Pulled by the strings of the banjo

by Saima Juneja (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

A leap into the unknown Malawi

The warm heart of Africa was not so warm at 7am. My team had left to climb Mount Mulanje and as they left I soon realised I had to spend three days alone with my sciatica. I sat in the lodge at the base of the mountain reflecting on the irony of being in the middle of nowhere with so much peace, yet my soul was so restless. I had so much time and nothing to do, I was not used to this. I repaired holes in the mosquito nets, walked around the lodge, admired the bamboo all around me wondering what was next? I remember laying on my single mattress and suddenly the silence was interrupted. I could hear faint music. Actually, music is a poor description. I could almost hear storytelling through the harmonious beating of djembe drums and the ecstasy through the banjo. I grabbed my phone and water bottle and decided to do something that could either be magical or an absolute disaster. I decided to follow the music. I had no idea where I was going, to my right was the majestic Mount Mulanje, to my left was a long mud road towards the market and ahead of me was nothing but valleys. I stood for a minute to try and decipher the direction in which the music was coming from and found myself walking to the point of no return. I pulled my phone out just to see how far out I had walked from my lodge but of course there was no network. Now, I was literally in the middle of nowhere. As I continued my journey, trying to find my bearings I could hear rustling amongst the looming trees. I quickly played out the worst-case scenario in my head but I failed to devise a self-defence strategy with just my water bottle. The noises grew louder. To my surprise, a young boy in cargo shorts with a khaki t-shirt on popped out. He had a long stick aiding him through the leaves and seemed to be a local. I introduced myself speaking the basic Chichewa I had picked up over the past week and established that his name was David. I tried to explain to David that I was following the music, but he seemed extremely confused as to why I was in the middle of nowhere unlike every other tourist hiking up the mountain. That confusion lasted a minute or so and then David ushered me to follow him. I did try to conduct a risk assessment in my head for a split second, but I believed David was my calling. David was going to get me to the music. We walked for an hour and ended up at a long stream with all sizes of rocks spread across leading up to a waterfall. I could not fathom what I was seeing. David then held my hand and we used the rocks as stepping stones to get to the other side. During our stepping session he told me he was 16, his ambitions of studying and how he’s always wondering what it is like on the other side of the world. I wish David could see that his side of the world was what my soul yearned for. After crossing the stream, I began to notice little mud huts, young girls elegantly balancing long pieces of wood on their heads and goats running everywhere. I could smell wood burning and meat cooking. We had arrived into the village. The music was here. I remember hearing the word Azungu, meaning foreigner, being called out. Yes, the whole village seemed to know a visitor had arrived. David was like the local hero at this point, everyone started gathering towards me. I was made to sit on a chair whilst lots of children danced, gleaming with happiness. It seemed to be a birthday party. I danced with the children and was adopted by the community. Just like that. I had made it. This experience taught me that when adventure is pulling you, listen to your soul and be pulled. There is nothing more exciting than exploring and coming across treasure. My treasure was plentiful.