JUMBE ON MY MIND
Meridian Berndt recalls a Malawian man with laughing eyes
After a seven-hour boat ride up Lake Malawi, we docked in the remote hamlet of Ruarwe. Our chalet was small and tatty, but we had our private deck that stretched lazily over the water. We watched giant kingfishers hunt each morning, and the sun set over Tanzania. The lodge fridge was broken, the bar out of stock, so we improvised with warm sundowners — gin and juice from handpicked granadillas. We didn’t mind. Somehow, this was still paradise. The lake was clear as the blue sky, and filled with otherworldly rainbow fish. We lost ourselves to deep dives off a private beach, with only birdsong to disturb the primordial silence.
After a week of meditative tech-free days, we hiked to the closest point of mobile contact. Our families would be wondering about us by now.
We followed a footpath along the lakeshore, passing homesteads, on through the village, and up a steep hill until we reached the summit.
From here we could see the edge of the world, the shadows of tropical clouds, and the turquoise strike of the sun into deep waters.
A gnarled old baobab tree, standing perfectly serene, marked the cellphone reception point. Sure enough, under her shade, we were able to get the message out that we were still living, and loving it.
Choosing a quicker route back, we took a steep path where two beautiful women were working the earth with smooth strokes of the hoe.
We came out in their yard, where children played and ducks ruffled their feathers at chickens. A third sister was pounding cassava with a pestle in a mortar made from a hollowed-out tree. The fine white powder stuck to her red dress.
The family was delighted to receive unexpected visitors. Upon hearing we were South African, they summoned their father from the shade of his mango tree.
Jumbe was as ancient as the baobab, with laughing eyes that sparkled.
His mother was South African. To him, that made us kin. Our visit was a gift from his mother, a reminder that she still watched over him. Jumbe brought us into the openhearted generosity of a family, not as tourists but as guests.
A year after my Malawi adventure, Jumbe’s face is still clear in the mind’s eye, and his spirit still touches a chord of deep interconnectedness.
●
L“The Notebook” is about chance meetings and unforgettable encounters people have had on their travels. Send us your story — no more than 400 words — and, if published, you’ll receive R500. Mail travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za with the word Notebook in the subject line.