Ilha de Mocambique

Another night in a crappy hotel in Nampula. I heard Jon yelled out that it was 5am. Big deal, i thought, i need to sleep, you can go by yourself. Eventally i came to and we made our way to the station.

In the last couple of days we had seen another western woman traveler, passing through hotels and in bus stations. We were yet to speak to her, but when she saw us at the station that morning she came running over and asked if we spoke English. She was German, she spoke Portuguese, and had a map, but no guide book and was having difficulty navigating this part of the world. She was very stressed. She come from the South like us, and this part of the world had very little tourist infrastructure - or frankly tourist appeal. I wondered if id be in the same state if id tried to do this stretch alone. She was heading out to the Island as well - Ilha De Mozambique, a few hours away.

We took the German and pilled into a chappa for a couple of hours, then changed to a ute to cross the blowy causeway that connected the island with the mainland. It was midday and warm as we drove slowly down the old thin streets.

But after looking at one not very nice guesthouse, a nice guesthouse found us. Walking down the street an Italian, Gabriel, pulled up in his ute and asked if we were looking for rooms. He had some avalible at his place not far from here. We jumped in the back, i figured that a European would have a European toilet, and was already pretty sold on staying there.

Like all Portuguese style villas, facing the street was a simple concrete wall. But the second we stepped inside, i was stunned. It was beautiful. There was no way i could afford to stay here, but i was going to pretend just so i could look around.

The first room, behind the wall was a sitting area/foyer, a cement courtyard with an enormous coconut tree in the center. The room was painted terracotta red, orange and the doors green, just like all the bright old fishing boats used on the island. Through the opening was the lounge. Old clocks and African ordainments decorated the room, the center piece a wooden dugout canoe hanging from the ceiling, filled with cushions, to be used as a lounge.

We saw all the rooms and they were amazing. Everyone different and beautifully designed. The twin room had two double beds, the second was in a loft in the room, which i claimed immediately - it was more privacy that i had seen in months! It had its own bathroom, clean, with a flushing western toilet, and soap!! I was sold. Done. Whatever.

To our surprise (and slight annoyance) the room was a lot cheaper than the piece of dirt we had stayed in the night before on the mainland. We gladly accepted. I was stoked. I couldn't wait to use the toilet! The German went in search of some other options and we checked out the roof top terrace. "Would you like a coffee?" asked Gabriel. I nearly fainted.

Gabriel had lived on the Island for 6 years. He was an architect who had found enough work to stay in Mozambique, and had brought a derelict ruin her on the Island, which had the oldest buildings in Mozambique. After deciding the place would be too big for himself, he built an amazing guest house. He lived there with his child, Giovanni, a gorgeous little tuff of fluffy African hair, that only spoke Italian, and his partner. We talked over breakfast for about an hour. It was fascinating to hear about life in Mozambique from an expat. Surprisingly, they are a greater source on the culture of the country than a local. They have something to compare it to. I suppose it supports the argument that you cant really know your own country, unless you know another one.

We spent the afternoon strolling through the streets of the Island. Ilha de Mozambique was the capital of the Portuguese East Africa Colony. Kapuscinski, author of Shadow of the Sun, wrote that the colonial powers often situated most of their administration on the islands off Africa. Previous to these powers intervening, most of the islands surrounding the mainland were empty. With no fresh water, there was little reason for traditional people to live there, but for the Europeans, the islands off Africa provided a defense against the unknown interior of the continent, the "heart of darkness". Ilha de Mozambique (Mozambique Island) was established in the 15th century for that reason and to satisfy trade interests, and later to oversee the huge agricultural estates of the Mozambican interior.

The old building of the Island formed narrow corridors, some of them dark, old trees overshadowing the sunlight, others bathed in light, the crystal ocean appearing suddenly at their completion. Old abandoned former courtyards decorated with children playing, screaming, "photo! photo!". Tourists were much more common on the island than in the towns on the mainland, and everyone was much less shocked by our appearance than usual, but very welcoming.

Some of the older children spoke very good English. We met Jamal, a 15 year old on the street while his friends tried to sell us beads. He was very intelligent, his language skills allowed us to have a conversation with his, about the Island, his schooling, his life, his ambitions (he wanted to be an engineer). We found him really lovely and very interesting to talk to, and late afternoon he took us to the fort, at the end of the Island.

The fort had been built to protect the Portuguese to from attacks from the Dutch and British who had begun to take an interest in the area. Some sections of the fort dated back to 1522, could possibly be some of the oldest building still intact in the Southern Hemisphere. Our tour guide began by apologizing for his little English, but when on to conduct the tour perfectly. Jon walked along listening intently. I walked behind with Jamal. The history, age, and use of every building was interesting, for sure, but more fascinating i found was Jamal's story about how the forth had been use in resent times. Two years ago there had been a massive three day festival at the fort. DJ's from South Africa and the US performed from the former hanging stage in the center of the fort, the dance floor stretched around it. People slept along the lookouts where we were standing, various rooms were used as restaurants, different local food in different rooms. The old church in the center was used as a performance arena for Capoeira performers from Brazil. It sounded so cool, both Jamal and i were excited for it to happen again.

The next morning Gabriel joined us again for breakfast. "By now, everyone on the Island knows you are staying here" he said. "If you were to stay for longer, maybe a week, they would no longer ask you anything. Every person would know who you are and where you come from and why you where here. The Island is very small" he chuckled.

Across the road from Gabriel’s house was an amazing Mosque. In daylight it was beautiful, but at 4am it was very loud, designed to wake the whole island, calling them to prayer. The Island was tiny, 1.6 km long and 600 meters wide, but we were only across the narrow road from the very loud speakers. After this, Jon got up to watch the sunrise, the colors of the sky made a beautiful backdrop for the old white washed church on the beach, but there were quite a few silhouettes he hadn't expected. As the island slowly rose from their slumber, most of them had some morning business to attend to, and did so on the beach. We had planned to spend the day swimming; Beautiful warm Indian Ocean, an ancient island of the coast of Mozambique, views of colony mansions and grass huts - and a beach full of human feces...

Instead we walked around the markets, and had lunch on top of the roof, looking out over the markets and sea full of fishing boats. Every now and again, and child on the street would spy us sitting up there, and would squeal and yell with delight when we waved back at them. In the afternoon we found some guy, who promised he would tell some other guy to come and pick us up from our hotel and take us to the mainland in the morning.

We thanked Gabriel that night for his wonderful hospitality and for letting us stay in his beautiful home. "One question" said Jon "Why do people shit on the beach?" Gabriel laughed in a knowing way, and in his Italian accent you could taste his sarcasm "They will tell you it is the culture" he said smiling dryly "culture". "No its not culture. Out the front here there is a set of public toilets, not 20 meters away from where there going, there toilets right?" asked Jon. "Oh yes, they are toilets" said Gabriel "I built them" he laughs. "But if you can imagine having done this since you were a child, having no quams or need for privacy, a large expansive beach is a much nicer place to shit than a confined smelly toilet". In travel magazine in South Africa, Mozambique is flaunted as the next big thing in tourism. I wondered what all the resort loving, big buck spending, glossy magazine reading tourists these articles were calling would think of that.....

Despite not swiming, Ilha de Mocambique was one of the most amazing places i visited on my trip so far. I considering offereing my services to Gabriel as a governess for Giovanni, but my Italian wasn't going to cut it. After i couldn't figure out a good reason to stay for a few months, I settled for promising myself i would come back, and hoping that Gabriel would still have is nice house and western toliets waiting for me when I got there.