Cape Maclear



Sunset at the bar at Fat Monkey's.



Accacia overlooking Lake Malawi.

Clear and tranquil waters.

A fish eagle's eye view of the sandy stretch of paradise that is Cape Maclear.

Without question, Malawi is best seen from the back of a truck. They call the pick up trucks that take hitchhikers everywhere in this country matolas. Matolas are the main form of transportation in this country. We caught one in Liwonde and a second one in Monkey Bay as we found our way to an isolated paradise in Cape Maclear on Sunday. We sat on boxes of donated clothes, bags of mangoes and chalk-like sweet potatoes and our backpacks. One small pickup truck carries fifteen adults and two babies comfortably. People are packed in around the cargo. The breeze is delicious. The views of mountains, villages, mighty baobab breathtaking. Children run out to meet us with chants of mozunga, chichewa for obruni, white man. Annette was tickled to be back in a place where I am recognized and greeted by children.

And Cape Maclear is paradise. We eat fresh mangoes that are sold from underneath a six hundred year-old baobab tree in the center of town. All menus have fresh seafood, which in this land of one of the largest fresh water lakes in the world, includes duck. Never mind that my first duck was tough and bony. The tiger fish baked in a banana leaf and fried chambo (catfish) easily make up for it. So does a morning kayak ride exploring the nearby islands. And a fresh mango juice to cool off.

We stay in a dorm at Fat Monkeys with six beds. The first night, we have the place to ourselves. The second, we are joined by a guy named Josh from Nashville who is teaching geography and planning at Rhodes University in South Africa. And two sisters from Holland. The Carlsberg and Khuche Khuche beer flows cheaply and keeps us cool during the days. The nights cool down enough for comfortable sleeping.

We explore the area during mornings and evenings and nap in the afternoons. We walk to calls of “Ellow” from naked children splashing and bathing in the water. Boys rest on their bellies in the sand, backsides to the sun, while mom washes dishes in the lake. Fishermen in dugout canoes with slits at the top sort through their nets. Small fish dry in the sun on four-foot high reed tables. Someday, we will wander our way northward toward Tanzania. But probably not today.