Oh the roads....

 

The principal highway in Mozambique runs from Ponta De Oro in the South of the country all the way to the northern border with Tanzania. It is two lanes, and calling it a highway seems a bit comical at times. There are pot holes that look like dinosaur footprints in the middle of them, and it looks as if no one is ready to fix them either. Some parts are actually quite nice, and even have those little reflectors stuck in the cement. The speed limit averages about 80 km/h, so it is a far cry from the U.S.’s fast pace…but why should you drive fast? There is so much to see that we have been joking around that it is some type of pre-cursor to television. First, I must say that the Mozambicans are so artistic, and their road side vending is wonderfully arranged: bags of cashews tied to different branches in a tree, one pineapple balancing on a tree stump, stuffed mannequins (of old tattered clothes) holding coconuts, or jugs of gasoline in old water bottles. The children lay in the road or on the shoulder, and love to stare at us when we drive by or wave and smile with the most natural ease. Since there is no T.V., radio, internet, books, games, toys, etc. in their stick, mud and reed huts, the car and people gazing along the shoulder of the National Highway is wonderful form of stimulation, as dangerous as it can be. We have already seen one dead child’s body, and the remorse on the faces of a South African couple. Hard to blame them though as both children and adults will cross without even looking. The women all wear sarongs and are generally carrying something on their head: sticks for building, firewood, sugar cane, bread, water jugs, and fruit.  I even saw a woman carrying a basket with a little boy asleep in it today on her head! Many of the men have bicycles and it is just lovely to see them riding around with their lady sitting sideways on the back rack, and/or a child on the bar below the handlebars…sometimes in a jacket and tie and a lady in a dress. Then off they go to their simple thatched grass hut with no electricity or running water. There are very long stretches of road with no towns at all, which for us means none of that devil’s spit…gasoline. Therefore the rule here is “buy it when ever you can, because you never know when you’ll get it again”. After leaving Maputo, we headed to a place called Quissico, where our friend Niels is building an eco-lodge nestled in the dunes between a number of lagoons and the Indian Ocean. We explored the beautiful scenery around the area, and cooked some great dinners with some more new friends. We will certainly see him again. We spent a few more nights camping along the way, and today arrived here in Quelimane close to the Zambezi River Delta. It is a decent sized city, you would not believe to potholes all through the city.  Not much options on accommodations, but we managed to get a room with a bed that resembles a skateboard half-pipe and a grizzly shared bathroom that smells like the primate exhibit at the zoo. The hair on the pillow was no additional charge! Earlier while I was cooking curry on the camping stove on the floor of the room, heard singing from the minaret. Mozambique has about 35% Muslim (via the Indian Ocean Arabic traders),  35% Catholic (Portuguese), and the rest is still basic animistic beliefs, although these new Evangelical churches seem to be sprouting up all over. Everybody gets along fine. So cool to see a blend of these architectural styles too! We went to a Catholic mass on Sunday morning, as we wanted to see inside of the old 18^th century Portuguese cathedral that is virtually abandoned with trees and growing out of it, broken windows, and cracked walls. They still have a service in one little room that they have made nice on Sunday mornings, but it was canceled that day. We had to go to the new cement block cathedral instead. Much of it was the same as I remembered when enduring those infinitely long masses, but funny to see how they had a drummer backing the singing on all of the Psalms. It was really tough to understand the Portuguese when the words bounced around inside of that hollow cathedral. The people in the north of Mozambique seem to have a rougher life then down south. There are a lot of missing limbs, body deformities, blindness (there eyes just become white over the pupils), and barefoot people walking through stagnant puddles.  Today we even walked past a British leprosy organization. But the smiles are still abundant and manifest so naturally. Still eating way more of the delicious fire baked Mozambique bread…jg