The Fisherman's Net Malawi Journal
As you may know, our original plans were to drive directly west through the city of Tete in Mocambique to Harare, Zimbabwe, and then make a tour of Zimbabwe as far west as Victoria Falls. All this was supposed to have taken place last January. However these plans were cancelled because a terrorist movement in Mocambique began to mine the roads around Tete and were blowing up trucks that were transporting goods from South Africa to Malawi.
As an alternative, we made plans to drive directly South to Beira in April and visit various places in southern Mocambique including the shores and beaches of the Indian Ocean. As the day to begin this holiday (the word "holiday" is used in Malawi as we would use the word "vacation") the rains began to get heavier instead of lighter as is usual for this time of year and we wondered how the roads would be, since the roads going south are not "major" ones like those going west. However, we were correct in assuming that the lower elevations which the southern route follows would be hotter and drier.
We found good roads to Nsanje at the southern border of Malawi where we stayed in a government rest house. Our only difficulty after leaving Malawi was that there were no road signs in Mocambique and we constantly had to ask directions to the next towns on our map, never in English (the official language in Mocambique is Portuguese), sometimes in Chichewa, but usually by saying the name of the town and pointing. The further away from Malawi we drove, the less we ran into Chichewa and several times we drove on roads that were not shown on our map.
Our first major problem was trying to cross the Zambezi River. Although we think we discovered that the Portuguese word for bridge or ferry is "portagens" the conflicting directions would only lead us to the bank of the river with no bridge or ferry dock in sight.
We finally ended up back at the railway bridge
and found a resident who told us in English that the only way to cross the
two-mile wide Zambezi River was to take a dugout canoe or use the train. He
helped us by translating to the stationmaster that we wanted to load our car
onto the train to cross the river, unloading it at Villa de Sena on the
other bank. For a fee of about $12.00 we loaded not on the regular train but
onto a yard switcher and flatcar and had our own private train on which to
travel. You wonder where we rode as passengers since there was no passenger
car. We sat right in our car on the flatcar!
After being unloaded in the middle of the freight yard we had a time finding our way back to the main part of town and from there we began to use our gesticulating language to get directions to the next towns. Trying to follow some difficult directions and more by following a large number of tire marks, our road came to a construction site for a bridge being built across a medium-sized stream.
The foreman at the site gave us directions to another road leading to a one car ferry that had to be hand-cranked across the stream on a cable. The ferry operator asked us for what sounded like fifty centavos (about 2 cents) but the smallest we had was twenty escudos (about 80 cents) and he gave us all the change in his pocket, about five escudos.
From here we had a different type of road, all bad: The first sections were where trucks had driven through axle deep mud during the earlier rains and then dried. As we straddled these places, I was reminded of service station grease pits and drove very slowly in fear of dropping a wheel into them. The second type was deeper into the bush, where the denseness kept the mud irom drying. The holes were up to two feet deep and filled with muddy water with thick, slippery mud at the bottom. The one trucker we met just looked at our car and shook his head when I asked about the next town on the road, but we figured that ahead couldn't be any worse than in back, and we were wrong. The only advantage was that where the muddy holes were too deep even for trucks, they had driven off the road into the bush and our only problem was following their route through the bush and hoping there weren't any large rocks hidden in the grass.
The third type of road was deep sand, so deep in places that the center of the car came to rest on the high center ridge and the wheels spun merrily around. Each time we had to dig out with our hands and feet since we neglected to bring along a shovel. The main thing we were thankful for was that each time evening came we found ourselves in a small town with sleeping quarters available. Although we had brought along our tent, we had no desire ro sleep outside in an area known to have wild game.
On the border between Macambique and Zimbabwe is the town of Bulawayo. We found a very interesting museum in the town which seemed to be dedicated to the study of reptiles, none of which were as large as the ones on exhibit in front of the entrance.
In the area outside of the town we discovered some ancient petroglyphs that were
very similar to those we have seen back in the states.
In the center of Saulsbury, now named Harare, was a Kopje that had a clear view of the city. My wife and the boys
enjoyed the vista while I took pictures.
After I finished taking pictures, She decided that she should take a picture of the boys
and me as well.
The nation of Zimbabwe was originally called Rhodesia after Cecil Rhodes. The name Zimbabwe
came from the ancient city of Zimbabwe now in ruins. No one knows what happened.
Old Zimbabwe is thought by some to date back to the days of Solomon who was the son of King David in Israel.
Guides explained Zimbabwe as best they could to the tour groups that were shown around the ruins.
No explanations were given as to why the walls were so high and the passages were so narrow.
It now is thought that some of the lost tribes of Israel may have ended up this far into Africa.
Throughout Zimbabwe we found well-paved roads and enjoyed the usual amenities of a holiday, including rhino, gnu, water buffalo, kudu. impala, and many other African animals. When time came to return to Malawi, we had no desire to go back the way we came, and were glad to hear from several sources that the terrorist activities were pretty much over.
When we crossed back into Mocambique via the Tete road, the customs officials told us that they were still escorting cars with an army convoy as a precautionary measure, and since we had just missed the convoy we could either drive on "at our own risk" or wait until the next day for the next convoy.
We decided to drive on, possibly catching up with the convoy (which we didn't) or staying overnight in Tete at the Zamberi Hotel to wait for the next convoy. We had no difficulty except for the uneasy feeling which came as we passed the remains of vehicles which were blown up in previous weeks.
At six the next morning we took the first ferry across the Zambezi (there is a ferry here!) to join the convoy that was to reform at Moatize, only to find upon arrivlng that the convoy was cancelled for that day. The reason: a truck in the previous convoy (the one we "just missed") was blown up by a mine. Here we were, stuck in a little town in the middle of a virtual war zone, not knowing what to do.
While walking around the town we overheard real American-English being spoken at a sidewalk cafe and joined the group to meet a Canadian couple who were driving to Malawi for holiday, a Portuguese soldier on leave who could speak English, and an African who knew several languages, had trained to be a doctor, and had become a full Portueuese citizen. As he explained to me, Mocambique does not have "colonialism" as it is usually thought of, but rather it is a state in the nation of Portugal similar to the way Hawaii and Alaska are now states in the U.S.A. The basic problem is that the requirements for citizenship are so high that only a small percentage of the Africans can gain it, he being one of them. During our discussions, we mentioned our work as missionaries in Malawi and the subject turned to Christ and the Christian way of life. This attracted many who listened to the Gospel message.
The next day a convoy formed and after another two days of travel, camping
in our tent with the army, we covered the last 50 miles and finally arrived back
in Malawi but with the loss of one truck to a land mine. Even though we had
joined an army convoy and even with their protection a truck in our convoy hit a
land mine which killed the driver. Since I was a missionary I was asked to pray
before the medical helicopter took off for the hospital. I heard the sad news
that he died en route to the hospital.
Go to the Game Reserve Page
Go to the Lake Malawi Holiday Page
When it was determined that we had accomplished all we could in Malawi, it was decided that we should return to the United States. We flew from Malawi to Kenya. We were scheduled to stay two days in Nairobi but while at the airport we discovered that a plane would be leaving for Israel in just two hours. We waited to see if seats were available and we were able to fly to Israel that same day. Our next stop was two days in Holland. Thursday night we spent in a hotel room on a canal. On Friday we visited the museums of Amsterdam as well as the traditional dutch village of Maarkam. Friday evening we were invited to stay with a Dutch Seventh Day Baptist family and we went to church with them on the next morning. That afternoon they gave us a tour of tulip fields and windmills before taking us back to the airport. We arrived back in the states in time to attend a Missionary board meeting.
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