Mozambique

I have just got back from a very special 10 days in beautiful Mozambique. From the warmth of its people, to its picturesque backdrops, to its mouth-watering seafood, I’ve come back with plenty of memories.

You may remember me mentioning my wonderful friend Sarah Bergs. She is the founder of Nourish, a charity we have been working with this year and back in March, she mentioned a trip to Mozambique to help her with the orphanage she invests in and I immediately said yes. 

So while I was very excited, the time came for me to endure the helish journey. Rog dropped me off at East London bus station and patiently waited with me as my bus steadily got more and more delayed. I finally got on 3 hours late and bagged what I thought was a very jammy seat. I was wrong. Not only was I next to the most hideous toilet I have ever witnessed, but on my right were screaming children and blinding lights from behind. Great. Safe to say, sleep didn’t come that night, but I bided my time clinging on to my laptop and bag, praying silently that I wouldn’t be mugged (which was seeming increasingly probable what with the dodgy looks and eager glances at my macbook that were coming my way). 

6 hours delayed, I dragged my tired body off to the bus in Pretoria and Sarah’s friend Jenna was there to meet me. We drove 3 hours to Lydenburg where I met her lovely yet eccentric family (think pet bird down the fathers shirt and sisters fighting) before heading to Sarah’s in Sabie. I was so happy to see her; she really is my little soul sister. Little being the operative word; she is 5 foot but has the hugest, warmest personality and smiliest face I have ever seen. Her friend Ria is visiting from England (thank god I have someone to be sarcastic with) and Regina is interning from Germany, so there are a nice group of us.

My alarm shrieked that it was 4am and I reluctantly got up and blasted my face with cold water to prevent myself from slipping into a coma. It was time for me to meet ‘granny’, the car that Sarah has recently bought so that she can transport donations to and from different locations. Granny is a baby blue 30 year old wonder and she is a dream to look at. She is not however a dream to listen to. 4.30am and she wouldn’t start. The poor dear was cold. So it was time for a push start (the first of many it would soon transpire), trying to be as quiet as possible. Not so easy with 5 girls, 5 relatively weak girls at that. No joy. Back to bed for 2 hours while the mechanic took her battery to recharge. Better luck next time.

We finally made it over the border and into Maputo some time that afternoon and headed straight to Fatima’s backpackers where we luckily had our own room. Nothing than worse than sharing a backpackers dorm with smelly foreigners who leave their underwear all over the place and come back at ungodly hours and start to fumble in the bunk below you. No sir. 

A few Laurentinas down (Mozambican beers) and we retired to our beds, mosquito nets so close to our faces that we could have suffocated. Better than malaria again thanks. 

Tofo was next on the agenda, a trip that should have taken 7 hours, but darling granny wasn’t having any of that and defiantly broke down 5 times, including a near catastrophic incident where her tyre popped loudly on the highway and we (I say ‘we’ loosely’) had to change it on the side of the road. Tofo was worth the mission of a journey though-it is pretty much where I imagine most beach postcard scenes are photographed. Miles and miles of white sand and turquoise water, lined perfectly with elegant tall palm trees. Sarah had mentioned the prawns she had eaten in Tofo and no jokes aside, I would do the 10 hour journey again tomorrow for some more of those prawns. I’ve never been the hugest fan of your average prawn as I feel people so often don’t prepare them well enough and overcook them. These however were gigantic; delicately coated in desiccated coconut and fried, served with sweet chili sauce. Good god they were nice.

The next morning we woke up early, grabbed a deck chair, made steaming coffee and watched the sun go up over the ocean, trying as hard as we could not to think of the upcoming journey back to Maputo. The way back was not nearly as back though; granny was exemplary and we were all very proud. We stopped off in an orphanage in Inhambane and gave out balloons and lollypops to celebrate Nelson Mandela Day. What started out as a smily, ecstatic atmosphere soon turned slightly sinister, with some of the boys quite forceably popping the younger girls balloons and generally reeking havoc. Boys will be boys wherever you go it seems. 

That night we had an amazing meal at Costa do Sol on the beach front in Maputo; jugs of sangria and seafood platters. Happy times. Sarah delicately dropped in on the way home that where we were passing through was the exact location that she had been violently mugged at knife point a few months earlier. Thanks Dawn. 

