We had perused the Rumphi section of our Lonely Planet guide and noticed there weren't a whole lot of options for places to stay. The first place recommended was a guest house that Dan and Mellissa had stayed before when they were in town for Dan's research. They said it was pretty small but clean enough. We're not all that picky at this point.
So the mechanics dropped Mellissa, Moya, Jon, Katy, and me off with all of our stuff at the guest house. The front area was a pleasant outdoor space where a few people seemed to be enjoying a drink or two. It looked promising. The "lobby" wasn't as inviting. It was illuminated by a harsh green florescent light and contained a single couch and chair in an otherwise barren room.
We walked up to the attendant. "Are you still serving food outside?" No. "Okay, well, we're five people. Do you have any rooms to accomodate us?" No, we're completely booked.
Great.
No fear, Moya was on the case. He said he knew of another guest house down the road. He told us to hang out in the "lobby" with our bags while he checked whether the other place had any rooms available.
About fifteen minutes later Moya returned. The other place had no space for us. He also tried another place but to no avail. He knew of one other place that was a little bit out of town. He said would try to get a hold of them by phone. He went outside to make a call.
I thought we were going to have to plead with the guy up front to let us sleep on the couch and floor of the lobby. At this point, that idea did not particularly bother me. I was tired and wanted this day to be over.
Moya came back after another five to ten minutes or so. He said he finally got a hold of this place outside of town. They were sleeping over there but his calls eventually got someone out of bed. Thankfully, they had rooms for us.
So Moya hooked us up again by grabbing a friend of his from the bar we were in earlier in the day for lunch to drive us up to this place we would stay: Matunkha.
24 May 2007
Too Much Tyson
It's dark, it's late, we're tired, our car is broken, and we have no idea how to fix it. At the mechanics' direction, we rolled the dormant hunk of metal to a dirt area in front of a general store about twenty yards off the road.
Now, I think I was the one in the group most bothered by our situation in front of this general store, which is why I've been charged with writing this post. I admit that I tend to get a little paranoid, but I think objectively, this was not a good scene.
When we pulled up, there were a number of guys hanging around the general store drinking a local brand of firewater called Tyson. A handful of these was clearly drunk. One guy was doing a hip gyrating dance on the steps of the store. Another guy was stumbling around in a daze and slurring his speech.
We were now positioned inside a community of residences and little stores. The surrounding structures made us invisible from the road. So there we were from about 9:00 p.m. to 11:30 p.m.: a group of five muzungus -- one of which of Chinese heritage, which is even more exotic to Malawians -- in our fancy car with all of our money, passports, and other gear in the back, with a broken engine affording us no way to leave, in a tiny community about five miles outside a small town in a remote area of Northern Malawi, one of the five poorest countries in the world, surrounded by a number of guys who were getting piss drunk off of a local firewater, and situated in a spot where no one could see us from the road. What's the expression: like a keg of gun powder? I always screw up idiomatic expressions.
Anyway, I was comforted by the fact that we had Moya in our corner, who was very good with people. However, I feared that he could be easily overwhelmed. I had already gotten the sense that some people didn't take kindly to the fact that he was helping us. When we were still up on the side of the road, one guy came over to ask for money and Moya told him to keep on walking or something to that effect. While the guy was walking away he yelled to Moya in broken English (so that the rest of us could understand) something about how Moya thought that us white people were god. That exchange was in the forefront of my mind while I was watching Moya calm down a drunk guy who started jarring with one of the mechanics.
Luckily, nothing precipitated out of this potentially dangerous situation, but I was on edge the whole time. At one point, one of the drunk guys came to sit down on the step next to Mellissa and Katy. His balance failed him and he fell off the ledge. When Mellissa declared "too much Tyson," he asked her to repeat what she said. So she said it again. He started busting up laughing like this was the funniest thing he had ever heard in his whole life. Good. He's happy drunk.
So back to the car. The mechanics couldn't figure out what was wrong. They poked and prodded and turned the ignition but to no avail. Eventually they figured it was an electrical problem. Well, they weren't trained in electrical work but they knew a guy in town who was. Around 10:00 p.m. they gave this guy a call.
