he should contact Pastors of Churches in the US and tell them his story. He was sort of defeatist and talked of how expensive it is to send mail. I told him that he should learn how to use the Internet. He again felt that it was too expensive for him.

When he told us of the changes to free market and how it has allowed the rich to charge what ever they want for corn I had to tell him about small business in the US. He was shocked to hear that 90% of all small businesses fail in the first year. He didn’t get it so I rephrased, “They lose all their money”!

He couldn’t believe it, not in America where everyone is rich. I asked why he didn’t get land and do some farming. He has land but it needs fertilizer that he can’t afford. Then he started using the word, Capital. If I had capital I could buy fertilizer but I have none. His “poor me” attitude was beginning to wear on us. I told him that my Grandmother was Pentecostal and she taught us that, “The Lord helps those that help themselves”.

When he said that he couldn’t get started without capital I asked how often he has to ride to Mzuzu to get corn? He goes once each week because the 20 kg he carries back only lasts 7 days. So, I suggested that he should go twice each week and sell some of the corn to neighbors who need food but aren’t strong enough to cycle. He was skeptical but did like the saying, “The Lord helps those”. I wish now that I would have suggested that he take something from his village for someone, into the market to sell or leave on consignment. You know, never go on a trip with an empty vehicle.

He rode with us, past the maize market to a BP Station. We bought him a Coke and talked. He is a bright young guy, maybe he’ll get the idea and begin helping his neighbors and make a small profit, maybe enough to get the fertilizer he needs to start farming?

Riding up the main street we pulled up at the PTC Super Market and bought wine and water. Cat shopped and I stood the guard. I was surrounded by young guys trying to sell trinkets, woodcarvings and art. Pushy, they introduced themselves, Harley Davidson, Brown Bread and Gift. They are from the Lakeshore area and are used to talking with tourists. I told them that we have no space to carry things. They didn’t give up easily. One said, “Buy me a Fanta, I’m begging you”! I told him not to beg but if he feels he must, make it for something more important or valuable than a soft drink.

As we rode up to the door of The Sunbird Mzuzu Hotel a couple of gals stepped out of a car. They are with Code, a non-profit from Canada. Yvonne, who is the Executive Director, explained that they provide African students with books and kits containing pencils, an eraser, a notebook, a ruler and a personal note from a friend in Canada. Their brochure says, “Literacy = Freedom”. Aint that the truth, too!

We had a dispute at the desk about the Hotel room rate. The LPGB says, $62 US for a double and they wanted $74. When I pushed the girl, Joyce, she said, “The difference is breakfast, we have to charge for the second breakfast.”

“Wow, breakfast is $12 per person? What if we don’t take breakfast”, I asked? She turned, fiddled with some papers then said, “$50”. “Deal”, said I!

The bikes and non-essential bags were stored and we were in the room by 5:00 PM. Yes, we have BBC but the AC refused to work. I called down and the maintenance guy took a look then said, “Broken and no part now”. We called the desk and they offered to help us move but we are tired and hungry. We’ll make a move in the morning. Showers were great. It is nice to be in a safe, clean feeling place.

Dinner, I went for the Cheese Burger, Cat had a chicken dish. We were both quite happy. During the service we struck up a conversation with two couples seated near by. One, Bill and Beth, are Presbyterian Missionaries, the other friends, John, a Presbyterian Pastor and Toya. Beth is a Nurse and works helping the sick and needy. Bill’s background in government helps him teach, set up and repair 50 computers that the Church bought from the School District in Virginia, where they live. John and Toya have moved to Florida but are here visiting and maybe thinking of doing Missionary work, too. Cat asked if they miss being at home and Beth said, “We miss the family but they’re coming to visit soon. We have real friends here, back home we were just sort of hermits, we’d say hello to neighbors but never really knew any of them. Life is different here, we have real friends that we can sit and talk, small talk that means a lot to us and them”. Okay, I have opinions about Missionaries but they may have just gone up a notch or two.

There was a group of young people, obviously also American, seated on our right. They were wrapped up in conversation with some African young people so we didn’t butt in.

Fatigue from fear and physical exertion was now driving us toward the bed.

March 13, 2004
Much Needed R & R

Early to rise, I was awake at 4:00 AM and didn’t really get back into deep sleep again. Showers and shave then we took the long walk into town for breakfast. It’s about 1 kilometer and our tired legs are still a bit shaky. The quest for Big Bite, the place to go according to Lonely Planet, had closed and gone away like those 90% of all small businesses do in the US. We ended up at Andy’s Café. What a coincidence, the leader of our band Acadiana, Terry, wrote a song, a good song, called Andy’s Café. We had plenty of time to reminisce as we waited and waited for the few items on the menu that they had available.

We spent and hour and $15 at The Internet Café across the street. We tried to get money but alas, they only do Visa Card cash on weekdays and it is a 1½-hour process. Though I want to send our pictures of Tanzania to Web Master Wally via DHL the cost is $80 US. We had to defer that process until we have money.

Lunch in our room. We bought a slightly overripe avocado, lunchmeat called chili loaf and fresh bread. A pretty good lunch then I spent most of the afternoon on the computer, Cat did hand laundry. The laundry here is closed until Monday, too.

Dinner down. It is okay food, not great and not cheap but we are able to put it on American Express. It’s been months since we have found any business that would accept AmEx. The same young group of 4 was again seated near us, this time without the African guys. We could here conversation about Sea World and The Zoo. I turned and asked if they were from San Diego. They were surprised and, yes they are. They’re here with their church. The couple, Mark and Julie are working in Lilongwe at the African Bible College. They’ve been here a year. Cari and Heather are organizing a Soccer game. Other members of their church are coming to play games with Malawi players. We’ve seen the banners and wondered what they were about. Sounds like a good exchange program. We will try to see these guys again, maybe even attend one of the games when we get to Lilongwe.

Hooked, I watched the movie, Cat snoozed off. Lights out at 11:00 PM.

Sunday, March 14, 2004
Getting Well and Getting Ready to be Ready

It was misting rain as we made our way to an inexpensive breakfast at a place called Velo. Velo means bicycle in French but the waitress told us it means Love in the Tumbuka language. They were suffering the same shortage of certain food items as we’d experienced yesterday at Andy’s. Eventually it was eggs and chips, no juice, Choffy only. The toast was great and the 360 Ks tab was a far cry from $24 that the Hotel charges. We also got a glimpse of local folks walking by, some stopping in for breakfast, on the way home from Church.

The mist became real rain on the way back. We scooted building to building, tree to tree trying to stay dry. There is a stand of giant bamboo near the Hotel driveway. We were intrigued and got a picture. Neither of us has ever seen poles like these, up to 6 inches in diameter.

