We got off the plane in Pemba, Mozambique and entered into the smallest airport I have ever been in, got our bags and entered into the open air off Mozambique. It was hot, humid and no one could speak English; we were frustrated, tired and stuck not knowing the language. We got a taxi to take us to the ministries we were staying at for the next month, arrived at the gate but we were unsure if we arrived in the right place. We put on our bags and walked up the dirt track and eventually saw some other white people, so assumed we were in the right place. It was not built up, basic and had lots of kids about… it was like being back in Uganda. It wasn’t in a city like Kampala, where
... read more