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My Malawi Journal PART I

Hey guys, check out this journal I wrote about my recent trip to Malawi with the Oxfam Appeal...

My brother Chris and I set of for the airport today. In true suburban style we are rushing at the last minute, drying clothes with a hairdryer, forgetting where we left the keys…you know the drill; you try to prepare as much as humanly possible and then at the last minute it all goes wrong (well at least that’s how it is for me).

Anyway we gather ourselves and our bags and jump in the cab. For me today seems like any other, since my music took off I’ve travelled so much that I’ve felt like my second home was Heathrow. And so just like old times we arrive late, struggle through the laborious check in and finally after marvelling at the duty free we venture our way to the gate. Also true to form our gate just happens to be five million miles from civilisation. And so it begins. I step on the plane filled with both anticipation and excitement and instinctively I know this journey will be like no other.
Three movies later and a lot of broken sleep we arrive in the capital Lilongwe. A little bleary eyed and a bit muddled I set foot on African soil for the first time in my life. As we travel to the hotel the first thing I notice is this one particular tree like no other I’ve seen before. They’re everywhere sprouting up like mini miracles through the dry and arid soil. I later find out that this wonderful little tree is called the ‘Jacaranda’, also the name of a pub I used to drink in as a student in Liverpool.

We arrive at the hotel glad to dump the bags. I join my brother later at the bar and we get talking to the barman Trevor. We talk about local customs, delicacies, Malawi gin and the current president of Malawi, Dr. Bingu. It seems everywhere I go right now the leader of the country is a particular hot topic.

The next morning we head to the main Oxfam site in Lilongwe, we are introduced to the guys there and we begin to talk about the many reasons for the situation here. In the space of three hours my jaw has dropped, my heart is heavy and my mind feels like spaghetti with the plethora of information being fed to me. Listening to these people talk of the trouble here can only be compared to the heartache of losing a loved one, it’s truly devastating.

Twenty four thousand people die of hunger in Africa every day…twenty four thousand people. Its not the death toll that’s the hardest part to swallow, it’s the reasons why.
As we are all aware the price of food has gone up around the world. In Malawi food is everything for the poor, food is how they make their money and all the money they make they spend on food. I’m not talking about dialling a Domino’s or grabbling fish and chips, I’m taking about maize; the main source of sustenance here. Its simple grain cultivated by farmers.

I guess the question we all have to ask ourselves is why is the price of food rising?
One of the main reasons over the last few months is the rising price of oil. Oil is used in so many different facets of technology so the price of oil affects the price of everything else.

When we head down to the supermarket to find the price of our groceries has gone up its because Sainsbury’s or Tesco’s or whoever have to up the price of their products to combat the rising cost of oil. So to keep business thriving, in the end, were the ones that suffer and it’s exactly the same for everybody across the globe.
Except in Africa however, some people already exist on less than a dollar a day to feed a family of ten so if the price of food goes up it becomes catastrophic.

That night after a four hour jeep drive through rural Malawi we arrive in Blantyre, named after David Livingstone’s home town in Lanarkshire, Scotland. We also pass a furniture store called ‘Uncle Thom’s’ which my brother and I have a good laugh at.
On the way down the journey is mesmeric. What I see is both stunning and shocking. The land is gorgeous, vast rolling mountains, bright blue skies and an ever stretching plain of beauty. But it breaks my heart because as we drive slowly through the towns, we find people everywhere suffering, living in squalor, trying desperately to make ends meet.

We stop at a market because our Malawian host, funnily named ‘Elvis’ wants to buy some Irish potatoes, he says he likes them roasted…ah sounds familiar.

Anyway we get out of the car and walk around. As soon as I emerge there’s about twenty people crowed round me inspecting my hair and freckles, thrusting carrots and onions in my face. There’s so much to see here and I desperately want to take pictures, but somehow it feels disrespectful, so I stop.

The next morning we assemble bright and early to venture out before the midday sun comes up. It’s very hot and with my skin it’s probably a good idea that I get out there before the sun gets me. We travel out of the city into a region called rural Blantyre. A few miles out and the road becomes very rocky.

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