The rain continued to pour, I hit the Journal pages. Cat found a TV Movie about kids, African American kids living in the Chicago projects. It portrayed their life like it must be and we thought that more African people should see it and understand that not all Americans are wealthy. The film was a good story and a great message about adversity and triumphing over it. I have to admit that it drew me away from the computer.

Lunch, Cat went to the bikes and pulled the can of corned beef out. We ate it on bread. Pretty bland but we were just too lazy and tired to go out in the rain, again.

More journal catch up, then dinner at 7:00 PM. We were mentally prepared for the same old same old but they surprised us with a buffet. The price was right, 980 Ks each and the choices looked appetizing. I dwelled on the soup, probably because of the half loaf of bread with corned beef on it this afternoon? Oh, I did have a dish of food but nothing compared to the three trips and platefuls that The Cat enjoyed. There was an African guy seated in the smoking section when we entered. He left and we had the entire room to ourselves, boring.

Another movie, this is beginning to be habit forming, then bed at 11:00 PM. We’re both going a little stir crazy. Time to move on.

Seismic Activity in Malawi

This afternoon we felt the room move under our feet. We had that good old California feeling. I asked the Desk, later, and they confirmed that it was a slight earthquake. He told us that they have them occasionally but haven’t had a big one in more than 20 years.

March 15, 2004|
Mzuzu to Nkhata Bay
54 kilometers

We awoke to the news on BBC that Spain’s ruling conservative Peoples Party was defeated by the Socialist Party in yesterday’s election. That will definitely change the political landscape there, as the fellow who will be PM has been very vocal about his anti Iraqi war feelings.

I jumped up, wanting to be at the bank by 8:00 AM to get money. I thought it was 6:30 and was surprised to that I had already shaved and it was only 5:45. We would definitely be early. We dressed and loaded our bags then took the panniers and computer bag down to the bikes. Originally we were going to load up and just go to the bank and breakfast. The thought of leaving them outside while banking and breakfasting gave rise to a change of plan.

We left the handlebar bags and cameras as well as the water bottles and helmets in the room and took the now familiar walk into town. It was 7:45 so we took a position on the stairs of Stanbic Bank and waited. The Monday morning crowd thickened to at least 50 folks laden with weekend receipts and anxious to make deposits. We were the first to reach the Visa window. The guy saw us coming and had the paperwork ready. We filled out the forms then he said, “It will be at least 2 hours before we can get approval”.

Anne’s Café and Butchery is next door. The menu is quite similar to Andy’s and Velo. They’re also out of several items on the menu. A guy seated at the next table seems to be holding court. People come and go, some bow and curtsy. Mr. Mulambia introduced himself and told us that his wife is the owner of Anne’s Café and he’s trying to get into politics. He threw his hat into the ring with his Party then they merged with another and their incumbent will run so they’ve asked him to withdraw. He’s a retired Policeman and a fighter. The people coming and going are urging him to run as an Independent and he has all but decided to do just that.

He told us a story that shook Cat’s confidence, actually to her it confirmed her fears of Zimbabwe. Seems that the owner of the Internet Café got into Zimbabwe, took what he thought was a Taxi but ended up in the bush and was relieved of all his cash at gunpoint. Awe, retired Policemen are the most cautious people in the world. I did point out to him and Cat that this type of robbery probably happens 20 times a day in Los Angeles.

When Mr. Mulambia learned that we’re from the US he summonsed his son. Maimba, one of seven siblings, is studying engineering and Papa would like to see him get a scholarship to a US University. He is a bright young guy and we enjoyed talking with him. I suggested that he begin surfing the Net for scholarships and suggested that he look specifically for schools that have well known engineering departments. We also gave him Kurt’s name and told him to check with Bowling Green University. Remember him? He’s the guy we met in Tanga who distributes 5 scholarships a year.

In line at 9:45, the bank clerk was ready for us. More signatures then 40,000 Ks, we will definitely have enough money to get to Lilongwe! The rain came in medium torrents, we stood under the eave at the bank then did the building-to-building, tree-to-tree shuffle back to the Hotel, again. The few remaining bags were on bikes and we were at the door just before 11:00. Kwame, the Hotel Manager, had stopped us earlier and asked about our trip around the world. We took a picture with him and some of the staff for our memories then pedaled out the drive and up, looking forward to the 50 K glide down to Nkhata that Tom and several others have told us about.

It’s up out of town then down then up again and so it would go, most of the way down. Yes it’s definitely down but the ups really slow progress.

Passing through a small village at 12:30 we tried to find food, there was none. Two restaurants but both said, no food? Onward and as we rode a 4WD pulled passed then stopped. We approached with the same caution we’ve trained ourselves to use when a strange car stops after passing. Surprise, it was Bill, Beth, John and Toya, our dinner friends from two nights ago. We chatted, exchanged pictures then they drove away and we rolled onward. Yes, some of the hills were a push and so it was as we neared the junction. Summating, we were surprised again to find them shopping, buying some woodcarvings. Another goodbye and they were off to the south, we took the eastward turn toward Nkhata Bay.

Now it’s down of course, all the way down to Lake Malawi. We thought we’d read that the lake was at sea level but Bill told us that it was 1,500 feet above. He checked his map and confirmed our suspicions that Mzuzu is higher than the 700 meters the Bellman had quoted to us. It’s 1275 meters or about 4,200 feet high. And, that leads us to believe that the big push must have taken us up to over 1670 meters or about 5,500 feet.

The dusty street of Nkhata bay was awash with people calling out for us to buy some carvings or art or dope. We felt almost uneasy, I went in the PTC Super Market and scored with a bottle of wine then we began following the signs toward the Butterfly, Mayoka and Njaya Lodges. The road took a turn to the right and turned to dirt. We pulled up to survey the possibilities when a great looking classic S Type Motor home pulled up behind us. The young couple, Chris and Sonja are from South Africa and it’s a 1979 Land Rover 4WD truck with a trailer shell attached.

As we chatted Tom, the backpacker we met at Chitimba came walking up. He’s staying at Mayoka and said that it’s just okay. He’s leaving tonight so we won’t get to spend time with him. He did tell us that the staff at Chitimba told him why everything was so strange when we were there. One of the Africa Tour Trucks pulled in followed by some armed bandits. They took everyone’s money and anything else that they wanted including money from the Hotel. Sort of scary, huh?

We began the climb on the dirt and rock with a push. Tom walked along for a while then said his goodbyes and went on ahead. Chris and Sonja passed us their old beauty stalled out. We got to them just as Sonja finished putting rocks under the wheels to keep her from rolling. Chris got out, crawled around under her then decided that she may have just jumped out of gear. We pushed onward and they roared by, again. At the top a Security Guard took Cat down to see Mayoka while I guarded the bikes. She came back with a negative report, it is so steep and rocky that it would be close to impossible to get the bike down the trail.

