All you need to know about the Mushroom Farm guesthouse and campsite near Livingstonia lies in the fact that we liked it so much we ended up running the place.
How did we get to that situation? Well, dear friends, it was like this...
Way back in Lake Naivasha (that was in Kenya, for those of you not paying attention) Jen and I had run into an English couple who had been volunteering in Malawi and who, in their subsequent travels, had stayed at a place near Livingstonia called the Mushroom Farm, to which they gave a glowing recommendation for its food, accommodation, atmosphere and sustainable nature. When we later consulted our guidebook we found that it received an equally positive review in those hallowed pages we were further convinced to give the place a try. We were keen to check out the colonial mission town of Livingstonia anyway, and so the prospect of killing these two metaphorical birds with a single (also metaphorical) stone was too good to pass up.
Firstly, getting to Livingstonia is a bitch. It's perched high up in the mountains overlooking Lake Malawi and the "road" is long, windy, rocky and pretty much inaccessible to anything but a four-wheel drive. Which, as you surely know by now, we don't have. It had also just been raining rather torrentially, meaning the dirt road was now a mud road. There was of course no public transport up the mountain, so we decided to hike it.
The walk was long. It was steep. It was wet. It was muddy. And it took place during the hottest part of a very hot, humid day. I do not wish to speak of it further.
The Mushroom Farm is in fact 10km up the mountain road, on the way to the town of Livingstonia which is a further 5km or so past it. We therefore arrived at the accommodation first and took the opportunity to check in, dump our bags and, of course, have a beer. Any lingering tiredness or bitterness as a result of the walk was evaporated by two things - the welcome from our hosts, Steve and Carmel, and these absolutely ridiculous views.
Our chosen on-site accommodation, the cob house, was also lovely and very good value. And the food...bugger me, it was magnificent. They had a local woman named Efreda in charge of the kitchen and, well I don't use the word "genius" lightly, but she may be the greatest genius in the history of the world's culinary arts.
In fact, such was the overwhelmingly positive first impression of the place that we settled in for the afternoon and put off our visit to Livingstonia itself until the following day. Relaxing with further welcome beers, Jen and I chatted with Steve and Carmel until well into the evening and discovered that they were coming to the end of a six-month contract as the managers of the establishment, with the Australian owner - Mick - set to return in a matter of days. We thought nothing more of it and turned in for the night, getting to our room just before the camp was hit by an absolutely torrential evening rain storm. As it turned out, this was to become a nightly occurrence, and frequently left the paths outside our room looking like this.
The following morning before we set off to walk the remaining five clicks to Livingstonia, Steve and Carmel put forward an enticing proposition. Namely, they were due to leave the camp and fly back to the UK on the coming Monday, whereas Mick was not due back from Australia to take the reigns until at least Tuesday, perhaps later. So, with none of the local Malawian staff up for the job...how would the two of us like to run the Mushroom Farm in the interim? It was certainly food for thought for our visit to Livingstonia.
As I previously mentioned (five paragraphs ago, pay attention), Livingstonia was established as a hilltop Christian mission after previous attempts at establishing a mission on the shores of Lake Malawi had failed dismally due to the fact that the lake - or rather its attendant mosquitoes and other bugs - had a nasty habit of, well, killing everyone. The mission was established and led by Dr Robert Laws, who named it after his personal friend David Livingstone (of "Doctor Livingstone, I presume?" fame). As far as I can tell, the reason for this was that there appears to have been some kind of law that pretty much everything had to be named after Livingstone at some point. The man was, and in many ways still is, ubiquitous in this part of the world. Sure, there are plenty of things and places not named after him, but that's only because for the most part he discovered them himself.
The town itself was a fascinating throwback to colonialism, retaining much of its original architecture - the streets were wide, tree-lined and dusty, the old buildings particularly quaint while the museum (at Dr Laws' old house) was an interesting glimpse into life as a missionary at the turn of last century. And to top it all, it occupies a ridge atop a mountain with simply astonishing views over the lake.
And all the while Jen and I discussed Steve and Carmel's proposal. We loved the Mushroom Farm, we had time, we would be getting free food/booze/accommodation, and how bloody cool would it be to say that we (temporarily) ran one of the most celebrated guesthouses in Southern Africa? So it was decided - we'd take over interim management of the Mushroom Farm.
