Easter Sunday started grey, from the lake to the sky. It made getting out of bed a little difficult. But once the sun broke through the clouds, one can’t help but start moving. My Sunday played out as any good vacation days should: I did a whole lot of nothing. I was in and out of the lake in between beers, soaking in the day.
The restaurant that served Thai food last week hosted a pizza night tonight. Getting pizza in Africa, as I know both from Ghana and Mozambique, is usually not good. There are few places that can even get close to something we would recognize as pizza. And Malawi is no different. The pizza they gave us was cheese on a glorified tortilla. We would have to wait until later in the week, when we could get actually get good pizza in Chimoio.
With the Easter weekend over, many people staying at our lodge were on their way out of Nkhata Bay. Tonight was the last good party night to be had. Unfortunately, one of our friends from Zambia got pretty sick, so she couldn’t really participate in the festivities. All in all, it was a pretty fun night. The staff at the lodge is pretty cool. They know everyone by first name and because of this, you almost feel obligated to learn their names. It makes it a little easier when they have names like – and I’m not joking here – “Special” and “Mercy”. They all have beers in hand and love having a good time as much as we do.
Monday was our last full day in Malawi. Just when we started getting comfortable, it was already time to start thinking about traveling back to Mozambique. Sad. It was a lot of travel, but I think it was worth it. Monday looked a lot like Sunday, except the weather was good right from the get-go. Down to our last few Kwacha (Malawian currency), the Mozambique crew skipped out on lunch to hold on to some cash for dinner.
We did have one option for lunch: we could try to take one of the log canoes out to the boat that we swam to, navigate around the boat, and earn free lunch. Most people don’t make it more than a couple strokes before tipping over. We were told that it had been accomplished six times in ten years. Fuck it, let’s make it seven. Richie and I didn’t even make it in the boat.
After relaxing for the better part of the afternoon, Richie, Bryan, and I went into the town to get some local food. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with them – I spent most of the trip with the Zambia crew – so it was nice to have some private time with them. Eating in the village was about a third of the price of eating at the lodge. For 300 Kwacha (60 Meticais or less than three dollars), we had a pretty good beef and chicken meal. We stocked up absolutely terrible gin and proceeded to black-out drunkenness. Mission accomplished for the week.
I woke up surprisingly not hung over, but sobered by the fact that we actually had to leave. This place was just too beautiful. I threw on my bathing suit and headed toward the lake. Before I could go swimming, I had two pieces of business to take care of. First I had to close out my tab – very sad. After that, I went to talk to a Volunteer from Malawi who was about to finish his service. He had a ticket out of South Africa and was going to spend some time in Mozambique. We planned out an itinerary for him, complete with Volunteers with whom he could stay for a night or two.
I mooched some breakfast from a couple of the Zambia Volunteers who had extra cash to blow. After a final dip in the lake, I headed down into the artist’s village to check out their goods. I ended up trading a pair of shorts eight inches too big for me for some pretty cool bracelets. I’ll keep some of them; the others will make nice gifts.
Our bags packed, our tabs paid, our goodbyes said, we made our way out to the crossroads to catch the overnight bus from Nkhata Bay to Blantyre. We thought the bus would show up around 5:30 or 6:00, which would have been perfect. Unfortunately, we caught the one bus in Africa that runs early. By 4:30, we were on the road. It would mean arriving in Blantyre very, very early.
I managed to get some sleep on the bus, which was nothing short of miraculous. We arrived in Blantyre around 2:30 or 3:00 in the morning. There would be no mini-bus for the border until 6:00 or 6:30, so we rested on the bus.
The transportation situation on Wednesday was pretty seamless. We got our mini-bus to the border, skipped a monster line at customs because of our Portuguese skills, and got in a chapa from Zóbuè right away. We were in what might have been the slowest chapa in all of Northern Mozambique, but we arrived in Tete nonetheless. We picked up some food to go, and then waited for any mode of transportation heading south. After a few hours, around 3:00, we got into the back of a Mack truck headed for Chimoio. Some guy told us we would be in town by 9:00. Bullshit. The road is terrible and we knew it would take longer than that.
The break from Portuguese was nice, but I’ll be honest: it was really nice to get back into it. Even though we still have our struggles, whether it be with verb conjugation or a lack of vocabulary, we were all still comfortable enough to fall right back into it. One of the customs agents asked if we were from Brazil. If only. They were only a little shocked when we told them we were from the United States.
It was kind of cool being in the back of the truck. The sun wasn’t too hot. All we had was the open road, the trees, and the mountains to ourselves. We chatted up our driver dinner, negotiated a decent price for the ride, and we were back on the road, leaving Catandica – the half way point – at around 8:30. By then, it was pitch black except for the moon and the stars. With no light pollution, every star was crystal clear. It was beautiful to the point that it makes one believe something or someone greater is at work, yelling “Look what I can do!”
By midnight, the road had smoothed out and the weather had dropped to a level of coldness I didn’t think possible in Sub-Saharan Africa. Of course, I had no warm-weather clothing with me. I bundled up in every piece of clothing I had and still shivered. Eventually I fell asleep, although I think it was more of my body temporarily shutting down. I didn’t think it was possible to get hypothermia in Africa.
We arrived in Chimoio between 2:00 and 3:00 AM on Thursday, desperate to find a place for the night. Bryan found a place called the Pink Papaya, which only sounds like a strip club. I have never been so happy to find a warm blanket waiting for me. Exhausted after a ridiculous 33 consecutive hours of travel, I passed out immediately.
I woke up sore. All of us work up sore. That ride took a lot out of us. We made our way over to a Volunteers house, where we did nothing but relax. All of us napped for some point of the day. None of us wanted to do anything. None of us really could do anything except sit and read.
Much of the same was true for Friday. Although a little more rested, we were still aching from the ride. There was no way we could leave today, so we planned on getting our Saturday. We were rested up enough, though, to go to a restaurant to see a Mozambican band – Positivo – play a show. They put on a great show, very high energy. The Peace Corps crew probably pissed off the rest of the patrons because we pretty much took over the place.
I walked back to the house a little early to try to catch some sleep before leaving in the morning. That was not meant to be. The band, which was hired to play a Peace Corps event on Saturday, came back to the house. Of course, where there is a band, there is a party. And that party went until 4 AM.
I was still committed to getting back to Machanga, even if it meant traveling on three hours of sleep. I’ve travelled on less. There was just one other barrier: someone had locked us into the house. The house was padlocked, the key nowhere in site. By 8:00 AM, my window for getting back to Machanga had passed. I was resigned to staying in Chimoio for one more day.
It was probably for the better. I had one more day to relax, one more day to check my email, one more opportunity to get to that killer pizza that Chimoio has to offer, by far the best pizza in Mozambique. After pizza, the three of us crashed the Peace Corps event to see Positivo again, although we weren’t that into it tonight.
Back in Mozambique, and supposedly, back to work next week.
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