Prologue
I went to the a market area on the edge of town to pick up some pants I left with a tailor. The pockets of two of my favorite pants had totally disintegrated from where. I needed to have them fixed before I went off on my big adventure. When I got there the tailor had not arrived yet but the vender in the stall next to his told me that he would be there in about an hour. It was a hot day in early December (African summer) so I popped into a store to buy a cold drink. The store mostly sold rice. I walked in and the owner was finalizing a deal, selling several sacks of rice to someone in preparation for the upcoming holidays. The owner was a stout woman with a warm smile and a friendly attitude. She was going over the quantities of rice and the logistics of delivering them in a very methodical and deliberate way. She was an intelligent woman and obviously successful in her business.
I had some time to kill so I decided to start up a conversation with them. Ordering my soda Guitonga (the local language) was a big crowd pleaser. I talked to them about the store and the upcoming holidays and how hot it was. They asked me about being a health volunteer. When the client left the owner started asking me question about my work with HIV positive people. This led to a really good discussion about the virus, how it is most commonly spread (multiple concurrent relationships) and some misconceptions that she had. Another customer came in and he joined in on the conversation for a bit. He thought that some condoms contained the HIV virus and that you could get it by putting on some condoms. That conversation was my last act as a health volunteer in 2012. I had done my duty and now it was time to sign out. I picked up my travel ready pants. It was about time for an adventure.
Day One, Inhambane
I woke up early on my first day of travel I threw on my backpack and took a few photos of myself before I embarked on my journey. The plan :Overland travel to historical Ibo Island in Northern Mozambique,then to Pemba to celebrate Christmas with over 20 other friends (who were apart of the group I entered into the Peace Corps with). Then take a flight to Dar Es Salam, Tanzania and a boat to Zanzibar, hang out in Stone Town and spend New Years on the Beach. Then fly back down to Maputo, pick up my uncle, show him around my town and site, and finally hold a two day party for all the male volunteers within 4 hours of my site, aptly named “Man Weekend.” (I left my house on December 11th and Man Weekend ended January 13th).
I took a bus up to a town in Northern Inhambane Provence called Pembara. On the way up there were butterflies everywhere. I decided that was a good sign. From there I hoped to hitch hike a little more north. One guy stoped but wanted me to pay him a lot of money to give me a lift to Chimoio. I ad a friend in Chimoio (central Mozambique) but I thought I should hold out for a better ride. Two hours later in the baking hot sun I was ready to take anything that came along. Then a bus apeared that was going to a town, where I had a friend. This town was not as far north as chimoio but it was significantly more north than where I was. I decided to take this bus to this town on the Save River. From there I would have a good jumpping off point to get to Chimoio the next day. My strategy for not wearing myself out on this trip was not to spend more than six hours on the road per day. Unfortunatly this bus was really really packed and I was jammed in a corner with my leg occasionally getting burned on a piece of metal close to the engine. It took longer than it should have because one guy needed some stuff on the roof to be dropped off at his house which was significantly more off the main road then he led everyone to believe. But eventually I got there, met op with the volunteer, took a bath, and cooked some dinner. The volunteer I was staying with was friends with the owner of a close by store. She called him up and had him deliver some beers to us as we ate dinner (delivery beer...nice).
Day Two and three, Chimoio
I Got a free hitchhike all the way to Chimoio on a freight Truck the next day. It was not very fast but I got on it early on, it was comfortable, and it was free. The driver was Zimbabwean so he spoke English. He listened to a lot of good Reage and recordings of some Rasta teacher who talks about how to escape the modern day servitude system created by “The White Man.” I asked him about where he had left from this morning and where he was going. He told me that He had started off in Johannesburg but was held up in Maputo for 10 days. “Why were you held up there for so long?” I asked. “Because of my cargo. Its used to make bombs. So there was a lot of paperwork.” he replied. “So, are you carrying some sort of chemical?” I asked for clarification. “Ya, its a chemical. Its fertilizer but it could be used to make a bomb.” he clarified. “So, how much are you carrying?” “Over one ton.” So there I was, riding off on a 6 hour journey in the front of one ton of weapons grade fertilizer.
