We’re going home for a few weeks so won’t be online much!  Instead we’ll be enjoying the joys of the United States of America…

First and foremost, Family and Friends!

And then, in no particular order:

Southern Bar-B-Q

Starbucks (I know, I know… but it’s so good!  Eggnog Lattes, people!)

Driving on the right (and correct) side of the road

Cold weather

Christmas music

Figuring out how to use a smart phone

Trying to shake my pseudo-English accent and get back to my moderate twang

Catching up on trashy reality TV

Annoying my sister with my inability to adjust back to the states (look at this giant shopping mall!  what is this moving staircase?)

Watching football in high-def

Wine from a bottle (not a box) and from somewhere other than South Africa

Turning on the tap and knowing that water will come out; flipping the light switch and knowing there will be electricity

Did I mention family and friends?!

One of the Open Arms foster homes

Whenever I’ve had a bad day, or a frustrating moment, or just really missed home, I’ve gone straight to Open Arms Infant Care Home and immediately felt better.  You would not necessarily think that an African orphanage is a place to go to be cheered up.  It conjures up images of pain, sickness, protruding ribs, flies on mouths, and hollow, haunting eyes.

Open Arms couldn’t be more different.  Open Arms is a bright, cheerful place full of healthy happy babies, attentive and loving caregivers (‘mothers’), excellent health care, and even a small paddling pool.

Dinner Time

In Malawi, orphans are classified as either single or double.  Single orphans have lost one parent (usually their mother) and a double has lost both parents.  Often, Malawian family units are so tight that the extended family will care for orphaned children, but many don’t have the resources to care for the child in their critical first few years.  That’s where Open Arms comes in.

Open Arms cares for infants until they are two or three years old, when most of them return home to their father, aunt, uncle, grandmother, or other guardian.  Often these guardians have visited the children during their time at Open Arms so that they have already formed a bond.

Doreen in her crib

At the infant care home, each ‘mother’ cares for about five children and there is a registered nurse who acts as the matron.   The children who can’t go home (either their family can’t or won’t care for them or they have been abandoned) move on to Harrogate House, which is located on the same property as the infant care home, where they attend preschool.

Once they have outgrown Harrogate House, the children will move to one of the foster homes in Blantyre.  In these foster homes, 4 to 6 children live together in a house with a designated ‘mother’.  They attend school and live life in a family unit.

Open Arms welcomed me as a volunteer when we first arrived and I was without a job.  Going to visit those sweet children and dedicated caring staff kept me sane when I was feeling bored or homesick.  Since then I visit about once a week and get that little shot of happiness that only a giggling happy baby can give you.  Open Arms might be my favorite place in all of Malawi and I was so fortunate to find one of those amazing volunteer opportunities where I always feel that I get more than I give.

They're definitely not shy

As many of you know, times are tough here in Malawi.  They are certainly tough everywhere, but especially here where the cost of living has gone up an estimated 51%  in the past four months.  These changes have seriously affected Open Arms and the care they are able to give.

If you are looking for an alternative gift this Christmas, consider making a donation to Open Arms. Even a small gift can make a huge difference.

Sibusiso – $5 a jar – a peanut-based protein supplement provides a nutritional boost for children who arrive malnourished or who suffer from chronic illness.

Formula Milk – $6 – This will provide all the nutrients a baby needs for one week. The youngest baby ever admitted to Open Arms was only 12 hours old.

Weekly Physical Therapy – $7 per visit – Children such as Edina, who was born with Cerebral Palsy, need regular physiotherapy to make progress and maintain mobility.

Malaria Instant Test Kit – $22 for 10 – In Mangochi, where medical services are less developed, yet Malaria is more frequent, instant test kits help the Matron to catch instances of Malaria early.

School Fees for One Year – $190 – Our Foster Houses provide a home for children with no viable family. Education is provided through private schools to give them the best opportunities for the future.

Open Arms is superbly run and acts as a model for other orphanages in Malawi.  Your gift will be used effectively and efficiently and will directly help children like these:

Wyson:

When Wyson arrived, he was so malnourished he screamed when fed.  Today, a year later, he is healthy, happy, and recently took his first steps.

