The First of Many, Malawi Style

Hello world! From Malawi, it is I, World Traveler Jess Scott, writing to give you all a good reason to piss off of work and surf the web. That, and because I thought that maybe a few members of my friends and family would be pleased to hear that I'm alive.

Well, I'm alive! And having a wonderful time. And wanted to write to tell you about it ... after a brief reminder that I've been writing occasional posts for this other awesome website called Pink Pangea. Well, they've decided to publish another of my posts (golly, gee), which, if you're interested, can be found at this link! It'll take you all the way back to my Sweden days, but should extend your web surfing session to at least half an hour. And be mildly interesting, I'm guessing, especially if you've never been to Sweden, or even if you have.

Anyway, on to Malawi! Our arrival in Malawi was no different than any other border crossing I’ve ever made – loud, insistent taxi touts trying to drag you to this car or that, shifty money changers whispering “good rate, fair price” from behind an endless line of lorries waiting to cross this way or that. However, my traveling companion Mikael and I, upon receiving our entry stamps, high-fived and hugged, exuberant at our successful entrance. We then changed money with the shiftiest guy we could find, jumped in the only registered taxi available, and sped off toward our destiny.

Okay, destiny might be a little much, I’ll give you that. But here we are, sitting comfortably at a table in the bar of The Mushroom Farm, and there’s more than just a nice view in front of us (and it is definitely nice). We’ve signed on to spend 9 months as co-managers of this extraordinary eco-backpackers camp, isolated 11km up a hillside in northern Malawi, nearish to both the towns of Karonga and the mission Livingstonia. Owned by Mickie Wild, an adventurous Australian who stumbled upon this perfect piece of hillside 10 years ago, the Mushroom Farm is a destination that requires commitment to visit – you can arrive only on foot (3-4 hours uphill), or if lucky, by hitching an irregular ride with whatever transport will brave the 15 sharp, unmaintained switchbacks to leave you at our doorstep. I like to say that the camp self-selects for cool people (read: people I get along with) – you’ve got to be pretty cool to be willing to hike for 4 hours to reach a pretty nice view and little else.

Well, okay, this time I under exaggerate – we also have cold beer, hot showers, and some of the best food in Malawi. The camp has enough power on sunny days, thanks be to a small collection of solar panels, to run a fridge, charge a few batteries for lights in the evening, and keep our iPod’s happy; our showers and food are all heated by fire, a seemingly endless supply of wood just a forest away; and our local cook, Efreeda, has been here for 5 years – enough time to perfect a menu that makes my mouth water just thinking about it (Banana pancakes! Onion bhajis! Did I mention banana pancakes?) . We have a handy man to help build things, an excentric night watchman who is seriously afraid of snakes, and another lady from the nearby village to help Efreeda with all of the chores that make this place run smoothly. So what is there left for Mikael and I to do but sit back, knock back a few beers, and contemplate life?

Rightttttt. While we’ve done quite a bit of this in our first 3 weeks here, much encouraged by our fearless leader Mick, we’ve still managed to fall asleep exhausted every night in our home for the next 9 months, a bright yellow tent (with all of the modern conveniences of a mattress and rain fly, and the current inconvenience of a termite invasion). Mick has trusted us with the responsibility of running the camp solo twice in the past 3 weeks – the first time merely 5 days after our arrival, and now again 3 weeks in, for business trips to the “big cities” in the south. I’m impressed every day with what it takes to run this camp, from keeping finances so that we don’t miss the 16.5% VAT or 1% tourism levy payments, to building a second shower and composting toilet with nothing but hand tools and lots of sweat, to keeping a sharp eye on our staff to ensure that more work than gossip happens around here. Oh, not to mention taking care of the guests, helping the ladies in the kitchen (I can cook over fire without burning everything!!), feeding the animals, making sure we’re not dangerously close to running out of tomatoes or water (like we did the other day, thanks a lot dry season), and whatever else crops up. Today’s special projects including finishing fixing the Land Rover and taking it on its maiden voyage to Livingstonia to get vegetables, deposit money, sell eggs (we have 17 rather productive chickens) and buy roof-thatching grass; hanging another triangle canvas over the bar area to shade it from the afternoon sun; and writing this blog to you J. We also had 6 new guests arrive on top of the 4 who were already staying, making it an exciting evening for Mikael and I – this being the high season, we should be this busy (or more) every night, but the pesky Malawian riots in combination with a bad financial year for the majority of tourist countries have caused a decrease in the number of people passing through this beautiful country.

So, perhaps you’re wondering if it’s what I expected so far? That’s an emphatic “definitely”! Maybe I expected to jump right into learning to build new chalets and collect wood on my head – but we have local staff who are much better at the latter, and it turns out you have to first learn to use a saw in order to do the former (I’m getting there, people – just don’t ask Mikael’s opinion). I think that Mikael and I have complementary skill sets, in that I’m good at getting up early and doing the people/paperwork stuff and helping in the kitchen (surprising no-one more than myself), and Mikael is good at staying up late and fixing/building/carrying stuff with often incorrect (or missing entirely) tools and lots of ingenuity. And we don’t hate each other yet, which is always a bonus when you’re planning to spend a bunch of time with the same person. We’ve had our share of “oops” moments so far, like when it turned out I had fed the ducks some version of husk with zero nutritional value for 2 days in a row rather than their actual food; and when we let the water in the tank run out because there were leaks in the pipes and too many showers and too little water flow in general; and when the camp dog ended up following some guests up to the mission (Livingstonia), staying the night, and following totally unrelated white people all the way back down the hill to Chitimba… 10KM past our camp (that one’s not our fault, but it IS funny that we had to make a special trip down the hill to pick up our silly dog). And there have even been unexpected pleasures, like cooking dishes with meat in them (which Mick didn’t do here last year) whenever we go down the hill and can get some (it only lasts for a few days up here without steady refrigeration), and not having to wash our own laundry (a million thanks to Efreeda, who I personally believe could wash the dirt out of the ground), and drinking all of the cocktails off of the new cocktail menu one Sunday afternoon because we had to know what they tasted like according to Mick. But I can honestly say I’m looking forward to everything the Mushroom Farm has in store for my Swedish companion and I – from the quiet moments alone at sunrise to the early-but-rowdy nights of debauchery around the fire, from the driest of dry seasons to the camp trying to wash away during the long rains, and from the furthest shores of lake Malawi to the spot where I now sit, overlooking this place that has so quickly become my home, and signing off.

With love,

Jess (WTS)

P.S. I would love to share pictures, especially depicting my use of power tools and the strange variety of things I have so far carried on my head, but Malawian internet is just not quite good enough to upload photos. So, we'll have to wait until I have enough patience to manage such adventures in interweb data transfer. Sorry, ya'll!