Having slept for so long I felt much better and packed up without bothering with any breakfast. There was the usual audience and, as is sometimes the case in Africa, locals have a different perspective on space and physical boundaries. This often makes queuing uncomfortable when the guy behind you is right on your back, and if you don’t step close to the person in front of you someone will just step across you.
Such was the case this morning as two or three local guys were all over me as I was trying do unlocking, pack up, set sat nav, check the bike etc. One rather loud and quite affluent looking individual declared to me and to all around that this was the motorbike for him and that he must have one. His manner was a bit intimidating and I noticed that he had a couple of colleagues waiting for him in a 4×4. He asked me which direction I was headed and I told him the opposite way back towards Iringa.
I rode south through tea plantations and past one of the by now mandatory truck wrecks.
The border was only about forty minutes from Tukuyu and I pulled over at a little village a few kilometres beforehand just to sort out papers that I want to have close to hand.
A couple of guys approached me offering to exchange my Tanzanian Schillings for Malawian Kwacha. After briefly haggling over the exchange rate we made the exchange. It was handy to have this done before actually reaching the border.
The crossing took much longer than I expected, primarily on the Malawi side. The Tanzanian Customs clearance and Immigration was easy enough except for this irritating system of having to fill out a form for everything.
Since my last trip the Malawi Roads Authority have introduced a new road tax for all foreign registered vehicles. The red sports car on the poster gave a brief sense of culture shock as I haven’t seen a car like that since arriving in Africa.
I was told that they had to raise an invoice before I could pay this US$20 road tax. But first they had to examine both my Carnet and RF101. But even before that, I had to fill out a form requesting an invoice. I did so and was asked to take a seat. Half an hour later I was called and told that I would need assistance from an official named Jim. Jim presented himself and told me that, now that I had filled in the request form, he would arrange to have the invoice raised. I was told to once again take a seat while they prepared it.
During all this time an enthusiastic Malawi insurance agent waited along side me expecting my business. He wanted to process my paperwork for an insurance disc but I told him that I would not discuss it until I had the road tax sorted out. He sat right up against me the whole time.
Jim called me after a while and he was now bearing my Carnet along with this essential invoice. I handed him the US$20 but he told me that we had to go to the cashier in another office to pay it. He came with me and we waited for about fifteen minutes while he chatted with the cashier. Payment now made, I held out my hand for the road tax certificate. “Not yet my friend”. He brought me back to another public counter and started signing and stamping other people’s documents.
He glanced up at me now and again and the penny dropped that he was totally pulling my chain. I then slipped US$5 across the counter, he smiled, stamped and signed my certificate and handed it to me. Why did I not just do that in the first place.
I then had to buy a visa from Malawi Immigration, sort out the insurance and try to move on out of there. Done and dusted after more than two hours, I was now into Malawi.
Shortly after crossing the border I bumped into a Belgian couple who are riding from Capetown to Brussels. We chatted about difficulties ahead for them in getting through northern Kenya, southern Ethiopia, Egypt and how to cross the Mediterranean. They were quite relaxed about it but rather them than me.
The road for about the first hundred kilometres was dreadful but then improved for a while. I was pleased to get my first glimpse of Lake Malawi and it looked beautiful.
The road south then climbs away from the lake zigzagging high up through the mountains. Potholes pockmarked the road and the pace was slow….
… but not slow enough for this guy.
Another couple of hours brought me to the northern city of Mzuzu. This was not far from where I stayed with a family/community on my last trip. I made contact with them and was apologetic that I wouldn’t have time to visit this time around.
Although I still had another ninety kilometres to go to Chintheche I decided to fill up with petrol. There might not be another garage for some distance. The woman who worked at the filling station asked about the stickers of Kaylee I have on the tank, enquiring if she was my daughter. I told her that was in fact my granddaughter and that has been keeping me company along my journey. She smiled and asked me to to tell Kaylee that a woman in Mzuzu said hello. There was nothing fake about her sentiment and it reminded me of how nice most Malawian people are.
The day had dragged on and the sun was getting low in the sky. I pushed on to make Chintheche before dark as the last couple of kilometres is a rough track and I wanted to negotiate it in daylight.
The owner of the bungalow by the lake where I would be staying for the next few days had previously emailed that she would not be there when I arrived. Mariette is a retired Dutch woman who has lived in the area for many years and indeed, on and off in Africa through most of her life.
I must admit that I was fairly whacked by the time I arrived but I was really pleased to be back at this very special, remote and peaceful place. It was dusk as I stepped into my little cottage and it was exactly as I remembered it.
I was joined by one of Mariette’s dogs to watch the moon over the lake. The elderly local lady who dropped in some groceries to the cottage said something rather different, but touching, to me. She said that she was proud of me, that I had promised that I would one day return and now I had….
ZIGZAGGING AFRICA BY MOTORBIKE 