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)
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