A Virtual Tour of Malawi, the ‘Warm Heart of Africa’


At the onset of the coronavirus pandemic, with journey restrictions in place worldwide, we launched a brand new sequence — The World Through a Lens — wherein photojournalists assist transport you, nearly, to some of our planet’s most stunning and intriguing locations. This week, Marcus Westberg shares a group of photographs from Malawi.


When I stepped off the airplane in Lilongwe as a 23-year-old, I had no thought of what to anticipate, although I used to be enthusiastic about the prospect of my first solo journey to Africa. I spent the first few days wandering round the metropolis — it felt extra like a small city than the nation’s capital — earlier than deciding that it was time to see extra of the nation.

A landlocked nation in southeastern Africa, Malawi is commonly overshadowed by its extra better-known neighbors: Tanzania, with its ample wildlife; Zambia, residence of Victoria Falls; and Mozambique, with its picture-perfect seashores.

But Malawi — roughly the dimension of Pennsylvania — has lots of pure magnificence of its personal: the clear waters of Lake Malawi (near 365 miles lengthy and 52 miles vast, it’s generally known as the “Calendar Lake”); the magnificent cliffs of Mount Mulanje; the distinctive highland plateau of Nyika; and its wildlife reserves, together with Liwonde and Majete, where cheetahs, lions, elephants and rhinos have been reintroduced.

Still, it was never the country’s natural charms that kept drawing me back. It was the people.

As a photojournalist and travel writer, I am wary of clichés and generalizations. But few countries have been awarded a more appropriate slogan than Malawi, which is known as the “Warm Heart of Africa.” While I have rarely been made to feel unwelcome anywhere during my travels, in Africa or elsewhere, Malawi has always felt different.

Of course, it would be unfair to gloss over the country’s many challenges. Crime has risen dramatically since my first visit. Sexual abuse of minors remains a significant problem, especially in more traditional, rural settings.

The coronavirus pandemic has brought much of the country, including its international tourism, to a standstill, adding uncertainty to an already precarious existence for many.

The latest in their seemingly never-ending list of projects, ideas, and initiatives is Swop Shop, where plastic collected in and around Senga Bay is exchanged for points, for which a wide array of goods can be obtained. These range from biscuits and stationery (paid for from the proceeds of selling the plastic to a recycling plant in Lilongwe) to donated clothes, tools and soccer balls.

An astonishing 40 tons of plastic, and thousands of non-reusable glass bottles, have been collected in the two years since the project’s inception. This includes 180 pounds of plastic brought in during my most recent trip by the Senga Boys under-12 soccer team, in exchange for new uniforms. Despite playing barefoot, they comfortably trounced the group of visitors I had brought from Sweden in an impromptu match — aided in small part by the cows that kept wandering onto the field and in large part by being the far better team.

Experiences like that have colored virtually all my visits to Malawi. Whether planned or spontaneous, on assignment or while going to the market for vegetables, time and time again I have found myself staying far longer than intended. As is true everywhere, mutual respect, curiosity and trust — and knowing when not to take yourself too seriously — go a long way to establish genuine connections and create meaningful relationships, whether they’re are fleeting or last for a lifetime.

As a mzungu, the ubiquitous name for a white person in much of southern and eastern Africa, my obvious foreignness and my earnest, if seemingly hopeless, attempts to communicate in Chichewa tend to create enough curiosity to dissolve any awkwardness or tension, especially when accompanied by a big smile and an apparent appreciation of the rather complex local handshaking culture.

(It is perhaps appropriate to point out that the photos of children included here were taken in the presence of teachers or parents while working alongside the local staff of the nonprofit organizations funding the schools, boreholes or agriculture programs I was there to photograph. Whether in a school or a village, my general policy is to not take any photos until I have been introduced and done what I can to ensure that everyone is comfortable having me there, to the extent that this is feasible.)

Like anywhere else, Malawi is a complex a society, full of contradictions and complications. How could it not be? And yet, if you were to ask me where in the world I would feel the most comfortable walking up to a stranger — any stranger — to start a conversation, my answer, simultaneously recognizing and ignoring my own subjectivity, would unhesitatingly be Malawi.



Source link Nytimes.com

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