Filling up in Malawi has become increasingly difficult and expensive.

This week’s five-day drought is said to be the worse since the fuel crisis in 2009, forcing drivers to queue sometimes for days.

Due to a shortage of foreign exchange in Malawi, the country can only afford to import half the needed fuel per month, according to a report by Petroleum Importers Limited (PIL), a company mandated to import petrol in Malawi.

After driving to Lake Malawi from Blantyre with a group of friends the fuel light is flashing. We hurry to Monkey Bay’s filling station. When we get there the attendant tells us the fuel has already run out.

“But the police officer just told us there was fuel still here,” insists my Malawian friend. An argument ensues and we are forced to leave­ the pump.

Down the street a man waves us down and he saunters up to the window. “You want fuel? I can get you fuel,” he whispers.

“We only buy fuel from the station,” my friend protests.

Fake fuel has been flooding the black market, which has now become a major industry in Malawi. Men carrying jerry cans full of fuel around town can sell gas for $6 per litre. More then three times the government recommended pump price of $2.30 per litre. In Canada fuel is selling for $1.20 a litre.

Fuel and forex shortages have caused prices in Malawi to skyrocket. Maize prices, the country’s staple food, rose by 22 per cent in September and a further 15 per cent in October, according to a cost-of-living survey by a local NGO called the Centre for Social Concern (CFSC). Price increases have caused desperate situations for the majority of the population, who live on less then a dollar a day.

Cars line up for fuel in Blantyre

The man trying to procure fuel for us continues on, “I can get it from the station. They aren’t out. They won’t sell to you because they are holding on to extra fuel to sell it for more later.”

We follow him.  Soon the Toyota SUV is quietly parked behind a tree with its headlights off.

The plan is that another car is going to fill up at the pump and then exchange the gas with our car. We watch from a distance in order to ensure it’s real fuel coming from the pump. I feel like I’m apart of a drug deal- no longer simply filling up at the fuel pump.

The man, who is a tour guide of the Lake, reports back. He tells us the attendant refuses to fill up the car worried it will cause a huge commotion and vehicles will line up demanding fuel. We ask to speak to the owners.

A few minutes later we are sitting behind the gas station at a local bar having a few beers with the owners.  Small talk is exchanged before the real reason we are sitting in the bar is brought up.  “My friend I need fuel. Can you help us? We can pay extra,” asks my friend.

The brothers, who own the station, also happen to be fishermen.  The owners tell us they keep extra fuel for their fishing boats and will sell us some.

After three hours of searching for gas and tough negotiations the deal is secure. Tomorrow at 4 in the morning we can fill up for selling price.  The next morning, an employee fills up the car’s tank in complete darkness in order to avoid spreading rumors that there is gas in the village.

Finally, our fuel hunt has come to an end. With half a tank we can get back to Blantyre to start the hunt all over again.

Praca de Independencia in Maputo

A travel journal from my trip to Mozambique in November 2011. Due to limited internet I wasn’t able to post sooner. Better late then never!

Day 1
Blantyre, Tete

After an all night party in Blantyre, Elena and I found ourselves speeding towards the Malawi-Mozambique border in a full mini-bus at the crack of dawn. Getting to the Zobue bordering crossing takes two hours, from there we take a taxi to enter Mozambique. The border agent meticulously checks our passports and asks for my yellow fever certificate, a first since arriving in Africa. After crossing into Mozambique we stuff ourselves into another matola going to Tete, the hottest city in Mozambique. During the four hour drive the police stops the mini-bus three times to check  passports.  The Malawians on board without proper documentation are force to pay bribes to continue on.

Elena takes a nap during our 8 hour delay at Tete airport

We arrived at Tete’s airport only to find out our LAM flight is delayed by eight hours. In the blistering heat Elena and I set up camp for the next nine hours on a patio overlooking the runway. Exhausted we use books as pillows and take turns sleeping. The airport is completely empty and during the ten hours we are there only one plane lands.  We finally arrive in Maputo at 2am and check-into Fatimas hotel.

Day 2
Maputo

We sleep in until 4pm.  Refreshed and ready to explore the city, Elena and I have dinner at Costa do Sol, a packed restaurant overlooking the crowded beach. To celebrate our long journey we feast on fresh fish and Portuguese wine, a treat after only drinking South African wine in the last six months. Cars line the long beach, parked and blaring music, while people dance and drink roadside. We walk along the beach and grab a beer at a beach bar.  There we meet some women who give us a ride back to our hotel and share some of Maputo’s best secrets.

Day 3
Maputo

In the morning we walk to downtown Maputo. Straightaway it feels like we have traveled to the other side of the world. The city of 1.7 million feels like a mixture of Portugal and Latin America, with a touch of Eastern Europe.  Its avenues are lined with Mediterranean-style buildings, flame trees and sidewalk cafés.