Wyson walking!

Pemphero:

Pemphero’s mother died in childbirth and her father was unable to cope with a newborn and Open Arms welcomed her in August 2010.  Her father and grandmothers visit her often and she will go home when they are able to care for her. She is a favorite with the older children who call her “Lo Lo Lo.”

A happy Lo Lo Lo

Charlie:

Charlie lived at Open Arms for over two years and now lives with his grandmother.  He has been reunited with his older siblings and has adjusted well to his new life in the village.  Open Arms continues to support Charlie as they have  a sponsor who regularly helps his grandmother with the costs of supporting four children.

Charlie at Open Arms

Isaac:

Isaac was found abandoned and immediately brought to Open Arms.  While he struggled to put on weight at first, he is now healthy and rarely stops smiling or giggling.  He loves to be held.

Isaac is now healthy and happy

To learn more about Open Arms, visit their website: http://www.openarmsmalawi.org/

A Very Pretty Stamp

In Malawi’s early colonial days, writing a letter and sending it to a loved one set a complicated logistical postal system into motion.  While the Home Office might design a “big-picture” strategy for mail delivery, the postal system was at the local level required ingenuity and innovation.

The 'Big Picture' Approach

A letter would pass through many hands, like a baton in a relay race.  The letter would travel by land and water, and if fortunate, bypass curious hippos and hungry lions.  Considering the thousands of miles a letter would travel from Zomba to England, it was a testament to the innovative postal system in Malawi (then Nyasaland) that it ever arrived at all.  But letters did arrive and the postal system eventually became a successful and powerful service in Nyasaland.

You had to really want to communicate with someone

Creating an efficient postal service in Nyasaland was a vital priority for Commissioner and Consul-General, Henry (Harry) Johnston who  appointed Hugh Charlie Marshall as Postmaster General on his fourth day in Nyasaland in 1891.  Before this time, mail was sent down the river to Quelimane in Mozambique and folded into the regular Portuguese postal system, bearing Portuguese stamps.  During this period, many letters went missing.  While suspicious colonists were ready to blame the Portuguese, it was discovered that the Portuguese were not responsible for the loss of mail.  Instead, it was the work of “pugnacious hippos” who overturned canoes.

Hippos really don't mess around

Especially when feeling pugnacious

To create a self-sufficient Nyasaland postal service, the Postmaster General created a complex and innovative logistical system involving mail runners, canoes, and steamer ships .  With a Postmaster General, Nyasaland could finally issue its own stamps, which were sent in bulk from England.  Stamp shortages were common and in one instance an entire shipment of stamps went missing.  Assuming that they were stolen, the Postmaster General was instructed to personally initial the back of each legitimate stamp.  Hoping to avoid initialing at least 30,000 stamps by hand, he recommended switching to a system of secret markings, a method that remained in place long after his tenure.  A year after disappearing, the missing stamp shipment was found in a warehouse on the banks of the Zambezi where it had been mistakenly offloaded.

Whoops.

The backbone of the postal structure was a system of runners who would carry mail bags great distances across the width and breadth of the country.  The job was a coveted one and mail runners were well paid, well respected, and trusted.  Runners were selected from all different tribes and regions and often displayed astounding endurance and bravery. Their red and white uniform consisted of long coats, knickers, and a fez, as well as standard issue Snider rifles and a lantern.  They preferred to be barefoot and often carried the mail bags on their heads or shoulders.

Runners were remarkably fast.  It took seven days for a letter to travel from Chiromo to Fort Johnston and only two days for a letter to reach Mulanje from Blantyre.  By 1899, they were covering 10,000 miles in a single month and continued to transport mail even as late as 1937, when the postal service introduced the use of bicycles.