The Security guy walked us around to the road to Njaya, pointed then left us to our own devices. It was down then more ups. It was even rougher and rockier as we pushed along. The afternoon sun peaked through the clouds and brought our sweat to the surface. At last, a steep down and we rolled into the parking lot. Another pleasant surprise, the 79 Rover was here. We pushed down a rock sidewalk and leaned the bikes on a rock planter. Yes, they had rooms, reed Chalets on the lake and Cabins above the Registration, Restaurant and Bar building. The Chalets share bath and toilet and it’s a hike down the path to them. Cat chose a Cabin, it’s only 1200 Ks and it has toilet and shower with hot water.

The big struggle was getting the bikes up the 4 sets of stairs. Tired, we took them one at a time. Even by going on the grassy hillsides we still had lots of stairs to lift and drag up.

The Cabin is pretty basic but has a porch with view of the lake, a king size and 2 twin beds as well as a wicker furnished sitting area. The bath is typical basic, too but it will do fine for the night.

We met a couple, Amy and Tony, as we checked in. We drank a beer and traded stories. He is from England, she’s USA, all the way. From the heart of the heartland, Leawood, Kansas. They joined up and have been traveling together for the last few weeks. He had been packing around Africa with a buddy, they met Amy, his pal had to go back to work but he still had time so they threw in together. (Sounds platonic as she also told us that she was meeting her boyfriend next week. This is his first and he says, last time here. He has traveled extensively in South America and says that we’ll love it there. He misses museums and historic sights and he’s not a beach person. WE got a photo and decided to get together later. They’re leaving on a Ferry, down lake, tonight.

The waiter calls himself “Food Man”. His voice is wonderful, his laugh and the way he says, “Yea” are infectious. We sat on the deck overlooking the lake and enjoyed Pizza with Chris and Sonja. They are in a quandary, not knowing whether they want to move on to the north or head back home. They had a flat tire earlier today and several locals pitched in to help change it. When the dust settled and they were driving off Chris checked on a small package that he had stashed under the seat. It was gone long with the $300 that was tucked away inside it. That may be part of their disappointment? We urged them to go all the way to Europe if they have the time and money. He is a Commodities Broker and says that he’s embroiled in a lawsuit. I know how those things can drag you down. She’s a hairdresser. They really make a handsome couple.

"You Must Be Crazy," Tsonga

"You Must Be Crazy," Afrikaans

Cat moaned and groaned as the cold water streamed down her back. They told us it would be hot but it’s not? I jumped in and suffered the shivers as I soaped up then noticed a second spigot on a pipe above. When I turned it on I had warm water. Too bad for The Cat, but it was the kind of warm and happy ending we all hope for.

We were snuggled in by 9:00 PM.

March 16, 2004
Nyala Lodge, Nkhata Bay
And Then The Rain Came!

Awoke at 5:00 AM as has become my custom on Malawian Time. We had both had our sleep interrupted several times by brilliant flashes of lightening followed by rafter shaking peals of thunder. The rain came down by the buckets full, torrential. We rolled over and let the storm lull us back into deep sleep. It was 7:30 when we finally pried ourselves out from under the mosquito net. Now it was hurry up and wait. We had arranged for a truck to take us back to the junction, we definitely didn’t want to backtrack and push especially now that the road is mud. Remember, once we’ve ridden in we allow ourselves the right and privilege of hiring a ride out.

Food Man was his jovial self and the food was okay. I had English breakfast and Cat had banana pancake. The disappointment came when we had them tally the tab. The room which we thought was well worth the 1200 Kwacha they had quoted but the bill was for 2400, 1200 each person? The food, though quite good is also expensive. Luckily the bottle of wine was only 900 Ks.

The rain continued to pelt down as we ate. There are a couple of young guys, Mads and Emil from Denmark. They worked for 6 months after graduation and saved money that they’re now spending on their African adventure. A Canadian couple, Brian and Karen, came in for breakfast. She has been sick, really sick, the African Guff Guff got her in a real bad way. They are trying to get out of here and spend the final few days of their month in Africa back on Zanzibar. They will relax there then fly out, back to work and cold wet weather on Vancouver Island. Well, it can’t be much wetter there than it is here, right now.

Our 9:00 AM truck was delayed and the price went up from 800 to 1000 Ks due to the hazard of the mud. Chris and Sonja came in and had breakfast. Brian and Karen had been talking about trying to get a truck out of here then bus to Mzuzu. They want to be on the midnight bus to Dar es Salaam tonight, if possible. When Chris and Sonja came in to tell us goodbye, they have decided to venture out into the mud, I asked if they would take Brian and Karen. They made a deal and we saw them off.

Cat was almost sad, not because they are leaving but because we are going to be stuck here, alone. There are no other guests and the way the rain continues to come in sheets it’s unlikely that there will be others. We had been tempted to hook a ride with them but we’d just end up at the cross roads in pouring rain and the next dry room is 40 kilometers down the highway. So, we have resigned ourselves to the fact that we are marooned by mud.

Politics, but not as usual!

Oh, by the way, the new Spanish Prime Minister declared today that Spain will withdraw from the “Coalition of the Willing” in Iraq. They will form alliances with France and Germany and the rest of “Old Europe”. That tidbit came to us via Sky News in the bar. They also aired the results of a poll taken in England before the Madrid bombings. 75% of Brits think that a terrorist attack is more likely since they went into Iraq. Is the “War on Terror” just creating more terror? The country still remains about equally divided over whether going to Iraq was the right thing to do.

Journalize, shower then lunch. Two young British girls, Ceri and Lucy, came in. They’re staying at Mayoka, the place that Cat decided we couldn’t possibly get down to with the bikes yesterday. They said that it is similar to Njaya but not as nice. Lucy said that she doesn’t mind a shared toilet but not when you have to walk 100 meters in the dark and rain. (It hadn’t dawned on us until this moment, the misery that the toilet down the path must have been for Karen. She spent 2 days riding out the ravages of African Guff Guff. We suddenly began to love our room.) Ceri is living here on a two- year contract with a non-profit that provides backup for the “Save the Children Foundation”. Lucy, her friend works with a group that’s similar to the Peace Corp but she’s just here for a visit. Food Man filled us all up with burgers and fries.

We walked down to the beach, took a few pictures then made our way back to our Cabin. I journalized while Cat familiarized her self with Zimbabwe.

Dinner at 7:00 PM, there were some German people but they spoke little English and you know how terrible our German is. Back to our bungalow and bed by 9:00 PM.