Walking around this waterside city I don’t feel like a foreigner. Not once is mzugu (white person) yelled at me and stares are minimal. I also don’t feel oblige to cover my knees; exposed knees are somewhat a taboo in Malawi. Women here flaunt their legs in sexy dresses. Maputo instantly becomes my favorite African city. Elena’s Portuguese is a great help.  She is quick to fire back comebacks at guys who shout obscenities at us. They are always taken back by the response.

Maputo City Hall

We visit the Praca de Independencia, the city’s main plaza.  There we visit the neoclassical Conselho Municipal, city hall. The grand building reminds me of Mexico, with its courtyards and grand chandlers.  We wander in and out of ornate meeting chambers without any security at all. Beside city hall is the towering white Catedral de Nossa Senhora da Conceicao.

Catedral de Nossa Senhora da Conceicao

Also in the square is the French Cultural Centre. Housed in a huge structure that is mostly made of wrought iron, not exactly appropriate for the tropical climate. The building was once a colonial hotel and governor’s mansion that was constructed in 1896. It includes an art gallery, theater, library, shop, café and classrooms. The atmosphere at the centre is amazing.  We haven’t visited an art gallery since arriving in Africa. It feels like we have arrived from a desert island and we try to soak up as much art and culture as possible. Something Blantyre is desperately lacking. We have a drink at the café and giggle like teenagers as we watch handsome men coming and going, something else Blantyre is lacking.

Down the street we stop for lunch at the botanical garden and eat some rye bread and cheese that we picked up from the grocery store earlier. The park is full of young people picnicking and relaxing.

After we walk to the Mercado Municipal (municipal market) to shop for Chitenjis (long piece of material women wear) and crafts. The market has long rows of vendors selling everything from fruit to fish and brooms to hair extensions.

An artist paints in an open studio

Paintings at Nucleo de Arte

To take in some more art we take a tuk-tuk to Nucleo de Art, a long-standing artist cooperative and focal point of the Mozambique’s art community.  Sculptures made from guns from the civil war and beautiful paintings fill the old rundown colonial mansion.  In the garden you can watch the artists work or chat to rastas about politics.

A chair made out of guns left over from the civil war

Elena talks with the artists

We meander through upscale neighborhoods back to our hotel and grab an ice cream on the way.  That night we eat another amazing dinner at Mundos- complete with sangrias, great conversations and pouring rain.

Day 4
Maputo

In the morning it’s still raining. But that doesn’t stop us from venturing around the beautiful city. We walk along Vladimir Lenin St and Ho Chi Min St,. The streets happen to be named after world’s dictators.  To escape the rain we go to the National Museum of Art. The gallery is full of inspiring exhibits, including those of haunting paintings depicting the civil war.

The plaza infront of Maputo's train station

We then go to Maputo’s imposing train station to check out a photo exhibit of street children in Mozambique. The pale green art novo station was picked as Newsweek’s top 10 beautiful train stations in the world.  The station is full of impressive wrought-iron lattice work, pillars and exterior verandas. Old waiting rooms have been converted into a cafe, a bar and art galleries. On the tracks there are a few old steam engines. The train station is still in use but is often deserted.

People waiting for buses outside the train Station

A walk across takes us to Fortaleza, an old fort built by the Portuguese in the mid 19^th century. Inside the fort is a small museum and gardens.

Afterwards we stop at a café for pastries and coffee. The café tradition was left behind in Maputo by the Portuguese and has become an institution of the city. Elena and I pretend we are in Europe as we eat delicious Portuguese tarts and people watch.

For more art we stop by the French Cultural Centre one more time to see a new exhibit by one of the artists from Nucleo de Art that we met the day before. For dinner we go to the Spicy Thai for some unbeatable pad thai.

Day 5
Tofo

Its an early morning wake up call at 4am to take the minibus to Tofo, a beach town seven hours north of Maputo.  The bus parks at the market for two

Bamboozi Lodge in Tofo

hours waiting to fill up, while sellers pass by the window selling everything from fish, bread, toothpaste and my favorite, wine by the glass.  The bus takes ten hours to get to Tofo, but the green landscape and quaint towns it passes through entertain me.

On the bus we meet two lovely Swedish women who are working in Zimbabwe. They had to make the 32 hour trip to Maputo to go to their embassy after their passports were stolen. The four of us decide to room together at Bamboozi Lodge, a 15 minute walk from Tofo villiage. We stay in a basic beach hut for $10 a night, pillows are not included.  For dinner we go to Bamboozi’s restaurant, which is on top of a huge sand dune with a fanatic view of the beach and ocean. We are in bed by 10pm, which is when the lodge’s generator goes off, leaving the beach in total darkness.

Day 6
Tofo 

Elena, My and eat breakfast at Bamboozis

After a long night sleep we wake up to pouring rain.  The Swedes, Elena and I have a lazy breakfast as we watch the rain over the ocean. Eventually we make our way to the dreary beach.  I spend the next hours jumping in the big waves and being clobbered.  I feel like I’m five years old again; enjoying the ocean in all its glory. The rest of the day we spend reading and chatting over coffee until dinnertime. The four of us eat a delicious barracuda at Dinos Beach Bar. Still storming, we ask the bartender for garbage bags to protect us from the rain on our walk back to the hotel. The beach becomes our catwalk as we strut our stuff in pouring rain.