While runners were extremely effective, the postal system faced many challenges from the local wildlife.  When the system was first introduced, “the old settlers were convinced [that] the mail carriers would be eaten by lions.”  To protect their employees, the post office issued rifles and lanterns.  Post Master General Ernest Harrhy wrote in 1894 that “two carriers carrying mail bags between Mpimbi and Zomba were confronted by several lions.  Deeming discretion to be the better part of valour, they sought safety in the high branches of a friendly tree, and waited until their leonine majesties condescended to move on to pastures new.”   Postmaster General Gosling wrote in 1903 that “cases have occurred where the mail men have been driven to take refuge in a tree, and leave the bags at the foot to be smelled and pawed and discarded as inedible by disappointed beasts of prey, and mails have sometimes been delayed on that account.”  He also noted that leopards were a more common annoyance than lions.  Other wildlife proved challenging as well.  When runners were finally replaced by a lorry, elephants would  routinely knock it over.

Imagine what they'd do if you were on foot

Overcoming the initial logistical challenges of life in remote Nyasaland the postal service became a large and powerful division within the government.   In 1963, when the Malawian Government officially took full control of the department, it was the fourth largest behind medical, police, and district administrative services departments.

Today, as we send emails in only a few seconds, it is easy to take the postal service for granted.  Yet considering the challenges and the uniqueness of Malawi’s postal system, it is important to remember it as a testament to willpower and imagination.

To learn more about the history of Malawi’s postal service, visit the Namaka Postal Museum which is housed in a traditional mail carrier’s hut.  The museum is located on the right side of the road as you travel from Blantyre to Zomba.

Another pretty stamp

We celebrated in style again this year.  Twenty of us stayed at Conforzi Cottage for the weekend and with the help of our amazing Malawian chefs, put together a traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings.

Thanksgiving Dinner for 20

Our friend Mike was able to source two turkeys from Liwonde.  We toyed with the idea of bringing live turkeys to preside over the weekend in ceremonial capacity, you know, smiling, waving, posing for pictures – but as turkeys are loud, dirty, and mean as hell, we went with the two dead ones.  Mike did, however, make sure we had enough turkey feathers to decorate accordingly.  Mike also brought amazing child-sized Christmas sweaters from the market to get is all in the festive spirit.

Haute Christmas Sweaters

Sandy's Got This.

I tried to make cornbread, but unfortunately bought corn starch instead of corn flour.  I basically ended up making cakey bread with corn in it.  The Evans’ Spinach Casserole was a big hit.  I am beginning to learn that if you put enough cream cheese in something, it’s going to be a crowd pleaser.  Jen made delicious homemade stuffing and pumpkin pie, but I missed mama’s oyster dressing and consume rice.  We also had five cans of my cranberry sauce (bought at the low low price of $35).  What is Thanksgiving without canned cranberry sauce served in a can-shape, complete with ridges so you know where to slice it?

The British contingency added their own dish, called Bread Sauce (or something like that).  When they described it (with words like mushy, porridge, dissolved bead) I was nervous but it turned out to be very good, however, especially when added to turkey and cranberry sauce.

Note Bread Sauce Next to Salad

With a group of 20 (where the boys for once! outnumbered the girls) we had lots of games on the big expanse of beach, including kickball, French cricket, garden cricket, football, and “roof ball” (which is a newly created game that is sure to take off and become an international phenomenon).  In Roof Ball, the players throw the ball up on the roof and then tackle, bite, push, and shove each other to catch it as it bounces down.  The roof is corrugated tin so the bounces are unpredictable.  It’s really a dynamic spectator sport – the spectators sit on the steps under the roof, so really, all we can see are priceless facial expressions of intense concentration and competitiveness, like this:

Sheer Determination

And Athletic Ability

Make this a Great Spectator Sport

Saturday night we had the most spectacular thunderstorms – the lightening was constant and lit up the whole lake.  The rain poured down in torrents and thunder rumbled all night.  It made driving home down the dirt driveway a challenge, but was awesomely beautiful.

