Seeking the Little People (2)

In our last report we were making our way carefully up a rather steep mountain road in search of evidence of the little people, or the pygmy race that once inhabited this part of Africa. Were they real, or were they the imagination of overactive minds? What will we find at the end of the trail? Will we get simply a great view, or are we going to see something that will prove their existence?

We have traveled south of the capital city of Lilongwe, and turn at the south edge of the Dedza Trading Center. At a local landmark, Dedza Pottery, we ask for directions. They advise us, “Go east along this road, something like 11 kilometers, and you will find the school. Ask the kids to take you there. They all know the place.”

  Along a pothole filled, washboard road, we are able to locate the school after traveling approximately 20 kilometers. We park in the schoolyard, and look for one of the teachers. He is most kind and actually stops his class to discuss our needs with us. He suggests he can help locate students who know where to find the cave drawings. If we can find actual drawings, we will have the evidence to convince ourselves of the presence of the little people several hundred years ago. I cannot help wondering why, if we are about to discover such an important site, it has no tourist signs, travel markings, or anything else to indicate it’s exact location. How can they be so important, at the same time in such a remote, non-descript location, and not even show on a local map? I have to wonder what we are really going to see. Will we see evidence they have been here, or will we simply capture a scenic view of the mountains, and valleys that extend off in the distance?

View is Breathtaking

Part way up the mountainside we stop to rest, catch our breath, and look out over the panorama that sprawls below us to the southwest. It really is breathtaking, with the beauty of the valley punctuated by the rock outcroppings of mountainous granite protrusions extending high into the blue sky. Lens caps off, cameras focus, and click, click, the shutters open and close to capture views that can never be fully taken into custody.
                   

A little farther up the path we see, coming toward us down the mountain, three young girls carrying bundles of sticks on their heads. These will be used or sold for cooking fires. They pass quietly to our left. As they detect our cameras they turn slightly so their profiles can be captured by the camera’s view. The trace of broad grins reflect from their faces. 

The mountain steepness increases, and it quickly becomes more difficult to navigate. The dirt road has been reformed into a small path, and even that sadly disappears behind us. Only a few indentations in the grass in front of us seems to indicate we are following some sort of course that others have followed before us. The boys seem sure of themselves, however and their confidence reassures us that history waits just around a curve near the top of the mountain.

Drawings are Evident

We move cautiously around a cliff face, and to our right a cave looms out to meet us. The formation the ceiling appears to be about 50 feet above us, and in seconds we see them plainly high above us. White images. Clearly markings made by man. Images sketched of human beings and animals. The distinct image of a crocodile seems evident. Off to the right, but still high on the ceiling, a smaller image appears to be a monkey of some type. 

Our group grows quiet, and the Malawian guides stand quietly to the side as the realization comes to all of us that people hundreds of years ago were in this very cave recording some aspect of their lives, their knowledge and their history. Silence lasts for several minutes as each of us experience some type of reverence for the past of this place. Near the bottom of the rock, well below the drawings, graffiti from recent intrusions desecrate the importance of this place. It is both amazing and sad that such an important and intricate piece of the history of a people, who have been lost in the annals of history, can be so insulted. The students now realize how important we consider this find so their excitement increases as they lead us to a second cave where images of what appears to be adult and child drawings are equally evident. Again silence surrounds us as we realize we are looking directly into the past at some the last evidence of a people who disappeared from the world scene without the world recording its departure, or a reason it occurred so suddenly. 

Who were the people who lived in this cave? What was the significance of what appears to be a crocodile wall painting when rivers and lakes that contain them seem to be, at least today, hundreds of miles away? Was this a crock, as we know them today, or was it some sort of giant land creature? Why was a monkey looking creature drawn near by? Were these animals the source of food, or were they in some way revered or worshiped? This hidden mountain top contains no brochure rack of literature to give the visitor an explanation for the drawings, nor do the students or teacher have clarification for our questions. The mystery will remain locked away. The explanation will come another day from some other source.

Views Are More Spectacular

Coming down the mountain the view to the south and southwest is even more spectacular since we face outward toward the view instead of toward the mountain, 
as we were when we were climbing toward the top. The schoolboys are visible excited to be escorts to the Americans and their excitement seems to grow as the group descends toward the school. Perhaps their classmates will now appeal to their great wisdom and knowledge of what the Azungu (white faces) are like. After all, most of the children in the school will have had no first hand knowledge or experience of ever having been with Europeans or Americans.

Reaching the school we offer a few Kwacha to each of the children for their assistance, and take into account the teacher’s request for schoolbooks, pencils and paper for his students. Perhaps one day we can return to the school with a vehicle full of supplies, a reward for their assistance to allow us to see and record a piece of the past.

