Getting to Livingstonia

By Elise and Zach.

Elise:

Over our time in Africa we travelled via share taxi, or mini van, numerous times. Every time it is an experience, and possible due to the language difference so many things happen which make little sense, and leave us bewildered.

This trip was no different. Surprisingly as we rock up to the taxi hub in Mzuzu there is a share taxi heading north, so we jump in. After driving for a few minutes, the van pulls over and the driver decides our bags should go in the back, and other passengers are instructed to swap seats. A few minutes later we pull over on the side of road to pick up about four men, rearrange passengers and belongings again, and head off. We stop again to drop off the conductor (a man who sits in the back of the van, gathering peoples money and organise everyone so the driver doesn't have to), rearrange again, and one of the four men who just joined becomes the new conductor. Rarely does this rearranging result in any created space, but I guess it makes the conductor feel like he tried.

We stop at a little market on the outskirts of Mzuzu; keep in mind its been almost 45 minutes of just driving around Mzuzu, picking up only a few people but playing musical chairs. At the market hawkers come up to the van trying to sell their products through the door or windows. Super convenient because you don’t have to move to get some bananas but when some old mate opens your window to sell you something you don’t want and then continues to hassle you, the convenience is maybe not worth it. This happens at most stops throughout Africa, and I have a theory the taxi drivers are forced to make these stops by the local chiefs (especially here in Malawi the chiefs still hold a lot of power).

My favourite thing to see at the stop was an old, old lady (rare to see in Africa, as the life expectancy is 63 in  Malawi) enters the van with her chicken and a lollipop. The chicken actually behaved itself for most of the journey. After leaving the market, with a car full on people, we pull over only to have some guy on the side of the road hand the driver a pair of sports shoes, and a guy in the back seat pull out shoes from his bag and hand them out the window to the road guy for no apparent reason. Was this pre organised? Do shoe swaps happen all the time and I have failed to notice? One of the many random interactions that goes unexplained when travelling in Africa.

Actual travel time: 6h 30m

Zach:

After a long windy journey we arrive in Chitimba. This is a small lakeside town at the bottom of the Chombe Plateau, and we need to arrange transport up the mountain to Livingstonia. There is no official public transport to Livingstonia, you just hitch a ride with other cars heading up the one road. There is a small stall in Chitimba to help people up the mountain and to our lodge called The Mushroom Farm. Unfortunately, Stanley the man who runs the stall is not there, and two local scammers have taken his place.

A young guy named Thompson greets us with a smile and tells us to put our bags inside while he organises a ride for us. He walks over to where a group of people are loading a ute for the ride up the mountain. We take a quick look around, there is a man with a BBQ cooking chips and chicken and some of the roadside 'stores' that stock soap and snacks and other odd bits. In the tourist stall is a folder with some laminated info sheets from Mushroom Farm, one of them details the options for getting to the top. You can hike up the road with one of the locals helping carry your gear for 5000 MKW (about $10), get a lift in a ute for 1500 or 2500 kwacha (about $3-5) if you have a big pack, or negotiate a price with a private taxi (any old mate with a car). There's no chance we're hiking and there's a ute almost ready to go so this is a no brainer, but Thompson comes back to tells us the only ride available is a private taxi. Confused we turn around to see the ute driving off up the road.

When we ask Thompson why we couldn't take the ute he tells us it was full. If we know one thing about Africa is that the car is never full if there's a paying customer. It's ok, Thompson tells us, there is another car who can take us for a mere 35,000 MWK ($70). I call bullshit immediately and tell him there's no way we are paying more than 5000 kwacha for a ride. Elise is more hesitant, thinking he is confused and spends the next few minutes trying to explain what we want. He tells us there are no more cars going today (apparently he is omniscient) and asks us what we can afford, a tactic we've encountered repeatedly from people trying to overcharge us or sell us things we don't want. We tell him 5000 kwacha and show him the laminated sheet with the prices listed, if he can't organise this then we'll organise our own transport.

I head off to talk to the driver of another car filling up to head up the mountain, but Thompson follows right behind and starts talking over the top of me in Tumbuka (the language of northern Malawi). The driver then refuses to talk to me or even look at me, leading us to believe he told the driver not to talk to us. The car fills up with locals, whom we can guarantee are not paying 35,000 kwacha, and drives away. We regroup to work out a plan but Thompson, still smiling, comes over to try and sell himself as a guide to carry our packs up the mountain, now that all the cars are gone. At this point another man has appeared at the stall and begins talking to us as well. He is not as smarmy as Thompson so we explain what's happened so far and ask why his colleague has been lying to us about prices and telling people not to speak to us. The new man apologises and tells us Thompson does not speak good English and was simply confused. We call bullshit again, Thompson knows exactly what he's doing. This goes round in circles for a while until it becomes clear that they are just going to keep trying to scam us. We have had enough. We tell them we are going to be working at Mushroom Farm for the next couple of weeks and when we get up there we will be talking to management about them. By this stage we're fairly sure neither of them actually works at the stall but it's worth a shot. Thompson doesn't care but the other seems to get nervous so I push the point, telling him if he is in any way associated with the hostel that this scam is going to cost him his position and at the very least he needs to get rid of his slimy mate and organise us a ride. Knowing this is extremely unlikely we start trying to flag down any cars with a spare seat or a boot, mate even a roof at this point, that we might be able to squeeze into. There are only a couple hours of daylight left and not much traffic heading up the mountain, or even along the main road at this point, so we are conscious we don't have a lot of time before we're out of options.

The first car doesn't stop but a ute full of tourists eventually agrees to give us a lift for the standard price. We are halfway in the back when Thompson shows up again saying who knows what to the driver, but we are already in the back of the ute and our agreement is with the lady in the front seat who has hired the car so we are good. He also tries to intercept a young English guy, an expat teacher who speaks enough Tumbuka and has done this journey enough times to tell him to sod off. We clear some space and tell the brit to jump in. He has a beautiful little puppy as well. However, Thompson is not finished he walks up to the window and holds out his hand for Elise to shake. No chance. I shake my head as we drive away. Still in slight disbelief, we relate the tale to our taxi mates. 

We've come across plenty of scams so far but this took the cake for someone trying to screw us over, and it marks the first time Elise got angry in Africa. That’s saying something.