He showed up about forty-five minutes later with a crew of another three or four. They all looked at the car but couldn't figure out what was wrong. So we devised a plan: all of us except Dan would go back with the electrical mechanic's crew to find a place to stay in Rumphi for the night. One of the mechanics was going to grab a tow bar and return to tow the Hilux back to the mechanic's shop for more tests the next morning. Like the good captain of a sinking ship, Dan stayed behind with the car.
So Katy, Mellissa, Moya, Jon, and I hopped in the bed of a truck and headed back up the road to Rumphi.
Now, I think I was the one in the group most bothered by our situation in front of this general store, which is why I've been charged with writing this post. I admit that I tend to get a little paranoid, but I think objectively, this was not a good scene.
When we pulled up, there were a number of guys hanging around the general store drinking a local brand of firewater called Tyson. A handful of these was clearly drunk. One guy was doing a hip gyrating dance on the steps of the store. Another guy was stumbling around in a daze and slurring his speech.
We were now positioned inside a community of residences and little stores. The surrounding structures made us invisible from the road. So there we were from about 9:00 p.m. to 11:30 p.m.: a group of five muzungus -- one of which of Chinese heritage, which is even more exotic to Malawians -- in our fancy car with all of our money, passports, and other gear in the back, with a broken engine affording us no way to leave, in a tiny community about five miles outside a small town in a remote area of Northern Malawi, one of the five poorest countries in the world, surrounded by a number of guys who were getting piss drunk off of a local firewater, and situated in a spot where no one could see us from the road. What's the expression: like a keg of gun powder? I always screw up idiomatic expressions.
Anyway, I was comforted by the fact that we had Moya in our corner, who was very good with people. However, I feared that he could be easily overwhelmed. I had already gotten the sense that some people didn't take kindly to the fact that he was helping us. When we were still up on the side of the road, one guy came over to ask for money and Moya told him to keep on walking or something to that effect. While the guy was walking away he yelled to Moya in broken English (so that the rest of us could understand) something about how Moya thought that us white people were god. That exchange was in the forefront of my mind while I was watching Moya calm down a drunk guy who started jarring with one of the mechanics.
Luckily, nothing precipitated out of this potentially dangerous situation, but I was on edge the whole time. At one point, one of the drunk guys came to sit down on the step next to Mellissa and Katy. His balance failed him and he fell off the ledge. When Mellissa declared "too much Tyson," he asked her to repeat what she said. So she said it again. He started busting up laughing like this was the funniest thing he had ever heard in his whole life. Good. He's happy drunk.
So back to the car. The mechanics couldn't figure out what was wrong. They poked and prodded and turned the ignition but to no avail. Eventually they figured it was an electrical problem. Well, they weren't trained in electrical work but they knew a guy in town who was. Around 10:00 p.m. they gave this guy a call.
He showed up about forty-five minutes later with a crew of another three or four. They all looked at the car but couldn't figure out what was wrong. So we devised a plan: all of us except Dan would go back with the electrical mechanic's crew to find a place to stay in Rumphi for the night. One of the mechanics was going to grab a tow bar and return to tow the Hilux back to the mechanic's shop for more tests the next morning. Like the good captain of a sinking ship, Dan stayed behind with the car.
So Katy, Mellissa, Moya, Jon, and I hopped in the bed of a truck and headed back up the road to Rumphi.
Have Radiator, Will Travel
So we pushed the Hilux over to the side of the road. The car was billowing smoke from under the hood. Our troubles garnered the immediate attention of everyone at the intersection. One guy started yelling "konnichi wa!" to Jon in a harassing tone that I didn't much care for and that bothered Jon as well.
After we managed to get the car off to the side of the road, a number of people came by to see what was the matter with our smoking engine. Dan related to us that when he had broken down in a different vehicle a few months earlier in Lilongwe, some of the people who came to offer their assistance expected compensation for their efforts. To stem any prospective requests here, Dan firmly told the passersby that while he appreciated their concern for our predicament, we were not in need of their help.
We examined the front of the Hilux and saw that it was leaking water. The epoxy didn't hold.
So we waited for the car to cool down and, after awhile, added more water to the radiator. Jon, stepping out of his adopted role as decisional agnostic, strongly advocated for restarting the car and pushing on. His idea was that we could carefully monitor the temperature gauge and pull over periodically to add water to the radiator as needed. Dan favored going to Rumphi to have the holes in the radiator fixed permanently with epoxy and a blow torch. In the end, we didn't have the option of doing either.
