The Band's adventures!

They say it’s not about the destination but the journey. If that’s the case our recent travels are spot on. We’ve been stuck in towns we had no desire to visit and are slowly getting more of what you need plenty of in Mozambique - paciencia (patience!).

We adopted in a chapas

Chapas babysitting club

Most travellers in Mozambique seem to travel either in a 4WD or as part of an organised tour, complete with comfortable bus. The Bands prefer a mode of transport where your guaranteed not to feel your arse for hours after getting off, your likely to have a chicken screeching in your ear, your bags cost more to get on than yourself and you are regularly passed bags and children to hold for a few minutes or sometimes a few hours. The mode of transport is a ‘chapas’, translated roughly as 1970’s mini-van: legal capacity 12, usual carrying capacity 30. We have decided a good chapas is one that has the front windscreen intact, a sliding door that closes and some pleather left on the seats.

Example of a fine chapas - deemed a
good one.

Usually hesitant to hold friends kids, Duncan has taken to babysitting on Chapas with gusto. Travelling

north to Vilankulous, Duncan’s babysitting club went for so long that we couldn’t figure out who the girl belonged to. Over a few hours we’d begun to plan for life with our new daughter, before she was suddenly grabbed by one arm and hauled off the chapas without so much as an adeus.

The locals have got controlling kids to a fine art – we’ve been on several 5-8 hour chapas rides with babies, toddlers and small children in terribly cramped conditions and you never hear a tantrum or more

Chicken getting a ride

than a few little sounds of discomfort. Kids are so used to being passed around and looked after by their younger siblings, family members and complete strangers that they seem much more chilled than Aussie kids.

The kids always make a good distraction from what we have coined ‘fresh air of doom’. It’s where the relief of seeing a window open to cool the body is quickly dashed when the pungent BO (strangely sweet) of an African man, who despite the temperature is wearing a second hand ski parker and insists on keeping his armpit in line with the window.

A very secret garden

Baobab backpackers, Vilankulo's

Baobab backpackers in Vilankulo’s was a great spot – little thatched huts set in a nice garden and a laid back beachfront bar and restaurant. On our first night at the bar, Pip got chatting to an elderly man who resembled Santa Claus (Duncan recons he was on the run). It turned out that the bong-smoking St Nick, was 67 year old marine ecologist Paul, originally from Melbourne although in Africa for the past 23 years. A truly amazing storyteller, Paul captured Pip’s attention for the night, while Duncan could occasionally be heard from across the bar at increasing decibels – “whose next for a schooling at pool. It’ll cost you a beer a lesson”.

Our room at Baobab

Pip was forced to be the disciplinarian and retrieve Duncan from the bar at 9pm, which these days is a good hour after we normally turn in. Party Pip and Duncan must have missed one of the connecting flights here.

Over the next few days we both spent lots of time with Paul and his South African travelling partner Shannon, mostly listening to Paul’s theories on life and having a giggle at spotting him punching a breaky cone at 6:30am. As only a stoned man can, Paul had traded a chicken that he’d purchased for no particular reason on the beach (and spent the day carrying around in a plastic bag) for a few kilos of local shell fish that we gladly shared with them. We probably should have been wary when he gave us a tip for a backpackers 50 kilometres up the beach that was “like this place was 30 years ago man, it’s meant to be super chilled”.

Inhassoro was indeed a really cool spot, but after our chapas gave up the fight despite five push starts and only 2^nd and 4^th gears working, the engine finally went where the interiors did decades ago. A few hours later on a new chapas, and towing the old one, we pulled into town only to find that Marimba’s secret garden was so secret that it didn’t even exist. Why had we not questioned Paul’s advice, particularly given it was given only a few minutes after his sunrise joint?

Now on sunset and starting to panick that there was no accommodation in Inhassaro, we were suddenly greeted by a perennial dwarf. It was quite a shock given we were both on edge already. We think we kept cool faces, but we can’t be sure. Our only regret for the trip so far is not getting a photo with him!

