Enter the Mozambique

Les finished her post by recalling that we were offered a lift by a 50-something South African guy and his local sidekick in a 4x4 on our way to the hostel. Having no desire to struggle with our bags, we accepted, and pretty much as soon as we got in he offered us a place to stay. "My boss owns a house on the beach here and we're up doing some work for the weekend. There's lots of extra space." Naturally we were skeptical. I'm very careful when on the road, because really if I had to choose, Africa is the last place I would want to be abducted and/or chopped to pieces.


We bought the guys a beer, and Ricky - let's call him Ricky so he doesn't get fired if his boss reads this - proceeded to talk our ears off, while his Mozambiquan sidekick, 'Bob' lurked in the background (this guy said about 10 words the whole trip). After 10 minutes we were really getting along and thought it was worth at least going to see the place. Back we hopped into the jeep and started driving... and driving... It wasn't exactly a long drive, but it was getting to be the kind of walk where we were no longer in town and the roads turned from pavement to sand.


Our skepticism was quickly obliterated when we entered the compound where about 2 dozen of these houses, built by Ricky's boss - who by the way is a billionaire - are located, all on secluded lots, the roads to each lined with conch shells every 6 inches. Seeing the house was a bit of a surprise. It was a 4 bedroom bungalow overlooking the ocean, complete with housekeeper/gardener, satellite TV, a kitchen I would kill for, air conditioning and a pool. And it looked pretty much brand new. "You can have this room," said Ricky. Les and I poked our heads in to find a giant 4 post king sized bed with white sheets, ensuite bathroom (bathtub and shower). The place was a palace, and we were going to stay the weekend for free. Didn't take us long to accept the offer.


After unpacking and changing we took a tour down the beach, taking note of some of the palaces on the cliffs, and with Les going crazy over the sheer number of conch shells strewn across the sand. Hunger soon set in and we 4 drove back to town to hit the market. We were approached by some teenagers with one of the most ridiculous sights I've seen - a gigantic potato sack full of the most gigantic crabs known to man. Obviously I'm exaggerating but this seems like a good time for a side note - did you know that there's something called a coconut crab that lives in Mozambique which is about a foot and a half across that climbs coconut trees and opens the fruit with its claws? Nature is scary.


Anyhow, the crabs were were haggling over were massive, and of course alive. Our 3 picks were hilarious to watch, squirming around in the back of the jeep. We went back home, and long story short, they were delicious. For the next few days we ate good food, drank a lot of brandy, enjoyed the weather, a few sleep-ins and may have watched Jumanji. We also got to hear some amazing stories from an extraordinary man, Ricky. In his younger years, apparently he worked driving a bulldozer in Mozambique... clearing landmines. He would drive the dozer all day, stoned, hitting an average of 4-5 mines a day.


"The little antipersonnel ones would just go pop, but every once in a while you hit an anti tank mine and the dozer gets lifted off the ground a bit. One time, I hit one of these mines and the front blade came clean off the thing. When I recovered I look around and couldn't figure out where it went. A few seconds later this giant piece of metal came flying out of the sky and drover itself into the ground just a few feet behind me." Wild.


As a South African of a certain generation, Ricky was forced to perform quite active military service. He served in the navy for 20 years, part of it on a submarine traveling the world. On ships, he told us that when the government suspected a village of harbouring or aiding insurgents, a landing party of marines would call in a ship to shore bombardment and obliterate it. "Marines walking through that village after, as teenagers, you would get sick. There would be absolutely nothing left. Nothing. Except maybe an arm here and a foot there. Not a single thing was left living." Nowadays Ricky is in a much more civilized line of work and enjoys being sent up to Vilanculo at his billionaire boss's bidding to take care of a few projects. Ricky, you're an amazing guy and we thank you for your hospitality.


After the weekend we said our goodbyes and returned to the realities of hostel living. Cold showers and drab accommodation.

This is where I curse fancy hotels and their shitty internet connections, cause I had written several more paragraphs but it crashed. Unfortunately I have to leave it here. We're in Maputo, the capital, and having a great time. Off to South Africa soon and I'll be home in about a week. Why are we in a fancy hotel, you might ask? I'll leave that for next time. Peace.