Mad Rush to the Coast
Northern Mozambique: The relative luxury ends here. This after all “one of the continent’s last wild frontiers – rugged and challenging for travel” (Lonely Planet).
On Likoma Island I met a Belgian chap who was also heading over to Mozambique in a dhow. Neither of us speaks any Portuguese!
So off we set, starting early-ish from Mango Drift in their battered old Land Rover into the ‘town’. From there we were officially stamped out of Malawi, we changed some money then boarded a dhow bound for Cobue 7km away. When we had paddled out into the wind they dropped the sails which, much to our amusement (and yet slightly worrying), were made of a bed sheet (main sail) and a couple of sacks sown together (front sail). After a bit of joking about the unseaworthyness of the craft the wind really picked up and suddenly we were flying along at an impressive pace. Though the wind was so strong that we were at such an angle that the right hand side of the vessel (Port? Starboard? Does anyone really know!?) was about 5cm from the water-line.
Within no time at all we’d reached the shores of Mozambique and hiked up the hill to the immigration office (one of the five non mud-dependent structures in the ‘town’!). An emissary was dispatched to the home of the official who was not happy that his post-lunch nap was being interrupted .Well I assume that’s what he was rattling on about. In truth I have absolutely no idea what he saying so I just smiled and handed over my passport… “Visa?” I enquired.
Anyway we later found out that there was no more transport that day. Anywhere. So we lay on the shore reading and sleeping. The next day we were first to the truck (good because it meant we got good seats in the cab, bad because we then had to drive up and down the one (dirt) road in the town for what felt like hours as the truck became more and more full. You see it turns out that in Mozambique (and all of the other countries I’ve passed through on this trip) the concept of “full” isn’t a simple binary yes or no question as it is in Sweden, but more of an analogue scale ranging from empty to a ridiculous world record attempt at squeezing in people, luggage and livestock!
Still I guess that’s what makes it cheap so I can hardly complain. Anyway we eventually got going and cruised the bone jarring road to Metangula in no time at all and luckily connected with a large, newish bus just outside the town bound for Lichinga. The AC blasting in the bus had little effect – mainly because all the windows were open and we ate a steady stream of dust all the way to Lichinga.
Anyway we got to Lichinga eventually, found the cheapest, dodgiest accommodation available - still double the price of anything decent in Tz or Malawi! After a quick tour of the town we had some food and had an early night.
We woke up early – about 04:30 or there about to catch the bus to Cuamba. Unfortunately this turned out to be too late for the nice big buses and so we reluctantly settled for a minibus. We then had a chance to improve on our previous minor tour of the city as we were treated to two hours (literally) of driving round at high speeds, both driver and conductor attempting to let everyone, sleeping or not, know about our imminent departure! We were fairly comfortable for the first few hours, but unfortunately this was not to last. Unbeknownst to us, the driver had made some deal with his mate in a town halfway to drop us all off, from where the friend would take us to our final destination. Everyone else appeared to have understood what was coming and they were prepared. As soon as we pulled up alongside the friend’s bus, they promptly jumped ship leaving the Belgian (Pim) and I to argue our case with the driver and conductor (both of whom spoke no English!). Reluctantly we followed our fellow passengers; but by this time all the ‘good’ seats were occupied leaving me with one of the backless fold-down ones which I had to share with a lady whose bottom was in the least bit unsubstantial!
When we arrived in Cuamba I was in a thoroughly bad mood, having eaten practically nothing the whole day! Looking at the menu of the nearest restaurant didn’t help – everything was horrible overpriced. As I set off to find a more reasonable place a massive storm broke out so I didn’t get further than the place next door (even slightly more expensive!) and had to settle for one of the cheapest things on the menu – a piece of meat on a bun (still the price of 2-3 decent meals in Tz!). So that night I went to bed hungry, wet and very much disliking Mozambique.
The next morning was again an early one, but at least the train to Nampula set off more or less on time (0500). Although we paid for economy class (the only one available), we were treated to a whole wooden bench each. Going to be a better day for sure I thought as we pulled off, treated to a fantastic sunrise over some great mountains.
We stopped in every little village along the way where we picked up more ans more passengers. A few hours in we lost our bench privilege but we were still comfortable – being able to stretch our legs, go for a walk up and down the carridges. And we had plenty to eat and drink. Despite the train running every day, the way every single village had turned out en mass to sell us stuff, you’d think they hadn’t seen it in months! Most of the cooked things were drenched in oil, but there was a lot of fruits and veggies thrust through the windows also! We quickly learned the Portuguese numbers and a few other essential phrases (like: “that is too expensive”) despite some confusion along the way (e.g. they call 1 “mil” – meaning 1000 because the government slashed three zeros off their currency not so long ago).
