Day 5
Day 5 and we've travelled a lot already having bagged Monkey Bay, Llongwe, Mvuu national game reserve and today a gorgeous place by the western edge of Lake Malawi. It was here that David and I gratefully slept overnight under two huge mosquito nets barely 50 metres from the water's edge and who knows how many crocs and hippos hungry for their tea.
We're coming to the end of week 1 which is the holiday part. Week 2 is when we get to do a bit of work. We're both conscious it will be very different to what we've experienced so far and probably like nothing else we've ever experienced before. Bring it on Malawi. What a great country!
Day 6
We finally arrived at the house of Deb's parents in Northern Malawi, Helen & Robin. They're lovely people. Early the following morning we went out to see a lady who been to Helen for help. Her husband had taken a second wife which sometimes means in Malwai abuse for the first one. She had left him and was living in a hut with no roof. Littered around were lots of children one as young as a few months others 5 or 6, 8 or 9 may be older still. The mother was a proud and friendly lady. Her own mum was there too joking that she was too old to be of use to anyone now (the "old and past it" humour I thought seems universal). No-one was wearing any shoes but many had ragged clothes and a few what appeared to be clubbed feet. The all greeted us warmly. Helen talk about the logistics of getting her a steel roof. When she asked what they were going to have to eat the mother looked around and said "Today we will have nothing".
Next we visited another hamlet barely a minute's drive away. An elderly lady came out to greet us and dropped to one knew as she shook my hand and looked me warmly in the eyes. She showed us around and to where she slept which was just on a plastic sack in the corner of a tiny mudded hut. In another hut a few strides away lay her son aged in about his early 40s I guessed. He's epileptic. A condition he's had since birth. He was there on the floor with no light no medication and nothing to do except no doubt wait for his next fit - the one that may kill or certainly the one that will dame his brain just a little more.
Outside young children watched us strange white folk closely. Some smiled. Some posed for photos and waited eagerly to see the results on Deb's digital camera. All waved as we disappeared in our fancy clothes with our watches, our cameras, our phones our landrover and hurried back for a big breakfast.
Thursday, 30 April 2009
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
No 46 30 April Malawi Moments Part 1
Whilst emptying my suitcase the other night in readiness for another great travel adventure I came across a notebook which I had used as a diary whilst in Malawi last Christmas. This is a book destined to be lost so I've decided to commit some of the more intelligible entries to this blog. Bear with me. A lot happened. What follows below relates to the first two days. The rest is to follow no doubt over time as I find the time to type it all up. Golly I wish my writing was easier to decipher...
Day One Thursday 18 December 08
We arrived in Malawi after a long flight from Heathrow via Kenya. The via Kenya bit should have taken us just two hours. Instead, it involved a cancelled flight, an awful lot of queuing and an overnight in Nirobi. That’s queuing to find out first what had happened to our flight. Then queuing to find out what Air Kenyan proposed to offer us. Then queuing to get through passport control. Then queuing in front of a sign marked "Hotel Accommodation" before shooting off in a rickety old bus for just five hours sleep to do a lot of the same again only in reverse. It was the first test of "Team Malawi" and we passed it with flying colours thanks in large part to a very cool team leader.
At Llongwe airport, Richard the terribly nice man from the car rental company tried to fob us off with a terribly crap 4 by 4 but our terribly nice team leader proved far too sharp for him. By the time we'd driven the vehicle to the hotel in Llongwe another was on order. This time without an ominous rattle and hundreds of thousands of miles on the clock.
Day Two
Today we hoofed it to the local souvenir market. Nephew David tried his hand at negotiating his way to a few bargains. His efforts for a few bracelets left traders with plenty of unexpected early morning happiness and David light of a good few hundred Kwocha. Go on Davs yaboyee..