March 17, 2004
Nkhata Bay to Ngala Beach
120 Kilometers
Happy St. Patrick’s Day

Food Man, Dickson and Bar Man, Gilbert came out to see us off. It was cloudy and threatening but no rain at the moment. Paul, the driver and Leonard, his helper, pulled in right at the stroke of nine. The pickup is a wreck. He had parked on the hill but I asked him to pull over where we’d leaned the bikes. I saw him studying the layoff the land and when he had to roll forward to get started I understood. The starter or battery were not working? The six of us lifted then Paul and I tied the bike down. We got in, ready for him to roll backward and pop the clutch but he couldn’t get the thing into reverse. He pulled the rubber cover off the shifter and began repairs. The glove box is full of wrenches, he got the appropriate one and took the cover plate off the transmission. We were scrunched up in the seat and he worked over Cat’s leg. Somehow, he got the linkage working, we rolled back and she fired up.

The road was just as rough and rocky as we remembered. It took him 30 minutes to get from Nyala to town. He would cut the engine and coast down hills to conserve fuel. The mud added to the degree of difficulty.

In town we asked him to stop so that we could buy water. He asked for some of the money we had agreed to pay, he needed petrol. While I got water he ran across and bought a 5-gallon plastic container of gasoline.

At the crossroads we had him pull up near the roadblock. We got the bikes down then leaned them on the truck and filled our water bottles. At 9:30 we waved goodbye and began pedaling. The road was surprisingly ups and downs. Several had told us that it was flat. There is a Rubber Tree Plantation with large, mature trees that flank the road. Young guys stand bouncing balls made of rubber string and try to sell them for 50 Kwacha. We resisted but did get some good pictures of the way they milk the trees.

We rode into rain, thick enough to pull out the Ponchos. At 40 Ks out we found the village of Chintheche. Hungry, we pushed across the muddy parking lot to a café. Rice, veggies, and sauce. The owner, Agnes, was holding court with a group of young guys. Maybe relatives or schoolboys having an afternoon snack? When she heard that we are from America she told us that her cousin lives in the Bronx, in New York. She thinks she’ll visit him next year. She asked for our address and sort of suggested that she could stop by when she visits the cousin. We tried to explain that California is a far cry from NYC but she was getting it. We gave her our card and told her to have her cousin send an e-mail to us.

We said our goodbyes then as we were folding the Ponchos she came out and handed each of us a carved wood salad fork and spoon. She also had a carved wooden wine goblet for Cat. What a nice gesture, we haven’t had anyone offer to give us a gift since we can remember. I guess she like the picture we took of her and the thought of visiting us when she’s in the States? Yes, we often invite people like Agnes to our home. It isn’t real probable that she’ll ever make it but, if she does she would be more than welcome.

The hills continued but the rain abated. Sonja had told Cat that Ngala Beach is 80 kilometers from Nkhata Bay. We were at about 90 and struggling when a little pickup pulled over. The driver, Aaron, offered cold water and mileage advise. He thought it was 20 or 30 kilometers to Ngala. He lives there and knows the owners. Then, he said, “Maybe we’d better say 39 Ks, for sure”! Cat was already running on reserves and this was a crushing blow. Aaron offered to throw the bikes in his truck and haul us in. She talked like she would and I suggested that she take the deal and I would finish the ride. That was an absolute no deal. I did ask him to send out a search party if we weren’t in by 6:00 PM. As he pulled away I wished that we would have had him take the bags. We could have made mush better time but then, we don’t really know him.

The scenery was spectacular, the road continued to undulate. We were ground down to slow speed due to lack of strength, our legs were drained. We turned our blinking taillights on at 6:15 in deepening dusk and hoped that Aaron was on his way. Then, like a vision, a sign reflected in the headlights of a passing car. Ngala Beach Lodge with an arrow, 400 meters. I was getting our headlight out as it passed. In the almost total darkness I shined our little light up and confirmed. As I tried to get the headlight onto my helmet a guy, night watchman at Ngala walked up and asked to help us. “Yes, Ngala is just this way, follow me”. He started off with Cat following, I lost control of my bike while finishing installation of the light and it crashed to the ground.

I rode past our benefactor and as I did something fell from the bike. It was the salad spoon. The watchman found it and brought it to me. The fork was nowhere to be seen. Probably lost when the bike tumbled? As we stood talking a single headlight came toward us in the darkness. It was Craig, the owner, the search party we had been hoping for. Of course, we’d made it to the gate so, who needs a Savior, now?

Ngala is a very neat place. The room is actually two bedrooms, one downstairs and one up with a balcony and view of the lake during daylight. Craig helped us get the bikes through the obstacles and into the room. We wanted, no we needed a beer. He told us that we had time while the water for much needed showers was heating.

Wednesday is Pizza night at Ngala. When we got to the bar I asked if they had white wine. Craig looked along the back bar then said, “Bad news, we’re out”. I pulled our bottle from behind my back and said, “Can you throw this one in the freezer”? Craig told us that they had Carlsberg Brown and Carlsberg Green. It was Green of course, this is St. Patrick’s Day! We had some focaccio bread with the beer then headed for the showers. Lights thanks to a generator that stays on until 11:00 PM and hot water. Heaven, we are really depleted.

The gang, locals here for the Pizza also had a pool tournament going. They asked us in but we were too tired to stand or walk. Diana, Craig’s wife came in and took over at the bar so that he could get a shower. There were two guys, Graham and Tony sitting sipping suds. The others, Bernice, Tony’s daughter and her boyfriend Angus, William and Bernice, even Aaron, drifted in as we waited for our Pizza. We sipped our wine, nibbled the Pizza and got acquainted. Graham, Tony and Angus all work at a Sugar Plantation about 20 Ks down the road. Bernice is just recovering from bronchitis and Malaria. Aaron has attended school in Lansing, Michigan, USA. They’re all nice people, all interested in hearing about our marathon trip.

It was 11:00 PM, almost time for lights out by the time we got to bed. We had a feeling that the generator would continue to throb away until the last beer was drunk.

March 18, 2004
Ngala Beach to Sani Beach
94 Kilometers

Breakfast was great, real coffee, eggs and toast. Craig came in as we were finishing. He got names and phone numbers of people in and around Lilongwe that might be able to help us. His background before Ngala was boats. He has down sailing and tour cruising all over Africa. When we mentioned Dennis in Ziguinchor he talked about his memories of coming up the river there. We hated to go and he seemed to hate to see us go. We had a picture together in front of the building then shook, waved and headed out to the road. In retrospect we might have been better off just to stay there an extra day.

I’m now riding without sunglasses, another casualty of the bike crash last night? We rode slowly back to the highway, looking for the fork. Then we pulled up under the sign where the bike had fallen. The disturbance in the dirt was still there but the sunglasses and fork now have new owners. Onward, into the glare.

