A trip to Dedza and a change in the weather

Dedza Mountain from the cafe 

Dedza Mt after the rain began.

Dutch students in front of pottery

Acacia in bloom

Lodge at Dedza pottery

Woodfired hot water heater and satellite TV (which didn't work).

Wildflowers

April 12, 2011

A TRIP TO DEDZA AND A CHANGE IN THE WEATHER

Ever since I heard about the Dedza Pottery I have wanted to visit it and this weekend I finally went.  Riding minibuses literally means you take your life in your hands especially when you need to go 83 Km (about 50 miles) in one but that is what I did Saturday and again on Sunday afternoon. When the bus left Lilongwe the 4 rows of seats each held 4 tightly wedged people.  I was lucky to be on the outside of the rearmost seat meaning I had a window and a real seat rather than a fold down with no back and two twisted metal stumps where the back used to be.  By the time we got about 40 km we had let off a few people including the man next to me whose lap was full of multicolored buckets, but of course we had also picked up a few more.  I asked the driver to let me off near the pottery and he took me to the bus depot – amazingly Dedza has a real bus station with an outdoor waiting area and brick seats.  Once there I asked “where is the pottery?”  The minibus driver shouted something in Chichewa that I didn’t understand and the next thing I know this rather tall skinny guy with a bicycle taxi is standing in front of me.  I looked at the pillion on the back, then looked skeptically at the rider and said, “I’m not sure I want to do this”.  He said “200Kw” and I said once again “I’m not sure about this”.  He said,” is it too much”?  I asked how far it was and he said, “far”.  So I decided to try it.  I climbed on astride, the seat was padded and not terribly uncomfortable, I had rests for my feet and two handles to hold onto.  Then he took off pedaling like mad – he has no gears.  He had a heavy load with me and a backpack that weighed at least 15 pounds but he pedaled valiantly up the hills and coasted happily down them until we came to the road for the pottery which is unpaved, rutted, muddy and had a very steep hill.  I said “I will get off and walk up the hill”.  He said, “not yet”.  Then he pedaled a few hundred more yards before he had to stop.  We walked up the hill, me somewhat breathless and he breathing normally.  Then he hopped back on and insisted I join him as he rode up a moderate slope to the pottery gate.   I paid him 500 kw and felt he earned a lot more than that but I know better than to go too far above the prevailing Azungu rate. 

When I arrived at the Pottery the sun was shining, the Dutch girls were just leaving having had a breakdown in the car they were in and were on their way back to Lilongwe to get a new cap for the car’s water reservoir.  I checked into the lodge, did a brief tour of the pottery shop (see photos) and went up to the restaurant for lunch.  I had heard it was good and it was.  I had Persian goat which was very well seasoned but as usual with goat fairly tough.  I enjoyed the view of Dedza Mountain (see pictures) and the grass and maize covered hills.  There were also lots of yellow acacia trees in full flower and some orange wildflowers.  By the time lunch came (about 30 minutes as nothing is quick here) the mountain was obscured with clouds and it soon began to rain quite hard.  The rain continued on and off throughout the rest of the weekend and it was as I had been warned –cold.  I brought a long sleeved T-shirt and a very light jacket thinking it would be enough but by evening I was wearing the jacket, a shirt, and both T shirts. Lunch was followed with a good cup of real brewed Mzusu coffee.  Plans to walk to the cave paintings were shelved since the walk was far and the rain relentless so I graded papers and read a bit.  About 5 PM I went for a walk down the muddy road to investigate some artists’ stalls I had seen on the way in.  It was really too dark to see much so I promised to return the next day.  When I came back a met a British woman and her two grown children who were visiting her staying in the room next to me.  We had a drink together (meaning I had a Coke Light) and I learned she was working for a small UK charity in Blantyre teaching pre-school teachers for 18 months.  We had dinner together and this time I tried the rice and beans which were also excellent –although we waited over an hour for dinner.  After dinner we had the renowned Dedza Pottery cheesecake.  The cheesecake was tasty – not quite New York style but close with real cream topping.

The pottery was started by British man who married a Malawian and currently employs over 150 local people. Most of what they do is special orders – they will make entire sets of dishes, they make a lot of decorative tiles to order as well as casseroles, flower pots, vases, and variety of figurines.  The lodge is a recent addition and they now have another lodge, shop, and restaurant in another town on the lake that was the center of the Arab slave trade.  

 In the morning it was still cold and rainy so I read a bit, shopped in the shop, walked down to the stalls and bought a doll and some handmade paper. Then I  had lunch of bread and cheese I had brought with me and packed my purchases into my now bulging backpack and walked a km or so down to the main tarmac road.  I had no sooner arrived than I was picked up by a minibus and began another harrowing ride. This time I was on the fold down seat in the next to back row with my backpack on my lap and those twisted stumps of what used to be the seat back looming behind me.  There was a large bag where my feet should go so I had to twist and put my feet to the side.  By the time we got to Lilongwe my hip was so cramped I wondered if I would be able to walk.  The bus was full when I got on but he kept stopping and at one point he had 19 people in the bus including 2 babies.  There were never less than 17 and no one was comfortable.  At one point I could see the driver, tooling along at 70-80 km per hour and adding airtime to his phone. (This involves entering a 16 digit code into the phone following a 4 digit number).  All I could think of was good Lord doesn’t he know he has 18 people in this vehicle and if he gets in an accident the two people closest to the sliding door will be ejected and killed because the door doesn’t shut right, I will be impaled on these two posts, the two babies will fly out the window that has no glass, and we will all have concussions from the luggage stuffed into the back that is only half secured.  After that I decided to stop thinking and besides my hip was in so much pain I couldn’t think much anyway except “how much further?”

When we arrived at the road to my house I did get out.  My leg did hold me up.  I did not fall flat on my face as I’d feared I might.  Things at home had settled after a tense week and I was glad to be home except two of my purchases were still in the pottery’s shop since the girl forgot to pack them in my bag and I thought she’d packed them inside the casserole I bought Regina. 

Although it was warm and dry when I got home as evening fell I noticed it was much cooler than usual. For the past two days it has been fall-like – cool crispy mornings and evenings with warm mid-days.  Last night about 2AM I had to find the blanket Regina gave me when I arrived that I thought I would never have need of because I was COLD.  Malawians say they have only 2 seasons, Summer and Winter.  I guess winter has arrived.  Seems quite odd and backwards for someone from the northern latitudes.  Tonight, however, the stars were bright and crisp in the sky as they are in winter – except here I see the Southern Cross (my favorite constellation) and the good ship Argus on the horizon while Orion is high in the northern sky and the big dipper is upside down.