Getting Stuck after the Rains

We missed our friends and family terribly but have so much to be thankful for, including…

that we live in such a beautiful country

that we live with such wonderful people

that we are challenged everyday to learn and grow outside of our comfort zone

that we didn’t have live turkeys at the weekend

that we have such loving friends

that we have such amazing family

that our families are so understanding of our wanting to live here

for skype (when it works!!!)

for comments on our blog posts

for getting to go home for Christmas

for jobs we love

for happy memories of so many past Thanksgivings

And we are mindful  …

that we don’t have the stresses of a subsistence farmer, unlike 85% percent of Malawians who are counting the days of rain, hurrying to plant, praying for fertilizer subsidies, and uncertain of the harvest.

that brave people have put their lives on the line to protest for change

that Malawi has some tough days ahead

that we have a lot to learn from those cute children who smile and wave at us

KAR Monument in Zomba

Stamp celebrating the KAR

Driving through Zomba, the former capital of Malawi, it is impossible to miss the towering brick monument dedicated to those who served in the King’s African Rifles (K.A.R.).  Ornate and proud, it celebrates the victories and sacrifices of the many Malawians who served, not just in Africa, but around the world.

The Military branch, the King’s African Rifles, have a long history in what was first British Central Africa, then Nyasaland, and now Malawi.  When the region was still a rough frontier, missionaries and businessmen from the African Lakes Corporation banded together in 1888 to form a loose military force that could defend against slave raids.  The situation reached a crisis point when Mlozi, a slave trader in Karonga, massacred thousands of innocent people.  The military campaign against Mlozi, commanded by Captain F.D. Lugard, who happened to be passing through Nyasaland on a hunting safari, was a success. These events, along with Portuguese attacks in the Lower Shire, eventually led to Malawi being declared a British Protectorate in 1891.

With the new Protectorate came a formal military.  Captain Cecil Maguire recruited a small force of 150 Indian Sikh soldiers to form the corps of the British Central African Rifles.  The force engaged in several successful offences, so that by 1898, the Protectorate was experiencing a period of relative peace.  By this time, the Corps had expanded to two battalions and was sent to serve British interests abroad.  Soldiers from Nyasaland found themselves enforcing peace in Mauritius, engaging in battle against Mohammed Hassan (“The Mad Mullah”) in Somaliland, and fighting in Gambia, Ghana, Uganda, and Kenya.

In 1902, all British military forces in East and Central Africa were consolidated and renamed the King’s African Rifles.  Nyasaland’s battalions, the First and Second, which had already been in service for over fourteen years, became the senior regiments within the newly formed K.A.R.

In Nyasaland, the military influenced almost every aspect of social life.  Soldiers were often responsible for civil services; they would collect taxes, build roads and bridges, provide health care, and administer justice.  The sites of former forts are now some of Malawi’s largest towns, including Mangochi, Karonga, and Lilongwe.  The military influenced local culture as communities developed traditional dances that imitated the marching parades of army recruits.  The military even shaped the local language. Certain words, such as galimoto (car), basi (enough), and chai (tea), seem to have been adopted from the Indian soldiers who first made up the Rifle corps.

Over 300,000 Malawians served during World War I.  Soldiers fought against German forces in German East Africa (now Tanzania) and fought in Malawi, Uganda, and Kenya.  It was a difficult time for Malawian soldiers. There was a severe lack of sufficient rations and effective health care, which contributed to high death rates.

During the Second World War, soldiers were much better cared for and times were so much more civilized that veterans of both wars referred to World War II as the “war with tea.”  When World War II erupted, Malawian soldiers were sent to defend British East Africa (Kenya).  In one outstanding instance of bravery and valor, a company of 100 Malawian soldiers held their ground against 3,000 Italian forces at Moyale.  Their victory was a great boost for morale in British Africa and ensured the protection of a strategic region.  Malawians went on to serve in successful campaigns in Ethiopia, Djibouti, Somalia, and Madagascar.