The WC’s were interesting on the train – they didn’t bother with the façade of a toilet like they do, so I’m told, in England where, despite it appearing very modern and clean, there’s still a sign saying “please do not use this toilet while the train is in that station.” That would appear to make the Mozambican rail officials more honest, or at least less deceptive than their European counterparts. It was a bumpy train ride though and, while it was fun to take a leak while watching the tracks whizz passed, it seemed I wasn’t the only one having trouble staying one target while being thrown this way and that, one leg holding the door shut!
As our comfort gradually declined it became increasingly clear that, while they said it was a passenger car, it was being used as more of a cargo car, supplying the city with all the fresh produce (and quite a large percentage of their poultry as well I'd guess). As we got nearer to Nampula (the last five hours or so) the buying of goods became frantic, with some women elbowing others out of the window to get the better deal on the bag of beans. Our bags quickly disappeared, as did our legs, under a mountain of beans, fruits, cassava and some things one normally wouldn’t assume to be edible!
So when the train finally pulled into the station 14hrs after leaving Cuamba, we were justifiably fed up and desperate to get off. A great deal of patience and restraint was needed by both of us as the now lethargic ladies (all that buying really took it out of them!) slowly claimed their beans and made their way onto the platform. Eventually we were able to grab our bags and get off. Luckily we “didn’t notice” the queue formed to get through the gates until a policeman shoved us into it, but by that stage we’d covered most of the distance to the gate. We walked round for a while looking in vain for some cheap accommodation. Luckily someone we asked knew the owner of the adjacent hotel (quite fancy) and got us a ‘good deal’. I was in a better mood up until we went looking for supper and I had to again settle for a Prego com Pão (meat on a bun) but it was quite tasty and I’d eaten well on the train, so I wasn’t too bothered. After the strain of the previous day’s travels, the AC and decent beds were warmly welcomed.
The next morning we caught the minibus to Ilha de Mazambique (a mere 3.5 hrs!) - The last leg of the rush to the coast. Pretty standard, cramped ride, but as we drove across the 3.5 km bridge (they say… doesn’t look that long!) I knew that it had been worth all those long hours to get here. The ocean looked great!
On Likoma Island I met a Belgian chap who was also heading over to Mozambique in a dhow. Neither of us speaks any Portuguese!
So off we set, starting early-ish from Mango Drift in their battered old Land Rover into the ‘town’. From there we were officially stamped out of Malawi, we changed some money then boarded a dhow bound for Cobue 7km away. When we had paddled out into the wind they dropped the sails which, much to our amusement (and yet slightly worrying), were made of a bed sheet (main sail) and a couple of sacks sown together (front sail). After a bit of joking about the unseaworthyness of the craft the wind really picked up and suddenly we were flying along at an impressive pace. Though the wind was so strong that we were at such an angle that the right hand side of the vessel (Port? Starboard? Does anyone really know!?) was about 5cm from the water-line.
Within no time at all we’d reached the shores of Mozambique and hiked up the hill to the immigration office (one of the five non mud-dependent structures in the ‘town’!). An emissary was dispatched to the home of the official who was not happy that his post-lunch nap was being interrupted .Well I assume that’s what he was rattling on about. In truth I have absolutely no idea what he saying so I just smiled and handed over my passport… “Visa?” I enquired.
Anyway we later found out that there was no more transport that day. Anywhere. So we lay on the shore reading and sleeping. The next day we were first to the truck (good because it meant we got good seats in the cab, bad because we then had to drive up and down the one (dirt) road in the town for what felt like hours as the truck became more and more full. You see it turns out that in Mozambique (and all of the other countries I’ve passed through on this trip) the concept of “full” isn’t a simple binary yes or no question as it is in Sweden, but more of an analogue scale ranging from empty to a ridiculous world record attempt at squeezing in people, luggage and livestock!
Still I guess that’s what makes it cheap so I can hardly complain. Anyway we eventually got going and cruised the bone jarring road to Metangula in no time at all and luckily connected with a large, newish bus just outside the town bound for Lichinga. The AC blasting in the bus had little effect – mainly because all the windows were open and we ate a steady stream of dust all the way to Lichinga.
Anyway we got to Lichinga eventually, found the cheapest, dodgiest accommodation available - still double the price of anything decent in Tz or Malawi! After a quick tour of the town we had some food and had an early night.