His Uncle Baggie was taken aback by the goings on in the market. In the space of just a few minutes it had produced a blind man, a frail woman with a baby and a disabled boy in a chair all with their hands out. What was interesting was that they were all effectively in competition with each other but each allows the other a fair go at the wealthy visitor. When the blind man, for example, received a polite no from me he was soon led away to be replaced by someone else ready to try his luck.
Driving in Malawi is quite like nothing else I've ever experienced behind the wheel. As a general rule with minor exceptions the main artery roads appear very good. As a general rule with probably no exceptions all other roads appear to be dreadful with massive potholes that shouldn't be attempted except by the hardiest of 4 by 4s. Running from side to side across every road is the most extraordinary collection of animals you'll find anywhere. There's goats, there's guinea fowl, hens, dogs and cattle, all of which the motorist is expected to pay for if you in the 4 x 4 and any one of the aforementioned should collide.
Along either side of the road runs a conveyor belt of cyclists. Men, women, boys, girls, all going somewhere often with cargo on the back. This may be a chicken, a goat, a drum of water, sticks for the fire, mum or dad, baby brother or a combination of many of these. If you toot about 20 metres before passing they gently glide off to the left and out of your way before returning to the same part of the road a few minutes later. It's all very orderly in this disorderly motoring mayhem.
Alongside the main highways are paths which convey some of the most elegant and graceful women I have ever seen in my life. I'm guessing but I'm guessing that I'm guessing right that these women walk miles upon miles every day. On their heads they carry an astonishing array of items. Huge water containers, sticks, umbrellas, boxes of mangoes and all with such ease. They clock each mile slowly, and gently with arms floating down by their sides but so upright and with such style that it could be a cat walk they're on not a muddy path roadside - something easy enough to imagine as they glide by in gorgeous, brightly coloured dresses and wrap arounds.
There's something rather special about every Malawian. They're gentle folk. The children all volunteer smiles and little waves as we hurtle by. The adults are passive, unassuming people that you can't help but warm to. Even the street traders whose next dinner may depend on a sale from you appear at least, to treat you with respect and enjoy the contact with the strange looking whiteman. We're white!! And every -so strange did you know?
Day One Thursday 18 December 08
We arrived in Malawi after a long flight from Heathrow via Kenya. The via Kenya bit should have taken us just two hours. Instead, it involved a cancelled flight, an awful lot of queuing and an overnight in Nirobi. That’s queuing to find out first what had happened to our flight. Then queuing to find out what Air Kenyan proposed to offer us. Then queuing to get through passport control. Then queuing in front of a sign marked "Hotel Accommodation" before shooting off in a rickety old bus for just five hours sleep to do a lot of the same again only in reverse. It was the first test of "Team Malawi" and we passed it with flying colours thanks in large part to a very cool team leader.
At Llongwe airport, Richard the terribly nice man from the car rental company tried to fob us off with a terribly crap 4 by 4 but our terribly nice team leader proved far too sharp for him. By the time we'd driven the vehicle to the hotel in Llongwe another was on order. This time without an ominous rattle and hundreds of thousands of miles on the clock.
Day Two
Today we hoofed it to the local souvenir market. Nephew David tried his hand at negotiating his way to a few bargains. His efforts for a few bracelets left traders with plenty of unexpected early morning happiness and David light of a good few hundred Kwocha. Go on Davs yaboyee..
His Uncle Baggie was taken aback by the goings on in the market. In the space of just a few minutes it had produced a blind man, a frail woman with a baby and a disabled boy in a chair all with their hands out. What was interesting was that they were all effectively in competition with each other but each allows the other a fair go at the wealthy visitor. When the blind man, for example, received a polite no from me he was soon led away to be replaced by someone else ready to try his luck.
Driving in Malawi is quite like nothing else I've ever experienced behind the wheel. As a general rule with minor exceptions the main artery roads appear very good. As a general rule with probably no exceptions all other roads appear to be dreadful with massive potholes that shouldn't be attempted except by the hardiest of 4 by 4s. Running from side to side across every road is the most extraordinary collection of animals you'll find anywhere. There's goats, there's guinea fowl, hens, dogs and cattle, all of which the motorist is expected to pay for if you in the 4 x 4 and any one of the aforementioned should collide.