A rainy day at Tofo beach

Day 7
Tofo

The sun finally comes out and the Swedes have to leave.  Elena and I spend the day reading, swimming and tanning on the beach. Later on we walk into town to go to the market and have lunch at the main square.  With the sun out we finally can enjoy the long golden beach. We walked along the empty waters and hike over sand dunes in order to take in the great views. On our walk I run into a South African friend from Cape Maclear in Malawi.  This continent is too small. We also see Steve, a Belgium who was staying at our hotel in Maputo. Steve joins us for dinner and long island ice teas at Dinos. The restaurant turns into a lively dance party, packed with drunk travellers. Elena dances the night away as Steve and I chat and watch all the commotion. At 4am we walk home along the beach with the music still pumping in the background.

Enjoying our beach walk

Day 8
Tofo

In the morning Steve, Elena and I hang out at the dive shop while waiting to go on an ocean safari.  We hit the water in a speedboat outfitted with snorkel equipment and ready to spot some whale sharks. The speedboat jets along the coast passing by huge cottages.  We search for whale sharks for two hours and don’t spot anything.  We do see dolphins playing in the waves though. In the mean time Elena gets seasick from swallowing too much salt water, and spends most of the safari with her head over the side of the boat.  In the evening the three of us walk into town for dinner at Casa de Comer.  The food is amazing. Best meal I’ve had in half a year. I almost die over the crème brule. Back on the beach we lay under the stars one last time.

Fishing boats on Tofo's beach

Day 9
Maputo

We are up by 3am to catch the bus back to Maputo. Six hours later we are at Fatimas again this time with Steve.  Losing no time, we go to the artisan and flower market. Sundays the market is full of artists, food stalls and live music.  We shop for crafts among the party atmosphere.

Maputo's Sunday art and crafts market

 The market has over fifty vendors selling wooden crafts, bags, tapestry and fashion. I shop way too much. Shopped out we have lunch and beers in the park watching families relax in the Sunday sunshine.  Steven, Elena and I take an evening stroll before dinner. I have one last scrumptious meal in Mozambique and say my goodbyes.

Tree full of bags for sale

Sellers take a break at the market

Day 10
Tete, Blantyre

My flight takes-off on time and I’m back in Tete by 10am. The plane is full of businessmen and the man next to me tells me about the booming mining industry in Tete. Located on the Zambezi River, Tete is on its way to becoming the coal capital of the world.

A taxi takes me to the main market where with a little bit of Spanish and sign language I find the right mini-bus to the border. The mini-bus is stuff full with sodas and men. I squeeze into the back seat, unfortunately next to a man who shouts for the entire trip. Once I reach the border, I refuse to get on another smelly mini-bus and instead take a motorcycle the 10km that lies between the borders.  It feels so free to travel alone in a new country. I love it!

Immediately after I cross the border I hear mzungu and marriage proposals yelled at me. Already I miss Mozambique. At the deserted Malawian border crossing Justin Bieber is playing. Somethings are the same no matter where you are in the world. The border agent asks me one question, “what religion are you?”  I pass through easily and board another mini-bus. Inside the bus I hear a familiar voice. It’s a friend from MIJ FM, where I work, reading the news. I guess I’m home in the Warm Heart of Africa.

Malawi’s Nation on Sunday reports on the mysterious suicide of 24-year-old Robert Chasowa, a student and political activist.

 Originally published on The Toronto Star’s Africa Without Maps 

As I walked to work, the headlines of Malawi’s daily papers caught my eye: “Poly Student Commits Suicide.”

I stopped mid-step, shocked and stared wide-eyed at the gruesome photograph of the young man’s dead body splashed across the front page.

While the act of suicide in Malawi remains taboo, suicide cases are often smeared across the pages of the country’s newspaper. Tabloidization of a suicide victim’s family, personal details and the death are reported on without afterthought. Photographs and suicide letters are also printed.

Families and communities are often shamed after a death because of how the media reports on suicide, explained Kenneth Mtaso, executive Director of Young Voices, a community–based organization that works to protect and promote the rights of youth in Malawi.

Attempting and committing suicide is illegal in Malawi and is treated as a criminal offense rather than a social issue. Section 229 of the penal code states, “any person who attempts to kill himself shall be guilty of misdemeanour.”

This law brings further shame to families of those who try to take their own lives.

“If you are caught trying to kill yourself you go to prison. It can be a jail sentence between four and five years.  The police look at the forces that contributed to your suicide and then decide the length,” said Mtaso. “However, this isn’t effective because most people will disregard all punishment to commit suicide.”

