Last weekend, I went back to Namaacha
where I did my homestay from September to December upon arriving in
Mozambique. I had been missing them a lot and decided that five
months was too long without seeing them. On Thursday after class I
headed to Chimoio, and attempted (and failed) to stay up all night
because the bus to Maputo left from Chimoio at 4 am. I called a taxi
at 3:30, and boarded the full bus to Maputo.
This was my longest distance traveled
so far in Mozambique and also my first lone traveling adventure in
Mozambique. To say that I went in without any doubts or worries
would be a lie. My trip down was pretty uneventful. The best part
about a bus full of Mozambicans traveling is when they need a
bathroom break, they just stop the bus on the side of the road, and
you do your business right there, in front of God and everyone
(sometimes they will tell guys to go toward the front of the bus and
women to go behind the bus…but on my way down that wasn’t the
case). They tried to consolidate these stops (we stopped maybe 5-6
times in 16 hours), but honestly the whole ordeal just made me think
of my mother. If you don’t know that story, you should ask her.
It’s pretty great. (Mom, you will be really comfortable with
bathroom breaks in Mozambique…)
I arrived in Maputo around 8 on Friday
night, and waited in the bus station for my host sister, Nucha, to
come find me. The problem was that the bus station is huge, and
there was absolutely no good way to describe the exact location where
I was. I mean, obviously as a white person I stand out, but she had
no idea where I was in the huge bus station in Maputo and I had no
idea what to tell her. And meanwhile I was getting creeped on by
every taxi driver in the vicinity. It was awesome. But eventually
we decided to both walk to the building that was in sight for both of
us, and I finally found her! After figuring out the situation for
getting my ticket back for Monday, Nucha’s boyfriend, Abel, drove
us to her apartment in Matola (which is about 20 minutes outside of
Maputo toward Namaacha). After a quick dinner, I went to sleep in a
room that Nucha’s landlord had pre-arranged for me which was such a
nice and unexpected gesture.
The next morning, Nucha and I got up,
ate breakfast, and headed to Namaacha. We got on a chapa with a
bunch of Catholics heading to Namaacha for the weekend’s
festivities. The weekend that I visited Namaacha was a celebration
of Mary in the church and there were over 50,000 people that traveled
to Namaacha for the occasion. They prayed the rosary the whole way
to Namaacha, and Nucha and I gladly joined in. Basically I’m
getting to be a beast at the prayers in Portuguese because I’ve
been at the church 3-4 nights a week praying and teaching the ladies
of the church in Messica how to make rosaries (highlight of my days).
When we arrived in Namaacha, after
stopping to say hi to some of Nucha’s friends, I passed my host mom
who happily greeted me on the main road, and then eventually I was
home! I left my stuff in my old room, and sat down for a while to
catch up with my family. That’s when I got to see the main
attraction: Walmer! He is now about 19 months, and he got even cuter
since December (as if that’s possible…). It took him all of 5
minutes to get over his shyness, and then it was all fun and games
and adorableness. I can’t even describe how great it was to hear
him screech out “Ana!” and demand things of me like “Ana! Anda
ca!” (Anna! Come here!). It makes my heart happy just thinking
about it. He now loves to play, but also thinks it’s hilarious to
hit and pinch…so basically that stage in “playing” is
universal. Seeing him and my family in Namaacha definitely made the
long trip worth it, even though I would be spending as much time on a
bus throughout the weekend than I actually spent in Namaacha. Maybe
more. Oh well.
On Saturday night, my mae and I headed
to the church for a mass and a procession around Namaacha. It was
always kind of chilly in Namaacha when we were there during training,
which was summertime here in Mozambique, but it is now winter. So to
say I was a little cold would be an understatement. I think
Mozambique has changed me. It was probably 50 degrees. I had a
sweatshirt and a fleece on and I really wanted gloves. And then it
started raining. But the plus side was that I got communion, got to
hang out with my mae, and got to see some of my fellow volunteer’s
host parents at the church. I also gave my mae, sisters, and some of
the other ladies from church rosaries I made and they absolutely
loved them. It was a good, albeit long and cold night. Also on the
trek home I almost wiped out approximately 10 times in the mud. I
do not miss that Namaacha matopi…
Sunday morning I woke up, hung out,
played with Walmer, and eventually started walking around and
greeting the host families of all my neighbors during training. I
had lunch about 3 times that day because everywhere I went they
wanted to give me food. It was great to see them, hug them, and tell
them all about Messica. I think my mae was really proud and happy
that I cared enough to come all the way from Manica to visit them…but
I couldn’t help it. They were a bomb family, how could I not
visit?!
Sunday after lunch came the time to say
goodbye and head back to Matola for the night to stay in Nucha’s
apartment and be driven by Abel back to Maputo at 3 am to catch my
bus. We waited for a while to try to get a chapa out of Namaacha,
and when we finally got one, we ended up getting off a few minutes
later because Nucha had found us a different ride that was free.
