There is a sign next to the road north of Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi, that says: “You are now entering a corruption-free zone.”
It made me laugh, mischievously wondering if that meant corruption had been tolerated or encouraged, something I had just left behind.
Welcome to a driving safari in Malawi, where you’ll soon pass Excussive Barber’s Shop (where maybe they once swore a lot, but not anymore), Mr Pee The Tailor and, a little ominously, Very Welcome Coffin. Workshop.
Stop in a ramshackle town and you’ll be surrounded by street vendors hawking everything from cabbages to sandals made from tires. Twisted healers will try to sell you magic potions that guarantee beautiful young women will fall madly in love with you (even if you are, like me, elderly).
Malawi is known as “the warm heart of Africa” and not only for its scorching sun. Everyone seems happy. Even the police officer who stopped our car smiled as he handed out a speeding ticket.
On a driving safari in Malawi, Malcolm Tattersall stays at Mvuu Lodge (pictured) near Liwonde National Park
We are on our way to Lake Malawi, a massive inland sea more than 350 miles long and 47 miles wide. It was here that, in 1861, explorer David Livingstone, known as “Dr Livingstone, I suppose”, negotiated an end to the local slave trade.
Unlike many colonial figures in African history, the good doctor’s memory is still revered in Malawi. The commercial center of the country, Blantyre, is named after his Scottish birthplace and there is a town called Livingstone.
We will stay at the five-star Pumulani Lodge in Lake Malawi National Park. The name means “rest easy” in the local Chichewa language, and that’s exactly what we do with a cold Kuche Kuche beer outside our luxurious grass-roofed room suite watching the huge red sunset over the lake.
That’s crazy: Malcolm says Mvuu Lodge is “as luxurious as a five-star hotel.” Above, the hostel pool.
Malcolm reveals that Malawi has the Big Five. Above, an elephant photographed in Liwonde National Park.
The five-star Pumulani Lodge in Lake Malawi National Park. The name means “rest easy” in the local Chichewa language, Malcolm says.
Baby baboons look out from a baobab tree, looking cute. But be careful: leave anything out there and they will have it. One pinched my underwear while I was showering. God knows why… they would never have worn it.
Malawi has the Big Five: lions, leopards, elephants, rhinos and buffaloes.
Just 30 years ago, black rhinos had been exterminated. But a breeding pair called Justerini and Brooks were reintroduced to Liwonde National Park. Rangers have recorded every calf born in the last 26 years, but don’t get too close: rhinos can weigh up to a tonne and charge at 40km/h. As one ranger tells me: ‘Before you track rhinos, you must learn to climb trees!’
The quality of Malawi safari camps varies. my room in
vuu Lodge, our next stop near Liwonde National Park, is as luxurious as a five-star hotel with its stone-carved bathroom and two showers (one outdoors under the stars).
Malcolm remembers seeing crocodiles and hippos “rolling around” during one of his safaris.
Above, Lake Malawi, “a huge inland sea more than 350 miles long and 47 miles wide”
My final port of call, Kutchire Lodge, about a 90-minute drive south, is a little more basic. Still, my solar-powered Village Hut is clean and comfortable with its own private bathroom. Our Kutchire guide, Max, tells us that more than 420 species of wildlife roam the camp and warns us not to leave our rooms unattended at night ‘just in case’. Sure enough, I’m later woken up by what sounds like an elephant walking noisily outside.
We get up at 5 am and prepare to go on a sunrise safari. Within minutes, Max points out an antelope scampering through the trees. “We call them toilet seats,” he smiles, “because they have a big white ring on the back.”
Along the river we glimpsed crocodiles and spotted some hippos wallowing. Then comes the highlight of our expedition. Creeping through the bushes are two hungry lionesses stalking a pair of wild boars for breakfast.
They charge and with a terrified screech, the fanged pigs scurry away as fast as their stubby little legs will allow them. They escape and the disappointed lionesses slowly walk away.
As night falls, some of the villagers put on tribal masks to perform an exuberant traditional dance. There are around 80 ritual dances, some performed to cure all types of diseases and demons.
After returning to the UK, where we now have to wait weeks for a routine GP appointment, it occurred to me that perhaps we could use some of the ones here.
