I hope that everyone has their own Happy Place, a spot for relaxation, where the air is clear, and starting anew is possible. At different times in my life this has been inside a good book, walking through an art museum, or watching a wonderful film. When I’m in Blantyre, it’s Michiru.
Michiru is the tallest of the three mountains that surround Blantyre. Officially, it’s the Michiru Nature Sanctuary and is administered by the Wildlife Society of Malawi. The walk to the Peak is not that difficult but is good training for those interested in climbing the taller mountains in the far southeast of the country. There are seven numbered trails and I have walked them all, likely in every possible combination. Each Saturday, when I’m not on clinical service, I hop on my mountain bike and cycle downhill 45 minutes to the ranger station. Then I walk. The train to the Peak is 1.5 hours up and one hour down. Though this is the path I’ve most often used, I like to mix it up, lengthen it or combine it with intersecting trails so that I don’t get bored.
Honestly, how could I possibly be bored? About 99% of the time I see baboons, usually when I’m on my bicycle on the dirt track that connects the tarmac road with the ranger station. When I see the troop, I slow way down and start singing loudly to them, asking them to please move out of the path to let me pass. I pedal slowly forward and they magically part, one by one, with the largest male the last to leave the track. On the mountain I occasionally see vervet monkeys, a rarer duiker (a small antelope), and many beautiful birds, most of which sing to me.
I wonder about the people who are not as fortunate as me, refugees, slum dwellers, and those living in conflict zones. If life outside is bleak, is there a place of healing or respite inside their own minds?
It’s Michiru’s peace that heals me. And the beauty of the trees and grass, and the sound of running water cascading in the creeks descending the mountain. I love the simplicity and the rhythm of hiking.
After my 2.5-3 hour walk, I remount my bicycle. Before departing, a ranger comes out of the station and asks my name, phone number, my nationality, and which path I’ve walked. When I reply “The Peak” their face shows surprise and their tone is impressed. I suppose this is because I am so old, “too old” for this activity.
The trip back to Blantyre is 1.5 hours, uphill the entire way. My mountain bike still has 6 (of its original 21) functioning gears, but in the mid-day Equatorial sun, it’s tough. I laugh when my co-workers recount to newcomers that I do this every weekend, as they marvel at my ability to bicycle uphill for so long after hiking. Maybe they think I’m too old, too.
Michiru provides me a place for physical, mental, and emotional respite after a week working in the hospital. We care for many seriously ill children, some of whom do not survive. Hearing a parent crying after their child’s death is difficult and I need to clear my head once per week.
I wonder about the people who are not as fortunate as me, refugees, slum dwellers, and those living in conflict zones. If life outside is bleak, is there a place of healing or respite inside their own minds? Or do they find a physical place, however small, where there is beauty, and they can rest and recharge? I am lucky to have Michiru here in Blantyre, and try to be thankful every day for both life’s challenges and joys.
