Mozambique

At the border I met this couple, Mics and Ilsa, who said they had seen my bike before, maybe Kanse Botswana we were thinking. But after talking some more, Ilsa and I recalled it was in fact the backpackers in Vic Falls, Zimbabwe. Later they finally received their visas and left while I waited for mine. After buying some black market fuel, I saw Ilsa and Mics stopped on the side of the road having a snack. I stopped to tell them my story of the bribe and then headed off for Tete.

 

 

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No fuel stations, so I suggest one fill up on the Zim side border which I didn’t do not knowing. Black market fuel is 3 US dollars a litre. However that being said, there is plenty on the roads in plastic containers if one should desire.

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I have too much to say about the following pictures … and will do so from my journal which will be easier than this, but just not now cause I’m tired, so you will have the pictures anyway …

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I rode into Tete, Mozambique just before sunset, fuelled up and got some cash before looking for a place to stay. Only two hotels that I could find, one being full and the other no parking for the bike, so I rode out of town chasing signs that led me to dark township streets with closed down motels. I ran into Mics and Ilsa again, and they said they were going to a campground so I decided to go back to the city by the Zambezi river campsite. When I finally found the place I was immediately surrounded by a circle of children who were all screaming the same foreign words. I didn’t see Mics and Ilsa but had to stay anyway. Richard the manager said I could use a tent that was already set up and under a roof so I didn’t have to set up mine. I had not had lunch so I was hungry and tired and welcomed the easy decision. While I was unpacking and dealing with the bike, a young white woman of 17 was talking to me about this and that, flirting with me while her father and brother were nearby at a table. When I returned from a one hour walk to the main street and back with wine and food, she was waiting for me at the entrance to the building where the tent and my bike were, feigning to read a book in the dark, ‘I always read here’. She is a smart, precocious young lady who needs the company of someone other than her father and brother. Anyway she said that when I pulled in to the ‘Jesus _____ campground’, the children were screaming, ‘We love you Jesus!’. And then she explained that they thought I was the other person due to arrive the next day. Then she said again that she was finishing high school and that she was going to teach pre-school after a year of working a crap job, and then she added after I said I was going to sit here alone to do some writing (Please somebody just leave me alone for 1 hour I was thinking), she said, ‘Well I’m going to take a shower right there next to the men’s bamboo washroom’. I wished her sweet dreams and then sat by myself in the dark. Jesus what a weird day. Even the animals were more stupid than usual; I just missed a calf, accelerating hard and swerving to the other side of the road onto the dirt and then back onto the road. At one point I thought I wasn’t going to make it and the calf was going to hit the side of my left pannier, but when I looked back I noticed the calf had stopped just before hitting me. After I had time to relax, I went outside to sit with Mics and Ilsa who were eating their dinner at the back of the truck.

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Look at the two pictures below, and you will notice many beautiful children, but two in particular who didn’t take their eyes off the bike. I didn’t notice at first, but it makes me laugh out loud when I see the pictures over and over again.

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The next morning I met this man who was camping beside Mics and Ilsa, the owner of a backpackers in Monkey Bay, Malawi. He invited us all to stay for free with a donation, as he hadn’t yet received his license. He was currently camping for the weekend to re-enter Malawi Monday to renew his visa. Anyway Mics and Ilsa said they would see me there, and off I went, stopping on the street to eat four oranges and buy a pack of smokes before heading for the Malawi border.

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When I got there and went inside, my passport was stamped out of Mozambique, and then when I presented my carnet to the customs guy he didn’t say a word, just got on the phone with my carnet in his hand and started talking in his native tongue. Now what I was thinking. After he got off the phone, he explained to me that his colleague at the other border I entered was mistaken, and that he shouldn’t have filled out my carnet as Mozambique is not part of the association. Now what I was thinking. He said it wasn’t my fault that I didn’t have the normal TPI paper, and that he wasn’t going to fine me. Whew. After passing through the gates without a problem, I rode into the Malawi side some 5km’s away, I was immediately swarmed like in Central America, by people all claiming to be of some service; money changers, insurance, helpers, guards etc. . I told them all to relax and step away and give me some room. Once I singled out one guy to be in charge of the negotiations, all was calm. I didn’t have enough American on me for the trade to Kwacha so I had to dig through my hidden stash carefully while surrounded by these men and boys. After switching the currencies, I bought the insurance, had the passport stamped, the carnet filled out, paid the helper, talked to the police, withdrew some cash from a machine and rode to the first town and the next gas station to stop for some peace and quiet.

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