Searching for Hyenas

The romantic notion of Africa invokes visions of lions stalking prey amongst dried elephant grass and towering giraffes foraging from baobab trees.  The reality however, is that large mammals have been poached to endangerment largely during colonialism, and are now confined primarily to national parks and game reserves.  In our area, the only land predators remaining are spotted hyenas.  They come down from the mountains at night and roam the village as people sleep, often eliciting a telltale chorus of howls from the dogs.  These nocturnal visitors leave little trace besides the occasional slayed livestock.  Last month, one of our nearest neighbors awoke with the sunrise to find a hyena had slaughtered one of his goats.  This happened within 20 m of our bedroom, but we did not even stir.  Hyenas are feared because they are associated with dark magic and death in Chewa folklore, but they represent little threat to humans.  The exception being drunks, who after downing too much local cornmeal beer, find themselves at the Lilongwe nature sanctuary after dark.  A few drunks who slept off their stupor in this tranquil area of the nation’s capital have been picked off by hyenas in recent years.

I’ve wanted a glimpse of the elusive spotted hyenas, and have heard that they are plentiful in the woods surrounding the firing range where the soldiers from the nearby military base train.  The firing range is halfway down the 6 km dirt road stretching from the village to the paved M14 road to Salima.  Besides one small village, the entirety of the road is surrounded by miombo woodland, making it terrific habitat for wildlife.  A few times, our co-worker has asked us to drive and pick her up at the turn-off by the main road at night, since the bicycle taxis that are the main mode of transport down this stretch don’t operate past sunset.  Chris and I have turned these opportunities into what we call the “poor man’s game drive.”  Chris drives slowly down the dark road in first gear, and I point a bright flashlight out the window, scanning the trees for animals, specifically hyenas.  We’ve seen half a dozen civet cats, and a bouncing pair of glowing eyes from a tree that must have been a bush baby (the world’s most adorable nocturnal primate), but no hyenas.

Over Christmas, we decided to upgrade from the poor man’s game drive and traveled to Liwonde National Park in southern Malawi with two co-workers.  While living in Zambia we had the good fortune of being able to visit three national parks, but this was our first safari with our own vehicle.  

A fish eagle, Malawi's national bird

On Christmas day, after arriving at the lodge and setting up our tents, we took an afternoon boat ride on the Shire River.  On the 40 km stretch of the Shire River which runs through the park, there are over 2,000 hippos.  Much of the ride was spent traveling through schools of submerged hippos lazing in the river.  As the daylight faded, they began trudging onto land to graze.  We also passed crocodiles lurking near the shores, and in the far distance, a herd of elephants.  Liwonde, and Malawi as a whole, is a mecca for birdwatchers, and we also saw magnificent fish eagles soaring    through the skies, various hornbills, kingfishers, and other wading birds.

The next day, we awoke early to arrive at the park gates as they opened at 6am.  Unfortunately, we learned that the rains had washed away a bridge within, making much of the 50 km long park inaccessible.  The woman soldier at the gate, correctly appraising Chris as someone who liked to push the limits, warned him

repeatedly to turn around before the bridge to avoid getting stuck in the mud, since no one would come to our rescue.  That left us with an area with a 10 km radius to explore.  The backdrop of the park itself is gorgeous, with tall palm trees lining the river, expansive flood plains of burnt grasses fading into miombo forest, all bordered by blue mountains.  We saw all kinds of antelope:  large greater kudus with oversized ears, delicate tan impala with huge hooked antlers, and shaggy waterbucks.  We crept the car slowly towards them for pictures, but sudden movements made them flee.  We also saw warthogs, ancient-looking creatures which are built so awkwardly that they have to kneel with their front legs to graze.  At one point we passed a family, which startled and ran away with their bristly tails held straight in the air.  

After driving around for a couple of hours, we returned to the lodge to cook breakfast: pancakes cooked over the fire and drizzled with precious Vermont maple syrup.  We returned for another game drive in the late afternoon.  This time, Chris wanted to drive closer to the river on the smaller trails, like he’d seen a guide in a safari 4x4 do earlier that day.  This area was covered in deep mud, unlike the main road.  Much of the ride was spent careening around in the mud and sliding, narrowly avoiding trees.  It was a lot of fun, but I’d have enjoyed it more if it wasn’t in the company vehicle that I was responsible for.  The highlight of this drive was turning a corner and seeing a solitary, younger elephant standing by the road, playing in a large mud puddle.

