The last chapa

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The chapa out of Vilankulos takes an age to fill up, during which a local guy latches onto me. Swigging from a small bottle of gin (which he assures me will soon be replaced by a larger one), he sprays me with spittle while describing why he is different to other Mozambicans, be it in his excellent English from working for a time in South Africa, or his ability to see only a person where others see a white person.

He introduces me to a friend who says his name, Fanito, then, after a pause, adds "Dog". This causes much laughter and leg-slapping among the other bystanders, and my gin-loving friend explains that Fanito has awarded himself this honorary surname as a nod to Snoop Doggy Dogg. I'm not the only one who finds this a ludicrous affectation.

The quality of the tarmac and packedness of the chapa vary independently but overall the journey is on the wrong side of comfortable. It's a minor relief when we have to detour to a police station after brazenly ignoring three police standing in the middle of the road beckoning us to pull over - they commandeer another vehicle and chase us down in less exciting fashion than it sounds. Having heard nothing positive about the probity of the Mozambican police force, I'm not surprised to be asked for my passport, however the subsequent demands to see my visa (easily found by flicking through the pages) and proof of entry date (in the stamp on the page opposite the visa) smack of laziness.

The guy then asks if I have any further documentation, which could be a subtle request for a bribe, and when I say no he disappears off to his colleagues for a confab. My passport is then returned to me and the officers even wave cheerily as we drive off.

The chapa part of my journey includes nothing else of interest bar crossing the Tropic of Capricorn, and it finishes in a sneeze of a town called Maxixe (pronounced Masheesh). I immediately board the ferry to cross the bay to Inhambane. The ferry crew wear fetching sailor suits that I doubt their friends ever rib them about, and a gospel choir claps and harmonises us safely across the open water.

Inhambane is one of the oldest settlements on the east coast of Mozambique, having been a trading post for about a thousand years and being one of Vasco da Gama's favourite spots in Africa, but I've been attracted by its reputation for sleepiness. With a couple of churches, a couple of mosques, and a Hindu temple, it shows an ecumenical side typical of this coast, and the colonial era buildings display styles including Art Deco and Streamline Moderne. I'm pretty sure some of the roofs have a Chinese influence.

The town is also in the grip of a war being waged across the whole of the country, namely the struggle between Vodacom and mcel for control of the cellphone market. mcel may have more individual outlets in their distinctive yellow, but Vodacom has snared the entire seafront with their blue and white livery. This is a microcosm of the east of Africa as a whole, just with different companies in the different countries. In no other continent have I seen the colours of daily life so dominated by rampant cellphone advertising.

One legacy of Mozambique's civil war is numerous mines still at large in the countryside. The "policy" of Renamo, when it was simply a guerrilla group rather than (as now) the official opposition, was to cause disruption rather than have any constructive aims, so laying mines indiscriminately was right up its alley. I stumble across an office of Apopo, a Belgian non-profit that is trying to clear some of the mined areas using rats trained to sniff out TNT. It's a seemingly comical, but practically effective, solution to a problem that kills/maims a couple of hundred people every year. You can donate at their website.

The lazy atmosphere of Inhambane is beguiling and I have weaker resistance than most, but the beginning of September marks seven months of my African wanderings, meaning I'm two-thirds of the way through my allocated time. With at least six countries yet to be seen, I need to move on.

Dull but possibly useful info
i. Chapas to Maxixe apparently leave from Vilankulos up to about midday. I got one that left (when full) at about 9:20AM. I paid M175, which agreed with the price I'd been told by my accommodation, but I stupidly didn't query the extra M75 luggage fee - it should be more like M25. The journey took just over 5 hours. Note that the road between Nhachengue and Massinga is in poor condition, which is why the journey takes so long. Note also that it's four people to a row so this won't be a comfortable ride ...
ii. Once you see the jetty at Maxixe, ask to be dropped off. The main ferry to Inhambane runs every 1-1.5 hours, costs M10, and takes 20-25 minutes. You'll be asked to leave any luggage outside the passenger compartment. It will then be dumped on the jetty at Inhambane from where you can retrieve it.
iii. If the ferry isn't there, you'll be approached by dhow captains offering you a ride. They also charge M10 and take the same time as the ferry.
iv. I stayed at Pensao Pachica, paying M600 for a single. It was clean, with a mossie net, and the shared bathroom usually had hot water. The staff are very helpful and friendly, and there's a decent restaurant attached. However I subsequently heard from some locals that the guy who owns it is a bit of a twat (I didn't meet him).
v. There's Internet (M80 per hour) at Verdinho's on Ave de Independencia.

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Photos

Clock and clapper
Train station

Mine-sniffing rats
Apopo NGO