After the engine cooled for a good half hour, we refilled the radiator with water and tried to restart the car. Nothing. Not even a wimper.
At this point, I knew the car was kaput.
Dan resolved to elicit help from a friend he had met while doing research in Rumphi a few months earlier. He had hired a guy named Moya to help translate Dan's field research questions and help analyze the data they collected. Moya was well connected in Rumphi, so well connected in fact, that he was set to run for local political office in the next election cycle. Dan knew that Moya could recommend a mechanic.
Let me pause here for a second to give Moya all the thanks he is due. First, here's a picture of him with Squeezy:
Moya saved us that day, pure and simple. Without him, things would have ended far worse for us, I'm quite certain of that. If you see this man, you should shake his hand and maybe push him a few soft dollars for his political campaign. McCain and Feingold don't need to know nothing about it, if you know what I mean . . .
So Dan called Moya who luckily had not yet left town for a scheduled trip to Lilongwe. When Dan explained our situation, Moya said he would walk immediately over to talk to a mechanic he knew and give Dan a call back. Moya went to the mechanic's place but the mechanic was not there. He called Dan to tell him he would try another mechanic in town. When he got to the second mechanic's place, Moya called Dan again so that Dan could talk directly to the mechanic.
The mechanics agreed to take a public minibus down to take a look at our radiator; they had no access to a functioning vehicle.
Here's a look at the approximate location of the mechanic's yard and the place we were stranded. As you can see, we were fairly lucky to have broken down relatively close to town.
You can't see the scale that clearly, but we broke down about five miles outside of town.
Anyway, about a half hour to forty-five minutes later, Moya and two mechanics showed up to take a look at our car. Dan told them about the epoxy the mechanics in Nyika had applied and that the car was leaking water. He also told them that we had tried unsuccessfully to restart the car.
The mechanics looked at the engine and removed the radiator.
They said they'd take the radiator with them back to their garage where they would permanently fix the holes with a blow torch. So they got back on a minibus with our radiator to return to Rumphi. Moya stayed behind with us.
About two hours later, around 8:00 p.m., the mechanics returned. They had fixed the holes we could see as well as a couple holes that were hidden from view near the bottom of the radiator. At this point it was dark so we gave them our camping headlights to use to reinstall the radiator.
When it was back in place, we tried to restart the car. Just as I feared: this car now has bigger problems than a leaky radiator.
The mechanics wanted to try push starting the thing. Well that won't work because it's an automatic but we followed the mechanic's instructions anyway until he realized it was an automatic.
Then, for a reason I don't understand, the mechanic had us push the car over to a dirt area in front of a general store about 20 yards off the road.
After we managed to get the car off to the side of the road, a number of people came by to see what was the matter with our smoking engine. Dan related to us that when he had broken down in a different vehicle a few months earlier in Lilongwe, some of the people who came to offer their assistance expected compensation for their efforts. To stem any prospective requests here, Dan firmly told the passersby that while he appreciated their concern for our predicament, we were not in need of their help.
We examined the front of the Hilux and saw that it was leaking water. The epoxy didn't hold.
So we waited for the car to cool down and, after awhile, added more water to the radiator. Jon, stepping out of his adopted role as decisional agnostic, strongly advocated for restarting the car and pushing on. His idea was that we could carefully monitor the temperature gauge and pull over periodically to add water to the radiator as needed. Dan favored going to Rumphi to have the holes in the radiator fixed permanently with epoxy and a blow torch. In the end, we didn't have the option of doing either.
After the engine cooled for a good half hour, we refilled the radiator with water and tried to restart the car. Nothing. Not even a wimper.
At this point, I knew the car was kaput.
Dan resolved to elicit help from a friend he had met while doing research in Rumphi a few months earlier. He had hired a guy named Moya to help translate Dan's field research questions and help analyze the data they collected. Moya was well connected in Rumphi, so well connected in fact, that he was set to run for local political office in the next election cycle. Dan knew that Moya could recommend a mechanic.
Let me pause here for a second to give Moya all the thanks he is due. First, here's a picture of him with Squeezy:
Moya saved us that day, pure and simple. Without him, things would have ended far worse for us, I'm quite certain of that. If you see this man, you should shake his hand and maybe push him a few soft dollars for his political campaign. McCain and Feingold don't need to know nothing about it, if you know what I mean . . .