A Farmers Market was in full swing in the shade of a huge tree. The tiny village had produce and other wares displayed in rows. We looked for food but could only come up with a couple of cold Pineapple sodas. Then as we sipped a young girl sat down across from me and began nursing her baby. She talked with Cat and although the guy at the grocery said that there was no restaurant here she indicated that there was and she could take us there. We followed, just a few buildings down and into a shabby little place. We asked for rice but she, Unity, said all they have is Nshima, corn flour mush of a sort.

I took some pictures of the kids crowded around the doorway as we waited. Then after we ate as much as we could stand Unity asked for a picture of her and baby Patience. Then she called her auntie, Aida for a photo. A crowd had gathered. A guy came to me when he saw the camera and said, “Big man, take photo of Mother”? He, Royce, was a bit pushy and the type that I tend to ignore but his Mother was a darling. He shoved some of the kids back to make sure it was just he and Mom in the pic. I asked her to smile but she remained stone faced. I used my fingers to show a smile on my face, she got it and grinned, I shot. When they saw the picture the brash guy said, “My Mother is very smiling now”. He pointed to her heart. They didn’t ask for a picture, just to see it was enough for them. We’re hoping that we survive the Nshima without catching another ration of the dreaded African Guff Guff.

Fatigue was coursing through our bodies. We have just pushed them too far these past two days. The heat took a toll, too. It was late afternoon when we pulled into the BP Service Station in Nkhotakota. Cat found some cold water, we sat on the curb and drank. It is between 12 and 20 kilometers to the place, Nkhotakota Pottery that Craig and Diana recommended. Andrew and Junio, artists/Rasta men/salesmen, took a position in front of us and spread their wares for us to see. They called me Father and Cat, Mother. We explained that we don’t buy anything because we have no room to carry. They gave up on the sales pitch and began to wonder at the size and scope of our journey. It would have been refreshing to just sit and talk if we hadn’t been so tired and concerned about finding the Pottery Lodge. They weren’t sure but thought it was about 15 Ks from here. They did say that most of the road was downhill.

We set off and immediately began climbing. It was ups and downs that our spent legs didn’t need. It was also after 4:00 PM and hot. We were ground down to pushing on 3 of the hills. Had we been fresh we could have ridden them but not this afternoon. At the top of one we saw a sign, Sani Beach Resort 4 Kilometers. Our LPGB says that it has a nice bar but the rooms are sterile. Cat didn’t want to go on, fearing that it might be another 10 Ks or more. We took the dirt turnoff and were soon following a guy on a bicycle, another night watchman. He assured us, using all of his limited language skills, that Sani was a good place. The road of rock and dirt continued the same ups and downs as the highway with the added difficulty. We had to push a couple of times and the sun was sinking fast. We got into Sani at 5:30, just ahead of dusk.

We were both dog-tired almost to the point of ill. Surprise, Gary and Cathy’s great old Toyota Land Cruiser truck with tent atop was parked on the grass. We got in, got the bikes inside the room then went to the bar. They were as surprised to see us as we were them. It’s been more than 2 weeks since we ran into them at the Stone Age Site in Tanzania. We traded stories and just enjoyed being together while they ate and fended off a swarm of ants. They headed back to their camp and we went for the shower, cold shower that is. When the guy told Cat that the showers only have cold water but we could go to the ablution blocks (toilet rooms) and camping showers for warm she sort of hit the ceiling. He apologized then she suggested that they bring some hot water in a bucket for us. They agreed.

So, a bucket shower then back to the bar for dinner. It was just us, we think we’re the only Hotel guests and Gary and Cathy are the only camping guests here. We chose to sit in overstuffed chairs at a low table because Gary and Cathy had been seated at the only real table but we didn’t want to continue the battle with the ants.

Dinner was just okay. They too had no white wine but did chill our remaining bottle. We watched a woman washing dishes in the lake, as we ate. When finished she gathered them up and came back to the kitchen. Could it be that they have no sink or no water here?

Our tired bodies needed rest. We were in bed and snoring by 9:00 PM.

March 19, 2004
Sani Beach to The Pottery
15 Kilometers
A Day of Much Needed Rest

So, we woke up and were just getting around when the fellow from the Restaurant came knocking. He told us that the breakfast is ready? How can that be, we haven’t even ordered yet?

We finished loading then walked down to visit with Gary and Cathy. I caught them in action, he was zipping up the car top tent and she was putting the breakfast things away. They have quite an interesting lifestyle. They are just putt putting along the lake for the next few weeks then she will fly out of Lilongwe for Wales and he will drive on south to his home in Zimbabwe. He, again, assured us that we’ll have no problems traveling there.

Breakfast was cold egg, cold Sloppy Joe hamburger and cold toast. They warned us that they had it ready an hour ago and they don’t do reruns? The bill was a shocker, 3500 for the room plus almost 1500 in tax and tip. I complained, we showed them the LPGB with a quote of 2400 for the room. They were sorry then told us that they had a new owner since November 5, last year. I wrote a note on one of our cards, “The Rip Off in Malawi”, and left it for the new owners. They are South African and are currently in South Africa. We’d already decided to move on, this really sealed the deal.

It took 45 minutes to cycle the 4 Ks to the highway. Our leg muscles were burning and Cat was feeling nauseous. We picked up a bike buddy, Isaiah, along the way. We asked about buying some bottled water, he led us to a store. We waited, he ran into see if they had some. When he returned he was carrying one of those plastic bags that they bite the corner off of and suck. We poured it into an empty water bottle and found that we’d need 10 bags to fill our bottles. He again ran down and re-emerged with 9 more bags, these were cold in fact some were even frozen. We poured the cold in our bottles and stuck the frozen ones under the bungee on the back bags.

I went down into the store to pay and bought 3 Pineapple sodas. We three stood and savored them in the hot sun. What a nice young guy. He has worked in South Africa, somewhere near Cape Town doing something that we couldn’t understand due to language difficulty. He’s cycling to Chia Lagoon to visit a friend from school who is there recuperating from Malaria.

We waved goodbye to Isaiah and took the turn toward Nkhotakota Pottery. Craig and Diana had recommended the place. Yes, it’s another 4 kilometers off the highway down another dirt and rocky road. There at the end of the drive was a Mitsubishi Pajero 4WD with 2 bikes on a roof rack. The restaurant has some tables spread out in the shade of large trees. We waited there for the room to be made up. A couple came around the building, he was carrying a cycling water bottle. We asked if they were cyclists. He said, “Yea, American cyclists, we haul the bikes around but rarely ride them”.

