01 Fifty-eight numbers

Put another way: Area 1 is the oldest part of the city, and from there each new number was assigned to the next sector to be developed, wherever it happened to be. Area 58 was taken into the city as recently as the 2008 census, from the surrounding district.

The result is an address system that encodes time instead of space. Once you know how it works, a number does not tell you which way to walk, but it does tell you roughly which decade the place you are heading for belongs to. That is different information, and not necessarily worse.

02 The map is not a sequence

Area 12 and Area 13 need not be neighbours. The numbering tells the city's history, not its geometry.

Here is the practical consequence that throws newcomers. In a city with geographically numbered districts — in a spiral, in rings or by quadrants — a number lets you estimate distance and direction. Here it does not: the numbers are scattered across the whole urban patch with no correlation to position.

And there is a factor that amplifies it: the shape of the city itself. Lilongwe grew at very low density and with two separate centres, so the urban patch is not compact but a set of loose pieces between masses of trees. There is no continuous grid on which to base a spatial intuition.

A raised pedestrian walkway in a concrete shopping complex: on the left, a white two-storey building with a continuous balcony and air-conditioning units lined up at ground level; the paving, in grey slabs, runs straight and empty beside a low concrete parapet separating the walkway from a lower level; to the right, on that level, a courtyard with plastic tables and chairs under parasols, a sign reading 'Centre House Arcade' and an arcaded gallery; at the centre of the frame stands a large tree with a grey trunk and wholly bare branches; the sky is white and veiled.
Nineteen-seventies architecture in the planned centre. The new city's Areas carry high numbers because they were laid out later.Malawiana / Wikimedia Commons / Dominio público·Dominio público

03 Why it ended up this way

The system makes sense if you look at the city's history. Lilongwe began around 1902 as a trading post and was recognised as a town in 1947, with a few thousand inhabitants. In 1966 it had about 19,425. No complicated system was needed: there was one nucleus and little else.

What happened next was exceptional growth. In 1975 the city became the country's capital and a whole administrative centre was added, planned from scratch and placed several kilometres from the commercial nucleus. From then on the population grew at a rate of the order of four per cent a year until it approached a million in 2018.

Numbering by order of creation is the simplest solution when a city expands fast and in several directions at once, and nobody yet knows what its final shape will be. A geographical system would have required deciding in advance how far the city would reach. A chronological one only requires keeping count.

A garden scene at dusk under a storm sky: the upper half of the frame is taken up by a mass of dense, layered cloud in mauve, leaden grey and pink; below, a carefully kept green lawn with clipped shrubs, young palms and an asphalt path describing a curve; at the centre stands a low house of exposed red brick with a pale metal gable roof and an arch at the entrance, joined to a smaller circular annexe topped by a thick conical thatched roof, its windows lit from inside; to the left, a rise covered in dense trees; nobody is in the frame.
A low-density residential plot with garden. It is the kind of fabric that produces the loose city visible from the air.Lars Plougmann / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 2.0·CC BY-SA 2.0

04 How to find your way anyway

The practical rule is simple: do not try to deduce anything from the number. Treat each Area as a proper name that happens to be a figure, and lean on the references that genuinely are spatial, which here are basically two: the city's two centres and the green river corridor that separates them.

With that structure in your head, the system stops being an obstacle. You know whether something is on the old-city side or the planned-centre side, and the number then serves as an exact label once you are in the right zone. That is exactly how it works for people who live here.

An oblique aerial view of rural landscape taken from an aircraft window, the white wing entering at the top right corner: the ground appears wholly burnt off, in a continuous range of ochres, browns and reds, divided into hundreds of irregular plots of very different sizes, separated by boundaries and by pale dirt tracks that branch without forming any regular grid; among the plots are clusters of very small pale-roofed buildings and isolated groups of green trees; in the lower half, some strips of still-green cultivation appear.
The plot pattern on the outskirts, with no grid and no geometric order. The city grew by taking in pieces like these, one at a time.Leandro Neumann Ciuffo / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY 2.0·CC BY 2.0

And there is a reward for anyone paying attention. Going through low-numbered and high-numbered Areas on the same day, you see, in order and without looking for it, how the way of building the city changed across a century. Few cities lay out their own chronology so literally.

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Lucía Montes

Worth Knowing editor · Flowtravel

Lucía stops at what a place takes for granted and nobody explains.