Chizumulu Island - At the Mercy of the Boats

If at first you don’t succeed, try again right? Then success is sweeter? I kept asking myself this while the boat heaved, vomit sloshing on the deck and my eyes fixed on the mainland (in attempt to keep myself from hurling). From Nkhata Bay I caught a boat to the island of Chizumulu in hopes of finding a boat to Tanzania. My first attempt was an utter failure. The boat, which was well less than in prime condition, left Nkhata Bay loaded with people and cargo with the intent of reaching the island after 6 hours. Upon departing, the crew advised that “vomiting is free” which of course made me begin to questions the conditions further out on the lake. How bad could a lake really get?

As the boat started chugging out further from shore we were quickly in deep white-capped swells that ruthlessly tossed the boat around. It wasn’t long before people were vomiting, luckily myself not included. I kept my eyes fixed on the mainland which I believe saved me from further adding to the mess on the deck. Just as the mainland started to disappear and the island was coming into view, a terrible noise came from the engine followed by complete silence. The engine had failed; 3 hours from the mainland, 3 hours from the island. Luckily, the boat had a small backup outboard, but unfortunately it was too weak to battle the headwind and we turned back, arriving to Nkhata Bay to the setting sun.

The next morning was calm and clear which boosted my courage (it needed some boosting).  After working on the boat through the night, the crew had it ready once again to make the journey.  I hesitantly boarded again.  The second attempt was a success.  The water remained calm throughout the day and the boat held together resulting in a pleasant cruise across the lake.

After a second attempt, it was a relief to finally have the island near.  Boating across Lake Malawi is fun for a little while, but it is a big lake and sitting uncomfortably in the hot sun gets old quick.

In Malawi, they pack their boats just like they pack their buses.

The small island of Chizumulu is nestled up against the Mozambican mainland but remains Malwian.  It is home to about 3,500 people who survive mostly off of fishing.  With no roads and no cars, Chizumulu was an invigorating retreat.  The water is especially clear and turquoise and the island itself is rocky and studded with massive baobab trees.  It was no doubt an enjoyable place to wander the numerous footpaths and mingle with the locals.

The children of Chizumulu were never shy when it came to striking a pose or trying on a muzungu's sunglasses.

The main harbor, Same (saw-may), on Chizumulu Island was much quieter than the mainland harbors.  Fishing was the name of the game on Chizumulu and even the girls would get in the water to throw a hook in.

The lives of the people of Chizumulu revolved around Lake Malawi.  Boats and canoes were often jerry-rigged up to make their life a little easier.

 The giant baobab trees that dotted the island were distinctly African while the island itself felt like it was on another continent.

With Tanzania in sight I was certain that I could hitch a ride on a boat to the mainland.  On Chizumulu I was told to go to the next island, Likoma, where there was a Swahili who might be able to help me out.  But before I could even get to the island I was informed that he had actually passed away some time back.  Still determined to reach Tanzania, I waited for a whole day for a jerry-rigged sailing boat to take me to Likoma.  However, the winds were not cooperating and I never reached the island or found the elusive Swahili boats.  So, with a new set of less exciting plans, I boarded the next boat back to the Malawian mainland, defeated.