There are no definitive statistics or data on how many people commit suicide or attempt suicide and are jailed in Malawi; however, it is believed that the number is growing as the country faces more challenges, such as increasing levels of poverty.

With over 70 per cent of Malawians living on less then a dollar, poverty is an instigator that leads to suicide in Malawi.  Poorer rural areas are more at risk for suicides, as there are greater cultural pressures and stigmatization to face there, explains Mtaso.

“In the villages people marry younger making them more susceptible to suicide. Also teen pregnancy is big factor in youth suicide,” said Mtaso. “Because of the stigma surrounding reproductive issues in Malawi, especially in rural areas, middle-aged women who are having trouble conceiving sometime commit suicide because of the pressures to have a baby.”

About 80 per cent of Malawi’s population lives in rural areas.

While there is less pressure on urban youth to marry and have children, alcohol and drugs leads to more youth suicides in Malawi’s major cities.

According to UNICEF, the adult HIV prevalence rate in Malawi in 2009 was 11 per cent, which also contributes to suicide in Malawi.

Young Voices has been offering advice for troubled youth, who are at risk of suicide in Malawi, Zimbabwe and South Africa since 1997.

“We try to emphasize that just because you live in poverty doesn’t mean it’s the end,” said Mtaso. “Young people have a responsibility to protect themselves and value life.”

Needing to escape Blantyre dull-drums I decide last minute to join Elena on her trip to Tanzania. I book my plane ticket with Air Malawi, which until the previous week had stop flying because of the fuel crisis. The next day I arrive at a very quiet Chileka Airport.  The power is out at the airport, so security pats us down and goes through our carry on luggage- no metal detectors needed.  Flipping through my wallet security counts my kwacha, around k18,000 ($100) and tells us that it’s too much money to travel with. Elena tells off security and they promptly call her my mother and wave us through.  Miraculously our Air Malawi flight takes off on time. On board the flight attendant gives us bottles of Carlsberg for our two hour flight.

Once we land in Dar es Salaam we pay our visa fee, $50, and find a taxi.  While planning our trip we were warned to be careful when taking taxis in Dar: pick a certified driver, always have your windows down and go with your guts. Dar es Salaam looks as if it’s undergoing a huge renovation, with construction taking place everywhere.  Through research and friends, I was told Dar was a dirty and dangerous city, however, to me it doesn’t look too bad. It might be due to the Malawi effect.  Where every city seems developed and exciting, compared to Blantyre.

Dar es Salaam is Tanzania’s major city and its capital in everything but name. The capital was moved to Dodoma. The city has a mix of African, Arabic and Indian influences, however, it keeps close ties to its Swahili roots.

To my surprise I know some Swahili. The Lion King used many Swahili words in its script unknowingly teaching youngster the language. Some words include: Simba means lion, Timon and Pumbaa means absentminded and careless, Rafiki means friend and of course hakuna matata means no worries- a saying used often by locals.

Elena and I check into the simple and basic Econolodge and head out to the streets for dinner.  At 11pm families are enjoying sidewalk restaurants specializing in braii foods.  It’s a pleasant sight and Elena and I happily join in.

Day 2
Dar es Salaam, Jambiani

Backpacks strapped on Elena and I hike across downtown Dar to get to the ferry dock.  Immediately men surround us trying to persuade us to take their ferry. Pushing our way through we buy a ticket from the most passive seller and board the slow ferry to Zanzibar.

Note: In Tanzania tourists are always charged in American dollars, which is frustrating coming from a country with no forex. I had to exchange money from Malawian Kwacha to Tanzanian shillings to American dollars.

The ferry is packed with young travellers who sit on the top VIP floor, while locals sit down in crowded bottom floor.  The ferry ride is extremely wavy and an attendant passes out plastic bags to anyone who may be seasick.  The boat just rocks me to sleep and I wake up three hours later at Zanzibar’s port.  Once the ferry docks we go through immigration. The officer looks me up and down and says, “You’re beautiful. Of course you can come to Zanzibar”.  He offers me some jackfruit and stamps my passport.

Jambiani beach at low tide

From Stone Town we take a taxi an hour and half east to the other side of the island to get to Jambiani, a quiet village on a stunning beach.  We check into Casa Del Mar, which looks like a honeymoon paradise. The village has a dirt road running between the white washed huts and a couple of restaurants. We have dinner at Rainbow Café, a small village restaurant. The young owners join us for dinner and some Safaris, the strongest Tanzanian beer.

Jambiani beach three hours later at high tide

Day 3
Jambiani

By breakfast time, Lindsey, Elena’s friend from Ottawa joins us after a 27-hour flight. We promptly fill her in on all the Blantyre gossip over coffee and eggs.  After breakfast I go for a walk on the beach only to discover the tide has taken the ocean a good half kilometer away from shore. Boats are stranded and children are hunting for crabs in the mushy sand that was left behind. By 6pm the tide brings the turquoise waters back.

