Nov 23 - The Mangoes are in

November 23

As the delicious redness of the cooler climate Zomba plateau strawberries meet their demise for yet another season, wilting under the growing humidity and daily afternoon tropical downpours and thunderstorms, there is one thing that is indisputable… the mangoes are in. Only a few days ago we stopped at a roadside stall on our way to a relaxing getaway at a lakeside retreat for the night – our little slice of ‘us time’ after a week of frenetic tourism with Heth’s Mum. No less than sixty or seventy perfect juicy yellow mangoes for 50 kwacha, or a little under forty Australian cents. We mix fresh banana, pineapple and mango every day for your average breakfast smoothie. We sit outside until midnight at a dinner party regardless of the day because its always warm. We wear flip-flops out to a bar or restaurant and that’s considered ‘dressing up.’ Welcome to life in the tropics.

Life here, despite the innumerable and often insurmountable daily frustrations, is good. Sitting under the shade of decades-old frangipani trees and sipping a ubiquitous Green in front of the crystalline waters of Lake Malawi, taking a break from the laborious task of drenching ourselves in unending sun as we watch fisherman paddle their dugout canoes into the sun splashed palette of colour that is the distant haze of a Mozambican mountain backdrop. A world away from the fetid stench of human bodies crammed into a swathe of HIV, tuberculosis, diarrhoea and malnutrition that is our other life at Queen Elizabeth Central Hospital; a place that on first visit one could never imagine accustoming themselves to, yet after all too short a time it becomes as normal as any other medical institution the world over. To say that we are living a life of contrast would be more than an understatement… although probably better than calling it ‘black’ and ‘white.’

Our week of leave just gone? Walking the shores of the stunning Lake Malawi taking our slowly improving Chichewa for a spin with the over excited kids from the local fishing villages. Spotting somewhere in the vicinity of forty-five elephants on a single two hour game drive in Malawi’s premier game park, and that’s ignoring the hyenas, impala, kudu, waterbuck, reedbuck, nyala, hippos, buffalo, warthogs, baboons, vervet monkeys, sable antelope and countless number of birds. Hiking to the incomparable vistas off the precipitous peaks of the Zomba plateau and Mulanje massif, then relaxing with a well deserved beer. Hunting for the myriad tropical fruits that adorn every market snapshot, roadside stall and even our very own fruit and vegetable-laden garden, then feasting in the tranquility of bird calls and abundant flowers on our back verandah. Life is definitely manageable.

But with mangoes come mozzies
Our toilet and shower both leak, water comes through the cupboards when the rain gets too hard, our electricity and water both cut out with monotonous regularity, the fridge door doesn’t shut half the time and our power line sends off showers of sparks every time the wind throws it into nearby foliage. People walk in front of moving traffic with a degree of unawareness that most two year olds can only aspire to, potholes grow increasingly cavernous with each downpour, customer and service are two mutually exclusive words, and the concept of a balanced meal is one that has something more than only carbohydrate.

Frustrations here are many, but one cannot possibly begin to think of these ‘inconveniences’ as a serious problem in the face of such massive disease burden. Without even beginning to tackle the issues of a single yearly crop harvest leading to chronic food shortages that cause annual plague proportions of malnutrition (and still the government persists with selling off the ‘excess’ supplies to neighbouring countries post-harvest each year), the ongoing sub-Saharan pandemic of HIV/AIDS that is literally crippling the exact people that comprise the workforce needed to prop up these ailing economies, or the resurgent vehemence of diseases such as tuberculosis and syphilis in the face of such staggering rates of immunosuppression, the rain brings the mozzies. And these mozzies bring malaria. An interesting disease in the adult world over here in that almost all sub-Saharan Africans are partially immune – in other words, these are the survivors of innumerable malarial infections throughout childhood. Their disease is, on the whole, very mild. Kids on the other hand are like pins at the end of a bowling alley for malaria, and I feel that we are just starting to see the tip of the iceberg… things really get going in a couple of months when the rains truly hit. Yet already we are becoming progressively more inundated with unconscious, fitting, anaemic children who have an alarmingly high rate of post disease disability, and that’s if they survive to begin with. Never before could I have imagined just how many of a hospital population could be nursed while comatose. Absurdly, it is now common place.

Nov 3 - Visitors arrive

November 3 - Kasha

When you live on the other side of the world from all your friends and family, a visitor is somewhat of a novelty. We had traipsed all over town preparing the spare bedroom, borrowing a friend’s ute (a.k.a. pickup) to transport a double bed and bedside drawers we had bought off another doctor who was leaving, and whizzing around to find bedding, pillows and pillowcases. So to see Kasha’s smiling face as she disembarked at Blantyre’s illustrious Chileka airport – little more than a shed with a viewing deck that updates its arrivals board once a week, if you’re lucky – was quite a treat given she was our first visitor.