Sam and Johanna are Jehovah’s Witnesses, here on a Mission for 3 years. During our conversation they asked if we’d seen any of the big animals on the road while cycling. We told them about meeting the elephants in Mikumi and he said, “Do you believe in God”? Probably just a figure of speech, like bet you wanted some help. I said, “Not exactly, we believe in Mother Nature and if she wants us returned to nature at the behest of one of her finest creations, then so be it”. They’re a very nice young couple, they gave us their e-mail and telephone numbers. They’re living in Lilongwe and invited us to call if we need anything.

Our Chalet is quite nice, getting the bikes to it through the beach sand was tough on two tired bodies. I jumped into the shower then we discovered that there we no towels. Cat went towel hunting while I finished my shower. I decided to dry off on the bath mat that was hanging nearby. When I pulled it down a huge spider fell out and skittered across the floor. It was about 1½ inches across but with legs extended it must have been 3 inches, as big as a small tarantula. I hit it with the mat but only made it angry. It charged at me as I flailed. Finally, a direct hit then toilet paper and a flush. The battle was over and Cat won’t know about it until she reads these pages. I think it’s better that way!

Lunch in the shade of a tree overlooking the shore of Lake Malawi. The rest of the afternoon was spent typing and resting, under the ceiling fan. Oh yes, Cat did find out about the big spider. She came upon three more ominous looking family members.

I want to go for a swim! What the heck is Bilharzia?

It was still hot and the beach looked inviting but, what about Bilharzia? Te Lonely Planet tells us that Bilharzia is a disease that occurs all over Africa. Tiny worms carried by infected humans and water snails transmit it. It can be contracted if you swim in lakes, ponds or any shallow water. There is a sign on the beach stating that this is a very low risk area but then, why take a risk? Remember Ceri? The young girl we met at Nkhata Bay lives here and has for two years. She said, “You really should take a swim just to be able to say that you have”. I asked about Bilharzia and she laughed, “You just assume that you have it, wait a month then go in and take the treatment”! I had to pass on the splash. No telling where we’ll be in a month and what the medical facilities will be.

Late in the afternoon we toured the Pottery Shop. It is a big operation. They ship internationally. There was a guy, Charles, throwing clay, making a cup. I took a little video of him and the rest of the people painting, glazing and making works of art.

The Pottery

Dinner was a casual affair. The Chef was also the waiter and we were his only customers. Service was great with food to match. Yes, he even had a decent bottle of wine for us.

March 20, 2004
Nkhotakota Pottery to Salima
108 Kilometers

Breakfast at 7:00 AM, under the same tree on the lawn. English breakfast they call it, eggs, sausage, bacon toast and great coffee. As we dug in a young girl, Justine, walked past. I said hello and she responded. “Where do you live”, I asked? “Here, in Malawi”, she answered. I told here that she sounded more British than Malawian. She laughed and said, I’m an American but I’ve been here for 3 years. Her hometown, she shrugged and reeled off half a dozen city names. She told of a difficult childhood, a dysfunctional family and lots of moves. Her Mother and Father divorced and Mom married money. Justine seems to be rebelling, she dislikes what she calls the phony world. She now relates people’s lives elsewhere to those of her friends in the little village where she lives. Her Mom and Step Father did visit once but wouldn’t stay in the village. They camped out in the most expensive Hotel on the lakeshore.

Justine is the girl from American that Aaron had told us about. She is on holiday and cycling the most of the length of the lake. We got the bikes out and posed then headed out for Salima together. Our overburdened bikes were no match for here light load. Our tired, aging muscles couldn’t manage to keep her pace. She soon bid us adieu and peddled away. Up the 4 Km dirt road to the highway and there she was, talking with a group of kids. When we pulled up they all jumped on the begging bandwagon. “Give me money”! She scolded them then I showed her how we always joked about how young they are and old we are and that they could get work. She translated then told us that it was a good way to respond, make a joke, which left the asker slightly embarrassed. She felt that they might hold back, not ask next time.

Cat and Justine traded bikes, she wanted to see what it is like, riding our heavy weights. Again, it wasn’t long before she was waving to us as she pulled away. We decided to make Benga, a village about 50 Km along, our lunch stop. As we slowly rode along looking for food we found her, seated in the shade eating a package of cookies. She was holding court with locals. They all find it hard to believe that she speaks their language. We sat for a few minutes, she asked the crowd where there was food, rice and beans. No R&B but there is a place with Nsima. Another goodbye, she is off while a guy she talked with led us to the little stand serving food.

Justine Rides

Cat has developed a taste for the stuff, I find it hard to swallow. It’s mushy and almost tasteless. She loads it up with salt. I ordered chicken. All backs, necks and bones. The sauce did add a little something to the taste. There were 3 customers already rolling balls of white corn dough and dipping them in the sauce. They all tried to communicate but Sampson had the greatest command of our English language. Allan, a farmer with gray whiskers, did manage enough words to tell us a little about his business. Major, like Sampson, is unemployed. Sampson is married and has two children. He works in farming but says that there are no jobs.

Our supply of water is running low. We asked for mineral water but Sampson told us that there was none to be had in Benga. Justine had told us that she feels the “Bore Hole” water is usually drinkable. Sampson led us to the well, a group of kids pumped and I worked our filter. We poured our remaining mineral water into one bottle on each bike then filled the others. We’re not completely sure that it’s drinkable, for us.

Water Filter

The road began to undulate, slightly. It was warm but not hot. Again, we’re just 4 – 5 kilometers from the lake but it remains hidden from view and the scenery remained banal. (Cat’s biggest disappointment on this portion of our ride.)

We arrived at the crossroad to Salima and Lilongwe at 5:30. Surprise, as we rolled into the service station to get a soft drink and find shelter, Justine shouted out and waved to us. She had only been there about half an hour and had been befriended by a girl from Denmark who works at Kuti Ranch, Malawi’s first Wildlife breeding station, 7 km down a dirt road. They urged us, almost begged us to throw the bikes on the pickup and spend the night there. Our friends, Gary and Cathy are there, too. It sounded like great fun except for the Tent Camping only accommodations and self-catering. That would mean getting there, setting the tent and cooking dinner. It was already 6:00 PM and darkness was nigh. A handshake with the Danish girl, hugs from Justine then they wheeled out of the drive and we rolled down toward Salima, still 8 Ks away.

The Mal Tsalani Motel is in the heart of the village near the PTC Supermarket. That could fill two needs so we rode in that direction. PTC had just closed but the clerk let me into the darkened store. We got water and wine, the two main essentials. (Neither of us had had to dip into the Bore Hole water.)

