Last week, I took a deliberate pause from the usual toil of work to immerse myself in the quiet enchantment of some local marvels that never fail to evoke awe and wonder. Fortunately, these extraordinary sights did not require a long journey. One such gem, the Malape Pillars, lies within the Machinga district. I had heard of Malape before but had never visited the site.
After seeking out directions from a local who knew the area intimately, the adventure was set in motion with purposeful spirit. From Blantyre, the route required a turn-off just before reaching the Liwonde Barrage on the M8 road, leading onto the Bakili Muluzi Highway. The road sweeps past the junction of Liwonde National Park until it spans the Likwenu River via a long and graceful bridge. Just beyond this crossing, a dusty, rough-hewn track diverges to the right, beckoning those who seek the Malape Pillars. A welcoming signpost marks this threshold, promising visitors entry to a spectacle of nature’s grand artistry.
The inhabitants of Chindenga Village, guardians of the pillars, demonstrate remarkable organisation and pride in their heritage. A dedicated committee oversees all aspects of visitor engagement. At the helm, the chairperson meticulously records every visitor in a receipt book. Upon paying a modest entrance fee—K3,000 per guest at the time of my visit—a guided tour is arranged, where an expert companion recounts the pillars’ fascinating story and their significance to the local community.
What greeted us was nothing short of breathtaking. The Malape Pillars stand as towering sentinels, nature’s monuments carved over decades. Our guide, a knowledgeable woman born in Zimbabwe to Malawian parents who had returned home in 1982, shared that the pillars began their slow emergence around 1988. What once was a modest gully gradually broadened and deepened, sculpted year after year by the persistent forces of erosion, until these majestic vertical columns emerged in all their imposing glory.
The soil here appears to be a curious mixture, with sections varying dramatically in stability. Some areas cling together with firm cohesion, resisting the elements, while others are loose and yield quickly. The softer earth erodes with rapidity, unveiling the stronger segments standing proud, seemingly shaped and polished by the hand of some master craftsman.
My wife and I observed with fascination that this ancient process was not unique to the existing pillars; nearby, at least two pristine gullies appeared to be at the embryonic stages of similar formation. One could almost witness the earth working quietly, imperceptibly, to birth the next generation of pillars. This natural cycle of devastation and creation, erosion and endurance, is a testament to the perpetual artistry of our environment.
The pillars have become a magnet for visitors far and wide, drawing both locals and foreigners who wish to witness their grandeur. They have also become a cherished haunt for local musicians, who camp amid the spectacular scenery for days on end, filming music videos that blend melody and landscape in inspired harmony. For believers, the sight evokes spontaneous worship—some may be moved to sing praises such as Carl Boberg’s timeless hymn, “O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder consider all the works thy hands have made,” for it truly feels like one is in the presence of creation’s majestic hand.
Our journey home was not without further enchantments. We took a detour at Malosa to visit another renowned natural curiosity—the chirema tree at the Chirema Lay Training Centre. Though I had encountered this extraordinary tree before, it was my wife’s maiden experience, and we both found it utterly captivating.
On the eastern fringes of the training centre, a thicket is quietly evolving into a dense forest, but remarkably, this entire expanse is, in fact, a single Banyan tree spreading ambitiously over the terrain. This living wonder continuously expands as new shoots grow along its branches, establishing roots and creating an intricate labyrinth of wood and leaf. The chirema tree is believed to have flourished for over 112 years, with its main trunk meandering sideways, repeatedly taking root and extending its reign across some 700 square metres of earth.
From a distance, the myriad shoots resemble a fully formed forest, a green maze that invites exploration and admiration. The local community regards this tree as a mystery beyond ordinary comprehension — malodza in the vernacular – something inexplicable by human mind. The “dz” sound is absent in their locally dominant Yao tongue, hence the tree’s moniker shifted to “malosa,” a name used for the place even today. Others affectionately term it “mtengo wa chirema,” meaning a tree of peculiarity, lending its name to the surrounding locale itself.