So Dan called Moya who luckily had not yet left town for a scheduled trip to Lilongwe. When Dan explained our situation, Moya said he would walk immediately over to talk to a mechanic he knew and give Dan a call back. Moya went to the mechanic's place but the mechanic was not there. He called Dan to tell him he would try another mechanic in town. When he got to the second mechanic's place, Moya called Dan again so that Dan could talk directly to the mechanic.
The mechanics agreed to take a public minibus down to take a look at our radiator; they had no access to a functioning vehicle.
Here's a look at the approximate location of the mechanic's yard and the place we were stranded. As you can see, we were fairly lucky to have broken down relatively close to town.
You can't see the scale that clearly, but we broke down about five miles outside of town.
Anyway, about a half hour to forty-five minutes later, Moya and two mechanics showed up to take a look at our car. Dan told them about the epoxy the mechanics in Nyika had applied and that the car was leaking water. He also told them that we had tried unsuccessfully to restart the car.
The mechanics looked at the engine and removed the radiator.
They said they'd take the radiator with them back to their garage where they would permanently fix the holes with a blow torch. So they got back on a minibus with our radiator to return to Rumphi. Moya stayed behind with us.
About two hours later, around 8:00 p.m., the mechanics returned. They had fixed the holes we could see as well as a couple holes that were hidden from view near the bottom of the radiator. At this point it was dark so we gave them our camping headlights to use to reinstall the radiator.
When it was back in place, we tried to restart the car. Just as I feared: this car now has bigger problems than a leaky radiator.
The mechanics wanted to try push starting the thing. Well that won't work because it's an automatic but we followed the mechanic's instructions anyway until he realized it was an automatic.
Then, for a reason I don't understand, the mechanic had us push the car over to a dirt area in front of a general store about 20 yards off the road.
Bust - don't hit when the dealer's showing 16
The noise? What noise?
Well, there was no noise and I really don't know what else to say.
The Hilux was kaput.
Once again, we're stuck on the side of a road. At least the view wasn't too bad:
Well, there was no noise and I really don't know what else to say.
The Hilux was kaput.
Once again, we're stuck on the side of a road. At least the view wasn't too bad:
Nkhata Bay or Bust!!!
With just a slight detour and unplanned stop in Rumphi, we're back on the road, but before we move on, let's recap the condition of the Hilux:
A combination of a hissing/wheezing/not very pleased about having to continue noise was coming from under the hood, definitely a noise that is not normal, definitely a noise we haven't heard the entire week.
But we were on a mission. A mission to get to Mzuzu. A mission to return the tire. A mission to reach Nhkata Bay, to taste the buffet, to soak our feet in the lake.
I thought the Hilux would be stoked to be off the dirt road, but I guess it wasn't happy about anything. I thought the Hilux was our friend, we were wrong.
We reach the main junction, we turn onto the M1, and, wait a second, what's that noise ...
- two flat tires
- cracks in the radiator
- running hot
- extremely dirty, but still running
- tired
- hungry
- extremely dirty, but still running
A combination of a hissing/wheezing/not very pleased about having to continue noise was coming from under the hood, definitely a noise that is not normal, definitely a noise we haven't heard the entire week.
But we were on a mission. A mission to get to Mzuzu. A mission to return the tire. A mission to reach Nhkata Bay, to taste the buffet, to soak our feet in the lake.
I thought the Hilux would be stoked to be off the dirt road, but I guess it wasn't happy about anything. I thought the Hilux was our friend, we were wrong.
We reach the main junction, we turn onto the M1, and, wait a second, what's that noise ...
Rumphi, Malawi: Still Not the Land of Milk and Honey
Katy, Mellissa, Jon, and I met Dan at the hospital at the end of the road. Dan said the three we transported did not appear to be gravely injured judging by the doctor's reaction when they were admitted. So we got back in our dusty car and decided to get something to eat.
We drove down to the main drag of Rumphi and stopped in a restaurant/bar that Dan had eaten at before.
Here's a view of the main drag through Rumphi from the front of the restaurant.
By this time, it was already 3:00 p.m. and we were pretty hungry. Thankfully we had eaten a little something in Nyika before taking off.
Both Katy and I needed to use the restroom, so we went to the adjacent bar/poolhall to find it. There was a toilet all right, but no running water. Nor was there a trash can. I'll leave it there out of respect for the faint of heart.
