One Night in Maputo

---

If one stays in Swaziland for too long... one starts to go crazy.

Living in my ghetto apartment and feeling like I was under house arrest was getting to me. When the roomie is out of the country it gets lonely and leaving the compound when it is dark out isn’t much of an option. So.... in order to earn myself some freedom I bought a car.

I think that if any of my old Oil Kings ever read this they would be devastated to hear that I was cheating on the white rocket, but as much as I would love to buy a matching 1994 white Honda civic hatchback, I went for one of the most common cars on the road here - a 2000 VW polo. I don’t think we have the Polo in Canada, but mine is a blue/purple sex beast on the road. Ok - so the windshield is cracked and the back right door won’t open from the inside... but she is all mine!

Problems with driving in Swaziland

So I have to re-educate myself. First, I now have to drive on the wrong side of the damn road. It is an automatic, which is weird for me. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was wrong until I realized I was trying to drive with 2 feet. I miss driving a stick shift, and I keep forgetting to pull the E-brake because it is on the left side. Everything is so confusing! Add in the mix the worst roads and even worse drivers. My sister was worried I might get car-jacked. I’m not too concerned - more worried about hammering one of the 100,000 cows and goats that like to hang out on the highway. Seriously - women are valued in cows here. If your animals are so damn important in your society build a damn fence or tether them!

The random politically incorrect white South African turned Swazi resident that I bought the car off of told me not to bother with insurance. You see, probably 20% of people here have insurance, but since I come from a country where it is illegal to drive without insurance, I made sure I had that first. For $21 a month I have comprehensive coverage, theft and fire in all the countries in Southern Africa, except Angola. I probably don’t want to drive anywhere near Angola so it’s all good.

I bought a contraption to play my Ipod in the car, which works well until I hit the bumpy roads. Minor problem, but it is now the shotgun passenger responsibility to watch for cows and push the Ipod machine back in. My life just got a whole lot funner. Oh - the reliable mechanic I go to is a nice jolly looking Portuguese man. I think he looks like Santa, although Stephen thinks he looks like Papa smurf. Stephen actually came with me when I took the car there before I committed to buying, didn’t discourage him from trying his luck with me. A day after he serviced my car, he texted me at 9 am to find out how I slept. It is hot today, let’s go for a swim. I had to go back that day to pay and brought someone along to run interference. Seriously... I need to find a way to take a picture of this guy for all of you back home. Not only is he married... Andrea is convinced he looks like Gimley from Lord of the Rings.

A few of us were a little stir crazy so we decided to do some late b-day celebrations with a night in Maputo, Mozambique. It is only a 3 hour drive, but not without the drama. We arrived at the border to realize I didn’t have a copy of the blue book (kinda like registration) for my car. Thankfully my roommate was kind enough to fax it to the border. I then had to fill out some form to take the car across the border. The guy is asking me all these questions - what is your name, what is your number, are you married. (Yes) where is your husband (in Maputo), is he coming back with you (uh no?) ok, I will call you this weekend.

Seriously - border crossing are so inappropriate here! Then we pass the 100 meter wasteland to the Mozambique border. I paid $85 at the embassy on Friday for a 6-month entry visa (which was the expensive 1-day price). My lovely German friend Alexandra got screwed. She should have paid $27 for a single entry; instead she paid $75 - apparently white skin is expensive here. When she tried to complain about what the real price is - he said then go home. Gotta love corruption and friendly border officials.

Finally arrived and you could feel the difference. The city was alive, people everywhere, the ocean! (Ok, Maputo is a port city and you would never catch me in that water, but it is still the ocean). We settled in at a hostel paying $25 a night. Freaking rip-off, but we had a secure place for the cars so whatever. Had glorious prawns for lunch and then took in a bit of the weekend craft market. People - put your requests for presents in before my next trip because the shopping is amazing! Next to prawns, Mozam is known for cashews. Glorious bags of roasted cashews everywhere. With the Portuguese language I felt like I was back in Brazil, it just had the smell of South America.