The secret garden debacle continued the next day when we got a two hour chapas to the junction only to realise it was a Sunday and we were unlikely to pick up another one to where we needed to get to.

Rescued by Zimbabwean twins that had recently returned after having been in exile for seven years after Mugabe threw them off their farm, we ended up having the most comfortable ride of the trip. James and Henry were great to travel with, although Duncan only revealed later that he’d seen a giant rifle in the back when he was packing our bags! Their parents now live in New Zealand, but neither of the twins wanted to stay away. Henry is prospecting for gold, while James who was fought in Afghanistan and Iraq as a British paratrooper picks up work as a security specialist for the accelerating mining industries in Zimbabwe. The boys thought that Zim was safe now and that life was slowly returning to normal, although conceded they’d never be able to go back to their farm which now lies in ruins, where once it employed 100 in their livestock, tobacco, cotton, horticulture and honey business. Zimbabwe like Mozambique is now exclusively subsistent farming, not great for food security in a region where famine is only a few thousand kilometres north.

Bazaruto island - amazing tides

Diving with our ears

After some amazing diving in Tofu, we weren’t sure that Vilankulo’s could deliver. The diving trip is a great way to get out to the Bazaruto Archipelago though and much cheaper than staying on one of the islands for $500 a night! The archipelago was amazing – islands of huge sand dunes that looked down to marshes that had goats and crops to sustain the 2000 inhabitants. The local fishing was of course amazing and when we were leaving they came in with a humongous mullet that our dive company bought for 4,000 metecal or A$130.

Catch of the day

The coral was superior to Tofu, but it was rough on the surface so the visibility wasn’t great. We did spot a shark, causing Duncan’s air supply to drop quickly. While wondering whether he had gone to find his friends, we were relieved to hear the eerie sounds of humpback whales calling out to each other.

WWF would be proud

Duncan is always keen to get involved with local activities, so was excited to see a village hauling in a fishing net from the beach. Duncan joined the group slowly hauling it in by wrapping sticks around the rope and walking backwards with it, while Pip was poised with the camera and playing with girls in the sand with only men involved in the haul. When the net finally made it to shore, we were horrified to see that two huge turtles were stuck in the nets. A few minutes of panic that we’d helped kill them, were thankfully unfounded, although the local boys repeatedly kicked and jumped on the huge turtles backs as they tried to make their way out to see. It was amazing to touch and be so close to such huge turtles, the larger of them we guessed (pretty well turtle experts) was close to 150 years old.

Hauling in the fishing net

The turtle being released!

More turtle rescue photos at the end...

Good cop/ bad cop

Not liking what 'bad cop'
had to say

Macgoober was keen to put his skills to the test again on the charcoal (he claims the secret to a good fire is the coconut husk), so we wandered into town to negotiate a fish. Like most developing countries a few gringos walking around attracts any local who can speak some English wanting to help you out. Some genuinely want to help you, most want to take you somewhere to buy something and take a clip of the ticket. Regardless of their intentions we generally have to rely on them to get anything done – our Portuguese still leaves a lot to be desired!

In a back alley with some young hoodlums it began …. “280 metecals a kilogram for this fish – very good amigo”, to which Duncan replied “what’s your best price”, “best price, best price for you my friend”. This tends to go on for a while, before bad cop Pip gets in on the action “150 for the whole fish”, to replies of “no, no big fish”. Then the fake walk away, some talk of maybe feeling like chicken and we get a fish. Plus we managed to get the crayfish man who we’d insulted with our earlier negotiating to give us one crayfish for 100 metecals - $4. Escorted by our friend in the Port Douglas top we then got some eggs, tomato and lettuce for a nice little salad.

Australian charity t-shirts?

It’s not just the Port Douglas top, Mozambique is full of Aussie second hand t-shirts. We haven’t got to the bottom of it yet, but we’ve seen Wallabies jerseys, Sydney Swans, O’Neill, Skins, McGrath Foundation and our favourite was one of our chapas drivers (always men) in a curves women’s gym top.

Hope everyone’s well!

Adeus Amigos for now.

Photos