Mozambique and the next 36 hours

---

Arrived back from Mozambique on Sunday dec 20th, spent all of Sunday night in emergency room, was woken up the next morning at 6am by lovely nurse/attendant lady and proceeded to main road to catch mini-bus to police station in Mowbrey…have I got your attention yet? - If not that’s all good, I’ve got more…. 😉

What happened in Mozambique…

Moz is kinna halfway between Africa (the really real Africa) and the tropics. The beach is all white sand and little tiki huts and palm trees and washed up coral and general serene heavenliness, while the villages and roads are lined with women carrying huge baskets on their heads and little stalls selling mangoes, cashews and Vodacom airtime. The dirt is this delicious copper red that sets off the crazy blue of the sky and billows in clouds around your car as you get passed on both sides simultaneously. Generally speaking, road rules don’t apply to anyone who’s not afraid to utilise their horn and heavy right foot. Consequently passing can happen really quite unexpectedly to both/all three of the parties involved…witnessing a three truck passing extravaganza with oncoming traffic = always a treat 😊

We were living in this bungalow/chalet/open air thatch house with a whole bunch of amazingly funky people from the dive centre, a praying mantas, an endless supply of Tipo Tinto vanilla rum, a cat called Pilgor and a number of mosquito nets that were quite efficiently engineered to lure and trap an array of bitey bugs so as to keep them safe and sound for a night full of bitey fun! That said, generally by the time you got to bed you were so knackered that you didn’t notice till you got up, by which time you were off for run then beach then sun then mangoes then happiness so newly pincushioned legs were largely sidelined 😊

My first solo attempt at snorkelling was a slightly misguided and painful experience (misguided because I was the guide, and painful because I had an epic sunblock-fail and burnt my hiney!). But the second time I went out I managed to get a group of dudes to take me spear fishing at a reef about 200mtrs/30mins swim from the beach - ie they went out armed with lethal weapons, I went out armed with Vonzipper bikini and lashings of 30+. By the time I hit the reef I had lost the dudes but discovered nemo paradise! The reef ranged from being 6 to just 2 metres below the surface so you could duck dive down to the coral and swim round with the schools of fishies! Two hours later I arrived back at shore to announce that was not lost at sea - the guys hadn’t speared any fish but I had a treat of a time and hadn’t got burnt…Success - Hurrah!

There are two contenders for best memory of the whole trip. First being late night ocean swimming. I was initially imagining death by beach: cold and lost at sea in middle of night, washed up, spending night on sand dunes, that kind of thing - so pretty much had to be dragged - but as it turns out it was nothing like. - The water was really warm, the waves epic, and best best best of all was the fluorescence in the water that reacts when you move through it so that it sparkles! No idea how it works (magic I expect) but it was incredible! Me and the resident German dude Flo were completely entranced - have not giggled so much in forever! The other best memory rival contender would have to be our last night in Moz. We were leaving at 2am to drive to Jo-burg so sleep was clearly out of the question - might have been the impending tragedy of having to leave, might have been the fire poi, or the beach bar, or the fact that was covered from head to toe in Morrongulu sand - but we danced for 3 hours straight without even noticing…dream!!

Right, so a few final insights…

1st: In Moz, if you get stopped by the police for anything whatsoever, they tell you the bribe first, and the fine second.

2nd. Scorpion bites are a bitch…even the baby ones.

3rd. Moz is the only country with an AK47 on its flag. It replaces the sickle at the centre of the communist emblem...go figure.

4th Paw Paws, Pineapples, Mangos, Coconuts. In abundance. Enough said.

What happened when we left…

0230 - Left Morrongulu deliciously sandy and salted…vague attempt at sleep

0800 - Got to Muputo to drop of Helen at Orphanage where she was volunteering - realised that map of Muputo was not in car…realise that map of Muputo was with papers for car including those needed to get across the border again…minor dilemma…

0900 - Left Muputo after entirely unintentional scenic drive round city due to no map situation.

