Hunger season

The planting season is over, the maize is growing in people’s gardens, and we are now waiting anxiously for harvesting time. It’s still a couple of months away, and maize is running short. This is the hunger season.

People walk the 15 km to Ntchisi town where they queue in front of Admarc, the government agency, to buy maize flour at triple prices; then, when they finally reach the front of the queue, there’s often nothing left. It’s the same every year.

We’re going into town tomorrow in the truck to see if we can persuade Admarc to sell us half a tonne of maize for our staff. They reckon a white face might make that vital difference.

A long absence

I’ve been terrible with my blog for months now. Trips to Lilongwe have been hectic, shopping for building materials and supplies and with no time left for typing up blog entries in internet cafes. But now the big development has come: we are connected to the internet, here in the middle of the bush. So I’m posting a couple of entries to make up for my long absence.

There’s too much to catch up on to cover here. Renovations were a fast and furious two months of plastering, plumbing, painting, planting and panicking, interspersed with putting together new dishes for the restaurant.

We got there, just in time, and, assisted by a brilliant local carpenter, even managed to furnish the place with entirely home-made furniture (my blue gum tables came out stunning, by the way).

Since then we’ve had a surprising number of guests for rainy January, and everybody seems to have been very happy with their stay here. It gives quite a nice rhythm to the working week. A couple of very long, hectic days of cooking and entertaining guests, followed by a few quiet days of enjoying the view from the terrace, walking our new puppy in the forest, and catching up on further renovation work with the staff.

Harold is a new addition to the lodge. Obviously he’s part Great Dane and also has a bit of African ridge-back thrown in. He certainly has lots of personality – he’s the most stubborn creature I’ve ever encountered – and loves chewing my slippers.

So I’m settling in quite well here in the bush. I can sit for hours on the terrace, enjoying the clear views after a shower, listening to the cacophony of birds in the late afternoon or the strange sounds of the forest at night.

Last night we had a hyena quite close by, howling and growling, which rather unsettled Harold, who’s still small enough to make an appetising hyena snack.

In the mornings, after a night of rain, I go down on the path below the garden, where red duikers and serval cats often leave the clearest footprints in the soft, silty ground. The serval has had a pup with her lately, which is nice to see, even if people in the village worry about their chickens.