New Years dinner is at the hotel’s restaurant.  The food is disappointing and the wine is terrible.We head to Paje with a group of hotel workers for a beach party to ring in 2012.  The beach is packed with partying travellers. Music is blaring, people are dancing around bonfires and the bar is quickly running out of booze. In middle of the chaos a couple countdowns take place and no one is exactly sure when the New Year actually begins.  The rest of the night we spend dancing and chatting with a group of American Peace Corp workers from Uganda.

As the night goes on the beach beings to smell like pee. The female peace corp. workers, who probably haven’t been out in a long time, start to bust explicit dance moves on the sand.  We leave before things get totally out of hand. Just before the sun comes up we are tucked into our beds. Cheers 2011!

Day 4
Jambiani

After a long sleep I wake up starving.  The three of us walk along the beach looking for a restaurant.  We finally find the Garden Restaurant, a beachside hut run by rastas.  The food takes two hours to arrive and taste like mush. Hungry we eat it anyways.  A few hours later Elena has food poisoning, which will stay with her the next four days.  Not taking any more chances we go back to the Rainbow Café for dinner.

Day 5
Jambiani, Stone Town 

View of the Old Fort in Stone Town

Ready for more action we leave peaceful Jambiani  and drive to Stone Town.  We check into Karibu hotel located in the centre of Stone Town. The room is simple and clean but feels like an oven. To combat the hot air we move our beds together to share the one weak fan. In the afternoon we wander around Stone Town and along the ocean. The buildings of Stone Town have an Arabic and Indian flare but most of the façades are slowly denigrating.  Stone Town is beautiful but flooded with tourists. It doesn’t live up to its hype. We visit the old Fort, now converted into a cultural center. Down the street is the Palace Museum, which used to house the Sultans of Zanzibar who were from Omen.

At dinnertime we eat at Monsoon restaurant.  We eat the best meal we’ve had in Zanzibar, but it’s still not over the top delicious.

Day 6
Stone Town

A boy climbs a palm tree to grab me a coconut

After a leisurely breakfast our guide from the Palace Museum organizes a spice tour of the area.  He takes us to the house were David Livingstone use to stay while in Zanzibar. He also takes us to the crumbling palace were the sultans 99 concubines lived.  A tourism student then shows us around a spice plantation, showing us the different kinds of spices and telling us their holistic uses. After we are treated to fresh fruits and teas. Back in town we go for a walk along the beach and watch some of the football matches taking place on the sand. We stop at a beachfront restaurant for dinner. The setting is very romantic at Livingstone’s restaurant but once again the food and wine are tasteless.

Day 7
Stone Town

I wake up early to takes some pictures of the town and beach.  When I come back, Elena is still feeling sick so Lindsey and venture out on our own.  We stop for breakfast at a little café and then head into town to the National Museum.  The National Museum, or the House of Wonders, was where the Sultan would hold massive parties.  It was called the House of Wonders because it was the largest house in eastern Africa, and also was the first house to have a lift and electricity.  The building is magnificent and overshadows Stone Town. The exhibits lack luster but the view from the top veranda is well worth the fee. We go back to the hotel and pick up Elena and go to the old salve market.

House of Wonders

Zanzibar saw 600,000 salves go through the market, one of the largest salve markets in the world. The salves that survived the horrific journey were sold to mostly to Arab countries. In 1873 the salve-trade was made illegal, but still took place openly until the British took over the mainland from the Germans after World War I.

The Cathedral where the old salve market stood

Salves were tied to a tree and whipped, those who didn’t cry or faint fetched a higher price at market. The Anglican Cathedral Church of Christ now sits where Zanzibar’s salve market use to be.  Former salves were employed to build the church, however, when the supervising Bishop was away the workers erected the pillars upside down where they still remain.

A café and hostel are housed distastefully in the building where the salves were held and where many died.

Afterwards, we walk through the markets.  The market is full of women in burqas, who glare at our exposed legs.  Islam makes up 35 per cent of Tanzania’s population, and more than 99 per cent of Zanzibar’s population is Muslim.

We don’t last long in the chaos of the markets and weave our way through the maze of alleys back to Stone Town. On our way back we buy some last minute souvenirs.  At night, we finally find a good restaurant in Zanzibar- The Silk Road, an Indian restaurant overlooking the water.  The food was delicious and the service great.

View of Zanzibar habour

Day 8
Stone Town, Dar es Salaam

We eat one last breakfast in Stone Town and head to the ferry. As soon as the captain lets people board a mad frenzy breaks out and people push their way to the front. Worried about a stampede we step aside and watch. When we finally board the ferry and disembark I watch the beautiful buildings of Stone Town get smaller and smaller. Two hours later, we arrive back in Dar es Salaam. I lead us through downtown Dar back to the Econolodge.

Stone Town from the ferry

Relying on the Lonely Planet guidebook we search for a restaurant close by.  Unfortunately, our book is three years old and most of the restaurants have moved or gone out of business.  Starving we settle on a food court above a casino.

