Day 2 in Malawi: The Village Children Stone a Monkey by the Lake

Today was a workday, so I very dutifully checked my emails and wrote up my research findings from the hotel bar overlooking Lake Malawi. The sky and the water were both perfectly blue. My lunch break took longer than I expected, as the restaurant I visited across the road made all my food entirely from scratch. Still, it was interesting to taste some of the local vegetables whose names I no longer recall. I also had some time to chat with a boatman repairing a catamaran on the beach by my lodge. He offered me one of his tour packages for an acceptable price.

When I had finished, I decided to make another visit to the gate of Lake Malawi National Park. Since I had come very late on the previous day, the gatekeeping ranger told me that if I came back today, I could still enter for free. Nonetheless, I had some doubts about this arrangement. When I arrived at the gate, I found that the ranger was there, and after exchanging greetings, I asked somewhat awkwardly whether I could go in. Even more awkwardly, the gatekeeper hesitated. Thinking I caught his drift, I fished around in my backpack and handed him a banknote. “Thank you for remembering me,” I said.

As soon as he saw the money, the ranger’s face brightened, and he ushered me into the park. Since I had forgotten to bring my receipt from the previous day (or rather, I had decided against it as I did not want to crumple the artefact), he told me that if anyone asked me for it, I should send them to him, though he doubted this would be necessary. Then he pointed me in the direction of Otter Point and gave me a slew of confusing directions before advising me to just go straight.

This time, the walk was gentle and pleasant, with no tall grasses latching onto my clothes and puncturing my skin. Much of the way was shaded by trees. Occasionally I would see small birds flitting between them and monkeys scurrying away from my sight, and I even happened to disturb a pair of hornbills from their rest. As my eyes wandered up and around, I was startled to hear a quick movement in front of me, which was followed by the sight of a grey snake slithering off the path. I jumped back before I could even fully process the sight, but I was in no danger: the snake was thinner than my pinkie. The one thing I noticed about it for the sake of identifying it later were the rings right behind its head.

After reaching a beach with a tree washed by the waves, it was just a short walk to Otter Point. This location forms the westernmost part of Lake Malawi National Park and consists of smooth, picturesque boulders, some of which stand proudly above the lake while others lie submerged or partly submerged within it. I was so impressed by the sight that I decided to take pictures from the rocks in the water, to reach which I would have to leave my backpack behind and take off my socks and shoes. I did not, for some reason, think to take off my trousers despite being fully aware that I would have to get them wet. In fact, I went on to shimmy from one submerged rock to another on my bottom, since one of my hands was engaged in holding my camera and there was no other way to avoid slipping. When I made it across to the big rock in the water, I wagged my finger towards the forest and warned the hiding monkeys not to get up to any funny business with my bag.

The view did not disappoint. From the rock, I could see the hills above the southwestern end of the lake, in the foreground of which a boatman occasionally emerged. The more spectacular sight, however, waited right beneath the water’s surface. I had heard much about Lake Malawi’s famed cichlid fishes before visiting the lake, and indeed, I had seen them in many an aquarium across the globe. Thus, I was not impressed when I first arrived at my hotel and only spotted some small brown shadows in the water below it. At Otter Point, however, the clear water was teeming not just with big striped cichlids but also with their beloved bright yellow and blue cousins. The bare rocks might as well have been a coral reef for all the splendour.

Once I had shimmied back onto the mainland again and put on my socks and shoes, I began my way home. I had passed a marula tree on my way to the rocks, and now, a troop of monkeys had descended upon the fruits lying below. I could not approach most of them without scaring them away, but one particularly fearless monkey was so engrossed with its food that I found it necessary to announce – out loud – that I would be much obliged if it would let me pass through.

I was just outside the village when a strange scene stopped me dead in my tracks. I saw a group of children running from a grove onto the road, occasionally turning around and throwing rocks. To their right, in the direction from which they had just come, I spotted two vervet monkeys sprinting towards them with their tails flailing behind. Then, all of a sudden, the children stopped, and the monkeys did as well. Whatever fun the children were having by teasing the monkeys, they decided enough was enough, and sensing their resolution, the monkeys scurried away into the trees.

I resumed walking again, but the kids saw me as I tried to pass by and came to talk. “The monkeys chased me!” Said one girl in a very serious voice.

“Pay money, take a picture?” Asked a smaller girl beside her.

I did not quite know what she meant, but in any case, I told her what I would tell her even if I did, which was that I did not have any money with me – a shameless lie.

“Take a picture of the monkey?” Another boy asked. Then I suddenly noticed a tawny lump stretched out on the road. It was a monkey. With its tail lying on the gravel and its body curved in foetal position, it almost looked like it was asleep.

“Is it dead?” I asked the children.

“Yes,” they replied, and as we came closer, the children resumed their chorus of how I should take a picture and pay them.

“No, no thank you,” I said, trying to make my perturbation visible on my face. If I showed the slightest interest, I thought, the children might take it in their heads that tourists like to take pictures of dead monkeys, and God knows what would come of that. Better not to engage at all, much less to take a picture. It occurred to me later that I might have made a lecture or something of the sort, but perhaps it was true that they were running from the monkeys and that they had attacked the children unprovoked.