After waiting for another 20 minutes, our ride picked us up and we
were on our way. When we were approaching Matola it was nearing 6
o’clock and Nucha got a phone call from Abel. After they finished
their conversation, she turned to me and asked me if I could sleep on
the bus. I told her that I could and I had slept on the bus on the
way down here, thinking that she meant we would be staying up all
night doing something. What she actually meant is that Abel’s car
wasn’t functioning properly, so we would go to the bus station that
night and I would literally spend the night on the bus.
We went back to Nucha’s apartment
briefly for me to change my clothes and get organized, and
immediately headed out to try to get to Maputo. The problem was, it
was already dark, the chapa stop was full of about 20 or more people,
and the few chapas that were passing us were already stuffed full of
people. Basically, they would stop, a couple more people would
attempt to squeeze on the already stuffed chapa, and then they would
drive off struggling to shut the door. After about 2 or 3 failed
attempts to get on a chapa, another one came up and Nucha pushed me
to the front, yelling me to get on the chapa. I somehow managed to
get it and kind of sit down, and she somehow also managed to get on.
A very uncomfortable 20 minutes later, we got to another chapa stop,
where the chapa we were on would drop us off and we would have to get
on another one to actually get into Maputo. This chapa stop was
bigger, busier, and a lot scarier in the dark. After waiting about
15 minutes, a bus pulled up that was going into Maputo. The bus was
stuffed full of people. No joke, I didn’t think one more person
could fit on it. And within seconds of the bus pulling up, there
were at least 20 people swarming the doors trying to squeeze
themselves in any crevice they could. Nucha was trying for a while
too but I was just like…not happening…and decided to stand back
and watch the magic happen. I think they squeezed 10 more people on
that bus. Seriously, clown bus. It was unreal.
The next bus that pulled up about 10
minutes later, Nucha and I ran for and we were the first ones at the
door. A few people got off, so I knew it was feasible that more
people could fit on the already cramped bus. She pushed me on first,
and squeezed in after me. A few more people weaseled their way in,
and we were off. I have honestly never felt so claustrophobic in my
life. Zero personal space, zero air to breathe, zero air circulating.
Just freaking ridiculous. I was SO happy to get off the bus after
the 15 minutes of eternity that I spent questioning my life decisions
and what the hell I was doing in Mozambique in the first place.
About a 5 minute car ride from Abel later, we were at the bus stop
and I was getting on my bus to Chimoio at around 8 pm (6 hours before
it was scheduled to leave). Lucky for me, there were many other
people that also had no way to get to the bus stop at 3 am, so I was
not alone on the bus and I felt completely safe. I slept for a
majority of the time, and a few minutes before 3, we pulled out of
the bus stop and were on our way. The bus to Chimoio from Maputo was
empty compared to my bus on the way down, so it was very spacious and
comfortable. The fact that I was on the bus for a full 24 hours made
the trip seem really long, but by the time I made it to Chimoio I was
just very relieved to see some familiar sights and happy to be up and
walking around. I spent Monday night in Chimoio at another
volunteer’s house, and left bright and early Tuesday morning in
hopes to get back to Messica in time for my 9 o’clock JUNTOS
meeting.
I figured when I got to Chimoio that I
was home free. Seriously, I go to Chimoio about every other week and
never have any trouble getting home. When I got to the chapa stop on
Tuesday morning, there was no chapa to Messica there. I was
considering taking a chapa to Manica or Machipanda and getting off in
Messica, but I had a lot of stuff with me that I didn’t feel like
carrying for 30 minutes from the main road all the way home as
opposed to the normal 5 minute walk. I decided to wait for the
Messica chapa. About 5 minutes later, one rolled up. I got in, sat
down, and waited. About an hour later, I was still the only one in
the chapa. Another Messica chapa rolled up. I switched chapas and
waited about another hour. By this time I had already missed my
meeting. Eventually people started filling up the chapa, and about 3
hours after getting to the chapa stop, we finally left for Messica.
I was beyond aggravated. But then it got worse. About 15 minutes
into our 45 minute trip, we were stopped on the road. All traffic
was stopped. Everyone got out of the chapa. There was an accident a
few hundred feet in front of us and it was blocking the entire road.
So an hour after waiting for the accident to be taken care of, the
police finally started to let some of the traffic go by, one car at a
time. I arrived in Messica at 11:30 on Tuesday morning. I got to
the chapa stop at 6:30 am. So my normal hour trip home took five
hours. I got home and almost collapsed from exhaustion, frustration,
and my new and annoying cold thanks to cold and rainy Namaacha. I
decided that teaching my five straight hours of classes that
afternoon would probably not be happening to the best of my ability
that day, so I gave Sarah some work to give my students, and spent
the day sleeping.
I have decided that I’m glad that I
went, but I don’t think I will go again. Especially not for a
long, long while. The trip back made me realize just how ridiculous
traveling in Mozambique can be, and I don’t think I’ll venture
that far from home again for a while.
