Early days

At first being in Mozambique was strange, bordering on surreal.  The first couple of days were taken up with form filling and we had a briefing on the security situation and do’s and don’ts.  If you took this too literally you wouldn’t venture out your front door.  In reality, like any big city anywhere you need to sensible and not wander down dark alleys pissed as a fart singing show me the way to go home. 

There are some places you should not go

There are some places best avoided after dark or alone but you could say the same about London or Glasgow.  Mozambicans are generally genuinely friendly and laid back with a ready smile and we feel pretty safe here.

 We were taken around Maputo on orientation tours by Chomar the office driver and a wonderful lady called Bella who babysits the newbies.  The tours and knowledge they provided on shops, restaurants, medical facilities etc was invaluable.  It would be difficult to get seriously lost in the city centre as it is laid out in a grid pattern and you have the coast to orientate yourself.  One of the legacies from the communist government that took over following Mozambique independence is that a lot of the streets or Avenidas are named after communist leaders or significant dates and events from the independence revolution and civil war. 

There is an Avenida Mao-Tse Tung, Vladimir Lenine, Karl Marx, Kim il Sung, Avenida 24 de Julho (24^th of July) and Avenida 25 de Septembro (25^th September and my birthday).   I am sure the average Maputo resident doesn’t have a scooby who half these people are.  One of my favourites is the snappily named Avenida das Forças Populares de Liberaçáo de Moçambique.  Thank god we don’t live there as if I was pissed I would never be able to tell a taxi driver our address.

      

Our apartment is lovely being on a quiet tree lined road, Avenida Friedrich Engels),  just 5 minutes drive from Jane’s office.  It overlooks a park called the Jardim dos Namorados (Garden of lovers) which looks out over the sea.  The park is used by wedding parties.  Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday morning there is a organised chaos as one wedding party after another turns up to walk around the park with ululations and beautiful singing of hymns and African songs.  They arrive in fleets of buses, minivans, pickups, trucks and cars.

The brides and grooms arrive in ribbon and flower decked limos with the number plates giving the brides and grooms names.  Bling, bright colours, sharp suits, glamorous bridesmaids and meringue wedding dresses are the order of the day and it is a wonderful spectacle to watch and listen to from our balcony.

We were fortunate in being able to hire one of the office cars until ours arrived.  A car is pretty essential to get around here and our early days would have been much more difficult without one.  Normally when we go somewhere new on holiday I am keen to get out and explore, but I found myself nervous about leaving the apartment.  I am still not quite sure why.  It wasn’t that I didn’t feel safe, more something to do with being able to cope with the language barrier.  However we had to eat.  My first foray to the local bakers did not go well.  I tried asking for a couple of loaves and some croissants.  I am not sure what I said but it reduced the shop girls and other customers to helpless fits of laughter.  The car also needed diesel.  All of the petrol stations have pump attendants, not self service.  The car, a Toyota Prado had a long-range tank which held a huge amount and I had no idea how much diesel cost. 

I envisioned a nightmare scenario of not having enough cash and my credit card being rejected.    Jane had the bright idea of just asking for a set cash amount worth of diesel rather than fill the tank.  All went well until they asked me to unlock the petrol cap and I had no idea how.  Fortunately the pump attendant realised he was dealing with a moron, took pity on me, and showed me the button tucked away under the dash board.

The gas supply for our cooker is a large calor gas canister and we needed more.  Bella told me I could swap that empty canister at one of the petrol stations.  The petrol station did have a stack of canisters but they were all empty – I was told “não tem” (We don’t have).  A passing Mozambican overheard and told me he could show me where to get gas and went to get in the car.  I am pretty certain that letting strangers into your car is against the security advice but he seemed a nice amiable chap and sometimes you have to trust your instincts.  True to his word he directed me down several back streets and we ended up by a guy selling gas canisters by the roadside.  My good Samaritan helped me load the canister.  When I offered him a lift somewhere he told me he lived just round the corner.   I got my gas – he got a lift home.

Getting more confident by the day I even risked some of the local markets for fruit and veg.  Good fun but difficult as they try to sell you everything in kilos or half kilos.  I earned a snort of derision for trying to buy just five chillis.

  Shopping can be time consuming.  Maputo has a number of large supermarkets but they can be very inconsistent on what they stock so you often need to visit two or three.  Everything  goes into a plastic bag and within a very short time we had a plastic bag mountain.  We bought a big shopping bag from one of the supermarkets to overcome this.  A lurid purple affair with a picture of an elephant with Africa at the side in big gold letters and a logo at the top saying elegant!

There are some places you should not go

  It has the effect of totally destroying any credibility if trying to bargain, announcing you are a) obviously a newbie and b) have no taste.  The first time I tried to use it at the supermarket where we bought it they tried to charge me for it again.  Now we have our bags from the UK and elephant bag has been relegated to the store cupboard.

  

You can get anything if you know where to go

You can get pretty much anything if you know where to go. Local fruit and veg and the local beers are good and cheap. 

Does what it says on the tin

There is a good and varied selection of restaurants. We stumbled on a lively local restaurant open to the beachfront which sold giant grilled prawns and a beachside bar which is little more than a shack that serves prawn rissoles and impressive caipirinhas.   Imported food and goods and some services can be eye wateringly expensive.  For example to rent a decent house or apartment in Maputo costs anything from 4,000 US dollars a month upwards.  Our internet cost over £70 a month for a basic package with limited downloads.  

Every so often we do a run to Nelspruit in South Africa which is only about three to four hours drive and stay overnight.  The choice of goods is much hugely wider, better quality and much much cheaper.  

Ned is Scots for Yobbo

Any readers in Scotland may be amused by a bank we found in in South Africa and that you can get milk from Ayrshire cows in the local equivalent to Marks and Spencers which in South Africa and Mozambique is called Woolworths.  It is from herds of Ayrshire cows in South Africa rather than imported from Ayrshire.

  

It didn’t take us long to get into a routine.  Jane’s work was very busy and she had a steep learning curve in a new role for her of managing the office services and looking after the housing for the DFIDs UK staff.  I occupied myself cooking, cleaning, shopping and testing out the local cafes.  Until our stuff from the UK arrived we had the use of what  is called the "float" - a bit like an ikea home pack with all the essential crockery and cutlery, iorn and ironing board etc.  It was pretty basic so I sometimes had to be inventive.  I manged to feed us both (BBC good food site was a lifeline for ideas) but my attempt at bulk spinning the lettuce in the washing machine was not a success - even the delicate cycle reduces it to a mush.  Jane was also not impressed by my cleaning skills and has hired a local lady to do for us three times a week - a wonderful lady called Rufina.   I had no problem filling my time but was clearly going to have to find some way to justify my existence.  As people had told me before I needed to get out more.