Chapter 9
Border Crossing
Malawi is a small country in central africa, bordering the entirety of a lake named after it. I took a one hour bus from Mbeya (Tanzania) to near the Malawi border. I crossed the border on foot, like all of my Africa border crossings. I never had problems at borders. The border officials took pity on me. Partly because I was a female traveling alone and also due to my enormous backpack. I had to get down on all fours in order to stand up with it.
How strange that countries in Africa require USD in order to purchase a visa. It’s not like the United States has the strongest currency. It worked for me because I can easily get it, but imagine a European having to go to a currency exchange to get USD just to go somewhere in Africa. It costs $75 to get a 30 day visa into Malawi. Once inside you can extend for another 30 days for 5,000 Kwacha.
Arriving to Karonga
After crossing the border, I found a Malawian filling his five seat car with as many people as possible and taking them to Karonga. With two people in the trunk, nine of us set off. I reached Karonga after sunset and the town was pitch black. Malawi is known for having power cuts and blackouts are a regular occurrence.
The shared taxi driver helped me find a guest house. When the driver asked the price for a room the owner said 3,000 Kwacha. When I got out he changed the price to 6,000K. I stood my ground and managed to get the room for 3,500K. He lit candles in my room and I used my charger block (a must when traveling) to charge my phone.
Exploring Karonga
The next morning I walked to the lake and experienced the magic of lake Malawi. The sand had black particles that danced and changed patterns as the waves crashed into the shore. There were fisherman on the beach, drying out fish on wooden structures. Hand carved wooden canoes were scattered on the beach. The water lapped onto the shore in steady waves, but was otherwise calm as I looked out towards Tanzania on the other side.
Public Transport Disaster
That afternoon I got in a shared van headed towards Mzuzu. The driver and his hustler circled the tiny town of Karonga for at least an hour. They needed to fill the van before leaving. The frustrating part was that if they had stayed in one place they probably could have filled up much quicker. Instead, they insisted on prowling the streets and we missed out on almost every potential customer. There were lots of vans labeled Mzuzu and they were all fighting to fill up first.
I remember two women got out of a taxi, one of them had a baby strapped around her back. Men from two different vans rushed over to get the potential clients. Each man grabbed a woman and started pulling her towards his van. The hustlers came out and grabbed their luggage from the taxi and stuffed each piece into a different van. The women were yelling and trying to hold onto each other but the men continued to rip them apart. I watched this scene in horror. If men touched me that way I’d scream at the top of my lungs and punch them. These African women were used to this though.
The van drivers seemed incompetent and cruel. We circled around, half full, as I watched other vans fill up and leave. I hadn’t paid them yet. I wanted to jump ship and switch vans but after watching that stunt with the women, I was afraid.
Finally a group of men appeared with bags of maize. The driver jumped out to secure them as clients. He opened the trunk and started to remove everything (including my bag) in order to stuff the maize in under our feet.
Before they could finish the van started to drive off. Watching my bag disappear behind us, we went three blocks down and started to turn. I called out that they couldn’t leave my bag and tried to stand up. I was told not to worry and people tried to hold me down. The trunk was still open so I hopped over the back seat and jumped out of the moving van. I ran to my bag as all of the towns people laughed at the mzungu making a scene.
The van driver circled back and told me a cop was coming and they weren’t in a parking spot so they had to move. I chewed him out for leaving my bag. I’m sure it was fine but I wouldn’t be a savvy traveler if I let my bag out of my sight. The van driver apologized and told me to get back in. Adrenaline pumping, I refused. I’d been wanting to leave and now that I was out, no way was I getting back in.
The van still following and trying to coax me in, I started to walk in the direction of Mzuzu. Mind you, Mzuzu is a 5 hour drive away. Too traumatized to get in a different van and restart the waiting process, I decided to hitchhike.
Chronicles of a Wandering Soul 