For our night out on the town we decided on the legendary coconuts. I decided it was time to unveil the one-sy for a good night out of dancing.... and dancing we did. Along with the DJ were a couple of guys playing African drums along with the music. When they took a break, one of them would hunt me down to dance with - Michelle asked me where I learned how to dance like that - apparently she thought we looked like we were from a music video. Just your basic Alberta-beef dance moves.

While getting some fresh air outside I heard the best pick up line - I rather sexy Mozambican approached and said “I want to know you.” I couldn’t stop laughing. It was followed up with “I like what you got.” Seriously, I don’t think people could write some of the shit that men say here. It’s so funny. We realized that at coconuts there were 3 bars, we were in the big one, but the other 2 had elevated door prices (which were crazy). We tried to stumble into one of them, but they told Andrea she couldn’t come in wearing flats.
Alexandra and Michelle were ready to call it a night at 2:30, which was about the time that things were starting to get busy. Again - thought I was back in Buenos Aires or Brazil. Anywho - we are looking for a cab and this white guy comes at me like a magnet.

Conversation goes
Hello. Hello. Where are you from? Canada. Where are you from? Brazil. Oh, I have been to Brazil. Where? I’ve been to Iguaçu, Salvador, Morro de Sao Paulo, Rio, and Floripa. What are you doing here? I work for a Brazilian mining company.

Then he engulfed my face and shoved his tongue down my throat like a junior high kid trying to french kiss. When I resurfaced my friends were all looking at me with shocked faces. I couldn’t stop laughing. Then said.. yup. You are from Brazil - you all kiss the same.

If someone tried that in Canada I would kick their ass. But... since that happened to me quite often during Carnival in Brazil I knew it was just a Brazilian thing. I remember when Canadian Mike kissed a girl on the street she told him he was a bad kisser - he needed to use more tongue. The country is messed.

He and his friends convinced me we should stay - I knew the night would turn into a gong show. Andrea swapped shoes with Alex, wearing heals that were 2.5 sizes too big, just so we could get into the posh bar. Then next four hours involved mass consumption of vodka and more dancing. I was convinced that my crappy Spanish could pass as Portuguese. Maybe every fifth word was slightly comprehendible, but not much more. The Brazilian tried to teach me the Brazilian dance Faha - and apparently I am ok for a Canadian girl. He later told me I was an ice cold Canadian -I think that’s an English as a second language way of saying I’m frigid. Sorry Brazil - you can smooch me in a parking lot, but that’s as good as it gets.

Oh - the most random part of the night. We left the top level of the bar and went into another section that we totally missed all night. Ya, we walk in and there is a TV at the back bar replaying the Canada -USA gold medal game hockey game from the 2010 Vancouver Olympics. What the beep? I was so excited, but of course no one besides Andrea and I were excited to see “ice hockey” on TV. On the back way out of the club we found the back patio with a pool. So need to come back to Coconuts for a more thorough tour.

By the time Andrea and I left the bar and arrived home at 6 am I was walking barefoot, holding my shoes because I had broken a heal. My legs were already killing me from dancing all night - it felt like I had run a marathon, but when I looked at myself in the mirror it looked like I had been to hell and back. In Swaz I am like an old lady, I go to bed at 9pm on week nights... I’m completely out of shape for these drunken-all nighters

3 hours of sleep and we were up for a walk on the beach, full soccer games going on while the tide was out. The drive back was uneventful, but I took particular joy in watching out for random crap people were selling on the side of the road. As we approached one guy I couldn’t be sure what it was? Um, we got close and he was holding some massive f’ing rodent by the tail. Michelle, Andrea and I all screamed and couldn’t be sure what the hell it was. I thought it was a giant rat. Andrea swears it was a possum, but I doubt there are possum in Mozam? The worst part is, whatever the hell it was, it is certainly in demand otherwise he wouldn’t be on the side of the road selling the damn thing. Ugh - the memory of him waving it back and forth as we approached is still haunting me. Then at the border, Michelle decided to crack an orange as we were approaching the Swazi border guard. He said no fruit - stood up, searched the car, gave us shit and stole the limes I was bringing illegally into the country. Thank god he didn’t find the cashews!