Kasha arrived stressed, really stressed. She is currently involved in initiating a multinational drug trial into the use of a new agent in an abbreviated treatment regimen for tuberculosis, meaning seemingly endless meetings, presentations and conferences throughout Africa. A mere two hours into Malawian life and a wave of relaxation had washed its way calmly over her; such is the beauty of the pace of life here. Strangely, it almost feels like we’re cheating living here (many I presume would see things very differently given what we’re doing), being able to go away to such amazing places most weekends, having so many social events on during the week, and living in a country where everything runs a little like its in slow motion. Either way, it is hard not to be relaxed here.

The ‘shock’ of African life didn’t quite hit Kash the way it may some, given she had been travelling constantly around different African nations of late organising her trial. It did however mean we could relax straight into life rather than get her over any culture shock to begin with. Greens on the konde for sunset was the perfect start, then to Chris’ house for a surprise party for another friend’s going away before moving on to the African rhythms and decidedly local feel of the Blue Elephant bar – a good introduction to the social life of Blantyre.

The next morning, after reluctantly dragging ourselves out of bed, we made for Mulanje, with the Silver Stallion proving its worth as it managed to get us through enormous mud puddles, 4WD tracks and some altogether non-saloon car terrain. Although Kash had only a couple of days previously been sitting in the sea level comforts of her London apartment, she managed to haul herself onto Malawi’s most beautiful plateau for some incredible scenery, tough but enjoying hiking, then one hell of a lightning display that night from the warm sanctuary of Chinzama Hut.

Of course, to finish her whistle-stop visit of Blantyre and surrounds, a tour through our hospital's wards – something no visitor here leaves without being shown through.

November 14 - Jill

For Jill, Heth’s Mum, things were a little different. This was her first trip to this continent, indeed to any country of Malawi’s relative chaos and poverty. So, having been in the country a mere two hours, when we stopped for a cutlery-free local meal of nsima and chambo at a tiny local eatery as literally our first break outside the airport, she coped amazingly well. In fact, everything she came across, from the frenetic attention of the village kids along the lake to the rather lackadaisical approach to safety of the Liwonde canoe safari amongst rather threatening hippos, she dealt with surprisingly calmly. Not until Blantyre market, with the swarms of children begging, selling plastic bags and offering to mind your car along with vendors yelling incessantly at you for your custom, did she feel at all out of place in what has become so second nature to us. Granted, even for us with our twice weekly trips to the market, we still require somewhat of a deep breath before diving in to this intense squeeze of humanity.

As testimony to the all permeating relaxation of our country, within three hours here, Jill was sound asleep lying in the shade of frangipani trees on the grass by the lakeshore. An almost unfathomable world away from the miserable weather and hectic work-driven pace of life for her in northern Scotland. Welcome to Malawi.

And it’s not every day a returned traveller questions the very meaning of what they do on a day to day basis back at home after a brief one week glimpse into the lives of others. Clearly Africa made quite an impact on Jill.

December 14 - Mum, Dad, Anna & Cam

‘Baboon! Impala! Hippo!’ The game spotting had started quickly.
‘Elephants,’ added Mick, our guide, pointing out half a dozen several tonne beasts grazing only a few metres from the sealed road.
‘Giraffe!’ threw in Anna from the back seat, with us having driven less than fifty metres further down the road to see three of these awkwardly majestic creatures loping in front of us, ‘this is awesome!’
We hadn’t even entered the national park yet, and already we had seen a good number of South Luangwa’s wildlife; things were off to an amazing start. And to think just over twenty four hours earlier, my family hadn’t even set foot on African soil. With Lara well and truly pregnant and Amanda flying all over the States with her new consulting job, we were left with Mum, Dad, Anna & Cam to visit us.

Dad lost six kilos in eight days thanks to some torrential diarrhoea, couldn’t join us on most safari drives in Zambia due to a bad back, was forced to turn around half way up the slopes of Mulanje courtesy of heart palpitations, and couldn’t join our Christmas roast dinner given some severe abdominal pains. Cam managed to almost have himself imprisoned after photographing a police checkpoint just outside Lilongwe his first morning here then had two half our seizures while waiting for his flight home, Mum was covered head to toe with mud and was close to becoming an elephant’s punching bag during our safari and managed to sprain her ankle not once but twice up Mulanje, and Anna almost had her cervical spine snapped in two as our driver ‘missed’ the new speed bump on the way back from Zambia and was a inch from hypothermia after swimming to a rather distant island at the Lake. All in all, I think they loved Malawi.

Three days of spectacular game viewing in Zambia’s incomparable South Luangwa National Park, several nights soaking up the luxurious surrounds of Cape Mac Lodge on the lake, a beautiful hike up Mulanje and even some time appreciating our day to day life in Blantyre. The perfect introduction to Africa, and some very memorable ‘souvenirs’ to take home as well.


And there is something beautiful about the vicarious viewing of a foreign land through fresh eyes once again. The fact that almost everyone walks around in bare feet. The broad genuine smile that flashes white across a small black African face. The intensity of the market being met with a mix of wide eyed disbelief and enthusiasm for something so captivating. Hawkers touting their custom made key-rings not being an annoyance, or using your hands to eat a full meal being a completely novel experience. So many little peculiarities that we now simply take for granted or view through the somewhat tainted eyes of previous experience. All very refreshing to see the reactions of those who find these happenings completely foreign.