Bouldering the old Portuguese lighthouse, Goa Island, Mozambique
Burundian Barber
Sitting in the dust on the side of the road
June 22, 2011: Leaving Mozambique....plane reflections.....
As the LAM flight parts through the low-lying clouds blanketing the east coast of Africa, I am given a quick period for reflections on the last 2.5 weeks of life here in Mozambique, a destination that has been intended for awhile, and finally encountered...the passport stamp said June 4th, which would make this departure exactly 18 days after arriving, sleep deprived and weary at the great lines of the South Africa-Mozambique border, at 6am with the rest of the overnight bus passengers. What an 18 days is has been; travel, education, research, relaxation, photography, writing, reflection; Maputo, the vibrant capital city that quickly won my affections with its warmth, smiles, and general, flavorful ease; Nampula, the dump of the central, the one night at the pensao expensivo, the $30 hotel room, cheapest in town, with a bathroom that I could not enter for fear of biological contamination and a bed that, even lying on top of my old sleep sheet, still made my skin crawl with imagined bedbugs; Ihla de Mozambique, one of the finest places I have laid my head in my years of travel, a true wonderland; hard chapa travel, hitchhiking from the side of the dusty road junction of Namialo, breaking down after 4 hours of roadside dust and heat imbibing, and finally, Pemba, the provincial capital, the sleepy backwater that brought to mind many reflections of the Pacific, of the sleepy backwater capital cities of my island home.
Only 2 hours ago I was running around with Mr. Nando, my guardian, evangelical spiritual savior, host at INAS, and money changing fixer; frantically going from one bank to another (which are luckily located 5 minutes from each other as the town center is about that large in diameter), getting rejected in pleas to exchange the soon-to-be-worthless Mozambiquan Mecticals for US dollars or Tanzanian Shillings, anything that would be worth something after leaving this place; the amount, about $30 USD worth; the result; a shady drive-by fixer arranging the transaction with the Somali Lady in the market, the only place for such an exchange in this city; and $30 crisp US dollars in my pocket, enough local change to buy a fruit drink in the airport shop and a chocolate Bon Bon to spare, and a smile on my face after being driven to the airport by Nando's secretary at INAS, at 5mph, the trunk swinging open, no door handles on the inside or out of the beat up old sedan...TIA....
Research-wise, a bit of frustration, mainly stemming from the strong language barriers and the lack of anything resembling help from some of the “great NGO's of the area” such as the one that passed me in the dust yesterday while walking in a desert wasteland, emblazoned with the logo that made me laugh, “Helping Africa to Help Itself.” A bit pandering. I did get to spend some time with a local Peace Corps couple doing teacher training work, which was great to hear some stories and struggles, both for my research and for my own experiences, painting them against my own service, sharing the ups and downs, wishing them the best of luck as they wrap up a long, hard, and wonderful period in their lives here in Northern Mozambique. Hanging out at Russel's Place, a refuge for them, an interesting spot for me, the local expat hangout, the South African drinking hole of choice, happy to spend a few hours on their free wireless, but happy also to leave that place....and back to INAS....ah, INAS...where to begin...
Ill never quite figure out what the acronym actually stood for, the first time I heard it muttered from the mouth of Christina, a new friend who took me exploring the night markets in Ihla told me I had to at least try to get in there, gave me the number of Mr. Nando, and told me to make a good story and drop her name....and there I was, standing in the doorway, explaining myself to some FRELIMO (the powerful national political party of Moz) bigwig that I did, indeed, belong staying at their government guesthouse, complete with aircon, stately beds, mini-fridges, huge leather arms chairs, and random FRELIMO party officials staying the night after official jaunts from Maputo....certainly an interesting place to crash, and it made the whole Pemba scene much more bearable, especially when confronted with the other guesthouses in town, either comparable in quality to the digs in Nampula, or of slightly higher quality for $100/night....and sweet Mr. Nando, sending me biblical text messages, constantly trying to get me to come to meet his Brazilian pastor (I was VERY busy), and arranging my Somali black market money deals, in addition to fetching buckets of water, as even though this place had ice cold ac and mini fridges, the water had broken at some point, and being Mozambique, it was just a symptom of the terminal decline of things, and would not be fixed in the forseeable future...water came from a bucket and a well in the courtyard, a nice contrast to the high-life being lived inside...My last evening, sipping a nice, cold 2M local beer in my shorts, reclining on the plush leather chair in the living room, watching a badly pirated copy of The A Team on the national television channel (one of 3 available in the country)....ah, Mozambique....incredibly terrible local travel, expensive and shit hotels, wonderfully friendly locals, and a beautiful 18 days.....onto Tanzania and beyond!!
