Sandwiched between Zambia and Mozambique, Malawi is a tiny landlocked country. I went there in 2001, as it appeared to be the least unstable of the sub Saharan countries. Although Malawi had a surprising amount of natural attractions, it was not without problems. Like many other countries in Africa, conditions were worse after colonialism than before it. The government was corrupt, and the people impoverished. While the president bought himself a fleet of limousines, Malawi suffered from neglect, and disorder. The chaos permeated through nearly everything, including football games.
On a lazy Sunday morning in Lilongwe, I went to the town center with another traveller from the guesthouse. In one of the parking lots, some local wood carvers told us that there was going to be national football match between Malawi and Swaziland. According to them, it had been moved from Blantyre to Lilongwe for unknown reasons. The game was scheduled to start sometime in the afternoon, but nobody seemed to know exactly when.
As it was still late morning, it seemed like a good time to get some lunch. We planned to have a leisurely lunch, and then head to the game. While we were being served, we watched the growing tide of people flow off into the distance. As neither of us knew the when the game was supposed to start, we hurried our way through lunch, and joined the exodus.
Though we had no idea where the stadium was, everyone else seemed to know, and was moving intently in one general direction, with more and more people joining the march at every corner. Following the lead, we soon arrived at the end of a long line. Off in the horizon, I could see what looked like a light tower, and the stadium wall. It was much smaller and lower than I had expected.
The line stretched far past the stadium with no indication of movement. Not knowing whether this was a ticket buying line, or a ticket holders line, I asked some of the others in the line and was reassured that we were in the correct line to get inside. Everyone seemed relatively calm, and unconcerned about getting into the stadium. In retrospect, my concerns about being in a ticket holders line were totally unfounded. After all, how would a place with no infrastructure organize and print out advance tickets for an event that was rescheduled at the last moment?
We stood in the line, chatting with the other Malawians while we waited. The line did not seem to move forward, but it quickly grew longer as more and more spectators arrived. Away from the line, groups of men formed in the field by the stadium. They did not seem to be waiting for tickets like the rest of us but seemed content to wait outside the stadium. Suddenly, a small group of men split off from the milling crowd, and pushed their way through the stadium fence. They ran around the now confused guards and scrambled over the stadium wall into the crowd on the other side. Other people got the idea, and hopped the fence as well. All hell broke loose, as the vastly outnumbered guards tried in vain to stop the horde from getting into the stadium. For every person they chased away, another would sneak in behind. It was like trying to stop a fire with a broom. Soon, the situation got out of control and a wave of people started pouring over the fence. Realizing that the situation was quickly falling apart, one of the guards fired his AK 47 into the air. The would be gate crashers quickly retreated, only to lurk at the edge of the fence and wait for another opportunity.
Meanwhile, the line slowly meandered forward. I watched as the gate crashers repeatedly summoned their courage and made repeated breaks for the stadium, only to be repelled by the threat of being shot. . With the line moving slower than a tectonic plate, enterprising merchants saw the opportunity for a quick buck, and were soon working the line with buckets of iced soft drinks and baskets of fruit. While the sun beat down on us, we speculated on whether we would get inside the stadium before it sold out. The occasional crack of an AK-47 assured us that the gate crashers would not fill the stadium any time soon.
After what seemed like forever, we had progressed to spitting distance from the ticket window. As we got closer, everyone surged forward in one last effort to get to the window. The orderly line quickly degenerated into a crush of desperate football fans, all trying to push their way to the single ticket window. We were taller and better fed than most of the people in the line, and held our ground until we got to the ticket window. The harried ticket seller took 40 kwacha from each of us, and handed us two plain looking tickets. For us, it was about a dollar, but for the average Malawian, it was about a half day's pay.
After we got our tickets, we stopped for a cold drink. There were no concession stands, but there were several hawkers selling drinks and food beside the entrance. We gulped down two tiny bottles of Fanta and descended into the stadium.
The stadium was small, and looked like it was built by making a ring of dirt, and lining it with seats. When we emerged inside the ring, the stadium was packed solid. Someone had vastly underestimated the popularity of the match, and the 10000 person stadium was easily filled beyond that amount, with more people trying to push their way inside. The seats were filled with a seething mass of Malawians, and we were the only foreigners in the stadium.
We started to walk around the stadium, looking for anywhere to sit. As we were the only people from out of town, I could feel the stares of the entire stadium. While everyone watched us aimlessly wander around the stadium track, I briefly wondered if this was what stardom was like. Out of all probability, I heard my name, and saw somebody waving to us from the stands. It was the wood carvers we had met earlier. They squeezed some space for us and we sat down with them, relieved to finally have made it.
And the game? It was good, but not nearly as interesting as getting to the game. Oversold stadiums and trigger happy security guards made the game a sharp contrast from any other sporting event I had been to. Of course, the Malawians probably view this as normal.
Rating
As a place to visit, Malawi has enough variety to occupy even the easily distracted. It is home to Lake Malawi, as well as the impressive Mulanje massif. Malawi was also very cheap to travel in. Of course, you can't have everything. With the possible exception of the football stadium and a small museum in Mua, Malawi had built to almost nothing worth seeing. Additionally, Malawi was home to the infamous dish, nsima. Nsima can be charitably described as boiled corn flour dumplings that are dipped into meat or vegetable sauces. While this may not sound too bad, don't say I didn't warn you.
Text and images copyright © by Curtis Marr. All rights reserved.