Throughout Southern Malawi, bikes are quite common. When we drive on the dirt roads, bikes and riders continually swerve into the dirt ruts and paths along the main open space to allow the vehicle to pass.
If one arrives in a congested area where building and pavement exists, dozens of bike taxis stand ready for passengers. Standard fees are twenty five to fifty "Kwachas", fifteen to thirty three cents.
This "driver" and his loyal friends worked me hard to sell time on that coveted rear seat.
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Yesterday, on the way home from our clinic, we stopped in this same village. I figured it might be worth hiring a bike taxi to roll me through the small outpost with my video camera up on my shoulder - sort of culturally appropriate "dolly." Humor evolved. I hired a large guy with a shiny bike and a well padded passenger seat. The price? About a dollar for a long ride in the late afternoon sun.
As soon as we started, I knew my ride would be an adventure. The bike I rented had wheels of the "not so round" vintage. We swerved left, right, left, right, left right and bounced up and down. I remember my efforts to point the video camera in a somewhat straight manner and laugh. All part of the journey.
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