Back in Swaz

As for work - the girl I submit my Swazi Times pieces to is causing me some frustration. She is mad that I don’t get my pieces to her early enough, and I am mad that she put her damn name down as the author of my last article. In case you are wondering - my new Swazi name is Stombile until the Times starts printing my name again.

Also had a fun Swazi night out with Christy the American. She invited me to quiz night at the Malkerns Club. Malkerns is one of the swish parts of Swaz with all the nice shops and places to live. I was expecting a pub-style atmosphere. Instead I thought I had walked into the Lion’s club or the Legion back home. It was filled with old white people. Creepy really. No one wanted us on their team so we just went it alone. We didn’t finish last, but we got rolled on the sports section - stupid cricket questions. For one of the responses I actually wrote - real men place ice hockey. We basically spent the night making wise cracks - fun times, and thanks to my little car and I can go do something like that on a Wednesday night.

I’ve decided that Swaz has some good things going for it. Today I paid $8 at the car wash down the street - a guy cleaned the inside, washed it and polished it. You should see how shiny the polo is. I thought I always wanted a Sherpa to carry my stuff around for me... I now want a Swazi car wash boy to add to my collection of men who dote on me.

Oh - Christopher Sarnecki is complaining that I don’t have enough toilet humour. Apparently my blog through South America was far funnier - thanks to being an undiagnosed celiac who was violently ill every week. Probably not what you’re looking for but here you go. I was about to go to bed and went to the bathroom. Go to sit down on the toilet and notice that the shower curtain moved. Took another look and a MASSIVE F’ING COCKROACH is doing laps in the bathtub. Any need to urinate was gone and I shot out of the bathroom screaming to Stephen - Big F’ing Bug. Big F’ing bug. When I told him where, he was pissed. “You cheeky F’cker. What do you think you are doing ripping around our tub” By the time he got there it was gone. The only thing worse than seeing a cockroach in the bathroom is not knowing where the damn thing went. He sprays regularly and when I find them half dead on their backs wiggling about, I put a cup over them and he removes them. I am such a princess - but since he comes home to lovely meals that I make I think he is ok with it. He even bought me a blender so I can start making more yummy things!

Starting to really miss some of you at home, emails are appreciated people. And will someone tell the Oil Kings and the Oilers to get their shit together. I want to start reading some happy hockey news from E-town.

---

Photos

The blue bullet
I haven't given her a real name yet - but she has swazi ear muffs that sit on my side mirrors.

Best t-shirt ever
hunted this kid down at one of our Youth events. I so want this t-shirt

Lovely Ladies
Michelle (aussie) Alex (germany) and Andrea (pastey white Canadian)

My drummer boy
part of the show...

neon white girls?
think we stick out much?

I think this was about 4 am?
I was a dancing sweat machine - bangs had to be pinned back.

Hockey Night in Mozambique
the random gold medal canada game that was on in the bar.

sunday soccer day
some of the hundreds of guys playing organized games while the tide was out

Alex and Michelle
Beach looks not too bad, minus all the beer bottles we were walking over

just chillin
checking out some of the woven goods for sale on the side of the road.

My kick ass wind shield
so, apart from the crack, the wipers blow goats. Note what happened when i tried to spray away the bugs.

Comments

[Ripko]

Passengers beware!
Please advise that by entering your veichle all passengers will automatically assume all personal risk and liability. Insurnace will only insure damage to the veichle and not any psycological, emotional and stressful damages to the human emotions. I am going to Fex=ex you a Helmet to wear. lol. Hopefully the VW comes equipped with holy shit handles. Stay safe my friend. XO