Along either side of the road runs a conveyor belt of cyclists. Men, women, boys, girls, all going somewhere often with cargo on the back. This may be a chicken, a goat, a drum of water, sticks for the fire, mum or dad, baby brother or a combination of many of these. If you toot about 20 metres before passing they gently glide off to the left and out of your way before returning to the same part of the road a few minutes later. It's all very orderly in this disorderly motoring mayhem.
Alongside the main highways are paths which convey some of the most elegant and graceful women I have ever seen in my life. I'm guessing but I'm guessing that I'm guessing right that these women walk miles upon miles every day. On their heads they carry an astonishing array of items. Huge water containers, sticks, umbrellas, boxes of mangoes and all with such ease. They clock each mile slowly, and gently with arms floating down by their sides but so upright and with such style that it could be a cat walk they're on not a muddy path roadside - something easy enough to imagine as they glide by in gorgeous, brightly coloured dresses and wrap arounds.
There's something rather special about every Malawian. They're gentle folk. The children all volunteer smiles and little waves as we hurtle by. The adults are passive, unassuming people that you can't help but warm to. Even the street traders whose next dinner may depend on a sale from you appear at least, to treat you with respect and enjoy the contact with the strange looking whiteman. We're white!! And every -so strange did you know?
No 45 - Of Me & Muckers in the Mournes
Over the weekend whilst hiking with muckers in the Mournes an interesting revelation was made apparent to me.
One of the aforementioned muckers pointed out that I seem to get a kick out of abstinenace and indeed, quite possibly enjoy the pain of it all. A bit like ya man in the Da Vinchi Code who belonged to that funny group of people that is Opus Dei. He used to wear a steel garter round his thigh which he would tighten periodically for extra pain and punishment.
Between them they calculated I had given up butter, coffee, tea, alcohol (if you don't count the odd glass of red which I don't) cigars, chips and of course meat and fish.
Emm it did leave me thinking for a while what this is all about as we trecked back towards civilisation in search of a coffee and me a green tea....
One of the aforementioned muckers pointed out that I seem to get a kick out of abstinenace and indeed, quite possibly enjoy the pain of it all. A bit like ya man in the Da Vinchi Code who belonged to that funny group of people that is Opus Dei. He used to wear a steel garter round his thigh which he would tighten periodically for extra pain and punishment.
Between them they calculated I had given up butter, coffee, tea, alcohol (if you don't count the odd glass of red which I don't) cigars, chips and of course meat and fish.
Emm it did leave me thinking for a while what this is all about as we trecked back towards civilisation in search of a coffee and me a green tea....
No 44 28 April 09 A Fake Dolly & A Very Real Dad
Yes! Result! 30 lengths of the pool by 8.45a.m. in just as many minutes. The trick is, I've discovered, to get there early and get on a line and not in a lane. If you're lucky this means you can concentrate on swimming directly above the line on the bottom of the pool (and therefore be assured you're taking the shortest distance between both ends) and you don't have to worry about navigating and who might bump into you.
I called my Dad last night to wish him well before his holiday and make sure he was still alive because he didn't blog yesterday. He explained he had been too busy packing and was beginning to question the whole point of the exercise anyway as no-one reads his blogs and he has none of those things called "Followers". I heard his wife immedatiely chirp up in the background "Yes you have Robbie. You have one! I checked today. It's Dolly Parton!" Dad declared somewhat irritated "What the hell is Dolly Parton doing reading my blog? Why does she want to know about a man walking his dog in Anglesea? This Internet thing is a gross invasion of a person's privacy!"
