New Years' Malipenga

While touring the nooks and crannies of St. Peter’s cathedral, I ran into Vincent, a short, smallish, gray-haired man. He had the kind of cheerful spunk I find so refreshing and winsome, especially in someone who’s logged seven or eight decades. Vincent spoke English well and shared the congregation’s history with me. I asked him whether the 6,000 people who call Likoma home do anything special to celebrate the New Year. “Yes, of course,” he replied. There would be church at 0800 hours tomorrow morning. The lives of many if not most Malawians, like Zambians, are rooted in Christian faith. The spiritual realm is part of the fabric of everyday life. The spiritual is not compartmentalized as “personal and private” or even non-existent, as in the West. Life revolves around faith and religious conviction. Faith is not peripheral but central to peoples’ lives. It disappointed me to hear that there would only be one New Year’s Day service at St. Peter’s, in Chichewa. Vincent also told me that tomorrow I could see crowds of Likomans at the Malipenga, a traditional African dancing event at Chiponde Beach. He said he would be there, and dancing!  I decided that tomorrow, I would be there too; but my eyes and not my feet and body would be dancing, looking for Vincent.

Having found my way into Chipyela made getting back to Mango Drift easier. Lauren, the South African manager (and seemingly part-guest) offered us the opportunity to spend New Year’s Eve at Mango Drift’s sister establishment, Kaya Mawa. Kaya Mawa is an exclusive resort for the well-heeled. (I heard that it’s listed by Conde Nast magazine as one of the ten most romantic resort destinations in the world; it’s a honeymooners paradise.) Room rates start at about 17 times more per person per night than at Mango Drift. As it happened, Kaya Mawa had only seven guests, four of whom were newlyweds. Our offer to spend New Year’s Eve there then, was presumably motivated by the party atmosphere ten or twelve more of us would bring to the place. Made sense. I am not generally a fan of the contrivance of New Year’s Eve but I did enjoy chatting it up with South Africans and Brits, from a teacher, to a contemporary furniture designer and entrepreneur, to a London-based fashion designer and her husband, who grew up in Malawi’s capital, Blantyre; he was a dentist and the son of a prominent researcher of anti-malarials. It was great fun, though I couldn’t help wondering what difference the money spent there would make in the lives of the Likomans who staffed the place.

New Year’s Day. On to the Malipenga. I had a difficult time finding Chiponde Beach because none of the dirt roads on Likoma is marked. The Likoma map in my Lonely Planet was useless. Villagers pointed me in the right direction and I eventually appended myself to the clusters of Likomans making their way to the Malipenga. The dancing had already begun when I arrived. I could have been there at the beginning, but expected that the 1 p.m. starting time really meant 3-4 p.m. The “dance floor” was an area of dirt bounded by twine strung around a series of gigantic baobab trees. Malipenga is a dance competition of sorts. Only men perform, representing their respective villages in a group called a boma. Onlookers from Likoma’s twelve villages stood behind the string barrier to cheer their favorite boma. The competition takes place one boma at a time. I saw American Boma and Nyanja Boma perform.
A spirited older man led American Boma. The men stood in ranks and files like a marching band, each one grasping his musical instrument, which for all but the bass drummer was a hollow gourd. I was slightly disappointed not to see the elaborate headdresses, colorful facepaint, and grass skirts that I had imagined. Instead one group wore street clothes, and another olive shorts and white shirts, some with neck ties.  A few donned a feather or two on their head. They shuffled forward to the beat of the bass drum, leaned over and blew into their gourds, straightened up, bellowed something in unison like a Big 10 marching band, and turned ninety degrees like they were dancing the “Electric Slide.”    At times the leader seemed to be screaming at his troupe to encourage or motivate them. Every now and then the crowd erupted with laughter or applause. Young boys darted into the block to join the men. What I presume were judges watched from their seats in the shade. American Boma won that day. There would be another Malipenga tomorrow, and next year. Ring in 2010 on Likoma Island, Malawi and see who wins the next Malipenga!