Towards the end of the war, Malawian soldiers were deployed to Burma (Myanmar) to fight against Japanese forces.  An observer in Burma described the Nyasaland troops in an article that was republished in the July 12, 1945 edition of the Nyasaland Times.  He wrote,

as a people they [Nyasaland soldiers] grow on you. You become very fond of them and their many fine qualities. Their sense of humor is acute and even after a long and tiring march in great heat, there is always one of them with a ‘turn’ [improvisational humor]. The quality is valuable in a country like Burma where, when operations continue in the monsoon jungles, a sense of humor is worth its weight in grenades. When you are sodden with rain and your kit weighs an extra few pounds, without a fire at night and forced to sleep on the wet ground, the spirit of the Nyasa is not affected [...] 

The troops of this battalion have seen plenty of the world, and will see plenty more before this war is finished. This will not change them very much. They can look after themselves in a dangerous world, and amuse themselves in the heaviest monsoon.

It is important to remember that Malawians were often drafted through forced conscription, yet they served with distinction and honor and were amongst the most respected soldiers in the Allied forces.

After independence in 1964, the King’s African Rifles became the First Battalion of Malawi Rifles of the Malawian Army.  Today, the army has developed and expanded and serves in peacekeeping missions throughout Africa, carrying on their long tradition of proud service.

KAR Parade, Zomba

We had one day of rain last week and are now in the middle of a beautiful thunderstorm that has gone a long way in cooling things down.  Afternoon thunderstorms are great.. but afternoon thunderstorms in Malawi are spectacular…

So while I listen to big fat rain drops spilling from the sky outside, the rustling of leaves and the soft roll of thunder, I can tell you about how I spent last Friday.

The NGO that I work for does wonderful, creative development work.  My colleagues are the best and brightest in Malawi and I love my job.

As wonderful as the organization is, it has not been immune to the economic downturn facing most of the world these days and as contracts end, people are being let go.  This, combined with confusing new legislation about pension reform, has created a messy environment for Human Resources.  Anyway, the employees whose contracts ended were frustrated by the lack of clarity on their severance pay and management was frustrated by conflicting information from lawyers, bankers, and bureaucrats.  It left the former employees and management at a standstill.

Friday, the former employees decided enough was enough.  After five months of back and forth, it was time to force a decision.  So about eight of them came to the office compound and locked the massive gates that surround the building.  As security is such an issue here, the gates, massive brick wall and electric fence around the property are pretty impenetrable, meaning we were trapped inside.

Their next step was to cut off all the power.  No power, no generator, no computers, no internet, no fans –  in this heat!  Then they basically staged a sit-in in the Executive Director’s office.

Most of us were just really stunned – surprised that the frustration had reached the level of hostage taking.  I think I was more unnerved than most as so often and so sadly, locked doors and instability can lead to violence.  Here in Malawi though, the worst they did was to deprive us of internet (no Facebook or YouTube – for hours!).

After several hours, a colleague got frustrated enough to jump in his pickup truck and ram the massive locked gates.  He reversed and backed into them about 6-8 times before they broke open.  His truck and another car got out before the disgruntled employees relocked the gates.  I wasn’t quick enough.

Taking pity on me, the gardener led me through the wild wilderness that is the property’s second lot and had me shimmy under the now defunct electric fence (they’d cut the power to that too) and I made my escape.

A few other people also escaped that way.  Everyone else, though, especially those who had cars trapped in the parking lot, were stuck there until late in the evening.  My boss called me that night when they finally reached an agreement and were released.  She was so tired and hot, but mostly just hungry.

So, you have to really admire everyone in this scenario – the management was patient and found a solution without calling the police; the disgruntled former employees felt they had been patient enough and finally got attention without violence.  And I have a good story to take home with me, of being briefly held hostage in Malawi.  Of course, as I get older, the story will definitely get more dramatic… “and then, after surviving for hours by eating mangos from the garden, I had to MacGyver a tiny explosion as a diversion….”

1. Joke about how not hot it is.  Ex. “good thing we have a 4X4 car cause it looks like the snow might really come down this weekend!”  Seriously, this joke never gets old.   Everyone thinks it’s funny.

1. Drink a chocolate bar straight from the wrapper – because it’s become a melted liquid mass of deliciousness.  Liquid Snickers is my favorite

1. Hang your head out of the window when driving, like a dog, because the air conditioning in your car is broken.  It doesn’t look weird – promise – but be warned, according to official police documents you can technically be fined for having body parts outside of a moving vehicle.

