Portrait of Chembe Village

When Kondwani Kamiyala went to Cape Maclear on January 25 2013, he was grateful to be back alive. Not that there are perils aplenty at the cape. In fact, it is one of the safest places to visit on the shores of Lake Malawi. But the throb of life at Chembe Village is such that it can swallow you alive. After returning home with his skin intact, Kamiyala tells the tale of the village.

Before Friday, January 25 2013, I had been to Cape Maclear in the lakeshore district of Mangochi twice. During the first visit, what I enjoyed most was a boat ride to the Water Point, a part of Lake Malawi with water so clear that you can see the bright mbuna fish carrying on with life.

The lush green trees protected under the Lake Malawi National Park, the golden sand beaches and the smiles of dreadlocked men selling curios, not forgetting the grass fences for most of the homes, are some of the landmarks that distinguish the area. The sight of men on canoes from a fishing spree, men seated on canoes repairing fish nets is just as breathtaking.

The sand grains are larger and from the beach, the waters of the lake are a deeper hue of blue than the other parts of the lake I have been to: Nkhotakota, Salima, Nkhata Bay and Karonga. A visit to the missionary graves and the museum is worthwhile, not forgetting time at the tattooed Mwalawamphini heritage site.

During the second visit, when we went to find accommodation for some Blantyre-based group in 2010, a shock awaited us. It convinced me either we have a lot to do on cyber-marketing or work on our customer care modules in a world transformed into a village.

We were at this popular lodge, enquiring what accommodation they offer. The receptionist replied: “Check on our website.”

It was too embarrassing. You travel from Blantyre to check the accommodation alternatives at the cape, named after British missionary David Livingstone’s friend, Thomas Maclear, who was an astronomer for the queen of England, only to be told that you have to access that information on the Internet.

Two things were clear: either the receptionist was too rude or we were too dumb.

On both occasions, my visit to Cape Maclear was only during the day. Before January 25, the experience of Chembe Village nightlife was just a dream.

After checking in at one of the lodges around 10pm, way past the 9pm deadline for check-ins, the four of us decided to have a feel of life at night on this part of the Nankumba peninsula.

The cape has a host of lodges: from Gecko through Fat Monkeys, Cape Mac, Mgoza, Taipei Garden, Mufasa and Danforth: you just pick your choice. We were at a loss on where the fun would be for a Friday night.

We drove off, after a waiter, who had promised he would guide us to the fun, deserted us. So, we decided to go for an unguided tour.

Driving a few metres from our dwelling place, we noticed a short woman in a red blouse and black jean trousers walking barefoot in our direction. It was close to 11 in the night. We stopped for her and asked where she was going.

“Ndikungoyenda [I am just having a stroll],” she said.

We asked her about the fun spots. She gave various options; actually, she was coming from one of the drinking joints—Uncle Charlie’s—and was on her way home. But she would go back to the place, she said.

As we debated, a man came by the car. He convinced us to pay a visit to Makata’s and then visit Uncle Charlie’s. At Makata’s, which overlooked a silver lake that night, we found some five or so customers drinking while listening to some Zambian music from a home theatre, with the waters splashing the shores incessantly.

It was serene in its own way, but we had to go on. Uncle Charlie’s was the place to be. The loud music greeted us. There were men and women. The walls were splashed with interesting paintings.

The patrons were drinking Chibuku opaque beer, while others were having Carlsberg. Some were dancing to the music blaring from the speakers while others were engaged in a game of pool. Many more were seated in threes or fours, telling tales.

Then, the DJ put on an instrumental rendition of the Malawi national anthem. Everyone was quiet. Some touched their chests, others saluted and when the national anthem was over, it was time to close. It was 12:14am.

It was around this time that the barefoot lady entered the place. She was not in black jean trousers as before; she had changed and was clad in a black miniskirt. Together with two of my colleagues, we engaged her just to know more about life at Cape Maclear.

Let us call her Jane. She is from Nkhotakota and has two children. She never went far with education, just past Form One, due to lack of resources.

“What is your rate?” a colleague asks.

“K1 000 for a short time,” she responds.

“On bad days?” I ask.

“K800 works,” she says.

“We hear foreign tourists make the best offers, what do you say?” I ask.

“Yes, they pay more. I remember one point, a certain tourist gave me US$400 (about K138 000) for a few minutes with him,” she reveals.

On further probing, she couldn’t remember what she did with the money.

Chembe Village, one of the famous villages in T/A Nankumba, is renowned for exporting men to foreign countries. Malawian men from the fishing village are known to be exceptional in warming beds in Europe, the Americas and other distant lands.

Victor Maliwanda, a kayak expert at one of the lodges, said he knows of many friends who are in foreign lands, with foreign women they met in Chembe Village.

“In fact, some have left their families here, bidding farewell to their wives, telling them they are going to Europe for a while and they would be back in due course. They never return,” said Victor.

It was around 1am when we decided to drive back to the lodge. As we took a bend past one of the numerous grass fences, a man appeared in front of us. He was shirtless. He only had a pair of white shorts with the zip open, revealing black underwear. We slowed down to avoid hitting him.

To our surprise, he stopped in the middle of the dusty road and bent over, to show us his behind.

It was shocking. We debated the issue until we left the cape. Some of us thought that the man was gay, trying to show us he was ready for it, but Victor believed he was a mad person.

It is not too obvious. But with the mix of cultures at Cape Maclear, anything can happen. Like what happened the following morning when we wanted to go on a boat trip to one of the islands on this part of the lake. The tour guides, led by Captain Symon, earlier told us that a trip of five people to Thumbi Island costs K12 800. When we returned to make the trip, the captain and his four colleagues said we got it wrong. It was K12 800 per person.

That is one of the reasons that made us decide to hit the road and tour the village for the last time before leaving for Blantyre. As we took pictures of some volunteers strolling from one of the lodges, through the village paths to the beach, a man who appeared drunk approached us.

“Why are you taking pictures of my village? Let me see the photos,” he demanded.

We ignored him and started off for Blantyre through the dirt road connecting Cape Maclear to the world.

Chembe is not just another village.