With some sadness we climb back into the vehicle, and retrace our route back to the Dedza Trading Center. At that juncture we turn south to begin a route we have been told is a new road crossing the mountains and down into the valley toward the big lake. We cannot confirm this fact, even with those we have met in Dedza, but we will soon find out if it is true, or we may find ourselves on impassable roads, in improbable places as we “Travel Malawi.”

Seeking the Little People (1)

         The reports brags that this area, “Situated within a cluster of forested granite hills and covering an area of 126.4 km2, high up the plateau of central Malawi, features the richest concentration of rock art in Central Africa on 127 sites.” It is reported to be the famous Chongoni Rock-Art Area, and we are headed there from the capital city of Lilongwe. Our first stop, to get directions, in the Dedza Trading Center, and our information will come from one of the workers at Dedza Pottery. She is most helpful and after taking a couple of mental notes we are on our way toward the mountains.

We pull onto the road from the Dedza Pottery Shop and turn left toward the higher mountain peak to the east. The center of the road appears hardened from the heavy traffic of old dilapidated logging trucks, while the edges are potted with unexpected and abrupt ruts and drop offs. It is not unlike most of the unfinished roads that traverse the countryside away from the few tarmac highways. Torrential rains that plummet the landscape from October to April end the usefulness of many Malawi roads, and the government has few resources to restore them to full usefulness when the dry season spreads itself across the landscape.

Two black oxen, heads lowered, pull a weather beaten cart west along the road. The young driver in an old worn brown shirt encourages them to the side of the road with a long stick. Out the side windows of the Isuzu we see a number of dust covered white bags piled in the back. It is probably a family’s precious supply of maize headed for the mill to be ground into fine powder for nsima, the staple diet of every Malawi family.

In front of us we begin the accent toward the higher peaks around Dedza Mountain, and the valley floor quickly falls off to the right. “Eleven kilometers,” the clerk at the pottery office had advised us. Obviously she would know of the caves since she lives in the area, and her instructions were reassuring, even when she noted they are “just near.”

They Can Help at the School

“Stop at the secondary school when you come to the large stone sign beside the road,” she said. “Since there are no signs to show where the caves are located you must get directions from someone at the school. They will be glad to help you.”

       Ahead of us tall forests of dark green pines begin to appear. Their majestic height stands proudly as a testament to the efforts of the government of Malawi to restore some of the forest land that has been stripped away by a growing village population that are using wood far faster than they can grow trees for the future. The blue of the sky and the puffy white clouds coming in from the east emphasizes the green of the forest. A small boy with a 6-foot long bundle of brush on his head quickly veers off the road, down through the deep ditch, and into the clear area near a small mud hut. Our vehicle throws a shroud of dust in his direction, but he is to sharp-witted to be overtaken by its suffocating dust. Reaching the 11-kilometer mark we see no evidence of a school. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Maybe it is time to consider turning back to review our directions? Fifteen, sixteen. We must have missed our marker for the school. Maybe we should turn back. Let’s go up to the next curve on the mountain then we will turn back and get new directions.

 

Then suddenly at the seventeen-mile marker we come to a small fork in the road, and a stone marker standing directly in the middle of the road. There is nothing printed on the marker except a coat of old black paint that may have once been an indicator of some message that once adorned its surface. Off to the right a small cluster of old buildings signal the possibility of a school. We steer the Isuzu up on the grass between the leading buildings, and seek assistance. A small group of girls who understand some English indicate we are at the secondary school. They respond positively to our request to locate one of the school officials.


They rush off toward the back of the property with us trying to keep pace. At one of the last houses a teacher steps out from where he has been processing a test. We explain our dilemma, and ask if the school might have a student, or someone, who could point us to the caves where the markings may be observed. He says he will take us. We start to object, as we do not want him to interrupt his day of teaching in order to assist us, but our attempt to persuade him not to go falls on ears that do not hear our objections. He leads us out toward the road we have just come up.


Three boys quickly join him so they can help escort us up the mountain. By the time we cross the road it is evident the boys know the path better than the teacher. It is a boy in a red sweater that takes the lead for the first part of the trip. On the north side of the road we begin moving through the underbrush along a small dirt path. The path gets even smaller as we ascend the hillside toward the crest, and we begin to get an uneasy feeling, wondering if we have the right people taking us the right direction. How can this be such a major site for the history of this part of Africa, with cave drawing from hundreds of years ago, yet have no markings along the way, and no evidence the caves contain such a slice of the past?

                                                     


Next: Will we really find cave drawings, or just a scenic view?