Lilongwe and the Ilala ferry

We got lucky and were given a ride from Cape Maclear to Salima.  The trip would have involved at least 2 minibuses, if not more, and countless hours so we were more than happy.  We were outside of our hotel at 4:20 am to make sure we didn’t make them wait.  A few minutes later, Rob and Karl stopped in front of us and we loaded our things.   

The road was slow going at first as we worked our way to the main road.  Not long after we made it to the tar road and we were both already asleep.  We weren’t used to such comfort when traveling and took advantage of it.  The next thing we knew we were stopped in Salima and ready to unload our things.  

They dropped us next to the minibuses and we were left to negotiate our price.  Three men approached us and started giving us a number.  We assumed it was too high, as it generally is, and were told they were giving us a discount.  I said that I doubted he was giving a mzungu* a discount and after they all laughed, he lowered the price a bit more.  We put our bags in the back and grabbed a seat while we waited for more passengers to arrive. 

As luck had it, once the minibus filled we headed straight to Lilongwe.  Typically, we manage to find more people along the way, but this time we’d gotten on the direct bus.  This meant that we made it to the capital city before lunchtime.  We had booked a place near the Tanzanian Embassy so now we had to get there. 

I waited with the bags while Tico went to find us a ride.  Minutes later, a tuk-tuk pulled up honking with Tico in the back.  We threw in our things and headed in the general direction of the hotel.  As we sat in the back, we followed the GPS on my phone.  We took an unpredicted turn, but waited to see what happened.  The driver pulled into a parking lot, which appeared to be the Japanese Embassy.  After much discussion and confusion, we are able to show him the map and point him in the right direction.  About 10 minutes later, while hoping our map was correct, we turned onto a dirt road into a small community.  While it wasn’t the location we had pictured, we found the sign for Klaus Guest House.  

As we had arrived so early, there was someone in our room still so we waited for them to check out before making ourselves at home.  I wasn’t feeling well so we decided to take what was left of the day to rest.  Tico spent most of the day editing pictures while I was curled up in bed.  We managed to call the Tanzanian Embassy so we knew the requirements and hours for the following day.  

Tanzanian Embassy

We woke up the next morning and while I felt better, I still wasn’t 100%.  Tico was starting to feel bad, but we sucked it up and walked the 3 kms (1.9 miles) to the embassy.  As we got closer, we asked where we could make copies and were sent to the National Library.  Not a place we would have thought to go, but it worked out perfectly.  We continued asking around to find the embassy as we weren’t exactly sure where it was located.  Once we got close enough, a security guard took us the rest of the way.  It was as if we were walking through a maze of buildings so we were glad someone guided us there.  

We presented our documents to the receptionist and filled out the one page application.  She gave us the details of the bank to make our payment and we headed out through the maze.  Thankfully, we passed the bank on the way in so we made our way over with a pit stop at the supermarket to get crackers. 

We waited in line for the bank teller only to be told we were in the wrong line.  There was one man waiting for a teller that apparently went on break.  After some time, she returned and we completed our transaction.  With less than 30 minutes before the embassy closed for accepting applications, we walked back to hand over our receipt.  

 

The processing would take 3 hours so we walked back to the supermarket to get supplies for the upcoming journey.  We then sat under a tree listening to the singing of the lunch church service that had appeared out of nowhere in the courtyard.  After 2 hours, we went back to the embassy to sit in their comfortable chairs to wait for the last hour.  We napped while they worked and just after 2 pm the receptionist walked out with our passports.  We got a taxi back to our guest house as we both wanted to lay down.  

The ferry left from Nkotakota the next day and we needed to feel better to get there.  We had an early night and woke up ready for the journey.  The taxi driver from the day before came for us and we had him drop us at immigration so we could extend our visas.  

Malawi visa extension

We walked in and immediately saw a sign on a door saying visa/permit office.  One of the men behind the many desks told us to unload our things.  Tico stood in the hallway with our bags while I spoke with the immigration officer.  He asked for 10,000 Kwacha (about $13 USD) and our passports.  I handed everything over and watched as he stamped and filled in the blanks.  We chatted as he worked and within 15 minutes, we had clearance for another month in Malawi. 

 

As we walked out, I realized that while the fee was correct the money was likely going straight to the official.  When we got our visas in Blantyre, the cashier was completely separate from the officer who signs the visa.  We had to get a receipt and prove payment, which we saw some people had here in Lilongwe.  While it may not have been the right way to do it, we were impressed with how quickly it went.  

We walked a couple blocks to a nearby bank as the island we were heading to didn’t have an ATM.  Once we had everything we needed, we got a tuk-tuk to the bus station to find a minibus.  We thought we would need to take 2 different buses, but found one that went directly to Nkotakota. 