With full bellies we take a taxi to the peninsula to visit an artist co-op.  Our driver takes us pass all the major embassies, housed in gorgeous  beachfront properties. The artist co-oop was full impressive artists workshops full of beautiful crafts and Tingatinga art, a genera of art made famous by Tanzanian artist Edward Saidi.

In the garden is a sweet café, where we sit and discuss starting up an artist co-op in Blantyre over drinks. In the evening a friend I went to University with in Toronto picks us up and takes us out for dinner to a pack Italian restaurant.  The four of enjoy Italian wine, finally good wine, and talked until close.

Night out in Dar with Sheel, Lindsey and Elena

Day 9
Dar es Salaam

I was suppose to fly out in the early morning but Air Malawi texted me the night before telling me not to show up to the airport in the morning

A wood worker makes traditional Zanzibar boxes at the craft market

and to wait for an update. All day I’m left checking my phone for my new departure time. Finally, in the evening they call to tell me they have found a new plane and my flight will be at 11am the next day giving me an extra day in Dar. Having exhausted the list of sights we wander around the city and in and out of shops. For dinner we go to Sea Cliff Village and have drinks by the ocean.

Day 10
Dar es Salaam, Blantyre

I pack up my bags, say my goodbyes and head to the airport. My flight is already 28 hours late and I’m very anxious to get home and finish my Masters applications before deadline.  I make my way through heavy security. They confiscate my mascara and key chain. Finally, I’m able to board a plane from Kenya on loan to Air Malawi.

One hour later we land in Lilongwe. I was guaranteed that my layover in Lilongwe would be only 30 minutes. After the plane lands passengers are told there is a seven hour layover in Lilongwe airport.  Its starts pouring and our flight is delayed another hour. At last, we take off, only to land again in Lilongwe. The pilot announces that it’s too rainy to continue and we have to wait out the rain.  Five minutes later I see them refueling the plane. The passengers around me agree that the real reason the plane landed again was that they had forgotten to fuel the plane. We take off again through rough turbulence.  When we land in Blantyre I want to kiss the ground.  My flight is 38 hours late; Air Malawi really knows how to drag out a two hour flight. But I’m lucky, Elena’s flight is delayed for three days. A friend picks me up from the airport and an hour later I’m at the bar with a group of Malawian retelling my Air Malawi horror story.  They are use to it. “TIA (This is Africa),” they reply.

Namaso Bay on Lake Malawi

Merry Christmas from Lake Malawi! Wishing family and friends all the best for the new year! I’m taking off to Tanzania today, first stop Dar es Salaam and then dancing on the beach in Zanzibar for New Years! When I’m back in Blantyre and find good internet I’ll make sure to post more blogs and photos. Thanks for all the memories 2011! Cheers!

Giving Yvonne her wedding gift from MIJ FM. Photo by Katie Lin.

Last month I attended Yvonne’s, a friend and colleague from MIJ FM, wedding. It was my first Malawian wedding and I was grateful to be invited. The theme of afternoon was dancing and raising money for the couple. I thoroughly enjoyed the festivities and hope to add a little bit of Malawian tradition to my wedding some day. This is what stood out to me:

• Music blasting, the wedding party busted their best dance moves down the aisle followed by the bride and groom who sweetly danced with each other through the guests.
• Pink and purple streamers decorated the white tent, which was set-up in the bride’s family’s backyard. Fantas and braii were served. It could have been Barbie’s wedding day.
• The wedding cake was auctioned off to the highest bidder.
• The master ceremonies, also a colleague, made many jokes in Chichewa at the expense of the only two azungu (white people) attending the wedding, Ali and I.
• My favorite part of the wedding was the kwacha throwing. A Malawian wedding tradition is to toss kwacha, the Malawian currency, at the bride and groom as they danced in front of their guests. The master of ceremonies would encourage different groups of people, such as friends of the brides, work colleagues of the groom or if you thought the bride looked beautiful, to join the bride or groom for a dance while guests throw money, normally 50 kwacha bill (about 30 cents), at the couple. In the mean time the bridesmaids and groomsmen would pick up the kwacha from the ground, dodging dancing guests. This continued for two hours. Ali has already started saving her kwacha for my wedding day.

The bride dances as guests throw kwacha at her

As Malawi becomes one of the world’s fastest urbanizing countries, more and more Malawians are being pushed off their land and forced to

A garbage filled river outside Blantyre’s main market.

live in areas used as dumping sites, known as “kuntaya”.

Although one of the least urbanized nations in Africa and with a population of just 13 million, the United Nations forecasts that by 2050 this number will double, forcing many rural dwellers into urban settlements in search of better economical opportunities. Only 20 per cent of the national population lives in urban areas; however, since 1998, the urban population has increased by 63 per cent.

