Night bus from Nampula, 2.10 a.m.: A grown man walks down the isle holding the hand of a little girl. They are heading towards the small toilet at the back of the bus, undoubtedly so the girl can have her midnight brown-snake session. I only wish the man had the wits to see that wearing his favorite t-shirt advertising sensual lubricant might send off some mixed signals.
Back alley in Beira, 1.50 p.m.: An elderly woman sits outside her shack, enjoying a luke warm beer while cradling a little child on her lap. Upon eying us she clumsily wipes her cheek and blurts out in an uneven and little to loud voice: 'Need a taxi?' There are so many unsettling elements with that picture I don't even know where to start.
Bus station in Nampula, 3.20 p.m.: We're sweating our way across the street, each with a 20 kg backpack and a day pack on the belly, trying not to collapse before reaching our bus. A street seller, popping out of nowhere, decides to make his move and blocks our path while mumbling something like: 'Amigo. Buy buy. Good price.' In his hand he's holding a two meter tall, massive, blue teddy bear. 'Hold up Maria. I sense a possible bargain.'
Chapter VIII, Standing in line
The culture for standing in line is something that comes natural to most westerners, given the growing habit of organizing our lives. Not for africans. In the illustrations below we have tried to present the differences between our cultures on this particular matter as accurately as our artistic skills does allow.
As you can see the two illustrations differ in both obvious and slightly more subtile ways. The line in illustration 1 is straight and allows people to reach the front in an orderly and fair fashion, according to when they first decided to get into the line. The line in illustration 2 roughly takes on the shape of a fan, where who reaches the front is totally random and may depend greatly on your physical condition, timing, stealth and lack of social intelligence.
Chapter IX, Service
When seeking any kind of service in East and Southern Africa it is important to understand that the personell providing the services is by no means interested in actually helping you. Adjust yourself accordingly and you might keep your sanity, fail to do so and the concequences to your mental health will be unpredictable and severe. The following examples are unfortunately based on actual events.
Transport: After 20 minutes of getting shepherded around by random people, whose guidance and assistance is contradictory at best, we eventually jump on the back of a pick-up truck possibly headed for our destination. Half and hour of us repeatedly making ourselves comfortable only to get yelled into another position, and we're yet again part of a suspension killing pyramid of people, animals and random junk. The engine starts, we drive 50 meters, the engine stops. Before actually leaving we just have to pick up a pile of metal rooftop sheets, measuring approximately 1 times 3 meters. Did they know about it beforehand? Yes. Did they take it into consideration when they stuffed the car full with shit just 50 meters up the street? No. Everybody out, again. Half an hour later and we're back in business. Did we seriously expect a heads up? We drive 50 meters before stopping at the exact same spot as we started this increasingly provoking road trip. More people pour in, and the driver disappears. Possibly 25 people stuck in unnatural positions amongst the rubbish on the back of his truck, and he decides to run some random personal errand, for an HOUR! And the most frustrating part is, nobody cares. Ever. Except for us. Just another completely normal day in their lives. It's 2 p.m. and we still have an 8 hour journey ahead of us, on bumpy gravel roads, in the back of a pick-up, with both feet and arms already numb form our awkward positions. Just as we're preparing our escape the car jumps to a start. At least the freak show is finally on the road. 5 kilometers up the street an we stop at a police roadblock. An officer jumps in to ride shotgun, we do a u-turn and stop again. The officer thought she could bring the gun back home. 5 kilometers later and, sure as shit, we're back where we started. We both lose our minds and get of.
Accommodation: After regaining control we figure we might need a place to stay the night. By recommendation we head for a cheap place close to the bus station. The reception is empty as expected and we start roaming the hallways in search of an employee of some sort. An elderly woman lurks in the shadows and we actually get the impression she might be pleasant. We are wrong. We've obviously done her some wrong, and sure enough, some pissed off grunts later another servant of some sorts pops up. It takes some massive persuasion to actually get one of them to show us a room, but we eventually make it. The room is shit and we want nothing more than a ticket back to Norway. On the way back out the elderly woman has teamed up with some friends in the reception area, and in unison they start yelling at us, while pointing and laughing. Our local tribe language is a bit rusty, but it's obvious enough they're not blessing us. We politely put our backpacks back on, lose our minds and get out.
Food: We eventually find a place to get a mental break and order a long deserved dinner. Now, we haven't been around the world yet, but in the places we have visited, preparing a simple dish of chicken and chips doesn't require rocket science. Right? It takes them 1 hour and 50 minutes from when we place the order. In that time we could have actually gone to catch an average blockbuster, at the cinema! Seriously. On top of that, when they've finally hunted down our dinner, the chicken is served raw and the chips boiled. 'Thank you sir, may I pay please?' The meal is 280 local money, including some highly needed alcohol units. Of course they don't have change on 300. We knew that. The chef himself, without further explanation, races out the restaurant's main entrance on a bicycle. No longer able to feel anger, or any other feeling for that matter, we wait for half an hour on the lunatic, standing right where he left us in pure spite. We haven't recovered since.
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