Day's Diary

April 3 , 2007 ~ Aborted Trip

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Classes are over and the exams are graded and there is now a short break for the Easter holiday, before the next term begins. This is the perfect time to do those things there is not time for in the midst of the term. My young friend Steven, who has adopted me and has included his two sisters in the process, understands the freedom of time between terms and wanted to use that to promote “the adoption.” He invited me to his home, to see where he and his sisters are living in the village and to give me gifts of thanks for my help with their educational expenses. I reluctantly said yes and we decided that Monday of vacation would be a good time for that. We hadn’t counted on the rains over the weekend. There are two seasons in Malawi – rainy season and dry season. We are coming to the end of the rainy season. What that means is that the rains increase before they stop, like a parting gift before they go away for at least 6 months.

Steven and his sisters are orphans who live in a village about 10 kilometers from Zomba, up in the hills. Steven was waiting on the front porch when I returned from errands Monday morning, 15 minutes before our appointed time. This is great eagerness for a Malawian. Most are at least 15 minutes late. Time is not the issue to them that it is to us in the northern hemisphere. His promptness gave an indication of the importance he was placing on this visit. We headed off immediately.

We turned off the main road about a mile beyond Zomba town center and started up into the hills. The road was tarmac up as far as the mental hospital, about half a mile up the hill, and then it became dirt. It was rough but it was passable, at first. The further we went, the more difficult it got to drive. The rocks in the road were obstacles that I could maneuver around, but the increasing mud was another story. It rained heavily Saturday night and most of Sunday, and the road was still very muddy. Several times I felt the back of the truck slide sideways as I steered back to the center of the road and safety. Roads in the hills are crowned, with deep ditches on either side for water flow. Sliding sideways means going into the ditch. I was beginning to have second thoughts about this trip, but we proceeded. We passed an open-air school with classes being conducted under trees along the side of the road. Steven said the building had collapsed in the rains last month. That did not increase my confidence.

We came to a juncture and I stopped. The road ahead was deep mud. Steven suggested we turn to the small road on the right. It would be better. I turned. Better wasn’t much. This was narrower and the crown was steeper, so the trick was to stay in the exact middle of the road, regardless of the rocks. I went slowly. Slow but steady seemed to work, as we passed small villages and garden plots and children appeared to run along side the truck, waving and calling “azungu” (white person).  I would have loved to have taken pictures, but there was no stopping. Steady movement was the key to movement at all. This detour added kilometers to the trip. We were now about 9 kilometers back into the hills. In what seemed like an eternity, we came back to the “main road.” We went about half a mile and I realized I could go no further. There were men working on the road up head, but between them and us was deeper mud than I had seen so far. I stopped and explained to Steven that without 4-wheel drive, there was no hope of making it up the hill in front of us. He tried to persuade me to go on. This is a young boy of 18 who does not have a driver’s license and who desperately wanted me to visit his village. We sat for about 3 minutes discussing this, but I knew I could go no further. As we talked, more and more children appeared from the fields to watch what would happen. Finally, Steven agreed we should turn around when I promised that I would come back when the roads were dry.

Now the challenge was to turn around. The road was wide enough, except for the muddy sides. I decided to turn carefully. I’ve had lots of experience turning around since I’ve been driving here. It is a way of life. Everything was going fine until the last turn and the back of the truck started to slide into the ditch. I was helpless to stop it. Fortunately the ditch was not as deep as on the smaller road and immediately there were men and boys from nowhere to watch. I used my best Chichewa to ask them to “chondo” PLEASE help to push me out. About 20 of them got behind the truck and pushed and we were back in the center of the road in no time. I thanked them heartily with several “Zikomo kwanbiri”s. They applauded and waved me on. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Steven had not given up though. As we drove, he spotted another road that would get us to the village, he thought. He instructed me to turn left. Not knowing the plan, I turned. Only once on the narrow, rocky and now steep road, did he say that he was certain we could make it now. I wasn’t. We were slipping backwards even as I was trying to pull forward. I couldn’t back up and the road wouldn’t let me go forward. I backed down a bit to get a better “run” at the hill. We moved forward this time. Praise God! I told him that as soon as I found a place to turn around, we were going back to town. Just up the road a bit there was a house with a drive way, of sorts. I pulled in and carefully turned around. Backing around was a bit difficult, but we made it, with Steven outside looking at the edges on either side and telling me when to stop. With five small turns we were on our way down the hill. I just steered the best I could as the mud carried us down the hill to the “main road” (which was the detour from before.) I never thought I would think a one lane mud path was a welcome sight, but it was. We were headed back to town.

Steven sat quietly for most of the ride. I know he was disappointed but there was nothing else I could do. Finally, he turned to me and said that he knew I had done my best and that he would tell me as soon as the road was dry and we could go to receive the gifts his sisters had made for me. I felt as terrible as he did, I think. I assured him we would go, but the roads had to be dry. He said, not too dry or the dust would be bad. I hadn’t thought of that. There is more adventure ahead, I can see.