So the following morning Kym dropped me at the bus station to take the bus to Nkhotakota, a town on the lake where I would meet the Ilala ferry to Likoma Island. I just missed the bus I had hoped to get, but another one left a few hours later. A kindly lawyer reassured me that I was in the right spot and helped me figure out the whole situation (why are bus stations required to be chaotic?). Unfortunately, in the rush to get on the bus my Keens got stolen out of my backpack – they were in one of the outside pockets. Apparently the thugs’ M.O. is to create chaos as people get on the bus by pushing and shoving, and using the distraction as a means to steal. I suppose of all the things to lose, shoes aren’t that big a deal, but they were great shoes and I miss them. By car, Nkhotakota can be reached in 2 hours. By bus it takes 5 or 6. The bus ride was not terribly pleasant, but we got there so I guess I can’t complain. Nkhotakota was once a major market for Arab slave traders and David Livingstone stopped there to convince the local chief to stop trading slaves.
The ferry stops in Nkhotakota in the middle of the night – anywhere between 2 am and 8 am. (The ferry schedule is famous for being no schedule at all … the consensus was that the ferry just eventually comes). My plan was to find a cheap lodge and rest there until the ferry came. I assumed, however, that the town was compact and that the ferry dock would be easily accessible from any lodge. This turned out not to be the case. First, the town is actually quite spread out and the shore was not anywhere near where I was staying. Second, the ferry doesn’t actually dock – it anchors out in the lake and little boats take passengers from shore to ship. I was getting a bit concerned about how this was all going to play out when two French girls wandered into the lodge. As it turned out they were also planning to catch the ferry, meaning now there were three of us with no idea what was going on – strength in numbers! Now I cannot be more thankful to meet these girls – without them I probably would not have made it on the ferry! But man they were really French – chain smoking, loud animated conversations in French, and a tendency to get huffy at the slightest provocation.
We left the lodge by getting a lift to the shore with another lodge owner who thought we would be staying at his place which was on the water. We actually just wanted a safe place to wait where we would be sure not to miss anything. The French girls lent me one of their tents, and they shared the other, and we set up camp on the lawn of this new lodge. Around 2 the night watchman woke us up (again, thankfully, because otherwise I would have slept right through the ferry). We wandered in the pitch black to the beach where it seems about 200 people are standing amid a general commotion to get out to the ferry. The French girls got the police officer standing watch over the chaos to help us get on the boat and we finally made it out to the ferry. The whole thing was pretty scary, and again I had the comforting thought that drowning in Lake Malawi when the rickety boat we were all stuffed into collapsed and sunk would be a ridiculous way to die. But we made it, and pushed our way up to the top, first class deck that would be our home for the next 16 hours. It seemed deserted, though there were actually three other travelers asleep in a corner. Relaxation was not to be had, because sometime during the loading and offloading at Nkhotakota someone (likely a member of the crew) had come on the deck and stolen the shoes of one of the sleeping travelers. This caused a bit of an uproar, and I spent a fitful chilly night clutching my backpack and sleeping with my shoes on.
I felt better in the morning when the sun came out and we could spend the day reading in the sun. Saw Mozambique from the boat, but since I didn’t have a visa I couldn’t visit. Both Likoma Island and the Mozambican shoreline in this area were completely deforested by refugees during the Mozambican Civil War in the 70s-90s. Trees are starting to grow back but it is still fairly stark. The ferry was put together in 1949 from Scottish parts brought inland through Mozambique. It has been running continuously except for maintenance since then. I thought it was nice enough (equivalent in quality to the bus or the train) but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t meet Mom and Dads safety standards. 🙂
We got to Likoma Island late that afternoon and were met by Josh who runs Mango Drift hostel. Had a delicious dinner (on the expensive side though – absolutely everything has to be imported from the mainland by the ferry, which is no easy feat!), took a lovely hot shower, and went to bed early. Of course it is easy to go to bed early there because power on the island goes off every night by 10 (and during lunch). The reason? Electricity on the island is from a generator, and the generator operators need to sleep and have lunch! The generator was a reward from the ruling party about 5 years ago for the votes of the islanders during the presidential elections.
Spent 2 lovely days relaxing – mostly reading on the beach (finished Catch 22, which I enjoyed a lot and couldn’t put down, and worked a few NYT crossword puzzles courtesy of Dad) and eating delicious food. I did drag myself away from the water to walk to town to see the Anglican Cathedral there. Finished in 1911, and built entirely of imported materials, it is quite pretty although falling into disrepair. Interestingly, a cross made from the tree under which David Livingstone’s heart was buried hangs over the pulpit. The missionaries had a big impact on the small island, and for a while there was near 100% literacy. The Cathedral was actually closed when I went, but I ran into the Dean, who sent me to find one of the Fathers to show me around, which he did.
The island is beautiful and the people are so so friendly. Very poor though – the only real jobs are through Mango Drift, and its much more expensive sister hotel Kaya Mawa, and the government. Others fish or practice subsistence farming. And Likoma hasn’t escaped the devastation of AIDS.
Time on the island was short, and too quickly I was back on the ferry. Because the ferry spent about 7 hours at Likoma loading and unloading things (including a boat full of desks, strangely enough) we go into Nkhotakota at 12:30 am rather than the scheduled 5:30 pm. It was 1:30 by the time we got off the boat, and since the first bus left for Lilongwe at 5 am, it didn’t make sense to pay for a lodge for the night, so the French girls and I camped by the side of the road. I was freezing so I didn’t sleep, but I was happy to not have to pay for a place. When the sun came up I said goodbye to the girls, walked into town and got a 6 am minibus to Lilongwe. While waiting for the bus though one of the local curio salesman proposed marriage (quite seriously) and offered to go to Lilongwe with me. I politely refused. It was another charming bus ride with my backpack on my knees, a wailing baby next to me, and barrels of fish in front of me. We only broke down once though! Kym and Kelly picked me up from the bus station and brought me back to their house to recover. By the time I got there I hadn’t eaten a meal in 24 hours (I ran out of cash because the ferry was twice as expensive as I had budgeted!), slept in 30, or bathed in 46 (yuck!), so the comforts of home were very appreciated.
The following day my heroes Kym, Johanna, and Kelly took me down to Dedza, a small town two hours south of Lilongwe. Our destination was Dedza Pottery, a famous shop, factory and restaurant nestled in the mountains. We had a delicious breakfast and did a little shopping. That afternoon I finished 3 Cups of Tea, which I have been reading here and there during my time in Zambia – most people seem to have a copy of it so I read a chapter whenever I had a few moments while visiting other people. A really powerful, interesting book – I wanted to run out and donate money to his project! That night we went to a really cute restaurant for dinner by candlelight – the power was out!
Early the next morning Johanna dropped me back at the bus station to get the bus back to Lusaka.
anne in africa 