The Late Posts: Farewell to Mozambique

To anyone with that much free time (to stumble across a blog that hasn't been updated since May), I just thought I should assure you that my journey did come to a safe conclusion (I'm not still stuck in the bowels of Mozambique with only half of one leg left thanks to stumbling over an old landmine). I'll try and pick up where I left off and skim through the next few months of the trip.

Having already been to Ilha de Mocambique, I opted to carry on to Nacala (which is famous for being full of "banditos"!), while Viktor (the Swede) checked out the island.

Nacala was ugly and boring despite every opportunity offered by its location to be otherwise. My journey there was, in hindsight, a disaster! The cheapest place I could find was well over my total days budget - meaning I could afford no place with tables, or even chairs! 

Because I arrived on Sunday however, everything was closed which was very annoying because it meant I had to stay an extra day there - it was the only town in the north that potentially had larium besides Nampula.

My suffering was, as it turned out, in vain - they had no larium. In disgust I marched off in a random direction, got pretty far out of town when I stubbed my toe pretty badly on some cracked paving. Eventually I admitted to myself that the road was leading nowhere and limped back to the hotel.

Anyway after a crazy series of different transportation means: motorbike, minibus, truck, pickup and finally a 3.5km walk in beach sand, I arrived at Cabaciera Grande (the mainland opposite Ilha de Mocambique) This was more like it! Coconut palms and a  massive, ancient room at a reasonable price.  

I was the only toursit there (I was actually staying at the "Tourism College") and the Mozambicans are not the easiest people to converse with (what with the lack of a common language and all); so when Viktor said he was going to head to Nampula the next day, I decided to join him.

So early the next day (well before dawn of course), I strolled over to the mangrove covered shore, boarded a dhow to Ilha (this would be much quicker than walking the 3.5km getting a pickup to the main road). There wasn't much wind at all, so, with some makeshift oars, the two crew paddled us most of the way. 

I then met up with Viktor, and we caught a particularly cramped and uncomfortable truck to Nampula. When we pulled into Nampula in the late afternoon we set about hunting for a connecting form of transport heading south. No-one understood us no matter how hard we tried, not maps nor charades could make them understand what we had in mind. Eventually we gave up and sat on the side of the very crowded street to discuss a plan B. It was then that Edwardo, a truck driver came to investigate the commotion surrounding us. Thankfully he could not only understand English, but he was a truck driver heading down that way later that night. 

It was a nice truck, but after a couple of hours of driving, Edwardo needed a nap and it was way too cramped and hot for the four of us to sleep there (the fourth person being one  of Eddy's "wives".) We all got up after another few hours and carried on. We had to stop again pretty soon though as Eddy had hit not one, but two village dogs and the villagers weren't happy about that - they were happy about the compensation money Eddy paid them though! The road soon deteriorated to one of the worst roads I've ever seen.

Anyway we reached Mocuba about lunchtime and I said my goodbyes to Viktor, Eddy and the mute "wife". I then waited an hour or two for the transport (this time in the form of an insanely cramped back of a landcruiser).

Unfortunately this ride only went halfway to the border, leaving me with 100km to go. I waited on the the side of the road with the only other person trying to get the the border - Frank. We sat there for hour after hour, watching the sun go down with despair. There was no restaurant in the village (called Benfica!?) but it wasn't too difficult to find someone willing to give us a meal for a bit of dough. After the food an old lady came out of the house behind us with reed mat for us to lie on.

Anyway to cut a long story short we waited the whole night, and nothing came! Luckily I was so exhausted that I managed to get some sleep despite the mosquitoes (and my lack of Larium) and the fact that we were sleeping on effectively bare concrete.

The next day we stopped the first vehicle going our direction - it was already packed. I've described many horrible trips so far, but this was really the worst. Most dangerous and most uncomfortable! I was perched very precariously of the side wall of pickup with my legs extending horizontally, lying on top of a mixture of luggage and people. It took 100% of my concentration and all my strength to keep myself from falling off or breaking my coccyx (not well padded at the best of times in my case!).

Being delirious from the pain, hunger and fatigue; I was left to the mercy of the money changers. Mercy wasn't around though so I changed money with Neri, who thoroughly ripped my off! I didn't care though, I could see the border!

As soon as I crossed, the dirt roads became tarred, people understood what I was saying and everything seemed green and lush! I even had a seat on the bus... a whole one!

Mozambique isn't a shithole. BUT if you are on a budget similar to mine, don't speak Portuguese and are planning a trip to the north... don't go.