The Green Malata is not the name of yet another Malawian specialty, but the name of an orphanage. Or so it used to be.

Until the kind man who raised these kids had died. But these orphans had an idea.

And this idea turned into a sustainable farmed and manufactured school of craftsmen like chefs, carpenters, welders, hairdressers, etc.

The Green Malata is producing its own bio-gas and cowpoo briskets as an eco-friendly energy source instead of using coal or wood. I know, it was a lot in one sentence. You might want to read it again? But boy, what an achievement here in Malawi. With all that red tape and regulations.

The idea of creating something unique, but beneficial for the whole region is something I have not come across in Malawi. Or Africa.

The whole country will benefit as apprenticeships create skilled craftsmen and women. This is one thing Malawi is in desperate need of.

Chances of getting employed may still be slim, but at least you have a fair start to your life.

Of course, for a project this size, sustainable fundings are needed. These come primarily and privately from Holland.

Lady Margaret is the chairwoman of this institution and is still connected to her country of origin.

No help was offered from the government. Instead, death threads were called out to her.

Mrs Margaret and her group of orphans have created something unique. They created something sustainable.

They created hope for the future for ordinary Malawians which itself is an outstanding achievement.

Anyhow, that’s where I am sitting right now on a freezing cold night. I haven’t worn my nitmiluk oodie since leaving South Africa, I am seriously cold. Ruhan in South Africa told me that it had snowed heavily on the farm in Ingogo. All this crazy weather in spring after after steaming hot temperatures last week. Mother Nature on her period.

I am well seated underneath the loftus tent and I am listening to different chatters from different directions in different tones. Further in the distance, I can hear cool African tunes coming from the mosh pit dance area.

It’s the ‘Mulhako Wa Alhome’ festival this weekend here just outside the Mulanje Mountains.

This annual event combines Malawian culture from different regions throughout the country. This festival even brings the president out, if he was born in this area. I heard much about the festival from my good friend Boston in Chembe. He and his ‘besty’ Rastaman-Mantice attend to this annual event every year.

This year, the three of us set out together from Chembe at Lake Malawi. Mantice, ‘The unpraying kind’ as he states, Boston and myself are on a road trip to the Mulanje Mountain area. Soaking up the atmosphere with local boys. How good is that?

Mantice and Blessings grew up here and were raised as orphans at the Green Talapa and heavily were involved in the making. This eco-farm just happens to be right across the street from the festival grounds and Zimba is parked on the Green.

The three of us went for a stroll over the festivities after sunset on Saturday. 80 percent of the human waves were teenagers or not much older. We headed for the traditional stage where some dances were performed. The performers were dressed up in their local costumes, or as good as possible. Mostly kids and teenagers were in and out of line on the dance floor, singing and dancing to their beat. But!!!

Some space cadet planted a huge speaker right next to the performance area. Not only that the music was blasting so loud, so one couldn’t hear one another talk. Or the performance music and rhythm. Not only that two, it was the same song over and over again. Someone must be getting paid overtime. How frustrating for the performers. How typical African.

I needed to get some water, I forgot mine with Zimba. The water and beer stand was right next to the mosh pit. Today is youth day it appears. It is a great beat, a happy tune. A fairly young crowd was moving with the rhythm, expressing themselves. I would have loved to join this some years ago, movin’ with the groovin’, let the music take control. Not tonight.

Boston, Mantice, and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders as to say ‘ Ben there, done that’.

We got some bananas on our way back. These market stallholders have a great sense of humor. I asked Boston to buy the bananas for me, so I wouldn’t pay Msungu prices. Just out of interest. She gave him the Msungu pricelist. ‘But I am from Malawi’ Boston said.’ ‘Your friend isn’t.’ She spotted me looking at those bananas. I paid 1500 Kwacha in the end for a good bunch. These yellow beacons were also my natural light reflector on our way back. Everything was so natural today, naturally.

It’s eight pm, not even. I am sitting at the Green Malata on the green with some green and the party across is in full swing too.I am having a cuppa tea whilst listening to that rhythm and beat in the distance. It is still a chilly night. One of those days where I never could warm up. A cuppa tea will help.

Tomorrow is the Big Day Out. The day everyone anticipated, the day we make business.

With all that hype I heard about this festival, it didn’t eventuate. Expectations.

I expected to see most people in traditional costumes. The older generation dressed up customary in colourful fashion.

Some older ladies came in rainbow colours but kept to themselves. They were most likely wondering what happened to this Malawian tradition. The view to the platform was nonexistent and from ground level.

I could see fudge all from my seat I stood on.

Instead, only the VIP’s had a front seat and made such a fuzz about their arrivals.

Like a wind stream channel, people, supporters or not, ran behind and beside the cars. They really don’t care who is in their way.

Scatman King whoever was up and down the catwalk, back and forth with bodyguards of modern days. To see and to be seen. Just to be seen. There is no business like show business.

I only noticed a few people laughing.

Bye now, my buzz about this fuzz had drastically dimmed.

A couple of Samuel L. Jackson wanna-be medicine men dressed in what could be traditional healing costumes wanted a fair share of money for a picture taken. I am not convinced about their reality while they waved their plastic lizards around. This Muppet Show is getting a bit painful now. Where is Kermit when you need him?

Scanning the grounds, I am the only Msungu near and far.

Oh wait, there is another white short ass. He is shaking what he got and gets this crowd going. Frank from Bavaria loves these beats as does his Malawian wife.

Quite frankly, this is the best performance I have seen at this festival. He is even better dressed than most others.

Good on ya mate. It earned him a front-row seat on stage.

Boston and Mantice weren’t exactly raking money in and instead were told to pay a stand fee.

All in all, it’s a huge market area where one could buy almost anything.

Malawians a very suspicious and believe in traditional medicine.

This drink is suppose to increase stamina on all levels. Care for a cuppa?

Herbs and roots that shoots performance levels were eaten with sugar. No beetroot. Can’t beet a root.

This show business wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for from a traditional festival.

I went back onto the Green where I bumped into Lady Margaret, the founder of this eco farm. It was very interesting to get an insight into how this project developed to what it is now. What an effort. I am impressed.

I took Rick for a spin over the festive area in stealth mode. The aerial view gives a better understanding of the dimensions of this festival.

The amount of people here is insane.

The traffic in either direction is insane.

The whole act is insane.

Now I know why this festival isn’t so popular with Msungu folk. I will give it a miss next time.

Nenani surprised me with a visit to the grounds. Likabulu lies a fair distance from here and I didn’t expect him to make the journey. But he did.

I am happy that he made an effort and that he got to meet Boston and Mantice and vice-versa. This was clearly the highlight of the day.

The best part of this road trip was spending time with friends of new and old. That’s worth way more than gold.