When we returned to our table, our traveling companions were gone. They had gone out back where the owner of the restaurant had kindly prepared a bucket of water for us to wash off the dirt that was caked on our hands and face. I went back to clean up, too, but by the time I got there, they had emptied the bucket. So I lathered on some hand sanitizer and returned to my seat.
The menu was one that we had grown accustomed to reviewing. Chicken, meat, or chambo (a type of fish found in Lake Malawi) with a side of either chips (i.e. french fries), nsima, or rice. We all ordered a permutation of these options.
About five minutes later, our server returned and told us that it would take awhile for the people who ordered chicken because the chicken was still thawing and wouldn't be ready for another 30-45 minutes. Also, the chips would take awhile, too, because the potatoes weren't ready.
Well, we were running late. If we were going to make it to Mzuzu (an hour away), buy a tire, drop off the borrowed tire to the Nyika office, and use the internet before everything closes (which tends to be around 5:00 p.m.) we better get a move on.
So we told our server that we were sorry but we needed to get going. We went across the street to the "PTC" (that's the People's market pictured above - there's one in every town) to buy a few snacks, and we headed down the road to Mzuzu.
Rumphi had no gas for us on the way up, and no lunch for us on the way down.
We drove down to the main drag of Rumphi and stopped in a restaurant/bar that Dan had eaten at before.
Here's a view of the main drag through Rumphi from the front of the restaurant.
By this time, it was already 3:00 p.m. and we were pretty hungry. Thankfully we had eaten a little something in Nyika before taking off.
Both Katy and I needed to use the restroom, so we went to the adjacent bar/poolhall to find it. There was a toilet all right, but no running water. Nor was there a trash can. I'll leave it there out of respect for the faint of heart.
When we returned to our table, our traveling companions were gone. They had gone out back where the owner of the restaurant had kindly prepared a bucket of water for us to wash off the dirt that was caked on our hands and face. I went back to clean up, too, but by the time I got there, they had emptied the bucket. So I lathered on some hand sanitizer and returned to my seat.
The menu was one that we had grown accustomed to reviewing. Chicken, meat, or chambo (a type of fish found in Lake Malawi) with a side of either chips (i.e. french fries), nsima, or rice. We all ordered a permutation of these options.
About five minutes later, our server returned and told us that it would take awhile for the people who ordered chicken because the chicken was still thawing and wouldn't be ready for another 30-45 minutes. Also, the chips would take awhile, too, because the potatoes weren't ready.
Well, we were running late. If we were going to make it to Mzuzu (an hour away), buy a tire, drop off the borrowed tire to the Nyika office, and use the internet before everything closes (which tends to be around 5:00 p.m.) we better get a move on.
So we told our server that we were sorry but we needed to get going. We went across the street to the "PTC" (that's the People's market pictured above - there's one in every town) to buy a few snacks, and we headed down the road to Mzuzu.
Rumphi had no gas for us on the way up, and no lunch for us on the way down.
Muzungu Medevac
About an hour down the road from Mr. Mhongo's, we were flagged down by a large open bed truck traveling in the opposite direction. We pulled over and waited for what the driver had to say.
The driver climbed down from the cab and calmly informed us that, about a kilometer up the road, there had been an accident. His English was a little hard to understand but I gathered that the accident involved a pickup truck that had turned over. He said there were three injured people who required medical attention and asked whether we could please take them to the hospital in Rumphi because he was heading in the opposite direction.
Now, after all the help we received over the last couple of days, we weren't about to say no. Not that we really had all that much choice in the matter, but we were committed to doing whatever we could. The problem seemed to be however that we were five people in a five-seater vehicle with all of our stuff plus a tire in the trunk.
We continue down the road without saying a word, but I think we all felt trepidation about what we were about to encounter.
Around the next bend in the road, a group of five guys or so flagged us down again. They also told us about the accident and that we needed to take the injured to the hospital.
We continued on and reached the scene of the accident. We saw a pickup truck off the side of the road -- but it wasn't turned over -- and a number of bicycles strewn across the road, though it wasn't clear whether the bikes were involved in the accident or just belonged to the villagers who had gathered to survey the scene. About twenty to thirty people had gathered in all. When we pulled up, they approached us to ask our help taking people to the hospital.
