I left Lilongwe at 6AM Tuesday with my gung-ho friend, Rob, my tent, a bottle of water and my ipod. The first day we walked 32km through beautiful highlands towards the southernmost part of the Zambian border. Leaving the city was hectic, but once we crossed the Banda Dam (which is more like a little bridge) we hit the cornfields like Frodo and Samweis. We stopped for lunch in a small village outside of Lilongwe and lots of people gathered around to see us sweaty "muzungus" (white people) devour bowls their local specialty: palm-soy stew. Rob made the mistake of drinking a whole glass of home-made palm wine. He was extra cheerful for the afternoon, but wore out just before nightfall, which was fine. We weren't walking in the dark.
We spent the first night camped in Chief Ramuda-Kampje's backyard along with his twenty cats and five young sons who promised to stay guard all night, but ended up getting into a wrestling match and then just falling asleep.
Early risers at 5:30 with the dawn and we set out southeast again. Rob only made it to around 10AM until the brutal after-effects of the palm wine hit him like a tornado. On top of it, it got up to 95 degrees-but still no rain. I left him on the side of a dirt road, hoping for a hitch back to Lilongwe. I spent the rest of the day hiking with two of the guys from the village I had spent the night in. They offered to accompany us and I wasn't saying no to company. Although they didn't talk except to ask me to play more Jay-z. Dirt off my shoulder.
The landscapes were really spectacular the second afternoon and the morning of the third day. Giant thumbs of concrete leaping skyward from vast grass plains. The local farmers corn fields made some of the views from on high look like the debonair patchwork jackets I could imagine University of Richmond pigroast having. I was invited to lunch by a woman's group discussing the local witchdoctor. I didn't understand a word of it, but they all agreed he was too drugged up to properly heal the maladies of newborns.
I spent the night camped in another chief's yard (although he offered me his house, and I'm almost certain, one of his wives). Either way, I crashed like a horse bound for the glue factory. The chief woke me the next morning at dawn standing over me with a bowl of liver for breakfast. He also tried to get me to drink gin with him at 5:30AM. 31km.
On the final day of my march, I made it 19km to the Dzalanga Forest Reserve and met my friends who own a small lodge on the outskirts of the nature reserve. It was awesome. After 82km over two and a half days, I drank lemonade on the veranda and watched the giraffes nibble at the acacias and the hippos spray their feces like a helicopter. The truck ride back to Lilongwe depressingly took just an hour.
More to come soon enough--packing to be done so I can go to a concert tonight.
Dona Nobis Pacem,
foxy
