This morning I was listening to the Black Eyed Peas song, asking where all the love in the world has gone. I generally like to take a pessimistic view with musicians on this stand, but honestly, I’ve received much love recently.
Some days ago I arrived from Zanzibar to Moshi, in Tanzania to meet up with fellow Kohawk, Kim Hoff, who is student teaching there. I kind of just showed up and suprised her, but she and her friends very very gracious and generous in hosting me. Moshi is a nice little town sitting on the base of Africa’s highest peak, Mt. Kilimanjaro. I was there for four days visiting the town, swimming in waterfalls on the slopes of the mountain, checking out the school and having a few Kohwak, Flunk Day Committee nights (if you aren’t a Kohawk you just won’t understand!)
I told Kim that my next stop was the Lake of Stars music festival in Malawi and she was so intrigued that she scrapped her own break plans of safari to join me (with her room mate’s brother, Andy). For the next six days we journeyed from northern Tanzania to Southern Malawi on bus, car, Land Rover boat, truck and foot, while never paying for a place to sleep.
Day 1: Depart Moshi early in the morning and ride the bus for eight hours arriving in Dar Es Salaam. Kim calls her friend amazing friend Megan who picks us up, takes us to her apartment to change and get ready to go out. For the second Saturday night in a row I spend the entire night at a dance club and get on a bus as the sun was coming up.
Day 2: Try to sleep on the crowded, hot, broken-seated bus to Mbeya. For above reasons, fail to sleep I text my brother’s friend, Stephanie, and she insists that we divert and stay at her house for the night where she has dinner, beers and a cozy bed waiting for us!
Day 3: The decision is made to head south and chance a lake crossing rather than the longer, sure-bet overland route. The morning starts with our travel staple, chips myai, a french-fry-omelet street food. Take two short busses and get stuck en-route in a small town called Mbinga in the evening, frustratingly close to the lake we want to cross. While asking for rides at the gas station, we are approached by an Indian man who advises us it isn’t safe to drive at night and insists we get in his car. Kim is a little afraid, but I see the “Vincentian Fathers” logo on the door and reassure her. Father Emmanuel takes us to his community’s house to feed us and give us a room. In the morning he gives us breakfast, a ride into town and arranged transport for us. We try to donate to his school, but he insists that he will only accept prayers.
Day 4:Bump along in an out-dated, uncomfortable, bumpy Land Rover for the morning on the rough, although very scenic road to Mbamba Bay, the port where we hope to find a ferry to Malawi. We learn that the ferry has left hours before our arrival and our only hope is to hire a private boat for $800. Defeated, we set up our tent on the beach next to the boat and continue to beg the owner, other boat owners and immigration officers to get us to Malawi so we can make it to the festival. In classic African style, nobody knows when the next boat will leave, what a fair price would be or is any big hurry to do anything. We eat more chips myai, washed down with Kilimanjaro Lager and sleep on the beach.
Day 5: We learn that the boat is leaving this night! Ecstatic, we walk out of town and find a beautiful deserted beach to swim and relax to kill the 14 hours before the boat leaves. Mbamba is a nice little town (with no electricity) but there isn’t much to do. We convince the boat owner that our (much reduced from $800) ticket price should include a beer at his bar. One turns into many and we stumble onto the boat which departs at midnight. It isn’t a comfortable ride (the fish smell from the hold doesn’t help) but it suffices as another free place to sleep.
Day 6: After arriving at Nkhata Bay, Malawi (finally!) we get excited and jump out of the boat before the boat is even tied up. We are immediately stopped before leaving the dock: we need to wait for an hour for the immigration office to open. Still a full day’s bus journey from the festival and being literally within sight of departing buses, this may be the longest hour of our journey, and we’re not stuck on a stationary boat. We finally get through immigration, change money and catch a bus. For the first time in a week we are cautiously confident that we’re going to make it to the opening act! The bus stops about 100 miles from our destination at 3:00 p.m. Not bad by normal standards, but in Africa this is still risky. The first leg is an hour in a crowded mini bus which drops us at a fork in the road in the middle of nowhere. We then jump into the back of a loaded truck with about 15 other people, sacks of corn flour and rice, boxes of fish and live chickens for our last leg. The driver lies to us about the route and takes us about an hour out of the way, backtracking to pick up another box of fish. I eventually get bored and am allowed to drive the truck for the last hour. After dark, we finally arrive and set up camp, too tired to properly celebrate.
The festival was simply amazing, with musicians from accross Africa and Europe. The days consisted of sleeping and relaxing by the pool, or playing life-size chess and we stayed up every night until dawn listening to amazing musicians and dancing with hoppin DJs. They know how to party in Malawi!
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