Dan and Mellissa were in the front seat. Jon, Katy, and I were in the back. We got out to see what was going on and, just like that, two men carried an injured woman to the car and laid her across the back seats. She was writhing in pain and covered in a towel. My stomach dropped as I began to fear that the accident had been quite bad. And how were we going to transport anyone else to the hospital with her laying across all three seats?
Within a few more seconds, someone coaxed the injured woman into sitting up straight in the middle seat. A man with a bandage over his head climbed into the back seat on one side, and another man, whom I didn't see, climbed in on the other side.
That left Jon, Katy, and me outside the car with no seat. Katy said she could sit on Mellissa's lap in the front seat. Jon and I both figured that we'd have to hang tight and wait for Dan to come back after making a run to the hospital.
But Dan wasn't about to leave us behind, so we walked to the back of the car to see if we could squeeze in there. We moved the spare tire over to the side and gave our box of leftover food to one of the bystanders to clear some room. After rearranging the suitcases a bit, Jon and I managed to fit in the trunk with the window down and our feet hanging out the back.
Unfortunately, we don't have any photos -- it wasn't exactly the best time for that -- but we do have this artistic rendering, courtesy of Vincent Pan Gogh:
JP:
Incredibly, the Hilux is now an ambulance. Still on the dirt road and now with the back window down, all the dirt the Hilux is kicking up is now coming right back into the car, some sort of dirt vortex that's throwing dirt at the two of us so hard where we couldn't open our eyes nor talk as we could feel the dirt hit our teeth even with our mouths shut. We could feel the dirt accumulate on us and all around us.
After about an hour on the bumpy dirt road, we finally reach Rumphi and the hospital. At first we pulled up to a building that looked like the hospital but turned out to be a women's health clinic. We all got out of the car.
Ryan and I thought that we bore the brunt of the dirt shower, but to our surprise, we hop out of the car and discover that we weren't the only ones dirty. We definitely were the dirtiest (no pictures unfortunately but we were told it looked like we had a thick layer of make-up on) but with the windows down, dirt covered the entirety of the car, inside and out.
RS: The hospital we needed to go to was at the end of the road we were on. We decided that Dan would drive the injured to the hospital and Katy, Mellissa, Jon, and I would follow behind by foot.
I can only imagine how ridiculous we must have looked walking down that street. Not only must it have looked funny for a group of four muzungus to be walking down a road that had nothing for tourists to see, we were completely bathed in dirt.
JP: But hey, what's a little dirt, plus, we did a good deed, karma should be back on our side. Right? RIGHT? RIGHT!!!??? ...
The driver climbed down from the cab and calmly informed us that, about a kilometer up the road, there had been an accident. His English was a little hard to understand but I gathered that the accident involved a pickup truck that had turned over. He said there were three injured people who required medical attention and asked whether we could please take them to the hospital in Rumphi because he was heading in the opposite direction.
Now, after all the help we received over the last couple of days, we weren't about to say no. Not that we really had all that much choice in the matter, but we were committed to doing whatever we could. The problem seemed to be however that we were five people in a five-seater vehicle with all of our stuff plus a tire in the trunk.
We continue down the road without saying a word, but I think we all felt trepidation about what we were about to encounter.
Around the next bend in the road, a group of five guys or so flagged us down again. They also told us about the accident and that we needed to take the injured to the hospital.
We continued on and reached the scene of the accident. We saw a pickup truck off the side of the road -- but it wasn't turned over -- and a number of bicycles strewn across the road, though it wasn't clear whether the bikes were involved in the accident or just belonged to the villagers who had gathered to survey the scene. About twenty to thirty people had gathered in all. When we pulled up, they approached us to ask our help taking people to the hospital.
Dan and Mellissa were in the front seat. Jon, Katy, and I were in the back. We got out to see what was going on and, just like that, two men carried an injured woman to the car and laid her across the back seats. She was writhing in pain and covered in a towel. My stomach dropped as I began to fear that the accident had been quite bad. And how were we going to transport anyone else to the hospital with her laying across all three seats?
Within a few more seconds, someone coaxed the injured woman into sitting up straight in the middle seat. A man with a bandage over his head climbed into the back seat on one side, and another man, whom I didn't see, climbed in on the other side.
That left Jon, Katy, and me outside the car with no seat. Katy said she could sit on Mellissa's lap in the front seat. Jon and I both figured that we'd have to hang tight and wait for Dan to come back after making a run to the hospital.