1. Line up at the bank (where they DO have air conditioning!).  A typical line will give you one hour of air con.  If you allow people to step ahead of you, you could potentially buy yourself two solid hours.  The downsides are that you have to stand the whole time and there are only so many ways to entertain yourself while standing in line at a bank.  I like to spend my time planning hypothetical robberies.

1. Wait in a fuel queue!  Trust me, the one thing more frustrating than the weather is waiting for petrol/diesel when there are 79 cars, 34 trucks, 11 buses, and 2.3 million jerry cans in front of you.  It will definitely take your mind off the heat.

1. Pretend that your towels are warm because you’re staying in a fancy hotel with a towel warmer,  instead of the fact that it’s so hot, the towels are absorbing and retaining the heat.  You can also have fun with hot sticky deodorant.  Pretend it’s an amazing new spa treatment.

1. Go fan shopping.  It’s become a bit of a hobby for me – I now know the best hardware stores on Haile Selassie Blvd for fans, the best models, and that one should never, ever buy a fan from Game.  I don’t care how desperate you are.

1. Bluff your way into swimming at the local high school’s pool.  Yeah, you’re totally a teacher, if anyone asks.

1. Go to a movie at the air conditioned cinema – I’m not even going to tell you what I went to see last weekend, but I will admit that Selena Gomez was starring and I brought up the average age of movie viewers by about 12 years.  Ok, 17 years.

1. Drive into town and rent a room at a hotel with air conditioning and drink gin and tonics – that’s what they did in The Great Gatsby, right?  Oh wait!  There’s a tonic shortage.  Guess we’ll just have to drink beer til it runs out too!

So don’t feel too sorry for us – the rains will come soon and in the meantime, we have plenty of liquid chocolate and the challenge of finding new mixers for gin.

Bread worth millions (google images)

One of the most interesting aspects of our visit to Zimbabwe was that not only could we get diesel (!) but also American dollars – right out of the ATM!

Today, Zimbabwe uses the US dollar as its currency after the complete and total collapse of the Zimbabwean economy.

The rate of inflation shot up so much that Zimbabwean dollars became worthless.  At the height of the crisis, a man was pushing a wheel barrow chock full of millions of Zimbabwean dollars when he was attacked.  The thieves dumped all the money on the ground and stole the wheelbarrow.  Inflation happened so quickly that you would sit down at a restaurant and by the time you finished your meal and were ready to pay, the prices had already inflated.

To stabilize the economy, Zimbabwe switched to American dollars in 2009.  So there we were, in the middle of Zimbabwe, handing over bills with Andrew Jackson’s face on them.  This made our trip even more fun!  No challenging exchange rates to calculate in my head – well, actually, no turning to Sandy and asking how much something costs…  Even though I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t translate kwacha into dollars anymore, it was so refreshing to have everything in a familiar and relatable currency.  “What? That stone carving only costs one dollar?  Give me ten of ‘em.”

Switching to US dollars seems to be working  and while the economy has stabilized, it’s not without its quirks.  While dollar bills were plentiful, there were no American coins.  So when you buy something that costs $1.25, the store or vendor won’t have quarters, dimes, nickels, pennies to give you your change.

Instead, Zimbabweans have gotten creative.  Many stores will issue coupons worth different denominations that will total the amount you’re owed.

Others use South African Rand coins.

The grocery store gave us our change in candy.  $0.60 equals three hard fruity candies.  I like that exchange rate.

And finally, there was the vendor who gave his change in small stone hippo carvings.

Inflation (google images)

Our stone hippo carving vendors

sunset over Leopard Rock

On our recent amazing trip to Zimbabwe, we spent three nights in the Bvumba (or Vumba) mountains in the Eastern Highlands.  It was such a lovely trip that I’ve actually had the post-awesome-vacation blues all week.

A group of six of us met in Bvumba where three of them ran a half marathon (basically up a mountain) and where Sandy would play roughly 4,891 holes of golf on a championship course.

