"The peach wasn’t ripe but that didn’t matter. The African sun was cooling and a soft breeze brought the smell of wood smoke from a nearby village fire. Below and before me the Phalombe Plain stretched towards the Mozambique mountains which were blue and mysterious in the lengthening shadows of the day. Our colonial-style house, rambling and white-washed, stood before this great painting, framed by a huge mahogany tree at the foot of our garden. Behind me the rocky face of Zomba Mountain brooded in an almost disapproving way. It was a strong African belief that mountains were places where the sprits lived. As I stared up at those rocky peaks glowing golden in sunset light it wasn’t hard to imagine that somehow it was a magical place between this world and the next..."
A wonderful book wrote by a malawian in New York...Jennifer Roscoe an African Butterfly
Get Familiar with Malawi and Help a Charity
Xoxo Keep in touch Newyorkers...