But Dan wasn't about to leave us behind, so we walked to the back of the car to see if we could squeeze in there. We moved the spare tire over to the side and gave our box of leftover food to one of the bystanders to clear some room. After rearranging the suitcases a bit, Jon and I managed to fit in the trunk with the window down and our feet hanging out the back.
Unfortunately, we don't have any photos -- it wasn't exactly the best time for that -- but we do have this artistic rendering, courtesy of Vincent Pan Gogh:
JP:
Incredibly, the Hilux is now an ambulance. Still on the dirt road and now with the back window down, all the dirt the Hilux is kicking up is now coming right back into the car, some sort of dirt vortex that's throwing dirt at the two of us so hard where we couldn't open our eyes nor talk as we could feel the dirt hit our teeth even with our mouths shut. We could feel the dirt accumulate on us and all around us.
After about an hour on the bumpy dirt road, we finally reach Rumphi and the hospital. At first we pulled up to a building that looked like the hospital but turned out to be a women's health clinic. We all got out of the car.
Ryan and I thought that we bore the brunt of the dirt shower, but to our surprise, we hop out of the car and discover that we weren't the only ones dirty. We definitely were the dirtiest (no pictures unfortunately but we were told it looked like we had a thick layer of make-up on) but with the windows down, dirt covered the entirety of the car, inside and out.
RS: The hospital we needed to go to was at the end of the road we were on. We decided that Dan would drive the injured to the hospital and Katy, Mellissa, Jon, and I would follow behind by foot.
I can only imagine how ridiculous we must have looked walking down that street. Not only must it have looked funny for a group of four muzungus to be walking down a road that had nothing for tourists to see, we were completely bathed in dirt.
JP: But hey, what's a little dirt, plus, we did a good deed, karma should be back on our side. Right? RIGHT? RIGHT!!!??? ...
No One Home at Mr. Mhongo's
So off we go from Chelinda camp. It's an hour later than we hoped, but at least we have a double patched tire that, although the mechanics warned us not to drive out on, should serve as a fairly reliable spare.
I, for one, was bummed to leave. The park was beautiful, the weather was perfect, and Chalet 4 was cozy. I was also excited about Nkhata Bay, however; I had read a bit about it and the Cheeze and Squeezy had talked it up.
JP: From one of our earlier posts, you may remember us describing the road conditions up to Nyika Plateau, namely that they are terrible. So terrible that we could go no faster than 20km/hr, tops. So terrible that Dan would send us out to remove large impediments, oh, you think I'm kidding ...
he'd then take off down the road, make us run to catch up and have a laugh.
RS: Unfortunately, we had to take the same road down that we took up. Fortunately, it's still fun to laugh at Jon.
JP: So after a couple days of these roads, rocking back and forth, side to side and me hitting my head numerous times on the side of the car [RS: Jon is the only one who seemed to have this problem, and he experienced this problem again, and again, and again, and . . . did you ever see that movie Memento?], we were really looking forward to making it back to the tarmac road, especially since we were down a spare. [RS: Or at least a spare we could trust - did we mention this we're driving with the wrong sized tire on the front driver's side?] We were determined to make it to Nkhata Bay for swimming in Lake Malawi and this dinner buffet the Squeeze kept telling us about, but before Nkhata Bay, we still had to do a few things:
RS: We made it to the gate of Nyika without incident. Squeezy, behind the wheel, got us through like a Baja 500 driver on methamphetamines.
(Come to think of it, a helmet would have been good for Jon.)
We went down to Mr. Mhongo's place to tell him about the borrowed tire. We talked to his wife who told us Mr. Mhongo was in the area but she didn't know when he'd be back. Well, we were facing a bit of a time crunch. The Squeeze had already written Mr. Mhongo a note that Prince Daniel was to pass along, so we figured we made a good faith effort and we'd just keep moving to Mzuzu.
We got back on the road, exited Nyika, put some music on the radio, and kept driving.
http://www.sdsefi.com/truck1.jpg
I, for one, was bummed to leave. The park was beautiful, the weather was perfect, and Chalet 4 was cozy. I was also excited about Nkhata Bay, however; I had read a bit about it and the Cheeze and Squeezy had talked it up.
