Malawi – Our trip from Blantyre to Cape Mclear

It was 10h30, Central Africa time and we were sitting in a minibus trying to get from Blantyre to Cape Mclear in Malawi, squashed in with 18 fellow Africans. The wind was blowing through my hair, UB 40 was singing Songs of Jamaica and I was thinking that I really love Africa.

I also thought we got the general idea at last – rather get squashed in from the start – no need to delude yourself by thinking you might get a double seat – no sir. I have also discovered that 65% of the men in Malawi are either called Patrick or Moses. Well, Moses from Blantyre (don’t get confused with the Moses from Mulanje or the Moses from Limbe etc etc) got us onto a minibus and after being dropped off at some village, we asked a shopkeeper where we could get a minibus to Cape Mclear and after a short walk through town with our escort (Patrick from Limbe of course) (I presume it depends on how you look at it and on how heavy your bag is) we were on our way to Monkey Bay.

The driver stopped every now and again and more people got inside. And there we were – two South African girls stuck in the back of a minibus and wham, the boot got opened and a black plastic bag filled with fish was hauled on top of our backpacks – which also meant on top of Fluff, my mascot that was stuck to my backpack. The driver kept on stopping and more and more people got in the minibus, and at one stage there were no place in the minibus so people were hanging on the door of the minibus. Biscuit was really looking pale and when she announced that there’s no ways Fluff could have survived the fish smell I laughed so much the tears rolled down my cheeks. But we stopped again and this time the plastic bag with fish was tied to the back of the minibus and Biscuit got some color back.

At one stage there were 25 of us inside the minibus plus the luggage and two people were hanging on the door. UB 40 was still singing the same songs and just when we got to the “I can’t count anymore” stage two more plastic bags with fish got hauled inside and Biscuit went pale again.

Suddenly the fish that was tied to the back of the minibus flew off and we had to turn around. I really felt sorry for the guy whose fish it was, but not for long because the driver reversed and the rescued fish was put next to us in the minibus.

The driving, UB40 singing, the driver stopping, reversing, continued while more and more people got into the minibus and by this time we had three plastic bags filled with fish with us in the minibus.

After 5 hours of traveling my bladder started to ache, but Africa is one tough continent and as soon as we stopped in Mangotsi we were forced onto a pickup truck with the promise of a direct lift to Cape Mclear. Biscuit’s started to have serious doubts when she was told to sit on the side but we had already paid and she had to be happy with a guy sitting almost on top of her head. The driver only left when there were 17 people in the back of the bakkie (don’t forget their luggage and the sugar cane). And yes – we were forced to stand when there were 24 people in the back - but at least we had some breathing space and no fish got on the pickup with us. And after what felt like ages we reached Monkey Bay – and the driver informed us that we had to catch yet another minibus. It was at this stage that Biscuit threw her toys out the cot (it helped because we got half our money back) and I went in search of something resembling a toilet.

And thanks to Biscuit who asked a local to take pity on two helpless ladies from South Africa we arrived at Fat Monkeys two hours later – just in time to see yet another sunset in Africa.