It was time for us to stop jollying around drinking sangria and frolicking on the beach and get down to what we had actually come to Mozambique to do. We drove the small distance to Matola and I found that the others were definitely right when they said granny didn’t start easily and did not like 3rd gear. Aacosida is a lovely orphanage in a safe neighbourhood, run by Dumsane and his wife Clementina. It is home to 15 orphans and vulnerable children but during the day is teeming with other littlies whose parents leave them there for the day while they go to work. 

As always, I was instantly amazed at the resilience of these children. There is clear pain behind their eyes but they slap on a smile and get on with life. I have learnt an awful lot from a group of children a 3rd of my age. The girls as young as 10 years old are in charge of the babies and the general domestic chores. They are up at 6am to get the water heated and the other children sorted, before preparing breakfast for everyone. Joya in particular will always stay with me; her beautiful smile and peaceful nature was heart-warming and she got on with her duties with absolutely no fuss. The day she was able to go to school (1 day in the 3 we were there), her face lit up in a way I hadn’t seen before and it was evident that for a short time she was able to be a normal child. She could laugh and be silly and deservedly forget her responsibilities for a few hours.  

By the time we say goodbye to Aacosida we had proudly left behind a vegetable garden and a nearly built creche, we had made children laugh and play and we had had many unforgettable run ins with granny, most involving a push start. It was time for a little bit of battery rechargement and so we hopped on a ferry (which of course broke down the minute we stepped foot on it) and enjoyed 2 blissful days on Macaneta Island. We swam, drank beer, ate pregos, fended off Bob Marley singing men who were in search of white wives, helped a poor Portugese family from their dog being raped by the local and extremely randy puppy and had a very interesting experience horse riding. Watching Sarah gallop off into the hills with absolutely no control of her gallant horse is something that will always make me laugh. 

I am now back in South Africa reflecting on the wonderful memories made in such a short period of time and so thankful to my soul sister for making it possible. Sarah -you truly are one of those rare people in life and a very special one indeed. Without you, Aacosida wouldn't be the place it is today and you should feel immensely proud of what you continue to achieve.

So until next time Mozambique, thank you for having us. 

The Wild Wild Coast

The Rough Guide to South Africa rates the Wild Coast as the number 1 thing ‘not to miss’. Located along the coastline of the Eastern Cape, this rugged and lush patch is breathtakingly beautiful and offers so much for both the tourist and the local. So why is the Eastern Cape still the poorest & least managed province? And why is it not being utilized and visited as much as its counterparts? Cape Town’s Table Mountain, the Western Cape’s Garden Route, and Limpopo’s infamous Kruger National Park are all huge tourist destinations and have been since South Africa was unearthed by tourists. 

I reasoned with myself that this was because the Wild Coast is less accessible with not as much variety of accommodation; but as we made our way along this gorgeous coast, I realized that this wasn’t the case at all. The 8 of the country’s 10 provinces that I have travelled have all boasted something unique and equally as magnificent but as soon as we reached the Wild Coast I was staggered with what I saw. Miles and miles of dense & abundant indigenous trees- huge palm banana leaves line one side of the road while on the other side, the sparkling Indian Ocean entices you in.

So of course, I had to figure out the answers to my questions. From talking to a wide demographic (as well as hounding poor Rog with ceaseless questions), I have learned that the Eastern Cape is purposefully being maintained as the ‘poor’ province by the ANC (the governmental party in power) as this is where they are getting a large proportion of their votes. I am disgusted by this but not exactly shocked as it pretty much sums up the government that is running South Africa today. Jacob Zuma and his Congress of morons seem to be doing more wrong than good (but don’t get me started on that as we could be here a while and I’m sure its of little interest).

So while the beautiful Eastern Cape is being retained in such a way to ensure a specific demographical following, it is consequently not bringing in visitors in high numbers as is the case for other parts of South Africa. The EXPEDITION Project aims to emphasize these lesser known areas in at attempt to encourage locals and internationals to explore the richness that the Eastern Cape (as well as the rest of the country) has to offer.

We have only been in the province for the best part of a week but are seeing and doing as much as we can in order to get a tangible feel for the province. We recently stayed at Mbotyi River Lodge, a beautiful place in the heart of the Wild Coast so while we were there, decided to use our Sunday for maximum exploration.

We set off early after breakfast (fruit & yoghurt with a nutty/seedy/granola’ry topping for utmost sustenance); walking shoes at the ready. We had been told that it was a ‘relatively strenuous’ 45 minute walk into the local village where the Mpondo tribe live and we were eager to investigate. The walk started undemandingly enough, with quite steep hills but nothing more than the average African living in a rural community has to endure daily. The encompassing beauty made it a whole lot easier. We passed smiling children playing outside their huts, mothers doing their washing along the river banks and hungover men laughing and chatting.