Rain that had threatened all afternoon kept its promise as we rode down the dirt road to Mal Tsalani. The Motel was dark, too. A town wide power failure that had been plaguing Salima since early morning. It was dark inside, I stood the watch while Cat checked the room. Mosquitoes nibbled at my legs as I waited. The room was adequate and the hallway was lighted with lamps and candles. We wriggled the bikes through the narrow hall and into our two-room suite. They lay in repose against the maroon couch and chair.

Cat went for the shower only to fid that there was no water. We Complained and the young guy explained that all water from their tank had been used and the electric pump was idle due to the outage. Almost as he spoke the lights and fan came on.

We drank a couple of beers then began the cleaning process. Cat got a cold shower. I jumped in and had just begun adjusting to the cold when the pressure surged and gurgled. I had warm water. It was brown as it swirled round my feet but it was warm.

Dinner in a step down area across from the reception area. It was muggy and buggy. The rain had intensified but was beginning to wane. We asked for a fan to stir the air around and thwart the flying bugs. They delivered, we had chicken and chips in reasonable comfort. They had chilled our bottle of wine and it went well with the greasy but good food. We were hungry from the long ride and the tiny Nsima lunch.

Early to bed.

Sunday, March 21, 2004
A Bus Ride to Lilongwe

We awoke to rain, hard, heavy rain. It continued to pour during our included breakfast. Then, as tough on cue, Mother Nature cut it back to a drizzle. By the time we got out the door it was all over save the dripping from trees. The guys at the Motel told us that we could get a bus sometime between 8:00 and 11:00 AM.

Finding the Bus Station was easy, finding information about the schedule wasn’t. The best guess we got was that the Lilongwe Bus would be in sometime between 10:00 and 11:00. We leaned the bikes and watched as the other buses and mini buses pulled in and out. The hawkers run to the bus and hold their wares up to the windows. Surprisingly, they do a pretty brisk business with soft drinks, fruit hardboiled eggs and fried dough balls. Some of the shorter salespeople use sticks with a nail to hold their merchandise at window level.

When the bus finally rolled in at 11:15 we pulled the bags off the bikes and I pitched them up the steps to Cat who stacked them in the rear seat. I went up on the roof of the bus and helped as the Bus Company employees hoisted the bikes up. I strapped them down then, taking no chances, stood the guard as other passengers threw their bags and baggage up.

The back of the bus was hot as we sat quietly sweating, waiting for it to move and stir up a breeze. Fellow passengers stared, some asked where we were from but again, the language barrier kept us from getting to know them. One guy, Mr. Black, seated in front of us had a great look. I finally couldn’t stand not to take his picture. He was a little reticent but didn’t even know when I snapped the frame. He viewed it with detached interest until one of the young guys next to him began to talk about it with other passengers. They crowded the aisle and his chest swelled with pride. Many asked us to take their picture but we explained that we can’t give them a copy and we are short of disks. They seemed disappointed but understanding. I did get a shot of some cat fish hanging from the roof, dripping on the fisherman who’d caught them.

Traffic and hills slowed progress, it took 2 hours to go the 100 Km. (60 miles) The Lilongwe Station was teeming with guys wanting to help. I asked for the Bus Company employees and did receive their help. We stacked the bags off in front of a group of Police Officers. I tried to get their picture but, as usual, they told us it is forbidden when they’re on duty?

One of them accompanied me outside the gate to the front of the Station in search of a cab. We found a car with a roof rack and he agreed to take us for the price the Policeman suggested. He followed us back to the exit gate and waited. He would come inside but they wanted the equivalent of $2.00 to let him in. It took several minutes to get loaded and he was gone by the time we got to where he’d parked. We pushed around the corner and there he was, back in his original spot. He didn’t seem to be that interested in helping but did finally agree to the original agreement.

Bikes stacked on top and surrounded by bags, we were off to the Riverside Hotel. The Lonely Planet places it in the mid-range category but we found it to be quite nice. Maybe because of last night at the less than Mal Tsalani? The room was comfortable and feels clean. We had a ceiling fan but no screens on the windows. (We’re trying hard to complete our African experience Malaria free.) We even have TV with BBC.

After a fair and filling lunch we took the Mini Bus into area 4, the Old Town. A successful journey, we found and used an Internet Shop and a good selection of wine at the ShopRite Super Market. Our attempt to Mini Buss back failed as every passing bus was packed with people. A friendly taxi driver told us that the big political rally had just ended and all buses would be full for some time. We thanked him and continued to wait until it was obvious that he was right. He took us home and told us of his life while driving. He retired from the Army and is now beginning a second career. He is disappointed that he and his family can’t live on the retirement. I told him that the same is true in our country. He found it hard to believe since he like most people here think that all Americans are rich!

One flaw we discovered at the Riverside, they are Muslim owned therefore, no alcohol. We sipped our bottle in the room then walked to the adjacent Imperial Hotel. The food and wine there was expensive. Though the food was good they served us both a different dish than we had ordered. We pitched a bitch but agreed to take the wrong dish rather than wait another half hour. The best news was that they accepted our Visa Card.

A little CNN then bed time.

March 22, 2004
More Needed Rest & Business in Lilongwe
Cat’s Mom Glenys’s Birthday

Needed sleep led to late breakfast. They were almost out of some items but the best breakfast we’ve had in some time. We asked about bringing wine to dinner and the young restaurant manager from Nepal told us that they’re Moslem owned and it’s not allowed. When we expressed a desire to try their Chinese food rather than go out he said that we could drink in our room. We laughed and said, “Run back and forth for a sip between bites”? We’ve experienced this before and they were tolerant enough to allow a covered bottle at the table. He checked with the manager. He told us that it would be okay to bring our glass of wine to the table. Well, that’s progress?

There were 3 young people in the lobby when we headed out for town. I forgot the camera and went back, we missed several mini buses. We were sitting, waiting and when they pulled out, they offered us a ride. Erin, Kelly and Jamin are from Florida, here with a Religious based company, New Mission Systems. They analyze projects for various Churches and try to find ways to consolidate and share the work with other Christian Churches. Nice guys, dedicated, working for small dollars doing something that they believe in. We agree, there’s so much to be done here that it’s foolish and wasteful for several groups to just duplicate the same programs.

They dropped us at the Mini Bus stop and we hoped aboard a crowded van. The tout ran up and down the street calling for more passengers while we sat and sweated. He was successful, the 10-passenger van struggled and strained with the weight of its 16 fares.

They dropped us and did sign language to show us the direction to the US Embassy. Once in the Consulate Office we were told to wait. The girls at the window were taking a long time. I asked for the forms we need to register and the guy told me to go back out front. Geez we hate the bureaucratic run around. Forms filled and at the window the Malawi clerk was struggling with us when Kiera called out from the back that we should come to the door. She took us in and shared a lot of valuable info from the system and her own personal experiences. A really nice gal from Porterville, California.