Enjoy your very private cruise down the Nile Da and don't forget to blog each day so we know you're having a good time..."Dolly" an' all
I called my Dad last night to wish him well before his holiday and make sure he was still alive because he didn't blog yesterday. He explained he had been too busy packing and was beginning to question the whole point of the exercise anyway as no-one reads his blogs and he has none of those things called "Followers". I heard his wife immedatiely chirp up in the background "Yes you have Robbie. You have one! I checked today. It's Dolly Parton!" Dad declared somewhat irritated "What the hell is Dolly Parton doing reading my blog? Why does she want to know about a man walking his dog in Anglesea? This Internet thing is a gross invasion of a person's privacy!"
Enjoy your very private cruise down the Nile Da and don't forget to blog each day so we know you're having a good time..."Dolly" an' all
Monday, 27 April 2009
Day No.43 27 April 09 Mourning Maths
I hit Monday on the back of a great weekend. The Charity Dinner at the Wellie Park on Friday was a huge success. The Legal-Island staff in attendance scrubbed up beautifully and were on top form sporting lovely hairdos, gorgeous dresses and by the end of the evening (one at least) fine "Sauvignon blanc" smiles.
Saturday and I headed with the Lady Captain to the Mournes. En route we must have sounded like we were auditioning for entry into the local old peoples' home. Part of the conversation went like this :
" Barry that's Murlough Bay over there which is really lovely"
" Oh yes someone was telling me about that a couple of weeks back. That wasn't you by any chance was it?"
" Don't know it may have been I remember telling someone about it about two weeks ago but I can't remember if it was you or not.."
Oh how we chuckled....
Sunday was spent at work trying to get my head around Twitter. It finished with a very poor Secret Millionaire trying to connect with disinterested school children by teaching mathematical theories to a kid who was having difficulties adding 8 & 5. This man made millions. There's hope for us all.
Saturday and I headed with the Lady Captain to the Mournes. En route we must have sounded like we were auditioning for entry into the local old peoples' home. Part of the conversation went like this :
" Barry that's Murlough Bay over there which is really lovely"
" Oh yes someone was telling me about that a couple of weeks back. That wasn't you by any chance was it?"
" Don't know it may have been I remember telling someone about it about two weeks ago but I can't remember if it was you or not.."
Oh how we chuckled....
Sunday was spent at work trying to get my head around Twitter. It finished with a very poor Secret Millionaire trying to connect with disinterested school children by teaching mathematical theories to a kid who was having difficulties adding 8 & 5. This man made millions. There's hope for us all.
Friday, 24 April 2009
Rashmakan Popat - That's P O P A T
I'm at the Wellington Park Hotel waiting for the Charity Dinner guests to arrive. As usual I'm early. In fact over an hour early (this is also common).
I went to the cigar machine but it was empty but for 3 10pence pieces in the change compartment that someone had forgotten to uplift. For some reason this caused a flashback for me to my school days and a character who was Northampton School for Boy's finest entrepreneur. His name was Rashmakhan Popat. "That's P O P A T" he used to spell out to anyone he had just introduced himself to through his lovely white eyes and his disarming smile.
Rashmakan was a Ugandan Asian thrown out of his country of birth thanks to Idi Amin. He arrived in England knowing very little English but already, just two years on in our school, was making his way up the streamed classes in all the core subjects.
He was a great wheeler dealer. He was always in the schoolyard selling pencils 3 for 20p which he had bought no doubt for a lot less at his uncle's corner shop. Sometimes he'd be running a raffle of dubious legality, dubious prizes and even more dubious winners. "1 ticket for 10p or you can have a strip for just 30p" he'd say. "Just 3 10ps that's all" was his closing pitch.
There was something about Rashmakan that you instinctively knew he was destined to be successful and make it rich. Most likely very rich and have the last laugh on us all. But he had one drawback in most peoples' eyes. He was a "Paki". It made no difference when he explained that he was born in Uganda a place about as far away from Pakistan as England was. He looked different and sounded it too and that made everyone feel uncomfortable and that meant he received all sorts of shameful racist abuse.
