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MOZAMBIQUE 2009 - Part 7

from 11/08/2009 to Mueda Quissanga (Part One)

the early morning take the bus to Quissanga. Buses leave, who knows why, very early or, in my view, very late at night. In our particular part at 5:00.

There is a very dark and bitterly cold (and not a way of saying, teeth chatter from the cold, thank goodness we're in Africa!) . In the street main buses follow each other in all directions. In northern Mozambique there is a bus route "official" who called the macula. E 'consists of large buses: Volvo of old, possibly abandoned decades ago by some European transport company. Generally the buses are efficient in the macula, the cost of the ticket is set at official and non-tariff must be agreed from time to time, depart and arrive on time please God to your destination with delays content. It is perhaps for these reasons that the Mozambican buses belonging to prefer the more colorful lines unofficial.

seems like a contradiction but so. In the bus "unofficial" and even more in cochibombo and Chiapas, the rooms can haggle on the price it can bring bulky loads without having to pay a premium as in the case of the means of the Macula and above can apply to get where they want and do not only in the pre-set stops. At the end of the Macula on coaches are unable to travel sitting on numbered seats and personal and usually not crowded like sardines between chickens, goats and other goods, including the dreaded, smelly bag of dried fish.

For all these reasons, we had planned to take the bus to the macula. But then, however, un cochibombo passa prima: alle 4:30 invece che alle 5:00 come previsto per il Macula, e così vuoi un po’ per il freddo vuoi un po’ per la fretta di partire, lo prendiamo nella speranza di arrivare prima a destinazione. Quando saliamo, l’autobus è semivuoto e ci stendiamo nei sedili con la speranza di prolungare quel sonno che abbiamo bruscamente interrotto solo pochi minuti prima.

In Africa però un autobus difficilmente parte se non è pieno e anche questo non viene meno ahimè alla regola. E così ci troviamo a fare avanti indietro per Mueda in buio nero come la pece a raccattare quanti più passeggeri possibile.

Mueda leave at the end that it's almost 5:00 but with the bus full to capacity. But we still have ten minutes in advance on that of Macula ... But then even after our half hour breaks: a brake problem, I think. And while our driver impovvisatosi mechanic, is busy trying to repair the problem, we see the bus stop just in front of Macula and surpass our broken-down jalopy to see if we need help.

The idea of \u200b\u200babandoning our cochibombo to its sad fate and move bag and baggage at the Macula it attracts quite comfortable. But our driver must treacherous us read his mind, and fearing that we, perhaps followed by other passengers, we can request a refund of the ticket, the Macula chasing the wrong way but reassuring on the repairability of his equipment.

And so we are stranded on a desolate road where the passage of half the engine is a rare event as unusual. The odds of another half steps that can load is reduced to a flicker and all our hopes are placed in our driver / mechanic to tinker puzzled to see him at the wheel is not giving up the right of custody.

Siamo avviliti, affamati e assonnati. Non si vede una via di uscita dalla situazione in cui ci troviamo nostro malgrado. Tra l’altro ad aumentare il nostro scoramento c’è il fatto che il nostro autista ha abbandonato la sua postazione presso la ruota e si è allontanato inoltrandosi nella boscaglia che circonda la strada.

Poi però dopo poco ritorna con in mano un ramo flessuoso e con l’ausilio di questo piccolo pezzo di legno compie l’impossibile: ripara i freni, almeno è quello che speriamo, neanche fosse un meccanico della Ferrari.

Ed è così ripartiamo e lungo the way the Macula risorpassiamo firm itself stranded on the roadside. Overtaking is accompanied by a roar from the stadium by all passengers exultant us first.

Our choice is ultimately a winner!

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MOZAMBIQUE 2009 - Part 6

10/08/2009 Mueda (Second and last part)

Oh you had to be gone just as I said in my previous post. The quacking che avevamo sentito venire da fuori proveniva proprio dalla nostra cena che infatti ci è stata servita non prima di un’ora e mezza da quando avevamo decretato la condanna a morte delle galinhe, da quando cioè, in altri termini, avevamo ordinato pollo per cena. Comunque mors tua vita mea: le galinhe, con tanto di patate fritte, erano ottime e certamente quanto meno freschissime.

Il giorno dopo, svegliandoci di buon ora, lasciamo la nostra lussuosa pensione senza acqua corrente e senza elettricità (come d’altronde però tutto il resto della ridente cittadina) per fare un giretto del posto.

Come spesso accade le cose più belle ci si presentano dinnanzi non richieste. Visitando i dintorni di Mueda ci accorgiamo infatti che la periferia è più bella e caratteristica del centro. Tra l’altro anche dal punto di vista paesaggistico non è poi così male… Avvicinandoci al limite occidentale del villaggio ci si può accorgere del fatto che Mueda sorge su un’altura che un burrone divide dalla valle sottostante. Il colpo d’occhio è da mozzare il fiato. Niente a che vedere con le impressioni pessime del giorno prima.

