Looking for Lions!

I've spent the last couple of weeks in the south of Malawi, travelling from Zomba to Mulange to Blantyre and then the remote Reserve of Majete. Although the population is denser here than in the north, most people still live villages, growing food for themselves and a little more to trade in the markets.

At first glance the markets are ramshackle, chaotic affairs. But there is a logic: fruit, vegetables and dried fish are in the shade of the trees. Heaps of second hand clothes are on tarpaulins in the sunshine, divided roughly into men's and women's. Tiny stalls sell pots and pans. There are tailors and cobblers and barbers.

Close by are the trading centres: small shops in brick-built or concrete structures with locking doors. They have names like Jesus Saves Groceries and God is Love Hardware. Though I was a bit flummoxed by Blessed Fanny Investments!

And so to Majete. This is the one reserve, at the moment, that is officially home to a pride of lions. (They occasionally wander across from Mozambique, but are unwelcome in the villages!) But this park is huge and so far there are just eight lions - they were reintroduced five years ago. So finding them was bound to be a challenge.

We saw eagles and vultures, swallows and bulbuls, kingfishers and orioles. A praying mantis hitched a ride on the truck. We saw impalas and water bucks and kudus and elephants. Hippos and crocodiles were at home in the river. We saw fresh lions tracks, and heard them roar. But the bush is dense with in the rainy season. I've no doubt they could see us, but they weren't coming out to play.

But then ... not a lion, but an enormous male buffalo, wallowing in a water hole. We edged closer (in a truck, of course); and closer, till we were about fifteen metres away. For a while he watched us, and then looked away, as if we weren't worth bothering about. Then he looked again. He shuffled his back leg, muscles rippling along the length of his back. Slowly he stood, and gave us a side view, so there was no mistaking the size of him. And then he turned, inch by inch, to face us. He lowered his head, to give us a view of his magnificent shoulders and the length of his horns. It was time for us to leave!

This, it seams, is his Park. I have one more chance to see a lion before returning to Lilongwe. But who needs lions when I've been face to face with a buffalo!

(I'll be home in a couple of days and I promise photos!)

What the ...

My twin grandsons were three yesterday. Like any grandmother I bought presents and cards, sat to wrap them ... and a small flier fell out of one of the birthday cards.

For those of you unfamiliar with three-year old boys: a few are quiet and reflective, but most are impulsive and very physical. They look for anything to climb on, throw, kick, or leap on. They find great joy in their own bodies but it can take some time before their thinking catches up.

So, this little flier invited me to add an 'experience' to the card I'd bought for my grandson (a blue card, with a big blue 3 on it, so there could be no mistaking their target market). (All capital letters are from the flier, just to show how wonderful these opportunities are, presumably).

I could take him to the Kids Spy Academy (that lost apostrophe enough to put off any three-year old ...)

I could take him to feed Big Cats (even the thought of that is enough to give me a fit of the vapours).

I could teach him to Surf ...

I could take him to an Introduction to Archery ...

I could take him for a Photoshoot for a Little Princess ...

I could take him Ghost-Hunting ...

He could drive a Go-Kart

He could try Ice-Dancing

I have a discount number, so if any of you know a three-year old who needs feeding to the lions, get in touch!!