We loved exploring the many bays along Malawi’s vast lakeshore and meeting colourful locals and tourists alike.
Nkhata Bay
‘Shoo-a Sellah, no ploblem,’ Kwame’s English and charcoal eyes made me swoon. I nestled into an armchair while he whipped me up a G&T. Nkhata Bay stretched out in front of me, the sun just setting. This would be my final Malawian stop and the third in a series of bay hops along the lakeshore. Unlike the stretched beaches I’d come to expect of the lakeshore, Nkhata Bay is characterised by craggy peninsulas that cut into the lake, covered in a thick blanket of knotted trees and untamed shrub. The boulder-framed beaches are cosy and quiet, too small to accommodate boisterous fishmongers after a moonless night’s catch. What a grand place to bid Malawi farewell, I mused, as Kwame sat down my drink with a flirtatious half-smile.
We were staying at Butterfly Space. Situated on the lake, its bandas are scattered haphazardly down a rocky hill, the higher ones surrounded by tall trees, the lower ones elevated above the lakeshore. The lodge is laid back and unpretentious, everyone eating together around a big table that overlooks the lake from a sunny wooden deck. Butterfly is a popular resting ground for volunteers, backpackers and expats. Most I met had been there for months and had no definitive exit plan – indicative of Nkhata Bay’s easygoing charm and aesthetic allure.
After three days of indulgent lazing at the lodge, I pried myself away and ventured into town. Sadly, I realised stepping onto the main drag, Nkhata Bay men can be a pain in the ass. I had to fend off vociferous catcalls and countless silly questions, rehearsed and insincere. I’d experienced these attention-grabbing tactics in small pockets of Malawi but Nkhata Bayans seem to have a particular – irritating – knack for it. After two hours of haggling and bantering I returned to Butterfly’s cosy enclosure, a bag full of useless knick-knacks weighing on my conscious. Back at the bar, I rejoiced in Kwame’s more tactful brand of charm. ‘If all Nkhata Bay men were as lovely as you Kwame, I might never leave’.
Monkey Bay
Our bay hop started with a couple of nights in Monkey Bay. Not as picturesque as Nkhata Bay but equally not as touristy. The small town is a bustling hub of activity, surrounded by smaller villages and lakeshore lodges a short drive off the main road. We stayed at the Malawi Volunteer Organisation (MVO) – a large house on the lake that accommodates and facilitates visiting volunteers. The group of British gap-year travellers we met had some interesting insights into African politics and the continent’s idiosyncrasies, void of the generalities and falsities one might expect form first-world youngsters. I enjoyed stepping momentarily into a big (English-speaking) group, forthcoming and relatively well informed. ‘Nice change from our one-on-one debates,’ I teased James one night, reflecting on two months of car arguments and agree-to-disagree resolutions (a handy deflection tool in the absence of a third opinion).
Two of the volunteers, Patrick and David, took us into town one afternoon and introduced us to Happy-Pants entrepreneur Eric. Eric boasted an American accent that I found intriguing, given that he’s never been to America. As we wove through the town’s central market toward the sewing room, gunshots and butch American voices grew increasingly loud. We reached the scene of the crime – a beehive structure covered in hessian sacks, the silhouettes of two big speakers bulging out on either side. ‘Malawian cinema,’ Eric clarified over the gunshots. It sounded like an old Western playing, a clue perhaps as to where Eric’s accent originated. We bought bold-patterned fabric, smuggled in from Tanzania, and dropped it off with Eric’s seamstress. The next day I was the proud owner of custom-made Happy Pants – vibrant, comfortable and cheap, a fitting Malawian remembrance.
Cool Runnings
There are two things I miss on the road – steak and ice. Cool Runnings has both. Nestled in Senga Bay, 22 km from Salima, Cool Runnings is as cool as the name suggests. Zimbabwean born owner, Sam, is an industrious woman with a big heart – committed to the development of her community with a fierce dislike for the ‘ag shame’ approach. ‘These two American hotshots stayed here once and dished out $1 notes to all the kids in the village. What’s the point in creating a community of beggars?’ Sam lamented one evening. She made good sense. It’s tempting to dish out sweets to all the little faces one passes but once that sweet’s sucked dry, what’s left? It was refreshing to hear about the many projects Sam has on the go – they are structured to remain standing in her absence and nothing is for nothing.
My time in Senga Bay was spent lake and star gazing from Cool Runnings’ bar, visiting an early morning fish market and wondering around the small village behind the lodge. Not once did I feel like a tourist. The kids of the village were a joy to be around – curious, confident and intuitive. One little girl saw me walking around aimlessly, figured I was lost, slipped her hand into mine and walked me back to Cool Runnings. The fishmongers at the morning market weren’t interested in up selling the mzungu, some shooing my camera and me away when I got too close. I liked the sincerity of the gesture – much like the sincerity of the place.
Contact
Butterfly Lodge
Tel +265-926-5065
Malawi Volunteer Organisation
[email protected]
www.malawivolunteer.org
Cool Runnings
[email protected]