With Kiera’s hand drawn map in hand we walked around the corner and down the street to the Mozambique Embassy. The late start, wait, then time with Kiera left no time. The office closes at noon, we got in the door just under the wire. A simple form, 1600 Kwacha each (a value as Visas go) and we were told to come back at 2:00 PM.

Arrested By My Own Country?

There are several modern buildings in the area. We decided to take pictures as proof that Africa is more than just mud huts. I did the point and click at one and the security guard called out. A guy standing next to me said, “You’re not allowed to take a picture of this building”. I asked why, I pointed out that there is no sign but the guard was now running across the street. He was courteous but forceful and asked me to erase the picture. When I told him I couldn’t he yelled out and that brought another green uniform toward us. Then a guy in a suit came out of the building that has a sign for an Insurance Company on it and informed me that it is the headquarters for US AID.

Unbelievable, eh? The guy, Zizwani, told me to erase the picture or I’d have to come with him. I don’t know whether it can be erased but didn’t want to, in any case. Cat had walked on as I shot pictures, looking for the Zimbabwe Embassy. She returned and couldn’t figure out what was going on. “I’m being detained by the United States Government”. She didn’t understand, I explained as we walked into the building.

Zizwani asked me to erase the photo. As far as I know it can’t be deleted on a CD-R disc. He asked me to take a seat and called a fellow Security person who told him that it could be done, right on the camera? I objected, I don’t want anyone changing anything. I don’t want to loose anything. At that point I asked to meet with anyone from US AID who is from the US. Zizwani was a bit hurt and put his ID Card in front of me to prove his status. Though not wanting to usurp his authority or hurt his feelings I told him that I’d feel most comfortable with a fellow citizen. He called one guy that refused to come. The second was out in the field but suggested another.

Joe D. got on the phone and began explaining why it’s important in these days of terrorism to maintain a high level of security. I suggested that they should post a warning on an otherwise inconspicuous looking building. When I asked what his position with US AID was he surprised me, “I’m in charge of security for the US Embassy”. I told him that we’d just left there after registering and meeting with Kiera. He chuckled and said, “I just saw you here. You don’t look like Osama bin Laden so I think we can cut you loose, let me talk with Ziz again”.

Ziz continued to seem slightly upset that I’d gone around him but was an instant friend. He talked about his job and how much he enjoys working with US AID. He even walked out with us and pointed the way toward the Zimbabwe High Commission. We shook hands and he apologized for any inconvenience. Just for the record, he did a very good job and, knowing that, US AID employees should sleep better.

Taking Ziz’s direction to the Zimbabwe Embassy we happened upon DHL’s office. They had our spokes and the Nutsert. (A tool to repair the stripped threads on Cat’s bike. A tool that I will have to learn to use.) So, we are ready to get road ready, again, thanks to LandRider and our friend, Brad.

A gate guard told us that the Zimbabwe Embassy had closed at noon. I turned to take a picture of the building under construction as a car pulled into the gate. The construction guys were great. They ran, jumped on a pile of sand and posed. I show the photo to them and they really loved it. All the others rushed to the fence and begged for me to take their picture. (Why don’t we find an inexpensive way to take photos for these people, photos that they can keep? Although so many people we meet seem happy just to know that they have been photographed.)

Cat was busy talking with Shame (Shame’), the guy that just pulled up in the car. He’s the Minister Counsellor and has invited us in, Says that he’ll take application for our Visas right now. Unfortunately, we forgot that we’d left our Passports at the Mozambique Embassy. Cat asked her usual question about how safe it will be for a couple of people on bicycles. Shame then asked if we were avoiding Zimbabwe as well as sanctioning her? He’s a nice guy. When we revealed our lack of Passports he laughed and said, “ I will see you tomorrow”.

Backtracking, we bought ham and cheese and picnicked just like the good old days in Lil’ Scotty. Well, except that we sat in the shade at a plastic table and watched street waifs work the trashcans for food or cans and bottles. Terrible, whether it’s here or New York City or even Oxnard. So many poor, so little money.

Back at the Mozambique Embassy, we had to wait and as we did Linda came in. She’s a Missionary and is doing a Woman’s Empowerment class just across the border. Though she’s originally from Illinois but has been here for over 25 years. She and her husband have 3 kids, all born here. The eldest, who’s in school back home, had some sort of problem and her husband is there, helping him. They do get back as a family about every 3 years. Pretty different life they’ve chosen!

As we walked out we asked direction, she offered us a ride. In fact she knew where the Ulendo Tours Office was and took us to the parking lot. They have just received the car we rode in, a big 4WD. She said it was pretty embarrassing at first because it was the same make and color as that of the President of Malawi. She is a typical “Salt of the Earth” person and a treat for us to meet.

Craig and Diana owners of Ingala Beach Resort had recommended Lindsay as the travel agent to see. We were toying with the idea of bus or flight to Victoria Falls. She told us of the marathon, 2-day bus ride, which made it easy to scratch that idea. The cost of a package to fly that includes Hotel was a wallet choker. We decided not to decide but to sleep on it. As we walked away we wondered what it was that we were thinking about? We turned back, walked through the door and told her to book us for the Wednesday flight.

The afternoon flew by as we paid too much for Internet access. Then, Chinese food back at camp Riverside. It was pretty good but they have a rule, no wine. We were able to circumvent by drinking from our water bottles. They probably weren’t fooled but put up with us. (The Manager had suggested that we keep the wine in our room then run back and forth between bites, for a sip?)

Some guy had called earlier, something about our restaurant bill? I told him that we’d stop at the desk and figure it out. The guy at the desk didn’t seem to have a clue as to what we were talking about?

We’d just settled in when the phone rang. This time the same voice was a little more specific. He is the manager from the restaurant next door. They had made a mistake on the Visa bill and he wanted us to come over and sign again. We’d had such a crumby experience last night that I suggested he should come over here about 8:00 in the morning, he agreed. We turned out the light.

March 23, 2004
Another Day in Lilongwe

Another great breakfast, and oh that orange juice, I drank 3 glasses. As we were going to the room we got a call. Lindsay was sorry to tell us that the flight was already fully booked to the Falls. Awe well, easy come, easy go. We’ll get there somehow. She even suggested that it might be less expensive from Johannesburg. Then a second, the manager next door asked if we could come by there because he forgot that he would need the machine to re-do the card.

The problem next door was that the girl should have charged our card in US Dollars. The manager was very nice, destroyed the old slip and redid. The mini busses only cost 35 Kwacha or 35 cents. The routes are strange so we had to go into Old Town then catch another to City Center. The city is divided into areas similar to Paris, France. One of the locals laughed and said it was completely unimaginable to number areas instead of naming them. Shame’