Red Zebras and a vision of harmony

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Lorenzo was arriving at Lilongwe airport, Saturday 12H30. We set off with ample time to spare and all was going well until we reached the first round about at the edge of the capital city. Police and gun toting soldiers lined the streets. Doris’s directions, take the second exit, simply couldn’t be obeyed. Detour to the closest petrol station. May as well fill up and try find out what was up. Turns out the President was on the move. Some said just to get out the way of the protesters, those who are accusing him of rigging the vote. Sound familiar? Others thought he may be taking a trip to Blantyre or even just a jaunt to the Lake. He likes swimming apparently. Long story short it took us two and a half hours to get to the airport. No longer even on time now two hours late.

Apart from Presidential pickles, Lilongwe is in the process of building a fancy new road that links everything, including parliament and the airport. Safety be damned. There’s no official alternative road. Cautious drivers will perish. Choose a line and go for it. Distractions come in the form of livestock being thrust towards the window of prospective buyers. There’s something oddly distasteful, even as a certified carnivore, about the resigned eyes of an upside down dangling chicken.

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Fortunately having spent his formative years in Lesotho, Lawrence understands African time. Amazingly, humour intact, he hopped aboard Florence and off we set. Destination Senga Bay. Home of the Red Zebra. I’d read about this chap, Stuart M Grant, who had built a business (and conservation fund) breeding and exporting the famous Malawi Cichlids. The blurb said they had around 700 fish tanks. Worth a look? Expect the unexpected.

We were eagerly greeted by a beaming Rosendaba. After an exuberant welcome she went on to apologise about the state of the joint. They were doing maintenance (not a minute too soon). Our cottage had become the office, storeroom, bar , you name it. Would we mind having dinner in the Garden? A quick glance around and we realised the garden was in fact the only place ticked off on the things to do list. Sure no problem. What would we choose from the menu, chicken, fish or a bugger. Pardon. A little bit louder and more clearly enunciated…..a bugger. Ok, yes one burger and chips for Lawrence.

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The next morning we took a “tour”of the fish farm. Esther, Stuart Grants wife, had explained the previous evening that things had slipped a bit after Stuart died (12 years ago). Her son had recently returned from America and was getting things going again. Basically the breeding programme is no longer. Local divers net, the fish are sorted in the holding tanks, treated and then moved onto the bigger outdoor tanks if not sold straight away. It’s a haphazard affair currently. Electricity happens occasionally and it’s too expensive to run a generator for all the tanks. The inside, 1st stop, tanks are prioritised, sort of. Our tour guide popped the odd air hose into place as we cruised around, not too much fussing.

Our fellow breakfasters were two Danish guys. One of the Carling beer family. Both avid fish collectors and retailers. The one had been coming twice a year to the red zebra for years to dive and hand select prize cichlids for resale. Interesting. An MC apparently is the pot of gold. He got one a few years ago that fetched 150000 krone. Oh by the way a red zebra is a type of cichlid.

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Mua Mission. Blink and you’ll miss the turn off. Not our Doris. Turn right in 800m. Lawrence’s eyes widened as we maneuvered between the market stalls in the direction of, nothing much. Out of the grey dust an oasis appeared. Built around 1902, Mua is home to a peace loving community headed by Father Claude Boucher Chisale.

Father Chisale has had both the privilege and the insight to combine his calling as a missionary with his deep love for anthropology. The result is something quite remarkable. The Museum caretaker was summonsed (Sunday lunchtime) and he agreed to open up and give us a tour. In three interlinking rooms the history of Malawi was narrated by the enthusiastic guide. Knowledgeable, passionate and articulate, he had our full attention for an hour plus. The underpinning message tolerance, acceptance and integration. “laziness breeds poverty” the warning.

The museum contains an impressive collection of Gule Wamkulu masks. Take a look, its worth a read. Ín very simple terms the masks are used at ceremonial events (VIP deaths, inaugurations etc) to provide moral compass. Stories are enacted with the masks as “props”. The tradition is dynamic and new masks are added as the situation requires. With the last few years an Albino mask has been introduced to help demystify Albinism. Social statements.

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Mua Mission has an air of peacefulness hard to describe. Perhaps best summed up by the photos above. The tree of life incorporating Muslim (slave traders) and Christians (missionaries) together with the three founding tribes of Malawi. Living together, accepting, tolerating, integrating, working together.