Jen and I made this decision on Friday and were to be handed the keys on Sunday, so with our final day of "freedom" on the Saturday we visited the other principal attraction in the area we wanted to see - Manchewe Falls. Actually two waterfalls, the higher of the two dropping water more than 100m, I was especially interested in the falls' history as a local hiding place from the slave traders. An obscure path led down the mountain side and into a small cave actually behind the taller of the two falls, where 100 years ago the local people hid to remain safe. Following the unmarked and unguided path to the cave was Indiana Jones-esque stuff (not the first time I've referenced everyone's favourite archaeologist over the course of this blog, I know) and crouching in the small, rocky, slippery cave behind the thundering falls hundreds of metres in the air was, depending on who you are, either scary as hell (Jen) or unbelievably cool (me).
And then, the next day, we were the managers of a guesthouse in the mountains of northern Malawi. The word random doesn't even begin to cover it.
Steve and Carmel took us through the essentials - feeding the chickens, ducks and pigs, filling the fridges, managing the petty cash box and of course looking after the guests. And speaking of guests - while we had been guests ourselves it had been very quiet, as soon as we became responsible for the place they came in their bloody droves. First there were Tom and Betty, a lovely Israeli couple, followed very quickly by a host of others - two from England, one from Poland, three from America, day trippers from Germany and the Netherlands.
We also discovered that rather than being in charge for a day or two, as first suspected, it could be nearly a week as we found out that while Mick had indeed landed on schedule in Dar, his luggage had decided it preferred Dubai and so had stayed there. He wouldn't be here for days.
And we wouldn't have had it any other way. Truth be told, we would have been gutted not to have received any guests in the time we were in charge - we'd have felt somehow fraudulent, as though we hadn't really earned the experience, or the free food and accommodation. But our stream of (hopefully satisfied) customers meant that we well and truly did.
Feeding the animals was also an experience to savour. Jen took on management of the ducks, while the chickens and pigs were my domain. The reputation of the pig maybe cliched but it is also very well-deserved. Feeding them was an adventure - they see you coming from a long way off and then rear up on their hind legs to press against the side of their pen with great enthusiasm, showering you in whatever happens to be all over them at the time. None of which is pleasant. Getting close to the pigs is hazardous, so I came upon what I considered a brilliant plan to feed the bastards. I moved to what I considered a borderline safe distance, threw their food at them, and then ran away. As I said, brilliant.
I have to admit though, that I became particularly fond of the chickens. In fact, I just loved the excitable little sods. Feeding them was always fun - they're just as enthusiastic as the pigs but have the consideration not to shower you in their own waste - and collecting their eggs was an exercise in consistency (17 eggs per day, every day). But I especially loved the propensity a few of them had to escape from their pen, only to then not have any idea whatsoever of what to do next and so just stand around outside the pen clucking adorably and waiting for me to pick them up and throw them back in with their comrades. I miss them.
Four days later Mick arrived, with his American girlfriend Dawn in tow, to relieve us of our duties - though with fantastic kindness he then graciously allowed us to stick around for another two nights free of charge. We were only too happy to take him up on this offer, and of course to keep helping out too - we'd become quite attached to the place, and viewed it a little bit as "ours" by now.
And so we wound down those final couple of nights, guests having moved on and leaving us alone with the Mushroom Farm, drinking copious amounts of beer and local fire water with Mick, who was an absolute champ, and Dawn, who was crazy fun personified.
We'd come for a day or two and ended up staying for over a week. Crazy stuff happens from time to time when you're backpacking in Africa.
Things Jennie will remember:
1) The dogs - King and Pigsy
2) The pigs - crazy mud jumping hungry beasts
3) The chickens - who laid 17 eggs every day without fail - stop escaping!
4) The ducks - I'm sorry we ate one of you... but you were very tasty
5) Steve and Carmel - thank you for the opportunity - we'll see you at the Ludlow Food Festival!
6) Mick and Dawn - thank you for your generous hospitality, we look forward to welcoming you to London!
7) Efreda's cooking and her veggie fry ups!
#8) Poor guest Gosia, whose tent turned out not to be waterproof, and who we found sleeping in the dining room after her tent got washed out
9) Our first guests, Tom and Betty
10) Denise, Callie and Robin - so only Denise was friendly and nice (the other two were quite surly) but you were our highest paying guests and the staff really appreciated your tip!
11) Our quietest guests, Sophie and Pippa
12) The stunning view of Lake Malawi
13) The crazy climb on foot up the mountain (thanks Fisher for your help!) and the scary journey back down the mountain in the jeep
14) Beautiful lazy Livingstonia and Sean's 90 kwacha (35p) haircut and shave
Here are the photos:
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