We left Blantyre at 5:15 am and drove all day – only stopping for coffee and pastries in Tete (those Mozambicans really make good pastries) and a quick drink in Catandica.  AND, we  stopped for diesel!  They have diesel in Mozambique!  We pulled up to the pump and even though I expected the attendant to say “ahhh no” as they have for the past 9 months in Malawi because we’re in the depths of a fuel crisis, we got a full tank and Pierce (the Isuzu) was happy…

The border crossings were relatively painless – one immigration official told Amanda, our only English traveler, that she would have to pay more for her visa – because she’s short.  He was kidding – she did have to pay more, but because she’s English, not because she’s 5’1″.

We made it to Mutare in Zimbabwe and then followed the signs to Leopard Rock high in the Bvumba mountains.  The drive was beautiful; my ears popped as we ascended through hills, mountains, and finally up into the Mountains of the Mist (Bvumba means mist in Shona).  It was really incredible – seriously…

We had been traveling for twelve hours, we had crossed two borders, spoken (eh hem… tried to speak) four different languages, driven through wide dusty plains and endless dry-season scenery.  Bvumba was another world – it was green, cool, and the air was so clear and clean it actually tasted good.  We passed through dense forests more lush than the Blue Ridge, roads with overhanging branches forming a canopy like in low country South Carolina, groves of eucalyptus that felt like a rain forest, tall green grass like the English countryside and endless fields of blooming proteas like in Cape Town.

Our first night, we stayed at a cottage overlooking the mountains.  The travel agent had told us to go to the “Castle” to collect the keys.  I was excited, as I had heard from my former boss that deep in the Eastern Highlands is a castle hotel carved into the side of a mountain.

There was a sign at the end of the driveway twenty feet from Leopard Rock that read, “the Castle.”  We pulled into the long driveway around 5:30pm – my favorite time of day.  With dusk softly falling, the haze of the day melts away and the muted colors of the landscape become all the more beautiful.  The driveway took a slight turn and there we were, staring up at an actual Castle.  It’s not a huge castle, but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in enchanting charm.  Perched high on the mountain, it blends in with the surroundings and offers spectacular views of the valley down below.

Driving up to the Castle

We wandered around, looking for Alex, who had our keys to the cottage and were directed to a room at the bottom of the stairs.  As we opened the door, it was like being transported to a medieval castle deep in the English countryside.  The room was a large square with thirty foot ceilings and a fire roaring in the giant fireplace.  Alex, the owner and operator of the castle, welcomed us, offered us a seat and then a small glass of port.  We sat, sipping our port and listening to our host spin stories of Zimbabwean history and gossip about diplomats in Harare.

The Castle exterior

We asked the history of this Castle that looked as if it had been standing sentinel over the valley for centuries.  We learned that the Castle and Leopard Rock hotel had been built during World War II by Italian prisoners.

A wee dram of sherry

The Castle’s charm is enhanced by the fact that it is a relatively well kept secret.  Alex not only refuses to advertise his lodge, but seems picky about who can stay in the four guest rooms.  We were excited that we seemed to pass some kind of test and he gave us his business card, saying we would be welcome the next time we were in Bvumba.  We made it to the cottage in time for sundowners and had a lovely night sitting by the fire.

The next morning, three of the boys got up early early and casually ran a half marathon – because they’re amazing.  Sandy, Amanda, and I didn’t run, but we worked very hard waiting for them at the finish line at Leopard Rock and cheering when they crossed it.

Leopard Rock is a grand old hotel, complete with large fire places, crystal chandeliers, wide terraces, championship golf, horseback riding, and photos of Princess Diana from her visit.  It has a feel of luxury and history that adds to the hotel’s spectacular setting.  During our stay, I enjoyed talking with Zimbabweans who were all well versed in Malawian politics – they wanted to know what was happening after the big protests in July.  Each person we met was extremely warm, friendly, and interested.

