Timbuku tribesmen must have hiked this same trail, back in the early 1900s — some of them lugging building materials for Livingstonia’s first water supply system designed by Dr. Robert Laws, a medical missionary from Glasgow, after he had moved the mission to the plateau in 1894.

According to W.P. Livingstone, author of The Life of Robert Laws of Livingstonia: A Narrative of Missionary Adventure and Achievement, the site appealed to Laws for many reasons. Situated on top of a near vertical escarpment some 3,000 feet above the lake, the plateau enjoyed a cool climate, rich fertile soil, and a view of the Tanzanian mountains fifty miles to the east. It also offered refuge from malaria-carrying mosquitoes and the deadly tsetse flies that plagued the low-lying regions along the lake.

Embangweni
BY Toccoa Switzer

But it was access to clean water that proved to be the plateau’s most valuable resource. While scouting the area, Laws stumbled upon two fresh water springs on Mount Nyamkowa, several miles to the west of the mission site. The discovery of the springs, dubbed “the source,” sparked the idea for a water supply system. With the financial backing of a Scottish benefactor, Laws supervised the building of a settlement pond, an open flume and the assemblage of five-and-a-half miles of steel piping linking Livingstonia to “the source.”

Not much has changed in Livingstonia since the early 1900s. Named in honor of explorer David Livingstone, the mission still looks like a small Scottish hamlet plucked up and dropped into the middle of this lush sub-Saharan oasis. Neat brick cottages with red-tiled roofs line the muddy unpaved streets while the secondary school displays Georgian-style symmetry with rows of arched Palladian windows. The focal point, however, is the large Presbyterian Church. A tall stained glass window looms over the sanctuary. The image depicts a white man hiking above the placid waters of Lake Malawi extending his hand to a group of Timbuku natives. Supposedly, the musungo, white man, is David Livingstone, but to me he looks just like Jim.

There is a collective rhythm to their strides as they clip along the path carrying heavy bundles of firewood or large buckets of water on their heads. Their pace remains steadfast, their postures erect, their eyes resolute.

Today, Livingstonia remains a medical, educational and spiritual hub for Malawi’s rural northern region. But I doubt it would have survived had it not been for Laws’ pursuit of fresh running water, which not only protected people from disease, but also generated electricity, powering everything from the threshing and flour mills to the machinery in the carpentry and blacksmith shops.

On the trail, I stumble along in my skirt. Despite my conservative attire, I still feel awkward and out of sync next to the Malawian women, especially those wearing the traditional chitenje, the large sheets of fabric that wrap around the waist. There is a collective rhythm to their strides as they clip along the path carrying heavy bundles of firewood or large buckets of water on their heads. Their pace remains steadfast, their postures erect, their eyes resolute.

Perhaps it is the simplicity of the chitenje, its freedom from buttons, zippers and elastic that allows this fluid, unfaltering cadence. At the same time, these garments project a raw, unpredictable boldness. The crisp cotton fabrics come alive, popping with complex patterns and symbols, most in striking colors.

We pass a young mother wearing two chitenje, one used as a sling to carry her baby. The colors of Crayolas — gold, orange and deep jade — cover her hips and legs, while the child swims in a sea of turquoise and royal blue. As she glides by in her flip-flops, she seems unphased by me. Likely, she has seen plenty of musungos over the years, living so close to Livingstonia. Still, I wonder if life has been treating her kindly here in this beautiful green land.