Christmas break at Mulanje

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Christmas Eve

Early on Christmas eve a taxi takes me to the local mountain - Mount Mulanje, which is about an hour's drive out of Blantyre.

As we drive away from the town and the scenery becomes more rural - I see how spaced out and separated the rural dwellings are from each other. Children play and adults sit outside at the front of their thatched houses. Life in the countryside looks isolated. The road to Mulanje is long and straight and as with every other road here, there is a constant stream of people walking on both sides. The driver hoots every now and then to ensure those walking are aware we're there and don't step out in front of us.

As we approach, the mountain is draped in mist creating a very romantic scene. It is only possible to see its base as the rest is mysteriously covered, save for a few small 'windows' when I get a glimpse at something greater behind.

Mount Mulanje stands at a height of 3000m (9850ft) surrounded by tea plantations and jungle forestation. At the top of the mountain the famous and sought after Mulanje cedar trees grow - a tree which grows naturally there and cannot be planted.

We drive to the place I've booked - Kara O'Mula Lodge which is about 2km up the mountain. I take my breakfast on the veranda and start relaxing into my Christmas break.

I meet a woman from Blantyre who is also staying on her own and we quickly strike up a friendship. Her name is Rose and over the three days I'm there it's wonderful to hear about her life - the challenges and the great successes. At 29 and single, she is a woman who is economically independent and financially supports her three sisters' children going through education. She runs a clothing business - going twice a month to South Africa to buy clothes to sell here. She built the business up from scratch and works hard, which coupled with all the traveling she tells me is the reason she cannot find a husband.

Rose is a sweet happy person and I enjoy being in her company. We are both relieved to have someone to share Christmas with. The Lodge manager gives us a tour and there are beautiful views all around of the surrounding plains and waterfalls higher up the mountain.

I decide I want to visit the tea plantations and ask Rose if she wants to join me. We set off with a local taxi and drive along the bright green tea fields with a herby scent wafting through the car windows. The fields are really well kept and look stunning in the sunshine.

We arrive at a factory and the driver asks the men in Chichewa if we can have a tour, we must await permission from the MD (who is white). As we wait we notice a medical centre on site which we are told provides medical care to all the workers and their families.

We are granted permission to look around but sadly not to take photos. An enthusiastic young graduate enjoys showing us around and explaining each step of the process. It's all about picking just the new leaf shoots, airing them properly for days, cutting them up, controlling the temperature very accurately - heating and cooling - makes the perfect cuppa!

When we leave, Rose and I buy some packs of the best grade tea from the shop. I give a packet to the driver (who is well dressed, well spoken and lives in a nice house which we passed on the way) - he tells me that although he only lives down the road he has never drunk this grade tea before.

We drive around a little more, look at a curio stall and stop at a small supermarket. Rose wants me to try a drink made from the juice of an African tree. It is brown and sour with some sweetness - I can only handle half a bottle - it's certainly unique for my taste buds. But always good to try something new.

Christmas day

On Christmas day we spend the day relaxing by the pool - which is water collected (and treated) from the mountain falls. The pool area is nestled in jungle on all sides - butterflies, birds and insects make beautiful patterns and sounds. It's blissfully relaxing and I'm so lucky with the sunshine.

I'm told by the manager there are snakes around, but luckily I don't bump into any, although most are not poisonous. Around midday a chef starts a big braai (bbq) with whole goats and chickens etc. I had seen three goats tied up yesterday near the kitchen area happily munching grass but they are suddenly absent today!

Before lunch Rose and I get talking with a German guy who is doing consultancy work for a company here - developing a new cooking 'stove'. He explains that most cooking is done on 'three stones' - which is literally three rocks with fire wood / charcoal in the middle and the pot balanced on the rocks. In the domestic set up women take the responsibility for cooking. Using the three stone method is a problem because it produces carbon monoxide and dirt rising up in the black smoke which is inhaled and causes many women to die or endure illness. The German scientist explains how his 'stove' which he promptly takes out from his car boot, and looks like a steel bucket with an inner section, is so effective with use of primary and secondary air and heat that it creates a blue flame, meaning that no carbon monoxide is released into the atmosphere. Furthermore it requires less fuel to burn longer hours and gets food to boiling point much faster. It only costs about seven pounds (but so far it is proving quite slow to sell as it takes time to explain these benefits and move people away from the traditional three stone method).

What a simple and inexpensive design that could save millions of lives and improve basic standards of living - but again a frustrating struggle to move things forward. Nevertheless I'm inspired how one man can use his specialist and commercial skills to potentially make a massive impact.

The braai is delicious and is the best food I've had in Malawi so far.

Boxing day

It is the third hot day in a row; a Christmas jackpot!

When I booked my accommodation, knowing it was the raining season I did not expect to climb the mountain, as I had been told that the rains make the slopes slippery and dangerous. But as the weather had been so perfect I asked for a guide to take me up.

A young guy turns up in the reception. I jokingly check that he will protect me from the snakes and he replies that he will and from everything else including people! I buy us four bottles of water and we set off up the mountain. We quickly walk sideways along the mountain looking down over the fields of tea, with small groups of men cutting timber - these are the only other people we see during our climb and descent.

As we go further up we walk along gentle waterfalls and streams flowing down the slopes, and cross several rocky pools getting our feet wet.

I tell my guide I am keen to see the monkeys, and he says we might be lucky. Shortly afterwards we move deeper into the forest and it isn't long before we hear monkey calls. The guide tries to mimic their sounds to bring them closer. We look across the canopy and see three Velvet monkeys swinging through the trees. It is a lovely sight to see them in their natural environment. The guide continues to 'talk' with them, with me trying to copy him, and they seem to talk back.

We press on upwards with the slope becoming tougher and the steps up requiring hard effort. I stop every now and then to catch my breath but I never once see him out of breath - he seems to climb effortlessly. It is only after 3 hours when we reach about 1/4 way up, which was the agreed point we had decided on in case of afternoon rain, that he remarks I am strong. We sit resting looking down over the magnificent views of the plains below and he points in the direction of Blantyre and nearby bordering Mozambique. In the distance we see storm clouds and rain but where we are is still basked in idyllic sunshine.

Going down is much quicker. For most of the way the guide had carried my shoulder bag with our water and now jokes that it is a woman's bag and that he is going off to market to buy tomatoes. I tease him futher and we laugh.

Later it did rain and I was fortunate to have been down off the mountain.

Rose accompanies me back in the taxi that evening to Blantyre. When we get to her house she invites me in quickly to meet her sisters who all greet me with hugs.

It had been a different kind of Christmas for me, but a good one. It felt great starting to get to know local people and feeling more part of life here. The day before Christmas eve I had been so touched when Godfrey, the craftsman at the hostel, had knocked on my door and presented me with a bag full of wooden crafts, two paintings and a Christmas card. The card listed each item and explained that they were to wish me and my family a good Christmas. Such valuable gifts of the heart.

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