1200 - Arrived at Mozambique/South Africa border to find that the queue was at least 1km long and moving the speed of a marmoset with a gammy leg.

1230 - Franca (lovely friendle and fellow intern) pointed out that a blister on her finger was starting to look kinna red and nasty…we contemplate DIY surgery to burst it and release the pressure but can’t find anything sharp (or sterile) enough…assume ‘if you don’t think about it, it will go away’ philosophy.

1330 - Van was baking in 34 degree heat. We were conserving aircon so the door was open...Possibly the biggest douche in Mozambique reached into the van and snatched my freaking camera (which was innocently sitting on one of the rows of seats, well within what one would expect to be the ‘safe zone’) and made a break for it. - I was sitting in front and heard a minor uproar and something about a camera, figured that it must have been mine and so leap out of car in fit of rage and plowed across road in direction of bastardly assailant screaming profanities and general threats of death/GBH. I thundered after him: across road to a bank, down bank to path, along path to little house full of locals, round little house full of locals to a bushy foresty wilderness at which point I realised that, no matter how pissed I was, and no matter how creative my language, following a know criminal into the bush alone would not have be the wisest of moves. So I returned to the little house full of locals, yelled a bit more and promptly burst into tears…well played Claire, well played…

1330 - I have my first ever fresh (uncanned) lychee experience...num num num…small shining light in grand scheme of day.

1335 - At this point red lines were starting to appear along the back of Franca’s hand - clearly tracing her veins…

1400 - We cross the border: visa’s = stamped, new papers for car = “acquired”, hand = major issue, camera = still stolen…bollocks

1530 - The van gets stopped by some traffic police who threaten to arrest our driver…double bollocks - after 15min of vaguely escalating panic the problem turns out that its nothing that money cant remedy so a few handshakes and 500 RAND later we are back on the road…

1945 - We arrive in Jo-burg and me and Franca are dropped off at the airport to catch flight that we cant remember the number of.

2020 - By a process of elimination (practically Sherlock Holmes/Wilson type investigation) we figure out our flight number but on first attempt are told that they cant let us check in without the credit card that the tickets had been purchased with, which, true to form, we hadn’t brought…

2030 - We manage to convince the check in staff to let us on flight on pain of tears and/or possible medical emergency in light of fact that Franca’s finger was, at this point, the size of a small bratwurst with red lines now migrating up her wrist…

2050 - Board plane. Franca starts shaking.

2055 - Due to on-flight blister/hand/veins now reaching elbow and whole arm bruised/fever developments we make the operative decision to go directly from the airport to the emergency room.

2100 - Heaven itself opens up and sends amazing Afrikaans granny (angel?) sitting beside us who on hearing that: 1. We were from NZ and The States and 2. Franca was practically delirious and hand/arm was about to fall off, offered to give us a lift from the airport to the emergency room.

2300 - We land in Cape Town and get dropped off at the Emergency room.

0100 - The doctor on duty explains that Franca has septicaemia and she needs to stay overnight on a drip til the surgeons come in in the morning. Turns out that had we burst it ourselves she would have been likely to have gotten gangrene and lost the finger altogether (!!)…similarly had she not got to the hospital when she did it might have A. got to her heart or B. required amputation anyway if it got too sceptic (!!!!!)

0120 - We got taken to two wee rooms for the night - complete with bloody bandages on the floor and the most amazingly uncomfortable examination table come plank of wood beds…sleep was rough

0600 - Wake up call.

0700 - Franca is taken to see the hand surgery specialists and I catch a mini cab to the Police station to get a written insurance report of my camera being stolen. I’m not allowed to wait with her so I mission it back to the flat.

1200 - Franca goes into surgery to have a chunk of her finger cut out and a little puddle of Claire collapses into bed.

1430 - 36 hours from Moz - Franca meets us for drinks in Obs complete with post-surgery bandages in manner of war survivor or the like.

So, that’s it…Mozambique in a box. Dream.

Ps: Am working on sourcing some pics.

Pps: Just consumed entire daily calorie allowance in carob coated date form…oh dear

More to come…

C

---