Thursday, March 03, 2005

1.2.05

The night in Cuamba was actually pretty nice, except for the fact that at 11pm, a drunk woman woke up the Malawian man who was in charge and said in drunk Portuguese, a language the Malawian has only a very basic grasp of, that the train was only doing work right now and I’d have to get onto it nice and early to get a seat, which I already knew. But he interpreted it as meaning that the train was leaving NOW so I needed to start getting ready RIGHT AWAY, which freaked me out until I got to talk to this drunk woman and I reassured him it was OK.

So then at 2:40am, I woke up for good to get on board the train that left at 5am. It was perfect planning as I got a good seat (unfortunately by a window that had no glass, so when it rained, I got rained on). I saw some of the most beautiful mountains – rocky, often triangular exposures that came from seemingly nothing, framing villages and breaking up the inevitable monotony of 12 hours on a train. The train was busy – lots of men were doing the market shopping, meaning that at every stop, they would get tomatoes, onions, peanuts, mushrooms, etc. running on and off as quickly as possible. They get excellent prices because it all comes directly from the farmer, and they often use the same people so that these people are prepared for when the train comes and only stops for a minute or two. So you’re sitting among chickens and hanging produce, not to mention all the bags and small children. People asked me, “Why take third class? It’s much better in first or second.” Well, you miss out on life – so much of it is all around you in third class, and it is just as important to seeing the country as the scenery is.
So I arrived in Nampula at 3pm, got my bag, and got off the train. Then, for about 10 minutes, pushed my way through a crowd I can only describe as mob-like, and got myself to open air. I called Evaristo, whose house I’m in now, and we met at a restaurant close to the station. He brought me to his house, I got cleaned up and fed, then we walked around the local neighborhood and some surrounding neighborhoods for a while.

From what I’ve seen, Nampula is a mixed city. It’s got a lot to see and do, but all of the architecture is colonial (the only new structures are being built on the outskirts of the city) and it doesn’t really have a tangible center. The city feels more like a collection of neighborhoods than a single entity.

So, tired, Evaristo and I stayed up until midnight, through the rain and bad TV programming, to say we saw 2005. I retired to my tent, as they don’t have another mosquito net for me, and slept soundly until the sun was too much.

Yesterday, we saw an art gallery, makeshift and without electricity, but an excellent gallery of native Makonde art. They use a wood called “pau-preto” which is light on the outermost layers (about 1 – 1 ½ inches) and black on the inside. It’s a stunning effect when both layers are maintained in the sculpture.

In the afternoon, we went with his five year-old son (he’s also get seven and eight year-old daughters who are going to be terrors when they hit 13) named Evans out to where he’s building a second house. The plan is to rent out this first house while he lives in the nicer and more open second house, with hopes to build a third from the money made off the first. It’s an ingenious plan here, as you can make enough money to build a new house for just a year’s worth of rent.

We saw, from his house, a close-up of the mountain that I’d seen earlier. It’s a small mountain, climbable in an hour or less, that houses the radio station at the very top. But they took down the antenna, so all is left is a yellow house which looks very pretty sitting on top of the world.

Evaristo and I came back through town, seeing the only military academy in Mozambique, and it was quite impressive. Dozens of buildings, regally spread about and obviously rigorously maintained, with barracks surrounding, full of newly pregnant woman.

We got to sleep quickly after dinner, after I spoke with a friend who’s living in a house out back about traveling to Maputo. I’m realizing my trip is coming to a close, but noy before I see the beaches of Inhambane in the last chapter, as it were. Of course, getting there will take two to three days, so it will be as much of an adventure. No border crossings, however, which tend to complicate matters.

Peace,
John