We could see the glint of the sea in the distance -our compass reassuring us we were heading in the right direction. The plan was to take the winding and steep route through the village to the ocean, and to follow the coastline back to the lodge. We reached what was probably one of the best beaches I’ve ever seen; totally deserted, enclosed by palm trees and precarious looking rocks. We happily strode on for a good half an hour, satisfied we would soon reach the foot path that would lead us over the hill and back to civilization. It soon became quite obvious that this wasn’t going to happen and that we had lead ourselves well and truly off the beaten track and were, well... lost. 

Rog was totally unfazed and was in fact loving it -clambering in and over steep and jagged rocks, basically needing mountain climbing gear for some of the vertical hills we were heaving ourselves up. He assured me that we would find our way and if we just followed the ocean on our right, we’d be back in ‘no time’. Well -we were not back in ‘no time’. We had to maneuver our way over some pretty hair raising terrain and at one point, the only way over to the other side was to wade, stomach deep through freezing water onto slippery uneven rocks. The last exertion included a scramble up the hillside where we finally reached the footpath.

It was quite a challenge to say the least and times I wish we had just turned back, but I enjoyed pushing myself and actually felt quite proud when we finally saw the lodge in the distance. The cows clearly weren’t as proud of us and stood defiantly in our way so we couldn’t pass. Bastards. I certainly wasn’t in the mood to be running away from an angry Bull that was bullying me. 

So with rather tired and shaky legs, we managed to negotiate a deal whereby the Bull would leave us alone if we clambered further up the hill and out of his way. We arrived at the resort’s beach to find a much more cooperative family of cows enjoying their day at the seaside who, although gave us the stink eye, kept themselves to themselves. A team of euphoric looking boys playing a game of footy formed the backdrop. We knocked back litres of water and reflected on what we had just done. Pretty bad ass in my opinion.

Cultural diversity is no easy game

When people think of Africa as a continent, they often envisage poverty, hardship & people living in what they would deem as relative ‘squalor’. This of course is not the case for everyone but as we know only too well, it is increasingly prevalent and recent statistics suggest it is the sad reality for more than half of the population in Africa. South Africa holds 50% of its people haunted below the poverty line and in most towns and indeed larger cities, there will be at least one substantial if not numerous townships scattered outside the buzzing metropolis.

Townships (otherwise known as slums, shantytowns, squatter camps, or, if like me you prefer the less derogatory term, rural communities) as you can see above can vary from dirty and impoverished to quite cheerful looking yet basic settlements. They were first constructed during the Apartheid era, where it is was critical for government to separate the blacks and whites and keep them in designated areas. It was the infrastructure and western technology brought over from overseas whites that created the cities while the ‘informal settlements’ were created for the black populations outside of the city centres where it was still possible for it’s inhabitants to find work. As you can imagine, the settlements grew with accelerating momentum and before long had soon exploded and become firmly recognized homes for hundreds of thousands of people.

The townships across South Africa today are still as distinctive as they once were, despite Apartheid now firmly revoked. They are predominantly, if not entirely occupied by black citizens and the way these people live their lives is not dissimilar to how it would have been 40, 50 years ago. The only crucial difference now is that freedom has entitled a population to no longer feel shackled by oppression.

But was Apartheid unreservedly a bad policy? Of course that is a rather controversial question to pose, but I can’t help but weigh up the pros and cons of that time. I find, and will continue to find Apartheid a morally abhorrent period in history but it doesn’t mean that we can’t analyze it. The way Apartheid was handled was sickening and the treatment of millions was unforgivable. On the other hand, and forgive me for sounding dispassionate, what prevailed as a result was a far more controlled country than is true today.

The government were on such high guard that they were ruthlessly strict, crime was controlled in a similarly rigorous fashion and the municipalities were run far better. Yes -the blacks got their freedom and damn right too but the ramifications for South Africa today is corruption and wrongdoing. South Africa as a country appears to be one of organized chaos and it is a shame to reflect and comprehend that in reality, during Apartheid the country was in fact just organized. People will argue that this so called ‘organization’ was organized brutality and inhumane segregation, and for the most part I agree; but in scrutinizing the situation however, I now find myself failing to see the situation in such absolute terms.