Hornbill (think Zazu from The Lion King)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lilac breasted rollers

Impala

A common waterbuck

 

                                                                                         

A herd of greater kudu and a baboon

 Another excursion this month was to Cape Maclear, which is situated almost on the far southern end of the 365 km long Lake Malawi.  One of the only accessible parts of the lake to face northwest, it offers protection from the winds and spectacular sunsets.  Cape Maclear is a quintessential Malawian fishing village melded with lodges catering to European backpackers, and it has a laid-back, spirited atmosphere.  Like many notable areas in this region, it was visited and named by the Scottish explorer and missionary David Livingstone, who named it after the Astronomer Royal at the Cape of Good Hope, Thomas Maclear.  Livingstone had 
     such an appreciation for its beauty that it was chosen as the original site of his mission.

Our organization has a partnership with a tour operator that had just opened a new lodge on the western end of Cape, so we were invited to a weekend of complimentary meals, lodging and water sports to celebrate its launch.  In addition to mingling with other expatriates working in Malawi and enjoying a new side of the lake, we also were able to go snorkeling and banana boating.  We went out in the speedboat to a small, rocky island and snorkeled among the vibrant, neon-colored cichlids that Lake Malawi is known for.  It was like floating in a giant tropical fish tank.  Later that day, we piled on an inflatable, banana-shaped raft pulled by the speedboat.  It was pretty unstable and we bounced high in the waves left in the boat’s wake, so we fell off often.  But riding on it at high speeds with the wind on our faces and spray from the lake kicking up, half expecting that every turbulent patch would cause us to tumble into the water, was exhilarating.  

Malawi is only the size of the state of Pennsylvania, and nearly one quarter of the country is freshwater lake, but there is tremendous geographical diversity.  An hour south of Liwonde National Park lies the breathtaking Zomba Plateau.  Zomba was Malawi’s colonial capital, and was claimed to be the most stunning, picturesque capital anywhere in the British Empire.  Rising to an elevation of 6,836 feet, the plate

au is covered in potato fields at its lower elevations and a pine tree plantation at its tips.  A steep, zigzagging road traversed by merchants selling fruit to tourists and women carrying bundles of wood on their heads to sell in town winds up to the Sunbird Kuchawe inn, Malawi’s government-owned luxury hotel chain, perched on the precipice.  From the top of the plateau, you can look upon the town of Zomba far below, looking like a child’s carelessly placed set of matchbox cars and other tin toys, and mountains in varying shades of blue stretching across the horizon.  The Shire River meanders through like a blue ribbon across the sandy ground, and from the opposite direction, you can view Lake Chilwa.

High on the plateau, options for accommodation are limited.  The Sunbird Kuchawe’s prices match its opulent atmosphere, so we settled for camping at a former trout farm that has seen better days.  Our travel companions until this part of the journey refused to camp with us, insinuating that the farm was sketchy and looked like the set of a bad slasher movie.  Their loss, since its location set amidst the forest was really rather peaceful.

 The lodges advocate hiring guides to lead tourists around the plateau, but we had a Bradt’s guide to Malawi with a crude map of the plateau, directions pirated off another traveler’s blog, and an optimistic outlook on our sense of direction, so the four of us set off on a hike to find Emperor’s and Queen’s view.  Amidst the rows of pine trees stretching off into the distance, the setting was not unlike the Adirondacks.  We enjoyed the tranquility of being completely alone except for each other.  At some point, we must have made a wrong turn, but upon reaching the top of the road, we had a spectacular view of other mountains in the distance. 

After a brief rest, we set off again, and that’s when we became utterly lost.  In an attempt to gain our bearings, we took roads heading in the vague direction of where we thought we should be, though much of the plateau’s landmarks look the same.  At this point, it was 3pm and storm clouds were moving in rapidly and ushering in a premature sunset, and we’d been walking since 11am.  With a new sense of urgency, we began following a road with fresh tire tracks, surmising that tire tracks meant civilization.  Just as we began to lose hope, a grey 4x4 appeared on the horizon.  After flagging down the vehicle, the driver stopped, and asked us for directions to the outlooks in an Afrikaans accent.  The two white South African brothers inside were also lost, but having a hell of a time doing it skidding through deep mud in their boss’s SUV, sipping gin from glasses, and chain smoking.  Hopping into the backseat, we continued on and found a sign for Queen’s View- named for Queen Elizabeth who visited in the 1950s.  After taking some pictures, we continued on to the dam, where the younger brother splashed around in the frigid water and we stood around like parents supervising a child’s first swim, instructing him to try different poses as his brother snapped photos on his iphone.  After thanking the brothers for sparing us a cold night on the plateau, we headed back to our campsite.

