Lake Malawi at Chitimba Camp (S10.58488° E34.17537°) |
We are indeed in a cocoon when you consider the security measures our touring company enforces to keep us and our precious belongings safe. Everything carried on the truck is securely locked in place at all times. When we stop for a break we close and lock all windows. We have a lock box in which we can store valuables. The box or safe is never referred to by that name though. We assigned it a code word, salmon. When somebody wants to access it we say, I want some salmon. Every campground we visit, indeed every supermarket or other place where money is exchanged, is gated and without exception guarded by security personnel often armed with automatic weapons. We stay in peaceful, self-contained campgrounds. We buy groceries and snacks in a nearby supermarket before setting up for the night. Once inside we mostly stay inside. We have a bar, music, Internet if lucky, laundry service, meals provided by our camp chef, Mr. Mwoi, and each other. It's strongly recommended that we not leave the camp alone, especially at night. There are various activities like trips to African villages or recreations like snorkeling available. For most of those we're accompanied by a local man who guides us and, I presume, keeps us out of trouble. It's a bizarre situation once you open your eyes to it.
Part of the reason Theroux left Africa was because he was living and teaching in Kampala, in Uganda, during the rise of the crazed dictator Idi Amin. He realized where things were headed and got out while it was still possible. Earlier he had taught at a small English-founded school near Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi. He describes how the once beautiful and well kept homes and neighborhoods from his past have degenerated into broken down hovels, the once neat streets strewn with litter. Nothing's been maintained or repaired during the 40 years since he left. His old school, the Songe Hill School, once boasted a fine library with many books and current magazines; it was well lighted and in constant use by the staff and students. These days it's a shambles. Few books remain. The rest were stolen by students or perhaps other people who were likely on the verge of stavation and who sold them to buy food. Probably. Despite the fact that the school is being run by an old friend of his, a dedicated woman who has the best interests of her community and her country at heart, the windows are broken, only one light fixture has a working light bulb and it serves the entire library. The problem, she tells him, is no money; this is a constant refrain he heard all over Africa.
In the book he sometimes thinks out loud and includes us in the converstion he is having with himself: how could things have come to this pass with so much help being continually available from western countries? He describes his ride on a decrepit train through Tanzania. The railroad was built by the Chinese during the time just afer Tanzania gained its independence from Great Britain when that country was entertaining the idea of becoming a socialist state. The railroad has not seen one bit of maintenance, nor has one meter of new track been laid, since the Chinese left. Not only are the cars in horrible condition but they're filthy, the bathrooms stink, the food is awful. He provides some of his own answers to that question.
Mismanagement is rampant in Africa. There is corruption at every level of government. Theroux lays much of the blame on the aid given to the various African states through NGOs and well intentioned foreign governments. It has encouraged an unhealthy dependence on people other than Africans to solve uniquely African problems. There has developed a culture of securing aid at all costs -- the crooked officials that comprise most African governments consider the aid a source of revenue, a huge source. Securing that revenue has become the main focus of those officials. He goes so far as to suggest that they might not want conditions in their countries to improve because then the aid would stop. The well will have run dry. Add to that the grim fact that there are countless petty bureauocrats siphoning off the aid before the people who really need it see one penny. Moreover, he considers most of the people working for those NGO's and aid organizations profiteers, just another layer of bureauocracy whose members get paid to help Africans but who in reality dilute what eventually does reach the poor. It really pisses him off that the newest Land Rovers and Land Cruisers one sees invariably belong to the well known NGOs or relief agencies and that they seldom have offices in the poorest section of town. Their officers are part of the elite class in African society.
Tanzania - typical house of mud and sticks |
Typical home - Tanzania |
Used shoe store - roadside Tanzania |
In one of my other posts, I commented about how this type of trip wouldn't work for everyone. We're on a kind of forced march covering countless miles of country that, were I traveling alone, I would be experiencing in a different, a more real way. I don't have the courage of a Theroux or of my friends Kirk and Lynn from Homer who traveled through Africa on bicycles in the 80s, so I reckon this is the only way I'll ever be able to see it. And we're camping every night. I mentioned the tents we're using earlier. They're heavy, probably around 40 pounds, made of thick oiled cotton canvas and if you're used to a nice Sierra Designs 3 pound backpacking tent, as I am, they're plenty tough to set up. I drag the dreadful thing to a chosen spot, a shady one if possible, and with much cursing erect it before hurrying off to supper. Then in the morning before breakfast, we bring them down. They are difficult to pack, especially if wet, but breakfast is ready by the time we get the ungainly things stowed inside the truck. We wolf down some eggs and toast, fruit, coffee or tea, wedge our bags into the truck and climb up into our seats. From 10 to 15 hours later, we repeat the whole process.
The other problem is that if you like to take photos it's virtually impossible to get good ones from the madly bouncing truck windows. Covering as much ground as we are every day the truck simply cannot be stopped for photo opps as if we were traveling by private car or motorcycle. I got very frustrated about that as the days wore on.
Okay, I'll stop ranting now. Things have possibly changed in Malawi since Theroux wrote his book. I have not been to Lilongwe but our travels yesterday through the northern portion of the country revealed a verdant and productive looking country especially when contrasted with neighboring Tanzania and Kenya. I'll have more to say about Malawi in the next entry. We have a great group of folks and a fine crew managing our tour. Even if what we're seeing is only a small piece of Africa it will nevertheless be a memorable experience, and one I'll aways treasure.
Typical Malawi brick house |
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