The government has attempted to set up small towns, such as the informal settlement of Misesa located between Limbe and Blantyre, to divert rural-urban migrants away from major cities. But these areas have grown into slums, according to a report by Mtafu Zeleza Manda, an expert in urbanization who helped establish the Malawi Urban Forum and the Malawi Award for Human Settlements. According to Manda’s report, poor access to water and sanitation means that dumping areas and slums pose numerous health concerns for residents, as they become a breeding place for pests and disease.

A survey done by the Ministry of Health shows that these areas are at high risk for diarrhea, especially in the rainy season because drinking water is often contaminated by garbage. Water and sanitation in urban areas in Malawi, where over 60 per cent of the population lives in informal settlements – also known as squatter settlements or slums – falls under the public health department. However, government agencies are reluctant to provide basic services to informal settlements because they feel that this would encourage their development or growth.

According to the Blantyre City Council public relations officer, Luzana Khanga, dumping sites are located away from areas where people live so they can be easily monitored. “We are trying as much as we can to help the people living in these areas, because cleaner conditions where people live will decrease cases of diseases in hospitals, thereby reducing the money spent on buying drugs,” says Khanga.

Khanga claims that people move into these areas illegally putting themselves in danger because of toxic garbage and water-borne disease. However, residents of these areas argue that they have been forced to move to dumping zones because of a shortage of land to settle on.

Students also miss school because of poor sanitation in schools. According to The Nation newspaper, in the Mchesi area of the country’s capital city, Lilongwe, two schools remained without toilets for five years, causing student to use the nearby woods, which subsequently led to a high drop-out rate among female pupils.

Only 10 per cent of Blantyre’s, Malawi’s commercial center, population live in homes connected to sewers lines. While only 8 per cent of Lilongwe’s population is connected to sewers, the country’s third largest city, Mzuzu, has no sewer lines.

In 2008, the then Foreign Affairs Minister Joyce Banda said that Malawi had already surpassed the Millennium Development Goals target related to water and sanitation, which had aimed to provide 74 per cent of Malawian with access to safe drinking water by 2015. As of 2006, 75 per cent of Malawi already had access to clean water. “At this rate our projection is that by 2015 about 94 percent of the population will have access to sustainable water sources,” Banda said.

However, contained within his report, Manda argues that Malawi has a long way to go in order to meet the MDG definition: to halve the proportion of the population without sustainable access to safe drinking water and basic sanitation by 2015.

Women pass by Queen Elizabeth Central Hospital in Blantyre

Originally published on The Toronto Star’s Africa Without Maps

The topic of immunization is often controversial – but in Malawi, it can be deadly as parents refuse their children access to vaccines.

Two months ago, the online publication, Malawi Voice, reported that 131 children from Nsanje, Malawi’s most southern district were vaccinated at gunpoint.

These families had originally fled to Mozambique to “protect” their children from the anti-measles vaccination, but when they returned home, medical officials and police tracked down the children and forcefully vaccinated them.

It was reported that The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation was behind the involuntary vaccinations. The foundation has been launching extensive campaigns to make sure all children are vaccinated against deadly diseases. When it comes to vaccines, Melinda Gates called Malawi one of the few countries “on track to reach the UN Millennium Development Goals.”

When contacted, the Gates Foundation and its partners in Malawi were unavailable for an interview.

In Malawi, the UN, NGOs and the Malawian Ministry of Health work together to ensure that all children are given shots for tuberculosis, polio, hepatitis and measles, as well as vitamins. The Health Ministry is currently carrying out a mass vaccination campaign, targeting six million vulnerable children under the age of 15 across Malawi.

“It is a requirement that all children are vaccinated, but it’s difficult to trace to see if a child has been vaccinated,” says David Chimwaza, a clinical officer at Queen Elizabeth Central Hospital in Blantyre.

Measles is the most common disease outbreak in Malawi.

Worldwide, 164,000 people, mostly children under the age of 5, die from measles. Even though effective immunization costs less than $1 U.S. and has been available for 40 years.Furthermore, each year more than 1.7 million children die of vaccine preventable diseases, according to WHO.

“During an outbreak everyone has to be vaccinated,” explains Chimwaza. “Officials will go into homes to inspect children to check if they were vaccinated.”

However, in rural communities this can prove difficult without proper record keeping and lack of resources.

Similarly, vaccinations can be controversial in Canada, but for different reasons.

Some Canadian parents believe that the measles, mumps, rubella (MMR) vaccine can be linked to autism or sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS). Although, most doctors and scientists agree the benefits of immunizations that protect against infectious diseases outweigh the rare side effects of vaccines.

In addition to health concerns, some Malawian families are against vaccinations and Western medicine because their religion forbids it, such as the Seventh Day Apostolic Church. Members of the Seventh Day Apostolic Church who do receive medical care are excommunicated from the church.

A Malawian father, who follows the Seventh Day Apostolic faith, was sentenced to two years in prison after refusing to let his three children receive the measles vaccine due to his religious belief. Police believe that one of his children died from the illness.