We woke up early – about 04:30 or there about to catch the bus to Cuamba. Unfortunately this turned out to be too late for the nice big buses and so we reluctantly settled for a minibus. We then had a chance to improve on our previous minor tour of the city as we were treated to two hours (literally) of driving round at high speeds, both driver and conductor attempting to let everyone, sleeping or not, know about our imminent departure! We were fairly comfortable for the first few hours, but unfortunately this was not to last. Unbeknownst to us, the driver had made some deal with his mate in a town halfway to drop us all off, from where the friend would take us to our final destination. Everyone else appeared to have understood what was coming and they were prepared. As soon as we pulled up alongside the friend’s bus, they promptly jumped ship leaving the Belgian (Pim) and I to argue our case with the driver and conductor (both of whom spoke no English!). Reluctantly we followed our fellow passengers; but by this time all the ‘good’ seats were occupied leaving me with one of the backless fold-down ones which I had to share with a lady whose bottom was in the least bit unsubstantial!
When we arrived in Cuamba I was in a thoroughly bad mood, having eaten practically nothing the whole day! Looking at the menu of the nearest restaurant didn’t help – everything was horrible overpriced. As I set off to find a more reasonable place a massive storm broke out so I didn’t get further than the place next door (even slightly more expensive!) and had to settle for one of the cheapest things on the menu – a piece of meat on a bun (still the price of 2-3 decent meals in Tz!). So that night I went to bed hungry, wet and very much disliking Mozambique.
The next morning was again an early one, but at least the train to Nampula set off more or less on time (0500). Although we paid for economy class (the only one available), we were treated to a whole wooden bench each. Going to be a better day for sure I thought as we pulled off, treated to a fantastic sunrise over some great mountains.
We stopped in every little village along the way where we picked up more ans more passengers. A few hours in we lost our bench privilege but we were still comfortable – being able to stretch our legs, go for a walk up and down the carridges. And we had plenty to eat and drink. Despite the train running every day, the way every single village had turned out en mass to sell us stuff, you’d think they hadn’t seen it in months! Most of the cooked things were drenched in oil, but there was a lot of fruits and veggies thrust through the windows also! We quickly learned the Portuguese numbers and a few other essential phrases (like: “that is too expensive”) despite some confusion along the way (e.g. they call 1 “mil” – meaning 1000 because the government slashed three zeros off their currency not so long ago).
The WC’s were interesting on the train – they didn’t bother with the façade of a toilet like they do, so I’m told, in England where, despite it appearing very modern and clean, there’s still a sign saying “please do not use this toilet while the train is in that station.” That would appear to make the Mozambican rail officials more honest, or at least less deceptive than their European counterparts. It was a bumpy train ride though and, while it was fun to take a leak while watching the tracks whizz passed, it seemed I wasn’t the only one having trouble staying one target while being thrown this way and that, one leg holding the door shut!
As our comfort gradually declined it became increasingly clear that, while they said it was a passenger car, it was being used as more of a cargo car, supplying the city with all the fresh produce (and quite a large percentage of their poultry as well I'd guess). As we got nearer to Nampula (the last five hours or so) the buying of goods became frantic, with some women elbowing others out of the window to get the better deal on the bag of beans. Our bags quickly disappeared, as did our legs, under a mountain of beans, fruits, cassava and some things one normally wouldn’t assume to be edible!
So when the train finally pulled into the station 14hrs after leaving Cuamba, we were justifiably fed up and desperate to get off. A great deal of patience and restraint was needed by both of us as the now lethargic ladies (all that buying really took it out of them!) slowly claimed their beans and made their way onto the platform. Eventually we were able to grab our bags and get off. Luckily we “didn’t notice” the queue formed to get through the gates until a policeman shoved us into it, but by that stage we’d covered most of the distance to the gate. We walked round for a while looking in vain for some cheap accommodation. Luckily someone we asked knew the owner of the adjacent hotel (quite fancy) and got us a ‘good deal’. I was in a better mood up until we went looking for supper and I had to again settle for a Prego com Pão (meat on a bun) but it was quite tasty and I’d eaten well on the train, so I wasn’t too bothered. After the strain of the previous day’s travels, the AC and decent beds were warmly welcomed.
The next morning we caught the minibus to Ilha de Mazambique (a mere 3.5 hrs!) - The last leg of the rush to the coast. Pretty standard, cramped ride, but as we drove across the 3.5 km bridge (they say… doesn’t look that long!) I knew that it had been worth all those long hours to get here. The ocean looked great!
That was quite a ride. Thanks for posting about it.
ReplyDeleteAs expected, another awesome read
ReplyDelete