Aphiri

That’s Chichewa for mountains. That was also the fortuitous nickname I earned at the ART course from the Malawian candidates. Pretty fateful, since, now the rainy season is pretty much behind us, more and more unsuspecting people are being dragged up these breathtaking heights with me. The last time was Zomba with Caleb, Corrie (a VSO from Holland), and Claire and Nicole (CNN for simplicity- visiting Dutch medical students, who are a real laugh by the way). This weekend was the second ascent of “Mount Ntcheu Telecom Mast” as I shall name it, for want of an official name. My victim, for the second time in a row, was Caleb and his unpreparedness for this expedition was obvious from his power shirt and the NASA-mission-looking DocMarten type shoes he was wearing (only slightly worse than the ones that crawled up Zomba plateau in - so I thought he’d manage)! In the interest of variation, we chose an alternative descent route, which is what made this time around more memorable. Of course, the ascent involved the same toil of sweaty gradients and tall grass, with inescapable reminders of snakes lurking amidst the thick canopy. After losing his body weight in sweat and CO2 and demanding almost the same amount of time in rest as in actual walking, Caleb unbelievably made it to the top. Once we started our descent, the functional uselessness of those very shoes became apparent. The arch-less insoles, smooth as a baby’s ass caused his whole foot to keep sliding on the downward slope, with his great toe constantly abutting against the tough inside. Oh did it hurt...and slow us down. We were now taking longer for what ought to have been the faster leg. And how things weren’t helped by the fact that, unbeknown to us, this alternative route was some 7-8Km longer than the ascent route!! We found ourselves contouring the foot of the mountain towards another town some 7Km from Ntcheu. (I know of an old hiking partner who’ll spot a few similarities with some big hills once in Scotland!) We were on the flat now with the sun right above our heads, still clueless about the remaining distance to the main road. Our attempts at gauging it from the locals in our broken Chichewa attracted answers ranging from ½ Km to “forever”. So we thought it might be wise to hail a passing vehicle and cut short Caleb’s blatant suffering by now. The first vehicle was an ambulance driving too fast to be safe, which didn’t stop even though I was signalling quite desperately that I am a doctor!!! By the way, ambulances in here are mostly used for staff as opposed to patient transport. We passed on the second option, a pick up truck, with some 30 people sardined in the back, screaming some songs; alcohol-fuelled and football-related we concluded (some things are the same anywhere in the world). We finally met with better luck with our third vehicle, if luck it can be called. It was a relic of a 4x4 with the back loaded up to the top with sacks of potato, atop of which were some 6 opportunistic travellers like us, as well as a bike. Considering the rocki-ness of this dirt road and the local driving style (which is one of my main sources of work in the hospital!), we thought we’d negotiate a place in the front. There was already a passenger there and at a push (literally) it would accommodate another one. Its door was not closing and had to be held closed with some old tyre strips (the favourite strapping material in Malawi). Somehow we set off with 3passengers and a driver in the front, the far-side passenger (myself) hanging on fiercely against the door which my bum was pushing open, with my hand at the top straining feverishly to close the gap! It turned out we were only 3Km away, but given the state he was in, even that would have been too much for Caleb to leg. Thence we caught our final minibus ride home to Ntcheu, in search of food and more food. As it is, getting on a minibus is not something I take too lightly, given its high contribution to the Malawian trauma statistics. The driver is normally subjected to a breath test by me (both ways it stinks, but the alcohol-imbued one a bit more) and the tyres inspected for the adequacy of the treads. Today, despite bypassing all of these checks, it felt like the safest ride home that I’ve ever had....

Written upon Caleb Muchungu's request: VSO Volunteer at Domasi- and slowly becoming a seasoned mountaineer.