The strech of land that I was crossing this day is possibly the most sparsely populated area along the main road. Therefore, there is very sporadic transportation. Any ride is a good ride. So I just chilled out in the comphy chair in the big rig, crussing by the african bush , high enough to see for quite a distance. The landscape eventually changed from flat, dry bush to Bright Green Mountains. As we got closer to Chimoio I saw some of the most beautiful and lush mountain landscaped I had seen in Mozambique.
I got to Chimoio in the late afternoon and met up with my friend at a Fancy western Style supermarket (ah the joys of the big city). I also met up with a new education volunteer. This new batch of education volunteers had all arrived tat their sites only a few days prior. It was cool to welcome her to her first few days at site and hang out with both of them. In general I really like Chimoio. I can’t really explain why. The crime is bad. Its a bit of a small city. None of the really pretty mountains are visible from the city center. But there is something charming about it. Possibly it is all the art deco buildings left over and half dilapidated from the 60s. There are also some good restaurants. On the first day I ate at a really good and really cheap indian restaurant with my friend and the new volunteer. The next day a couple more friends of mine showed up in Chimoio as well. There were also on their way up to Pemba. The four of us went to a Lebanese restaurant in Chimoio. I got to eat a Chicken shawarma, hummus, and babaganoush. It was amazing!!!!! Amazing!!!! Then we shared a hookah. I felt so decadent. I also smoked too much and ended up feeling a little sick. Then I passed out on my sleeping pad at my friends house and fell into a blissful sleep.
Day 4 and 5, Zambezi River Valley
My Chimoio buddy decided to accompany me on my way up north for a few days. So we Planned our next stop at a town along the Zambezi River where another good volunteer friend lived. As we were leafing Chimoio there was a big uproar on the bus because there was a man traveling with a young baby and he started being accused of trying to steal his child from its mother. Eventually he got off and some local woman said that she knew the mother and that he was taking the child to her. Who knows what the real situation ever was. Its always interesting to see people arguing about baby trafficking. My backpack was tied to the top of the bus. It got heavily rained on. The last part of the journey we had to take in the back of a pickup truck. Oh the joy of getting rained on in the back of a pickup for over an hour. Our friend was on he side of the road just in time to welcome us inside as we waited for the storm to pass.
When the storm passed I started hanging out everything to dry. Unfortunately that included some books that were thoroughly soaked. One the first day we hung out with our friend and two new education volunteers that had just arrived at her town. For over a year my friend had been living in this remote location with hardly any other volunteers within a day's travel. Now she had two other americans living right in her town. Her situation had drastically changed. Out friend showed us around town and the office of the organization she works with. I had seen the town before when I had traveled up about 6 months prior. The organization's office was really nice. It even had a small recording studio to make songs about HIV awareness. It was run by Mozambicans who were refugees that lived in Canada during the civil war. I also got to try a new beer that is being made in Mozambique. It is called Impala and it is made out of Cassava root rather than Barley. It is cheaper than normal beer and has a higher alcohol content (great for a country that has too many alcoholics). The taste was very underwhelming.
The next day we all walked along the long bridge that connected the town my friend lives in, in Sofala Provence to another Town on the other side of the river, in Tete Province. It is about a one hour walk across the bridge and it is one of the most beautiful landscapes. There are small mountains to the south, east and west, but big ones to the north, in Tete. The river area is filled with small trees and tall grasses. It was amazing how different the land was, once we got to the town in Tete. Sofala is mostly flat African bush, occasionally interrupted by a small mountain that sticks up out of nowhere. Tete is rocky, rugged and dry. The town we were in was like going to a small town in the Mountains of Arizona during the “Wild West,” except for the fact that everyone was African and there are TVs and refrigerators (for keeping cold beer and soda). It was also absolutely beautiful. The view from up high, overlooking the river and the endless flatlands was awesome. It was an excellent place to sit on top of a giant rock in the middle of a rugged Mountain town. Then we went back and made some excellent chicken curry. We stayed out late hanging out that night. That was a bad idea. The next day would prove to be the hardest travel day of my entire journey.
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