There was just one other Ugandan Asian in the school called Narendeh Savjani. The two had been good friends but fallen out and never spoke to each other which struck me as a pity. Despite whatever it was that had driven them apart they still kept their integrity which always impressed me. Each would simply say of the other "I've fallen out with him and we don't speak anymore". Nothing more.
One winter's day Rashmakhan tripped and fell into a puddle in the schoolyard where a drain had blocked. It wasn't large and probably no deeper than 10cm. He had fallen in face down and was clearly concussed because he didn't move. No bastard would pluck him out either. He said afterwards that he nearly drowned. And he was right.
But where are you now Rashmakhan Popat (that's P O P A T) and how loud are you laughing?
I went to the cigar machine but it was empty but for 3 10pence pieces in the change compartment that someone had forgotten to uplift. For some reason this caused a flashback for me to my school days and a character who was Northampton School for Boy's finest entrepreneur. His name was Rashmakhan Popat. "That's P O P A T" he used to spell out to anyone he had just introduced himself to through his lovely white eyes and his disarming smile.
Rashmakan was a Ugandan Asian thrown out of his country of birth thanks to Idi Amin. He arrived in England knowing very little English but already, just two years on in our school, was making his way up the streamed classes in all the core subjects.
He was a great wheeler dealer. He was always in the schoolyard selling pencils 3 for 20p which he had bought no doubt for a lot less at his uncle's corner shop. Sometimes he'd be running a raffle of dubious legality, dubious prizes and even more dubious winners. "1 ticket for 10p or you can have a strip for just 30p" he'd say. "Just 3 10ps that's all" was his closing pitch.
There was something about Rashmakan that you instinctively knew he was destined to be successful and make it rich. Most likely very rich and have the last laugh on us all. But he had one drawback in most peoples' eyes. He was a "Paki". It made no difference when he explained that he was born in Uganda a place about as far away from Pakistan as England was. He looked different and sounded it too and that made everyone feel uncomfortable and that meant he received all sorts of shameful racist abuse.
There was just one other Ugandan Asian in the school called Narendeh Savjani. The two had been good friends but fallen out and never spoke to each other which struck me as a pity. Despite whatever it was that had driven them apart they still kept their integrity which always impressed me. Each would simply say of the other "I've fallen out with him and we don't speak anymore". Nothing more.
One winter's day Rashmakhan tripped and fell into a puddle in the schoolyard where a drain had blocked. It wasn't large and probably no deeper than 10cm. He had fallen in face down and was clearly concussed because he didn't move. No bastard would pluck him out either. He said afterwards that he nearly drowned. And he was right.
But where are you now Rashmakhan Popat (that's P O P A T) and how loud are you laughing?
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Day 41 24 April 09 Twitter, Blogger, Hiker
An interesting weekend beckons. Charity dinner tonight at the Wellie Park, Belfast. Tomorrow I hike up and hopefully down Slieve Donard. Sunday has already been designated "Twitterday" when I sit down and study this damned thing and work out how best to use it for social and business purposes. It's not really what I would like to be doing at the weekend but so far I've every reason to be optimistic that it will happen. I've had no invites from friends with other ideas, the weatherforecast is bad so I'll not be tempted to go surfing and the long grass at the front of my house can wait a week longer.
I might also throw onto my to-do list for Sunday "Blogging Strategy". I've yet to crack this. It'll be great for Google purposes if some of this blog was sucked onto the Home Page of the Legal-Island web site. But who visting Legal-Island.com wants to read about my trips up and down a swimming pool and hikes up and down a mountain? Oh the things that torture my mind...
I might also throw onto my to-do list for Sunday "Blogging Strategy". I've yet to crack this. It'll be great for Google purposes if some of this blog was sucked onto the Home Page of the Legal-Island web site. But who visting Legal-Island.com wants to read about my trips up and down a swimming pool and hikes up and down a mountain? Oh the things that torture my mind...
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