It's a Big Lake

Shortly before coming to Malawi, I heard a story. I think it went something like this. A family took a boat out on Lake Malawi one evening for drinks, along with some friends in other boats. The elderly parents were visiting and had come along for the boat ride. After the sun went down, everyone started their engines and turned back towards shore. This particular family was the last to get going. When they started their engine, they found they’d run out of gas. They had no oars. And no one was left in sight. They spent seven days floating on the lake. They ate raw fish and everyone lost loads of weight. Seven days. It’s a big lake.

When I heard this story, I laughed it off a bit, and then realized how serious it would be to be stranded on the lake for seven days.

Last weekend, the local water-sports shop in Nkhata Bay had a fishing trip planned. Their new American dive master is trying to get the place more organized with lots of regular outings. A couple other volunteers and I found out about the trip a few hours before it was supposed to take place, and the American talked us into joining. At the appointed time of departure, we showed at the dive shop. However, the boat captain was nowhere to be found. He had been sent out for bait and fishing gear and had since disappeared. The dive shop staff went all over looking for him, and still could not find him. We decided to go for a little cruise and cliff-jumping instead.

The boat driver assured us that we definitely had enough gas to get to the cliff and back, although the tank was low. So we set off.

Shortly before we arrived at the cliff, the boat stopped abruptly. All ten of us sort of looked around at each other. The boat driver quickly switched gas canisters and announced that we had enough petrol remaining to get us to the rock where we’d be jumping. We didn't discuss what would happen beyond that point.

We arrived, jumped off the boat and into the water, and began swimming and cliff jumping. It was nice. The driver also jumped off the boat and swam to shore, borrowing a dugout canoe and paddling off to a village in search of gas.

After about 45 minutes in the water, we were tired and ready to go. We all climbed back onto the boat. We sat around. Waiting. The sun was setting and it was getting dark. No one had towels or clothes or mosquito repellent. The only items on the boat were a crate of beer and a first aid kit. There was no sign of the return of our driver. We waited. We laughed off the situation. We started making plans for our course of action if the driver simply did not return.

I thought about those seven days.

After a few hours, our boat driver appeared in the distance. Precariously balanced on top of the canoe was a new canister of petrol.

That was my first boat outing on Lake Malawi.