In the big city

It is now almost 3 weeks that we are in Maputo. We were supposed to stay no more than 2 weeks, get a car and go back up north. So, we are here, but the car is not. The whole thing started when we only found very few cars suitable for our use for sale in Nampula. Everybody told us that there would be many more 4x4 pick-ups for sale here in Maputo. So we only bought single trip tickets and decided to buy a car here and drive back home. But very soon we realized that there the choice in Maputo is not much better than in Nampula, neither are the prices. Finally via someone of ADPP we found a guy who is importing cars from South Africa at reasonable prices. Within the First week we stayed here, he had imported and sold 2 cars. So we made arrangements with him. To spare you the details we are still here, and the car we bought is still in South Africa, already 1,5 weeks after we made the First payment. And the guy is all the time holding up first that there had been rains and it was difficult to cross the border and now that the truck that should bring the car cross the border is not full yet and so the wait there. I don’t know what to believe. Everybody tells us we should just wait. But I am losing confidence and even though I like to be on vacation, I’d rather choose time and location myself.
But I just try to use the time here as best as I can. We went to see some nice spots of the town, did some necessary shopping and now I am preparing my classes for the preacher seminary. Actually, the First course will start July 20th. And I start wondering if we will ever get back north before that time or if we could better stay here anyway and safe money and time of the journey .
Anyway, we had some funny and nice dives into Mozambican culture. Maputo is a very lively city. Dirty and chaotic as most cities in developing countries, and most people, especially if in their cars, seem to be in a rush all the time, only that the streets don’t always permit driving fast (see video). And in the bakeries or supermarkets they like to skip the row. In the beginning I was very polite, standing at a distance of the person in front of me in the row, like we are used to in Europe. But always someone would just push themselves in front of me and get served first, and sometimes quite a few people, before I could get myself attended. Or the employee would just keep chatting with his friend, while I would politely wait, and wait, and wait… Until finally I also started to just push myself into the front, as near to the attending employee as possible and “demanding” to be served by just asking loud and clearly for the things I needed. It helps a lot, but I still feel as if I am being very rude. Education goes deep!
Another place where European distance keeping and politeness are out of fashion and even impossible to realize is the public transports. When we were still at the Seminary I had to take the chapa (minibus) or Machibombo (common bus) a few times. The minibuses are okay: we would put 9 people in them, here there fit officially 15 and actually I counted 19, not including kids and babies. But the machibombos are worse: you enter in the back, if you do not get a seat (and chances are almost 0 that you get one) you stand in the aisle, in two rows along the seats on each side. In the middle should be a pathway free for the conductor to pass and in the fee. But he practically is climbing along the ceiling like a monkey because more people want to get. During the journey more people are entering the bus and others want to get off. But this is only in the front. So people from behind try to get to the front, asking “licênça” (“permission”) all the time. But actually the only way is push and pulling and using al the force you have left after trying to keep standing for 30 minutes. And standing, you cannot see much more outside than the pavement, so you have to guess when to start pushing so that you are more or less in the front of the bus by the time it reaches your stop. Otherwise you’ll have to wait until the next stop and walk back.
If you are a tourist, doing this once or twice, it might be an exotic experience, getting you in touch with the real live of the people here. But imagine being forced to do this twice every day. It is not only tiring but also very much humiliating.
Our trip from the Seminary to Maputo was also very much colour by local spirit, as we had to pass the stadium, where that same afternoon the Mambas, the Mozambican National Soccer team, against the team of Zimbabwe. The supporters don’t stand behind any Dutch “Oranjefans”.
As much as I wanted to move into town to be able to move easily, I miss the quiet and peace of Ricatla. The first two weeks we stayed there in the guesthouse and it was heavenly quiet. Then we moved to a hostel in the city, because without car it is almost impossible to come and go to the remote and isolated location of the seminary. But in change we have to endure the noise of a busy avenue all day and all night long. But it is a nice place with very mixed kinds of guests, from retired English ladies or Italian school groups to the really “cool” backpackers or elderly Portuguese couples, South African or Portuguese businesspeople wearing suites, and Mozambicans, Zimbabweans and other Africans. A really interesting potpourri.
And as always, I like to walk through town and backstreets and get into the live and customs of the place. Like in many southern countries, the streets are full of street vendors, selling anything you could possibly imagine. Many women with or without babies, sit along the pavements selling vegetables and fruit. And I saw them selling some substance, looking like grinded spices rolled in paper. So one day I asked one of the women, what it was. She told me it was sand. And another woman next to her confirmed it. She said that people are addict to it, like others are addict to tobacco or alcohol. “We fry it with salt and then eat it.” I was sure that were teasing me. But they offered me some: and it is really just sand!!! I have heard a lot of things, but it was the first time, I saw people eating sand. And after I tried myself, I decided I have no right anymore to gossip about strange nutritional habits like the Chinese eating dogs and rats… .
There are also lots of markets, areas with a wall around it and a zinc roof with people selling veggies, baskets, all kinds of plastic buckets, cosmetics, and where you can find tailors, hairdressers (very important and always crowded) and eateries. Those are especially interesting. Actually I have never seen women eating there for lunch. (From what I am reading in a book on reproductive health of Mozambican women I suppose it is the lack of cash on the side of the women. They just cannot effort it). Those eateries are often tucked away in the narrowest paths at the markets, everything looks a bit dirty, only locals, TV’s showing soap operas in all the places. But you can eat a whole belly full of good food for almost nothing, which you cannot say for the general restaurants and eateries in town which often handle almost European prices. And you get a free dive into simple Mozambican lifestyle for free with your meal :).
Using a chapa, eating on the market, buying stuff in small shops instead of the big supermarkets (the South African Shoprite or the Chinese hypermarket for example) I had many meetings with the locals. It takes away the distance of taxis and economic differences and makes chatting easier. Because of course everybody wants to know why a whit one is using the chapa. And people are very helpful. For example, once I ended up at a big chapa-station. And a woman from my chapa would bring me to the right place where I had to get my “connection” and waited with me to make sure I would get the right bus. Or in the small shops, if you buy something, you get something else as “courtesy”. I was days and days asking around in all cosmetic shops for perfumed oil, like the Arabic women use, because I had dropped my bottle. And I could not find it anywhere. Then we went into a small shop with kitchen utensils owned by a Muslim. When we paid, I saw that the owner had a small oil bottle. I asked him if he sold the oil. He explained me that it was not for sale in Mozambique. He himself had brought it from Mecca. We had a chat about the Hadj and that non-Muslims are not allowed into that city. And at the end he gave me the oil as a gift.
So, with all the rush and chaos, all the through-backs and hassles, we have some nice days, visiting a few sights, eating varied foods, having a cold beer in the evenings or even a caipirinha and even I can let myself hang around and relax a little bit.
Thanks to all the good wishes and comments on the blog, especially all the updates of the de Best-Sturm clan. Nice to hear from you!

About the pictures:
They are some impressions of the town, the soccer supporters, art, buildings and street views of Maputo, the green board says: “Mozambican association for the promotion of modern cooperativism”, which sounds like a political correct update of the socialist politics of the country. Like almost every street here is named after the old and the new communists, from Lenin and Marx via Mao Tse tung to Kim Il Sung… .