Mad about Malawi III: Shabbat on the Shire

Dear all,

Warning! Large epiphany ahead! I promise I don’t do it on purpose!

Where were we? Ah yes. I returned to Lilongwe where I was joined by colleague Verena (one of our graphic designers from Johannesburg) for
the rest of the trip – which included four days in Liwonde National Park, Malawi’s main wildlife area, and a last day sitting on an island on the Lake in a storm (of which more anon).

Off we bumped (for four-five hours) down the potholed roads south to Liwonde, with the requisite rain, donkeys and goats along the way. Finally we arrived at the banks of the Shire River, where we boarded a boat and chugged 45 minutes downriver until we reached Mvuu.

A note on the Shire River. I know it sounds like Frodo Baggins should be hanging about twiddling his ring, but it is in fact pronounced “Sheereh”. Broad and flat, it flows out of Lake Malawi down to the Zambezi, and is usually clear but of course muddy at this time of the year with flotsam and jetsam (always wanted to use that in a sentence) thanks to the rains. And hundreds of hippo too – but here, these hippo are the friendliest in Africa. In fact, when I ask our guide McCloud about the dangers of this many hanging about, he looked at me in bemusement: “but hippo aren’t dangerous!” Seems the friendliness of the people has rubbed off on the beasts. (McCloud, so you understand, is yet another wonderful Malawian, who, like many of his race, has a free and easy attitude to the use of the letters L and R in a sentence; hence we would see a “led-necked flancorin on the light hand side of the load.” Work that out.)

Wilderness has two camps almost next to each other: the more ‘zhoosh’ Mvuu Lodge and the simpler yet still delicious Mvuu Camp (Mvuu means ‘hippo’ – of course). We stayed at the former, which has its tents fronting a brown, slow-moving stream that flows into the Shire. While this doesn’t sound exciting, it turns out that this – it’s larger than a stream, more of a riverlet – is quite a highway, with hippo and crocs floating up and down it and of course all manner of birds. But the feeling is secretive, away from the main highway that is the Shire.

Once again at Mvuu, the people around us were just incredible. From Richard the camp manager (he began as a ‘houseboy’ – his own words – and gradually worked his way up to being a guide and manager. Look, you have to read about him – it’s on our website, go on, be inspired by Africa! Or directly here.), to James the Seventh Day Adventist barman (who has the nicest, whitest, shyest smile you’ve ever seen; on Friday night he joined me for Kiddush and we compared notes on various explanations for verses in Leviticus and Deuteronomy according to the Oral Law which his teacher taught him; an excellent dvar Torah for Shabbat!). I was provided with my own private chef – Hussein (we bonded over the differences between Halaal and Kosher) and they made half the kitchen kosher for my use, clearing out cupboards and putting every spice or ingredient with The Sign in one place for me!

The Mvuu experience is mainly a study in sound and colour, a profusion and bursting-out of life that took my breath away every day. Leaves rustle from a riot of bushes and trees – the leaves of the towering palm trees crackle as if an elephant is hiding in them – and a mass confusion of bird sound (and thunder of course – as I write the clouds have come down again). Thanks to the rain, it is so green that an Irishman would burst into tears at the sight.

Our tent (classic Wilderness, large and luxurious, outdoor shower, funny towel shapes on the beds) looked out over that gently flowing stream, complete with Brown-throated Weavers enthusiastically making their nests in the reeds, Bohm’s Bee-eaters just sitting there waiting for twitchers to get excited and tick them – and several rude, brash Hadeda Ibises perching on the top of the palm trunks and shouting insults across the river at us. But the African Fish Eagle that sat regally watching me watching him more than made up for his bourgeois neighbours.

Friday afternoon, as Shabbat approached, had the by-now prerequisite evocative, dark, glowering clouds. I was ready to be all sad that I was going to miss my Friday evening sunset and have to make do with towering – or lowering – cloud formations (depends on if it’s about to pour or just building up to it) – all a bit too moody sometimes, you know? Not bad moody or depressing, just moody. Like too much Beethoven Sturm und Drang music.

The bird cacophony died down to that special pre-Shabbat peace, when you’ve done all you can do and there is nothing more than to light the candles and enter a different place. An Emerald-spotted Wood Dove was calling plaintively about his/her dead relatives, a hippo snorted
somewhere in the Shire, the palms continued rustling manfully and a few desultory drops of rain fell. The night insects and frogs were tuning up for the big performance later while the Collared Palm Thrush perched almost on my shoulder tried out a new song.