In celebration of the Bvumba Run, the hotel had a disco (yep, they really called it a disco – like we were 13 year olds on a cruise ship) which ended up being really great – very much like an awkward wedding that you decide to make fun with your awkward dance moves.  The disco entertainment was enhanced by the DJ, a 68ish year old woman who went by the name DJ Spectrum and took her job very seriously.

So I spent the weekend enjoying the excellent hotel; Sandy spent the weekend enjoying the excellent fairways.

We walked with the boys as they played 18 holes, which was entertaining, both because Kevin (who doesn’t have a driver’s license) was driving the golf cart and because the course is so beautiful.  We got caught in a sudden thunderstorm – which of course did not deter Sandy – “should we play though? yeah, I think we should – the rain is letting up…”  he said as we stood drenched in a downpour.

All in all, it was such an amazing weekend and I loved everything: the friends we were with, the setting, the golf, the food, the hotel itself, and the people… and I can’t wait to go back!

Leopard Rock

Lobby of Leopard Rock

Golf course

• There will be a massive shortage of Carlsberg beer (greens as they’re called here) because they are having trouble importing the bottle tops.

• They are going to stop making Malawi Gin because they are having trouble importing the powder that they use to make it.

• Malawi Gin is made from a powder.  (what?!? seriously?)

• We are all going to have to acquire a taste for Chibuku Shake Shake since it will be the only thing left to drink.

Many would argue that chibuku, a popular traditional African beer, doesn’t have a very nice taste.  Some say it tastes like yeast, or dirt, baby throw up or sour milk, with the consistency of weak porridge.  They say you get the added bonus of little pieces of silt in your teeth.

And they would be right.

But Chibuku is so much more than that.  It is a cultural phenomenon.  Made from sorghum or maize, the recipe has been around for centuries and was formalized by a Zambian in the 1950′s.  The company that makes Chibuku is now owned by SAB Miller.  It’s cheaper than bottled beer (about 75 kwacha or $0.40), and for some, could constitute a whole meal.  Lots of people will just call it ‘shake shake’. (The liquid and solid separate while sitting on shelves, so it’s necessary to shake the carton thoroughly before drinking – ewww.)

The great (or bizarre) thing about chibuku is that it has very little alcohol content, but continues to ferment while on the shelf – or in one’s stomach.  So you could drink chibuku …  and then be drunk three hours later.

Chibuku is sold in lovely blue, red, and white cartons and there is an understood etiquette associated with drinking from them.  If you open only one side, like a milk carton, then you are showing that you intend to drink the carton alone.  If you grab your panga  knife and chop off the top, you intend to share the carton and pass it around to everyone.

Chibuku is the good stuff – it’s made in a warehouse (just next to Sandy’s office, actually).  But in the villages, people often make their own maize brews.  You can see people selling it in recycled water bottles – it’s thick oatmeal consistency baking in the sun.

I remember a few months ago being in a small village with a friend.  We pulled over the car when he spotted his grand-mother and her sister walking down the road.  They were elderly and friendly and were happy to see their relation visit from the big city.  He asked them where they were headed.  They were off, they told him, in search of local beer.  Drinking a local chibuku was going to be their day’s activity.  I could easily see my grandmother and her sister doing the same.  After all, as my often grandmother says, “it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

Because chibuku is an important aspect to daily life in Malawi, I felt the need to try it.  A few months ago, a large group of us gathered round and passed the chibuku carton.  We stood in a circle and it was like some horrible hazing experience.

As I said before, it tastes like sour milk, with the consistency of weak porridge, and you get little flecks of dirt (?) stuck in your teeth.  But strangely, as you pass the carton, you slowly start to get used to it.  Personally, I preferred the slightly less expensive version – Napolo (70 kwacha as opposed to 75 – I’m a cheap date).

Now I’m not saying that I would order chibuku in a restaurant (I’d love to see a waiter’s face if I did – “would you like the wine list?” “oh no, I’ll just have a carton of chibuku – could you put that in an ice bucket for us?” but, should the rumors be true and we’re left with no carlsberg or gin, we might be shake shaking for the next few months….

You know you want some.

See, I really did try it