- Mandasi – Malawian doughnut! But no filling or sugar (too expensive). Favourite street food, especially in the morning when they’re fresh; Not so good when they’re cold and stale. Cost a modest 50-80 kwacha (10-20p). Good choice if you’re desperate for sustenance and don’t want to play “samosa roulette” (the other favourite street food, which may or may not give you diarrhea).
- Mountains – Malawi is blessed with a beautiful landscape with nice mountains to hike or just look at from afar. Among them is the Zomba Plateau, which is simply stunning to look at and beautiful to look from at the top. Although I’m normally not a fan of walking, the hike up the “Potato Path” is probably one of my favourite outdoor activities. Coming down the steep path while it’s wet and slippy, and being passed by locals without footwear and carrying a whole tree on their head, is a humbling / embarrassing / amusing experience – I’m not kidding, see photo below!
- Mulanje – The tallest mountain in Malawi, which unfortunately I haven’t hiked, yet. Plenty of (“juju” / witchcraft) stories of lost souls if you dare to try hike it without a guide. Probably best to join or at least consult the Mountain Club of Malawi if you want to try it – seriously.
- Mvula – Chichewa for rain. Also a popular surname.
- Mzuzu – Biggest city in the Northern Region. I didn’t spend much time there but passed through a few times. Less industrial than Blantyre and less of a concrete jungle than Lilongwe, bigger than the old colonial capital, Zomba. More rain than any of the other 3 cities due to its altitude, so very green almost all year round.
Posts Tagged With: Mzuzu
A poignant farewell blog post from my fellow VSO volunteer. Well said Jess! I miss Malawi. Its good will, adventure and all its frustrations, too.
Over the past month that I have been back in the UK I have been trying to find the words to put in a final blog on my life in Malawi. I have failed miserably in this task and have now come to the conclusion that although there is so much to be said knowing where to start is impossible and it always will be.
Returning to the UK everything is the same but different. Walking down the road I miss the greetings from strangers and cries of ‘Azungu’ from children and quite frankly being completely anonymous again seems a little bit disappointing (I’m getting used to it!). When I sat in one of my first lectures as a student one of the few things I remember was being told that each theory of international relations was like putting on a different pair of glasses to view the world and…
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