Dec 27 - Fois Gras & the Great Divide

December 27-31

Thick seafood bisque, authentic foie gras, fillets of fresh fish in a rich cream sauce, rare sliced fillet steak with rosemary potatoes and garlic dusted beans, chocolate mousse and a selection of imported French cheese… six courses all washed down with a nice glass of South African shiraz of course. Leaving the luxury of Cape Mac Lodge - a bit of a splurge for New Years Eve - we then sit listening to international DJs string a line of house music tunes together, cooling down after our countdown dancing as we gaze out across the becalmed surface of Lake Malawi, a black mirror to the starry night sky with a profusion of small scale fireworks and flares punctuating the darkness from the various beachside parties and luxury boats that cater for the wealthy azungu, or white people.

A mere two metres from our party a small group of local villagers collect, their wide eyes agog at the ridiculous wealth and relative extravagance that is occurring no more than a stones throw from their houses, held at arms length by the single rope drawing a line in the sand between ‘them’ and ‘us,’ literally. Two party organizers bring a single crate of soft drinks down to the horde of locals fixated on our revellings, and a crazed rush for this small offering has the locals almost tearing the bottles from each others grasp. They guzzle them with maniacal intent, then the bouncers round up the bottles and offer them a polite but firm reminder that they will be staying behind the line… tonight, and probably forever.

I once read that Malawi takes the dubious honour of having the second greatest wealth disparity in the world. The great divide that exists between the disastrously poor and the comparatively wealthy here is something which needs to be experienced to be understood, and sitting there watching the desperation that the single crate of soft drinks created amongst those locals as we partied the night away was a rather sobering reminder of the country we now live in. Despite decades of firm, but essentially peacefully rule whilst others around it languished in the blood of civil war, coups, ruthless dictators and the liberation from western rule, Malawi remains one of the poorest countries in the world.

Cape Maclear, the biggest backpacker strip along the southern shores of Lake Malawi, is a stunning stretch of unbroken white sand backed by lush green hills. The many resorts, or ‘lodges,’ are walled compounds complete with bars, restaurants, different accommodation options and the like, that cater to varying levels of tourist wealth. These lodges sit side by side with the local thatched-roofed village huts, with locals and tourists alike using the beach and water for their activities together. Yet there couldn’t be a more dramatic contrast in standards of living. The locals, barely being able to afford more than their plate of nsima for the day, wash clothes by day and fish by night, eking out a living from the resources around them. The tourists on the other hand throw gin and tonics on their tab as they laze in the sun, using the water to swim, dive or waterski. Sure there are exceptions, but on the whole this is the black and white of Cape Mac.

While walking through the village one morning – something we had until now neglected to do in several visits here – Heth made a very interesting observation. The vast majority of locals here, and indeed throughout most of this country (and those surrounding it), are not doing anything to involve themselves in the wealth of tourist dollars that bathe this part of Malawi every day. It is the expats and white or Indian Malawians who own all the businesses and who reap all the rewards of the tourist dollar. In comparison, if you walk down the street in any tourist geared village or town in Asia, the locals are bending over backwards to make a rupee or baht or two from you in any which way they can… local eateries, small souvenir shops, tours, transport, laundry, bottled water. You name an idea or money making scheme, and the locals there have already thought of it several times over. So what is it that stops all but a few from developing a way of earning a living from the tourism that surrounds them in ever increasing numbers? A lack of decent education? Absolute poverty? Becoming over-accustomed to and reliant on a system of aid and hand outs? Cultural beliefs or taboos? Perhaps, and I say this with extreme caution, they simply do not have the inherent initiative to get out there and do something creative or plan effectively enough into the future? Which ever it is – and I dare say it is a murky amalgamation of all of the above – the great divide is rarely more evident than in this backpacker haven of Cape Maclear.

Dec 14 - Musical Malawi

December 14

One of the beautiful aspects of Africa, in keeping with its image throughout the world, is its musicality. Song seems to be a significant part of life for many here – not all that surprising given the lack of television, cinema and even electricity for so many. Today that was shown to us in two different forms, both equally as moving.

In the paediatric department, each time an international doctor or nurse who has been here for any significant length of time is departing, a makeshift farewell ceremony is put together on the Friday. Today was Sarah and Marie’s turn, two nurses who have been here for the last six months as part of a Birmingham nursing exchange with Malawi. The head sister of special care as Master of Ceremonies took us through the hour or so as per usual, much to the bemusement of all. Now it would be a little out of keeping in the western world for this sort of thing to happen, but here the proceedings begin with every single nurse on for that day joining in an unaccompanied song for the departing visitors… something they throw themselves into with no consideration of embarrassment. This is then followed by the head sister doing her usual hilarious and out of key solo number, then the addition this time of Christina – one of our Moyo nurses who is a very good singer, complete with her own CD recordings – coming up for a second solo. Some in Chichewa and some in English, all the songs are a typically rhythmic, soulful and religion-slanted affair. The ceremony of sorts is then topped off with more group song and present giving before coffee and cake… the latter which the nurses throw themselves into with just as much gusto (the concept of providing free food at any party, teaching or even meeting within a government or company setting is a given, and is taken up rather ravenously by most).

Heth on the other hand was required to be the speaking guest of honour out at Ndirande (a township in the north of Blantyre) for the Christmas meeting of all the palliative care home visiting volunteers, a rather large gathering made up entirely of Africans. Here, with her words being translated into Chichewa as she spoke, she was greeted with chorus-like responses from the masses with quintessential Chichewan ‘oohs’, ‘aahs’ and ‘eeees’ at every pause, applause after every second line and an extremely welcoming audience. The crowd also greeted her with a welcoming song before she began her speech, a harmonious African tune from the entire crowd that had Heth in a ‘this is why I came to Africa’ moment. As I say time and time again in my travel dairies throughout the world, you can’t buy that sort of experience.