Head spinning from all this mood stuff, I tottered off to the main lounge area to light candles. And the miracle occurred. As I lit, from somewhere behind me the sun broke through, strong yellow rays lighting up the dark-grey clouds. Colour returned to the leaves and trees across
the now-sparkling river with a vengeance and even that blasted hadeda’s wings shone metallic green-purple. And Shabbat duly came in with a drum roll of thunder and in a blaze of glory!

Perhaps encouraged by the last burst of sunlight, the birds decided to give it one last go and burst into louder song, if that were possible. Even the tiny flying jewels that are the Malachite Kingfishers chirped reedily down by the river – and the African Fish Eagle gave a clear, high cry that seemed to echo across the whole world – indeed, as if he was the chazzan (prayer leader) beginning the universal service: “Lechu neranena – let us go and rejoice!” At that moment it occurred to me that – to mangle the immortal words of the Bard – “all the world’s a shul and
all its birds and beasts say many prayers...”. What I mean is that every bird, every living thing, seemed to be joining me in praising the Creator and bringing in the Shabbat.

As the sun disappeared – for good this time - they were joined by the reed frogs and the clear peeping of the bats that swooped down around my head. (Best not to make sudden moves in case one of them was in the slow Reflexes class…) But the point is that, on my little deck with the brown river meandering below, I felt as if I was standing in the middle of the greatest choir on Earth, who were singing the loudest, purest paean in the world to He who made it. A sublime moment indeed; I couldn’t have asked for a better one.

(Of course, like all good shuls, there are always the two women in the front row shouting to each other: “So I said to him, STUNNING doll!” in raucous tones – the blaring voices of the hadedas hit the right note there.)

Shew, well after that, seems a bit of a comedown but as I mentioned, I discussed the parsha with James the Seventh Day Adventist, and sat down to a delicious Hussein-inspired Shabbat dinner (the local fish, chambo, is delicious!) with Verena and Richard. The candles flickered in the wind, and we tried out Kuche Kuche (pronounced coochie coochie), the local Malawian beer, which was very nice and went well with challa.

It poured Friday night so that both Verena and I slept badly, disturbed by worries that we wouldn’t be able to go walking in the morning. But Malawians don’t let a little damp stop them, and after much-needed coffee at 5:30 (it was the Netz minyan for me) we started off. Oy vos it
muddy! I thought to myself, “Embrace the mud, Ilana” as we slipped, slid and splatted our way through the bush. (“Embrace the mud – but not too close, ooh, a little too close!”)

Mud aside, it was a stupendous walk. Liwonde does not have any large cats (no one is sure why this is so), but the herbivores are everywhere and less skittish about walkers than any I’ve seen. So everywhere we stomped were impala, warthog, yellow baboons, kudu, bushbuck – and of
course the birds!

The rest of Shabbat was peaceful and easy. I tried out the hammock on our deck and am happy to report that it works fine. Several birds insisted on visiting me which I thought was very kind of them as I could not go to them. After Shabbat, we were joined for supper by Jillian Wolstein and volunteers – she is financing the building of a school in a village across the river. They are doing an amazing job and we went to visit the school on Sunday afternoon, after a SPECTACULAR game drive in the morning (too muddy even for the intrepid Richard to walk), and a boat cruise along the smooth-as-glass Shire. You shouldn’t trail your fingers in the water for obvious reasons, but that aside, it is just as scenic as can be.

Of course, I whinged like mad about leaving Mvuu. But Monday morning dawned – allegedly, since it was cloud-covered and splattering – and we had to take the boat back out of Liwonde. On the way, we were treated to our one elephant – a damp, dark grey individual who moved rapidly into the bushes, disappearing completely as only a hefelump can. We also saw two African Skimmers skimming across the smooth Shire (hence their name, see) their beaks dipping into the water. We got a special thrill out of this, not only because you don't see these birds often, but because this is Wilderness’ logo come alive. (The two orange and brown sort of
double-ewes are in fact birds’ wings, see?) I know, it’s sad how patriotic we are, but it was lovely way of saying farewell to the Shire.