As our convoy of Land Rovers crossed the Mozambican boarder and approached Maputo's skyline I felt a strange nostalgia remnant of my previous trips to India.It is an experience I can only liken to my first arrival in Mumbai where the quality of the air seems changed and all the Billboards are advertised in foreign tongues. The buildings were barely visible as the light disappeared, but i could sense their modest rustic appeal. I would soon learn that arriving with no expectations, would leave me deeply affected by my impressions of this vibrant African country.
Welcome To Mozambique
Amidst the chaos of Mozambique's post colonial climate I was surprised to find a congenial national disposition. Despite the language barrier, created by my very shabby Portuguese, I discovered a people filled with warmth and hospitality. Maputo is a metropolis chiseled into the Mozambican coastline with sky scrapers and traffic jams just like any other major city. The panoramic view just outside our house was breath taking as Mozambican beaches are renowned for their distinct tropical appeal. And yet despite the enduring spirit of its people I could not help but feel disorientated in a city that was only a few hours from my native Johannesburg. Maputo's lack of infrastructure is startling and obvious as it bustles along despite the economic collapse and civil war that followed after its independence from Portugal. The city is littered with empty buildings that will never be completed, statuesque reminders of the mismanagement of its resources.
As I was walked the streets of Maputo tributes to the country's politics and liberation struggle were inescapable. Every avenue is named after a political leader or significant date since its independence in 1974. I encountered several 'Che' T shirts on the passers by and as I turned into Avenue de Vladimir Lenine, the connections between the once dominant party FRELIMO and the Soviet bloc were plainly visible.
I gradually became acquainted with its landscape and was lucky enough to rub shoulders with local photographers, writers and film makers - I found Mozambicans to be a people of critical intelligence, informed political orientation and great humility. There is a cosmopolitan culture here that does not exist in South Africa. A constant interchanging between colonial tongues - French, English, Portuguese- and a general camaraderie between the mingling African nations minus the Xenophobic sentiments a la Afrique du Sud. There are obvious fractures of class within the society but there was no silent discrimination between skin tones or hostile glances as mixed race couples embraced in public. South Africa has yet to sublimate its progressive Constitution. I was grateful to be living with a local family and home of one of my good friends, Bruno who currently resides in France. His father is a Mozambican of Indian decent and his step-mother is a physician of Portuguese heritage who did not flee with the mass exodus to Portugal in 1974. I was constantly reminded by them that this was Mozambique-1 and that the rural areas up north are a more truthful representation of the Mozambican experience. Even the locals remarked with awe at the tolerance with which their fellow citizens co-exist with poverty.
However, the Mozambique that I would come to know is a place filled with curios contradictions. Consumer culture had clearly permeated the boarders of the city but only ten per cent of the population could afford the luxury of its air-conditioned malls and supermarkets. Despite the 1 to 3 exchange rate between the Rand and Metikayeshe, I found several arbitrary things more expensive like shampoo and nectarines. While the people maintained a hopeful outlook from day to day, the government it seems would continue to undermine their endeavors. I was blow-drying my hair in preparation for a Photographic exhibition and did not immediately notice the loud explosions that I dismissed as part of the construction work just outside. But as I looked out the window and the smoke began to rise I saw frantic fieldworkers running in our direction. The explosions soon became hard to ignore as the windows vibrated violently and the view from my balcony became shadowed by a mushroom cloud and foggy aftermath. We sat in the lounge calming our nerves with Laurentina for the next five hours unsure of exactly what was happening or what to do.
Mushroom Clouds over Maputo
That night our suspicions were confirmed - an underground missile store from a military base just four kilometers away had ignited. A hundred and fifty people were killed, several hundreds injured and hundreds more lost their homes. We naively attributed the incident to the scorching heat so it was only later when I returned back to South Africa that I read in the Mail & Guardian that the real cause of the catastrophe were corrupt government officials trying to extract valuable minerals from the missiles in order to make an extra buck. Thabo and Jacob might embarrass the nation with their ignorant reasoning around HIV, but this level of incompetence is virtually unheard of in South Africa. I felt eager to experience the night life but for the next few days this tragedy was the only thing on our lips and so even the bars and clubs were tainted by a despondent melancholy. I was deeply moved by the opportunity to imbibe the country’s vibe minus the frills reserved for tourists, but also felt eager to head back home and get the rest of my travel plans on track.
As we waited two hours to cross the boarder and the bus broke down for a further two hours I found myself somewhat grateful to arrive on the other side, albeit eleven hours later. Returning to the world of Woolworths convenience I felt relieved to be home. South Africa manages to preserve the elation of the African experience curbing its edges with first world convenience and comfort. There is a miracle unfolding here in that there are opportunities for progress. There is hope and possibility in stark contrast to the despair and oppression of our past. If anything I think South African's need only appreciate the freedoms earned from the blood of its ancestors, or journey north a little if they need help doing so.
Missiles Colour the Sky