Stiamo per tornare verso la pensione per cercare qualcosa da mangiare per colazione quando veniamo incuriositi dal ritmico suonare di alcuni bonghi and drums, coming from the end of the main road. And here in the shady trees of leaves, Makonde women tattooed on your face dance their traditional dances dressed in colorful clothes. Some wore wooden masks that completely cover the face.

The thing goes on all morning and most importantly free. We learn that Mueda is a feast for the anniversary of the massacre of the same name. This explains the fact that all traditional schools of dance are meeting on the highway. In the face of those who wanted to charge us to show them!

No passionate about dance let alone know how to dance (once the home goalkeeper of my seeing a smooth dance told me I could dance even the initials of the news and I do not think that was a compliment) but I must say that all that frantic wiggle of also contrasted with deadpan solemnity of the wooden masks had something of impressive.

the afternoon to continue our wanderings we visited the little villages around the eastern outskirts of Mueda constituents. And here's fate would have it even possible to find even the infamous wooden objects Crafts Makonde. But the authenticity of everything I personally have serious doubts. The sculptor I see intent on turning a wooden mortar with his lathe operated by foot the day before it certainly was not there. We were in fact been there the night before and no doubt remember that they were building the unlikely wooden windows.

To confirm my supposition is the fact that the evening at dusk we see the type, the so-called Makonde sculptor, go on a scooter with loads boxes of unsold sculptures to go somewhere.

I think the sculptures came from the timber market in Dar Es Salaam where they are produced most craft works in wood sold in this part of Africa.

We, however, in doubt, the sculptures of the Makonde Makonde-like or we buy it anyway!

(Now you are certainly on display in our homes, at least in mine, and we can pass off as original Makonde without fear of contradiction. I believe that the probability to count among my guests an expert on Makonde art is quite remote ...)

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MOZAMBIQUE 2009 - Part 5

Mueda 10/08/2009 (Part One)

Mueda We arrived yesterday after eight hours by bus through streets as we walked away from Pemba became increasingly dysfunctional. We are destroyed. It seems to have been a lifetime since we got up but are only 14:00.

Mueda does not look like much: a main street with a side of some buildings which stand out for their beauty. We are the only white people but the inhabitants of Mueda ( the Muedani? ) do not seem us much attention.

We're here to actually see the Makonde ethnic group or perhaps MAPIC (I did not understand the difference though Greta c'abbia tried several times to explain). You should know that these Makonde are best known for their sculptures of wood and ebony and their tribal folk dances. And then after eight hours of travel, the least we would have expected was to see Makonde ceremonies of welcome at the bus stop while skilled craftsmen showed us the fruit of their skilled sculptors ...

But the reality was far more bleak: a dusty road four crumbling houses and Makonde neanche l’ombra. Siamo stanchi e scoraggiati dalla desolante vista di Mueda per cui decidiamo, più o meno all’unanimità, di cercare sti cazzo di Makonde, vedere qualche danza, comprare qualche scultura e andarcene l’indomani mattina all’alba direzione las Quirimbas: di nuovo al mare.

Poi però da bravi turisti ci mettiamo più di un ora a scegliere la pensione dove soggiornare e la rimanente parte del pomeriggio per capire che i villaggi Makonde di cui parla la guida, con eccessiva enfasi per la verità, non sono altro che gli assembramenti di capannucce che costituiscono la periferia di Mueda.

A questo punto comincia to spread through our certainty that if we want to see Makonde (which is the only reason why we have gone up here, next to the border with Tanzania), we must spend another day in this lovely village. But to make sure it's just another day to spend in Mueda and not an hour more, we make a mistake that in Africa one should never commit! We show an interest in the Makonde and ask around to be able to attend dances and craftsmanship!

Now if the Makonde had never existed on earth but they were as real as the Elves or the Smurfs, the inhabitants of them there would Mueda in any case brought before with lots of sculptures and dance for a few thousand Metical ( the Mozambican currency is the Metical and one euro is worth about 38 meticals ).

I am by nature very fatalistic, too. For me, if something should happen, will happen in some way, and if no, no. I am concerned the over-determined so anything can happen, you just want it. But if there is a place where the establishment has less than nothing: this is Africa. So I feel that we will not find the Makonde but they find us. And the subsequent events will give me reason.

However returning to the chronicle of facts, we agree with a guy who tells us that he agrees to talk to an imaginary village chief Makonde that assures us, we will organize the next day, but only after 14:00 because the Makonde first work, a dance characteristic and a selection of the best local handicrafts. Of course all will cost us quite a nest egg of meticals but at least give a sense to the picnic.

E 'with this hope that we go to dinner in the restaurant who turned out to be a pension which is the local puttanaio. But, as Lucas would say, this is a different story. "To eat is Galinha" ( that the chicken ) tells us a woman in flesh and expeditious way of doing, we are hungry and order for six. Taking the order, the woman who not only cook and maid is also madam of the brothel, leaves the room. Shortly after we hear coming from outside the disturbing and sinister ways lamentable chickens. Oh yes, I think the lady is pulling the neck of our dinner ... (TO BE CONTINUED)