The next day, Chris and I were alone, and we decided to hike to Chingwe’s hole, on the opposite side of the plateau.  In a second moment of grossly overestimating our abilities, we projected the trip to be about 3 miles one way, or one hour there and one back.  This side of the plateau had a landscape more reminiscent of New Zealand, with green plains, moss-draped trees, and small rivers cascading over the earthen path.  This hike was also completely vertical, and brought us up through the pine plantations, past temporary grass

shelters covered with black plastic where families lived while they harvested pine which they would later carry down the mountain to sell in Zomba town.  The mountain rang with the sound of pit saws as pine was cut into planks.  We did not see any trace of a larger scale logging operation; instead it seemed to be contracted to small groups of people living in villages on the plateau.  We continued ascending, past the woodsmen, and finally came to a meadow.  Though the view was lovely, we’d been walking for over two hours on legs sore from the previous day’s adventures.  But a sign promised us that Chingwe’s hole was only one kilometer away.  It must have been the longest kilometer of my life, since it took us another hour from there to reach the place.  Meanwhile, dark clouds approached ominously, heralded by high winds and distant lightening flashing across the sky.  We were on the highest part of the plateau in an open meadow, so being sensible and safety-minded, we doggedly continued towards Chingwe’s Hole rather than seeking shelter.  Finally, we arrived at a rather inauspicious small circle of trees huddling together near the edge of a cliff. 

Fog was rolling in, making it impossible to see what the circle of trees concealed.  Since the storm was imminent and there was no shelter anywhere, we huddled on a wooden bench that faced what was probably a magnificent view any other time, but now was only the opaque white of endless fog.  The wind blew ferociously, and we expected to be drenched with rain anytime, but it never came.  With awe, we realized that we were above the storm clouds.  While we were safely enveloped in a blanket of fog, beneath us, the rain pelted in sheets.  All our   The

rain beneath us was fierce but quick, and the fog dissipated.  The view in front of us was still only white when we looked down at the map, but when we glanced back up, it was like someone had thrown open the curtain.  Within a minute, the fog had vanished completely, revealing a view of the southern region’s raw beauty.  Our tiredness melted away with that distant rain, and we were left with a feeling of invincibility and immortality there in the heavens.

The retreating fog also left us with an unobstructed view of  Chingwe’s hole, hidden in that little unassuming copse of trees.  Despite the tranquil setting, Chingwe’s hole has a mysterious, deadly past.  Locally, it is said to be a bottomless pit stretching into the Rift Valley.  While it undoubtedly has a bottom, that abyss is littered with layers of bones.  In the past, it was offered sacrifices in times of drought.  They also used to throw people afflicted with leprosy into the hole, which is how it earned its name.  One day they visited the hole and found the unfortunate soul tossed in the previous day to be still alive.  In a weak voice that echoed throughout the 8m wide hole, he asked for a rope, chingwe in ChiChewa, to be thrown down.  His request was ignored, and he eventually died of injuries or dehydration.  Later, local chiefs used the hole to forever dispose of their enemies.  It is rumored that former dictator Hastings Banda (1964-1994) also used the hole for this purpose.  Under his reign, over 250,000 Malawians were detained without trial and tortured, and his dissenters had a tendency to die under mysterious circumstances such as car crashes, explosive blasts, or as victims of crocodiles on the Shire River.

Like the nocturnal hyenas that skulk around the village, much of our trip was shrouded in mystery.  Safari is always a gamble, since there are no guarantees you’ll see animals, and it’s harder in the rainy season when the herds move further.  Zomba Plateau is beautiful, but holds many secrets and no clear paths back home.  We left the village without a clear plan or itinerary, intent on uncovering more about Malawi.  While we did so, we’ve really only scratched the surface.  This is a diverse, beautiful country, and like searching for the elusive hyenas by flashlight, I can’t wait to have more adventures in the quest for knowledge.