Minibus to Nkotakota

Tico found a seat next to the window and I took the fold-down seat next to him.  As many of the vehicles we’d been in so far regulated the number of people, we thought we’d only have 4 in our row.  More and more people climbed in and we realized that this idea was a fantasy.  Soon, there were 5 of us in the row and I was sitting mostly on air.  Tico slid over so I had a quarter of a cheek on his seat and another quarter on my original seat.  He had all of our small bags piled on top of him in an attempt to make my ride a little more comfortable. 

 

Our exit of the city was through neighborhoods in order to avoid police checkpoints.  We didn’t pick up much speed and wondered if the 12 hours we had until the ferry left was enough.   After a few hours of bumping along the road and adjusting as possible, the woman next to me got off at a stop.  I immediately shifted over to take her space so the man coming back to fill the hole would get the half seat.  

 

 

The sun dropped beneath the horizon and slowly the minibus thinned out.  We reached Nkotakota around 6:30 pm and the Ilala ferry was scheduled to leave at 11.  After negotiating a price, we each got a bicycle taxi to the water’s edge.  They dropped us at Sitima Inn as they thought we wanted to get a room.  We took advantage of their restroom and then ate sandwiches on their patio.  Our hope was to sit on their couches in the reception until the boat came, but the manager came out at 9 pm to lock the doors.  She told us to wait on the beach with everyone else and try to get the first boat out.  

Ilala to Likoma

We made camp on the beach in the darkness surrounded by at least 50 others with their bags of grains and goods.  It misted on and off and even though there was a schedule, some said it wouldnt arrive until 2 am.  People started to move around 10:45 pm and we could see a small green and red light in the distance.  Within minutes, the horn blew to announce its arrival.  We grabbed our things and headed towards the shore.  Some of the people had lights to illuminate the boats and there was commotion everywhere.  

 

We asked a man how he was getting to the boat and he said he would walk in waist high water with his bag on his head.  As that didn’t sound like a good idea to us, we got close to one of the fishing boats and I jumped in.  Tico asked the price and we knew it was  more than double the normal price, but it was pitch black and craziness was happening around us.  We gave in and paid the fee as the man started pushing his boat into deeper waters.  The Ilala had sent out its commuter boat and we were told to quickly jump into that boat.  There were people boarding from all sides and shouting all around us.  A bicycle was already in the boat so I climbed over and stood in the middle.  Next thing I knew, a man was using the top of my oversized pack to help him balance while another man was resting on my shoulder as he pulled a 50 kg (110 lbs.) bag of maize onto the boat.  I struggled to stay upright while Tico was trying to figure out why I had that look on my face.  

We reached the Ilala and bobbed up and down in the waves.  One-by-one we climbed up the ladder onto the ferry while trying not to fall with the weight of our bags.  We couldn’t believe what we’d just experienced in a matter of 5 minutes.  They directed us to the top deck and we found it speckled with other travelers laying on the ground in sleeping bags.  It was starting to mist again so we found a covered section and made it our home.  We laid our sleeping bags out on the wooden deck and covered ourselves as best we could from the wind.

The boat didn’t move for quite some time as they continued to load more cargo.  We were half asleep when it pulled out around 2 am and enjoyed sleeping in the open.  Sunrise came before we knew it and as it continued to mist there was a rainbow along the horizon.  We still had hours until we’d arrive so we stayed curled up in our sleeping bags until they opened the bar, which happened to be right next to us.  

 

One of the first things that Tico did was pull out his camera.  To his surprise, the lens protector was shattered.  Through his frustration, we tried to decide when it happened between the rough bus ride or getting on the boat.  Regardless, he headed downstairs to capture the chaos.  

 

Not long after, we found Gülçin, from our stay at Thumbi View, wandering around the top deck so we chatted with her.  The ticket collector came by to receive payment as we still hadn’t paid for our journey.  The remaining hours were spent talking with other travelers and different people on the boat.  When it came time to unload, the 2 Ilala boats were dropped into the water and people started to load them.  A man from Mango Drift came onboard and rounded up everyone that would be staying at the hostel as they’d shuttle us there.

 

 

 

 

 

Once there was a boat with enough space for us, we all worked our way towards the door.  One-by-one we forced our way down the stairs, over large sacks of maize while ducking so our bags didn’t get caught on the ceiling and squeezing past the people.  We then went back down the ladder into the bobbing boat that took us to shore.

 

 

 

The truck drove us through town and around the island to the secluded beach.  There were baobabs sprinkled around the island and our bungalow gave us an amazing view of the lake.  We were ready for relaxing on the beach and exploring the small island.

 

* In East Africa, a white person is referred to as a mzungu from the days of European colonization.  For the most part, there is no negative connotation associated with it and when traveling you are likely to hear it said (or yelled by kids) more times than you can count.

Helpful tips:

• Use the Malawi Tourism website for the latest schedule and fare description.  Although they appear out-of-date, they are updated.
• If you can avoid getting on in Nkotakota, do it.  Most of the other boarding/deboarding locations don’t involve the extra boat.
• Make sure to book a cabin well in advance.  All other tickets are bought on the boat.