I find myself in a reflective sort of way this week. Fresh from a 5 day vacation, I am taking some time away from my ever needy boys to upload some vacay pics to face-book.
Not complaining. I LOVE that they love me more than anything or anyone else right now. I know it will not be this way forever ,so I try as much as possible to accommodate their seemingly endless need for my attention and affection.
*(MOM!! Get off your phone it’s bad for your BRAINNNN!!!! Dammit. He found me…Just a few minutes Logi bear Mommy just wants to quickly do this…)*
The post text starts off as something syrupy and surface level.
“So BLESSED to have access to this beautiful place…So very grateful…
and while you’re scrolling have a look at this very flattering picture of me having just twirled a perfect double pirouette on the worlds softest sand…
But before I can hit “post”, a memory brings itself to my attention. Me, 8 years ago, fresh out of South africa on my first ever visit to this self same lake-side paradise.
Allow me to set the scene…
The house boasts 7 airconditioned rooms. The Khondi (or veranda, as I once called it, whilst still hopelessly South African) stretches the length of the single story house and is paved in warm terracotta.
The kitchen is small and humble, old fashioned, low ceilinged and lovely.
Visiting mzungus spend as little time in that kitchen as they possibly can, delegating daily meal prep to the AMAZING James. (James is the on site chef who enjoys full time employment with the company who owns the lake side “cottage”.)
The ever-green lawn (daily ,water is pumped the short distance from the lake and keeps the grass lush and vividly green all year round.) stops where the soft beach sands begin.
Coconut trees line the beach, leaning languidly over the turqoise waters of Mangochi.
Towering indigenous trees, ancient and awesome, dwarf the house, yet not even they can screen the grandeur of the granite outcrops that shape the wild and soothing landscape here.
Today, when I find myself fortunate enough to be allowed back here, I drink in the splendor of the place like a vagrant who has stumbled upon a dessert oasis.
I cross myself and thank God for making the world as beautiful as She has, and for protecting THIS place in particular.
Consumerism cannot reach us here. The wild beauty is unmarred by the sprawling hotel chains that are a blemish to most of South Africa’s relatively easily accessible coastline.
It is altogether quite uncomfortable, remembering how 8 years prior I had beheld this marvel with a sort of muted indifference.
“yes, it is quiet pretty. But the ROADS!!!Now….what’s for lunch?”
*shame. shame.shame. in the way of game of thrones…*
And this brings me right back ’round to the Facebook post that started it all…
Facebook post dated 05/07/2026
There is not a single Malawi holiday destination that is easily accessible. (Some are easi-ER than others but none are simply “cruising down the N1 at 120km/h” easy.)
Many terribly maintained roads, some boasting a 8/1 hole-to-tar ratio. (I’m looking at you, golomoti-mangochi stretch.)
Every 20kms or so you’ll be forced to slow to a crawl as you drive through various densely populated villages and/or congested market places.
Then there are the legions of traffic officers eagerly awaiting their next spot fine victim. (It is not uncommon to pass 5 or 6 sets of traffic officials in a 100km stretch.)
You’ll be sharing the road with a never ending stream of pedestrians, cyclists, motorbikes, goats, cattle (if it is a wealthy village) and the odd donkey drawn cart.
8 years in and it still takes me by surprise, the time effort stress and energy it takes to travel here.
BUT.
When you arrive at your destination…be it the lake side paradise of Mangochi or the serene bushveld of Liwonde, and you are confronted with a rare and wild beauty that only an underdeveloped African country can maintain (perhaps in part thanks TO the difficulty of travel here?) you realize that…All the best things in life are worth struggling for, and perhaps made better by the struggle.
I accept that, in the eyes of most Malawians (and also to many veteran expats) I am a soft and privileged azungu in an air conditioned vehicle.
But when I return to the country of my birth (the first world and highly consumerist country of South Africa) I will be patient where others are frustrated and grateful where others complain.
I will marvel at the conveniences so many of my fellow South Africans take for granted, but after a week or so I will become overwhelmed, weighed down by hyper consumerism, and I will crave my simpler life in Malawi.
I am no longer who I was, and the longer I stay the more is stripped away. One day we’ll be real and free, see what has become of me…
So you see, I am not much changed. I notice the same things that me 8 years ago noticed. T.he difference between us is….Me of today notices other things aswell.
.You have all at once, ruined, AND saved me, Malawi.
Thank you for reading.
If you would like to read more about my life in Malawi, READ THIS NEXT(reflections on my first visit to Dzaleka refugee camp.)
