Of life suspended and all happening in Malawi

There are days that feel like you are just transiting through life. Like inside a spaceship, looking at the world from a distance. Today was one of those days. I have made my way back to Lilongwe from Mzuzu, which has been my home for two weeks. Doing the trip in reverse has felt much less impactful to the senses than what I have described here. I may have become slightly more accustomed to the place. Still, people waving chickens on the motorway, bicycles making dangerous manouvers on the motorway, kids playing on the motorway, and, well, a motorway that is so crumbled that shouldn't be called a motorway. I have spent 7h in the car, constantly switching between the temptation of opening the window for some air and closing the window to avoid the dust. In and out. In and out. Hence the sensation of being floating on the world.

Chrispin made the concession of allowing me to connect my phone to his car. My rights ends to choosing the music, as he controlls the volume and keeps switching it on and off to reply to many many calls. Obviously, not hands free. In this continuous playing the music at maximum volume and switching off the music to speak to someone on the phone, I occasionally remember what I am here to do. Then, I zoom out again as my favourite playlist (well, my only playlist ;-) ) gifts me the unsurprising surprise of 'Sick and Tired', 'Toxic' and 'Baby on more time'. All real gems, medicine to the soul. I sing when the window is down. I shut up when the window is up. Except when 'Wannabe' from the Spice Girls comes up: finally a song we both know, so it is both of us singing. The spaceship flies fuelled by the music and Chrispin's foot too heavy on the accelerator. Many pot holes hit, a few speed cameras happy with our speed, green all around as Malawi gifts me again with endless flats of trees and occasional mountains in the distance.

There are road blocks everywhere in Malawi. Every 10/15km. No one has ever stopped us. Until today. A police man - one of the jockey of Royal Ascot - commands that we stop to let a lorry pass. We are going to fast to stop where he suggests, so we carry on until a 'safe' road shoulder a few hundred meters forward. The police man is not happy: 'show me your spare tyre'. Right, he is looking to make trouble. That doesn't go well on Chrispin, who refuses unreasonable power games. Also, the spare tyre is buried under my two 23kg luggages. A endless conversation starts with two men arguing over whether the policeman command was 'valid' given he wasn't wearing his fancy white traffic police gloves. Threats to call whoever to report inappropriate behaviours from both parties. Then Chrispin gets off the car and I fear I am never going to see him again. A police woman comes to me to ask if I have 'taken some photos or videos because you muzungu my friend, sometimes you take pictures without asking'. I am fuelled by Chrispin's assertivity so I don't want to show her my phone gallery. She is trying to look angry but she is actually laughing. I am wondering what to do, some kids laughing at me trying to stay calm. Thanks god Chrispin comes back laughing when he realises the policeman was one of his students, who has suddenly become friendly and condescending. Ok, we can go.

Many other things have happened today. On the way down to Lilongwe, we visited Moving Windmills, the association set up by the boy who harnessed the wind - disappointing not to meet William but happy to find his windmill :-) the staff was so gracious and welcoming, until someone noticed my two scars on my forehead - really, the only indicators I may have been a child, at some point. The scars indeed look intentional, though ascribable to two separate episodes: stumbling on a rug and falling on a glass table when I was 5 and hitting the bedframe when getting changed by my nan when I was 3. He asks with apprehension if I have gone to a Sing'anga - a bushcraft doctor, known to make cuts on the forehead and apply some 'medicine' in them. He is not convinced by my rational childhood stories explanations. A whole conversation about the magic and people turning into lightening when quarreling starts. We get to even discuss whether God counts as magic - I have defer my opinion to another time.

I leave kinda marvelled someone noticed my scars. I always forget I have them.

When we finally approach Lilongwe, Chrispin says 'this is our city'. The problem is: I can't see any city. Only trees. Grass. Anything green but not a city. There is a rainbow in the distance, by product of the sky cooking rain all day, exploding into sudden storms and then calming down again. When we finally get to a shop, I am so tired and zoomed out from my own life that the only need I can respond to is thirst. We travelled SO many km without finding any shop, looking at the little bit of water left in the plastic bottle with concern and jealousy, secretly questioning who should have it first. The supermarket is huge, I grab some biscuits and apples (yesss, apples!), then command Chrispin to get some water I can see on a shelf. Back in the car on my way to the hotel. I finally reach to one of the water bottles, an unpleasant sniff reaches my nose but not fast enough for me to realise what I am already sipping is.... Vinegar. WTHell! I spray vinegar all over the car, with Chrispin saying in his inherited British politeness 'maybe you can spit outside the car?!'. 

I love these journeys. So much happen and nothing happens. There is so much life out there, but it is sometimes very good to put a bit of distance between yourself and the world - even if the distance is set by a racing Nissan Qashqai that has yet many places to go. But that's a story for tomorrow ;-)