Girl Meets Lake Malawi, or, There and Back Again

Today I was introduced to Lake Malawi, which from henceforth I may refer to as the nonpareil body of water that has brought this country fame, a place of beauty and splendor par excellence.

See? Oh how I wish I were a better blogger, writer, and photographer so I could ensure your understanding of how fantastic this place is. Sigh. Look at that sand. Look at that sky. Look at the water! 

Here are some of the dear friends that brought me along. Yep, we're all in black and pink, except for the young'un. 

That's Lizard Island down yonder. Guess what lives there. 

Here's a shot from the rocks we walked to, climbed up, and nearly slid down. We walked to this place twice. The first time, we spotted a python sunning himself in a crevice; we were dazzled by his designer skin; we were incredibly creeped out by his immense size. The second time, I brought my camera along. 

No more python. But the view up on the rocks was lovely.  

We did wonder where the snake went as we climbed higher and higher.

Here behold a fisherman in a dugout canoe.

Here behold our walk back to our spot on the beach. 

We had lunch at the restaurant at Livingstonia, a beautiful resort right on the lake. At the table beside us, a solitary customer left his place unattended too long. It was overtaken by a non-solitary monkey. 

These guys (see below. not the monkeys.) cracked me up all day. Their laughter is catching. Their compliments are adorable: "Oh, Barb, I like your swim costume." Their antics are endearing. 

After a good long week of being busy, sitting in the sun, feet covered in sand after a swim, reading a great book sans mental lesson planning was probably the only formula to make this day yet another best day ever. 

did that sound overly optimistic and positive? It should have. 

In other news (and now let my tone take a turn for the serious), on our way back today I witnessed the Nyau for the first time. This sub-culture/cult in Malawian village life imprisons people in fear and darkness, the former apparent in the faces of the women I saw running from the freakishly dressed Nyau. These men have secret rituals and initiations, and they cover themselves with odd combinations of rags and animal masks before they dance around the village scaring people. Tradition in the village says that these people are actually spirits and not people at all, which gives them the liberty to do as they please with the villagers. It was disturbing and tragic to see. I thought of the hope prophesied in Isaiah 9:

The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.

There is hope in darkness, because that is precisely where light shines.