JP: From one of our earlier posts, you may remember us describing the road conditions up to Nyika Plateau, namely that they are terrible. So terrible that we could go no faster than 20km/hr, tops. So terrible that Dan would send us out to remove large impediments, oh, you think I'm kidding ...
he'd then take off down the road, make us run to catch up and have a laugh.
RS: Unfortunately, we had to take the same road down that we took up. Fortunately, it's still fun to laugh at Jon.
JP: So after a couple days of these roads, rocking back and forth, side to side and me hitting my head numerous times on the side of the car [RS: Jon is the only one who seemed to have this problem, and he experienced this problem again, and again, and again, and . . . did you ever see that movie Memento?], we were really looking forward to making it back to the tarmac road, especially since we were down a spare. [RS: Or at least a spare we could trust - did we mention this we're driving with the wrong sized tire on the front driver's side?] We were determined to make it to Nkhata Bay for swimming in Lake Malawi and this dinner buffet the Squeeze kept telling us about, but before Nkhata Bay, we still had to do a few things:
- Drop by Mr. Mhongo's to give the run-down on the borrowed tire drop-off
- Buy a new tire in Mzuzu
- Return the borrowed tire to the Nyika office there
- Buy more diesel
- Use the internet
RS: We made it to the gate of Nyika without incident. Squeezy, behind the wheel, got us through like a Baja 500 driver on methamphetamines.
(Come to think of it, a helmet would have been good for Jon.)
We went down to Mr. Mhongo's place to tell him about the borrowed tire. We talked to his wife who told us Mr. Mhongo was in the area but she didn't know when he'd be back. Well, we were facing a bit of a time crunch. The Squeeze had already written Mr. Mhongo a note that Prince Daniel was to pass along, so we figured we made a good faith effort and we'd just keep moving to Mzuzu.
We got back on the road, exited Nyika, put some music on the radio, and kept driving.
http://www.sdsefi.com/truck1.jpg
Deja Vu Version 4.0
We woke up Thursday morning with a plan. We set an alarm and everything.
Here's the plan:
1. Put the patched tire back on the car and the borrowed tire in the trunk
2. Drive to Mr. Mhongo's place to tell him we'll drop the borrowed tire with the Nyika office in Mzuzu
3. Grab lunch in Rumphi
4. Drive to Mzuzu
5. Get gas, buy a tire, drop the borrowed tire at the Nyika office, use the internet
6. Get to Nkhata Bay before sunset so we can negotiate the tricky final ascent to our hotel
7. Kuche kuche or two, watch the sunset over Lake Malawi, whatever comes naturally
We are focused. We are determined. We are excited about this hotel overlooking the lake that the Cheese and Squeezy are raving about.
We got up early, got ready impressively fast for a group of five sharing a single bathroom, and packed up our stuff.
Jon and Dan went outside to get ready for the tire change and . . . rut-ro. The patched tire doesn't hold air.
So back we go for the fourth time in two days to the mechanic's yard. The mechanic said he could fix the tire but he would need an hour. We asked if there was anyway to do it faster since we were in a bit of a hurry. "How about a half hour? Is that possible?" "Sure, come back in a half hour." We didn't go anywhere. An hour later, the tire was patched.
We're an hour delayed before we even begin.
Here's the plan:
1. Put the patched tire back on the car and the borrowed tire in the trunk
2. Drive to Mr. Mhongo's place to tell him we'll drop the borrowed tire with the Nyika office in Mzuzu
3. Grab lunch in Rumphi
4. Drive to Mzuzu
5. Get gas, buy a tire, drop the borrowed tire at the Nyika office, use the internet
6. Get to Nkhata Bay before sunset so we can negotiate the tricky final ascent to our hotel
7. Kuche kuche or two, watch the sunset over Lake Malawi, whatever comes naturally
We are focused. We are determined. We are excited about this hotel overlooking the lake that the Cheese and Squeezy are raving about.
We got up early, got ready impressively fast for a group of five sharing a single bathroom, and packed up our stuff.
Jon and Dan went outside to get ready for the tire change and . . . rut-ro. The patched tire doesn't hold air.
So back we go for the fourth time in two days to the mechanic's yard. The mechanic said he could fix the tire but he would need an hour. We asked if there was anyway to do it faster since we were in a bit of a hurry. "How about a half hour? Is that possible?" "Sure, come back in a half hour." We didn't go anywhere. An hour later, the tire was patched.
We're an hour delayed before we even begin.
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