In nearby Zimbabwe, the World Health Organization (WHO) issued a bulletin in 2009 stating that the majority of unvaccinated children belong to apostolic faith sects, 45 per cent and 23 per cent belong to the Pentecostal Church.

Muslim fundamentalists are also against immunization programs because vaccines can contain animals that have not been killed in accordance with ritual or can contain alcohol.

In some cases Muslim fundamentalists believe vaccines are used by the West to poison or sterilize followers of Islam.

“Usually because of religion, children do not receive vaccines. They have the idea that if you are sick God will help you – you don’t have to take drugs and medicines,” says Chimwaza.

As for the children who were vaccinated at gunpoint,he explains that both the measles outbreak and the need for its immediate containment were the cause for such an extreme response.

“The police had to vaccinate at gunpoint,” he says. “I think it was the first time that has happened.”

The Lusaka’s bus station is buzzing when we arrive at 3:30 am. Ali and I manage to track down our bathing suits and towel we left on the bus two days earlier.  We wait three hours for a bus to leave the terminal. In the mean time we listen to preachers who pray for the safety of the bus and then pester the three of us, the only foreigners on the bus, for money in exchange for prays. Once the bus finally fills up and leaves, the driver blares loud Christian African music videos. I try to drone out the music with my headphones and fall in and out of sleep for the next 11 hours until we reach the border.

We slowly go through Zambia customs, where everyone has to sign a book to prove their entry even though no one is there to check the book.  At Malawi Immigration the border agent tells us our Temporary Residency Permit have expired since we left Malawi. An argument ensues and it becomes obvious the border inspector wants a bribe to let us cross the border. But we fight on. I ask for his name in order to file a complaint. He freaks out and kicks us out of the office and tells all the border agents not to stamp our passports.  We are stuck helplessly on the border. Eventually someone stamps our passport. On the bus the border inspector returns to shake my hand and get one last jab in- “you’re my friend, even if you have a big mouth,” he says.

Two more hours and we are back at Mabuya Camp in Lilongwe. To celebrate our return back to Malawi we go to Mama Mia, for the best pizza in the country.

DAY 11
Lilongwe, Blantyre 

This marks the end of our vacation.  It’s back to business. Before leaving Lilongwe I met with the staff and Weekend Express editors at the Malawi Institute of Journalism Lilongwe campus before catching a bus back to Blantyre.

On our way home, we pass by fuel lines of a hundred cars long.  Taxis have double their prices, due to the fuel shortages.  Fuel on the black market now sells for almost $5 a litre, pushing all prices up. The owner of Mabuya camp, which hasn’t had water for a week, tells us in the twenty years she has lived in Malawi this is the worst it’s been.  A Dutch traveler, who vacationed in the country five years ago, tell me that he is amazed how backwards the country has become in such a short period of time. When we get home there is no power or water. Welcome back to Malawi.

I pack up my backpack which has exploded all over our hotel room.  Before we leave Livingstone, we made a stop at the Livingstone museum. The museum was far more impressive than I expected it to be.  The exhibits start at the beginning of homo sapiens in Africa and goes up to modern Zambian politics.  It includes a section on African animals and my favorite exhibit on David Livingstone.

Growing up I went through a phase where I was obsessed with explorers, from Captain Cook to Marco Polo.  I would read anything and everything about them.  But Livingstone was always my favorite. Traveling in the area where Livingstone was the first European to explore over a hundred years ago felt like a childhood dream come true.

The drive back to Lusaka took us six hours and we check into the same room at Lusaka Backpackers.  It was a Friday and the bar was packed.  It reminds us of Doogles, an expat bar in Blantyre, except the expat girls wear high heels and the travelers stick their feet in the pool here.  It was Mexican night at the hotel/bar so we order a couple beers and tacos and go to bed with full stomachs.

Day 9
Lusaka

We wake up on a mission to find souvenirs and walk to Northmead market. The market is a mixture of hair salons, food stands and crafts shops all lined up in tiny stands.

We buy some wooden crafts and then head to the mall. The city is full of communist looking high-rise blocks. The Chinese influence in Zambia is evident, with many signs advertising Chinese businesses or restaurants.  A few Zambians I talked to during our trip complained about Chinese exploiting workers and Zambia’s resources.

On our walk to the mall we are impressed by Lusaka’s street signs and traffic lights, a sight not often seen in Blantyre. Before, entering the mall I’m shocked by all the stores and restaurants. Most exciting is the Subway, where we eat lunch. It felt as if we were transported back home and its consumerism ways.  It has been four months since I’ve step into a mall, although it doesn’t feel long enough. It makes me feel a little sick and guilty.

We don’t stay at the mall long and opt to check Kabwata cultural village just outside of the city.  The market consists of tiny huts where local artisans make crafts, mostly wooden cravings and clothes bags.  For dinner we go to the Oriental Garden, a Chinese and Indian fusion restaurant. We hit the sheets early in order to wake up to catch 5 am bus back to Malawi.