Malawi

The heat is utterly intense. Thick and sticky and unbearably warm, like breathing inside a hairdryer. Outside my tent the night is alive with wildlife. The inscesant high pitched whine of mosquitos. The thundering crunch and moan of the elephants as they push through the trees and brush with the disdain of their giant species for anything smaller than them. Sticky back leeches to soaked camp cot as I toss and turn trying in vain to find a comfortable position. In frustration, I squeeze out through an untucked corner of my mosquito net, shuck on a pair of flip flops, and steal into the night. Outside, the meagerest breeze brings relief, caressing soaked skin. Collapsing into a small canvas chair outside I sit and gaze up, the cosmos on full display; mother nature’s incomparable night light.

“Sign language breaching my lack of Chichewa I started composing my picture. Instantly kids started appearing in frame and it went from a photo of an individual in front of his home to a poised group photo. After each click the excitement of seeing their image on the tiny screen would cause a surge towards me - even as I took this photo you can see some of the kids already on the move!”

Heading out from the reserve we visit a local village and one of the local schools as part of African Parks community engagement initiative. Greeted by the villagers we were led on a tour of their homes; their warmth and openness incredible. We are guided through the preparation of Nsima, a food staple made from ground corn and served with side dishes of meat and vegetable. Our guide explains that many families in these parts of Malawi live on a dollar a day. Standing there with my camera I am suddenly acutely aware of the value of the metal, electronics and glass in my hands.

Ushered back to the centre of the village away from the cooking fire the village is gathered in a huge circle, the sound of drums and singing coming from its centre. They kindly make space for us to sit at the front as the circle opened and a man lurched into view. Feathers about his limbs and mask on face his feet beat in sharp rhythm to the drums, red dust spraying into the air. In Malawi the Chewa have something called gule wamkulu, The Great Dance. They believe that when an individual dies they move from the land of the living to the land of the ancestors. Dancers visit the village as mzimu, spirits that convey messages to the village and teach lessons to the young.

Each dance is unique to the character and the main aim is to remind the village to live their lives according to mwambo, the moral code. While the adults of the village smiled and laughed it was fascinating to watch the children’s reactions, especially the visible fear as I was used as a human shield when the feathered dancer was replaced by someone who most definitely was representative of the devil; red face, horns and all. Waving goodbye to the village we moved on to the school.

Education, or access to it, is something that I think many of us take for granted. Speaking to the school’s headmaster he explains that he can have up to 700 children in class with 13 teachers to oversee them. As part of our visit the children put on a conservation lesson for us. We spoke with them about local conservation and how they and their parents were helping make Majete an even more special place through their understanding of the local environment. For most of these children, especially the girls, education will finish as early teenagers. They were so bright, sharp and eager to learn. One of the researchers with us, an ex teacher, summed it up simply, “all that unrealised potential”.