A swing over the edge

I was lying in a hammock by the edge of the cliff, watching the hills below and the tiny villages. Lake Malawi spread out beyond and as the sun started to set the clouds were reflected in the glimmering water and it looked as if earth had disappeared. As if someone would try to swim they would find themselves swaying among the stars in space. As if there no longer was anything else than the mountain, the hammock, peace, and the monkeys swinging themselves in the trees below me.

The other day I went with three friends up to Kande town, we had been diving in Lake Malawi during the day and now we were having dinner at the local restaurant. We had been there the day before and the woman had cooked amazing maize-meal and a tomato sauce, so we ordered food for this day as well. As we came there the woman said “I’m so sorry, I was away.” So she had just started with the meal. We asked when it would be ready. “In a couple of hours.” The woman replied.
This is Africa.
So, we went to hang out in the town which isn’t really a town but a small village. There was some music playing and we went for a game of pool. Inside the small room the walls were stained, the bar dirty and some of the people too drunk to be pleasant. The music was too loud and we had to scream to each other as we teamed up with our diving-buddy. J and myself against A and G. As we played the crowd cheered and I was happy to be with three men. No one however drunk would ever dare to harass me with those strong guys next to me.

As an hour had passed we went back to the restaurant, the food was almost ready. The day before the room was lit up by a candle, this day the candles were burnt out and we had a small lamp running on batteries to light up our food. It was all cooked in a big pot over the kitchen-fire and even though it was not as good as the tomatoes the day before it was still one of the best meals I’ve had in local African restaurants.
The day before we ordered rice for our next meal, and as we walked the twenty minutes walk back home we discussed how we would be able to eat the rice with our hands. “It will be difficult man, if it’s not gluey it will just fall between the fingers. Right?” G said. “I imagine, it will be fun! Lots of photo-opportunities!” I said. We all laughed, and as we were served the meal the next day at least I was a little disappointed. The other had rice and I got maize-meal, the they were all served spoons next to their plates. There the fun went out the window, but no. We still had a really good time, and how I will miss the African countryside as I go back to Europe. Nothing will be the same.

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