Stuck in Chimoio

Everybody in the hostel was surprised to find me in my bed the next morning, so I had to tell my story over and over again. The only relief I found was pouring my heart out to via facebook and eMail. A short relief: the Internet café closed around noon for the whole weekend. Me, who never feels bored, who always finds something to do, was experiencing a very unfamiliar feeling: boredom crept in! I seemed stuck, but I swore I would not travel that bus again until I got a seat upfront.

For a flight I would have to wait until Monday anyway, and this would take me to Maputo, not to Vilankulo or Tofo, unless I flew back up to these places. But seriously, how desperately can you be to pay for three plane tickets? Things improved slowly. The first success story was finding an ATM that accepted my card. This actually remained a problem throughout the trip and for all travelers. In Maputo I met a couple who had been to four banks before they succeeded.

Being a complete stranger in a city like Chimoio on a Sunday, your options of getting distraction are limited. So I went to church… Something I had not done in years and which I came to enjoy tremendously. The priest giving his sermon in suave Portuguese, the harmonious singing and drumming, all this was like honey on my wounded soul. Everybody was dressed to the nine and children’s proudly arrived with the most creative hair dos, skillfully breaded and decorated with colorful ribbons and clips. None of them was acting up during the entire 1½ hour service or fiddling with their Sunday dresses. So popular was mess that some people had to listen to the service standing outside.

My mood had received such a boast that my afternoon program - walking to a huge head-shaped rock - seemed like the all-time sightseeing attraction. And it is Chimoio’s only one, known as the “Cabeza the Velho”. At sunset throngs of locals climbed up the slope made up of smooth flat rocks, giggling when the daring ones tried a few word in English on the random tourist. From its top you have a good view over the area, but the attraction was the journey itself.

Walking through one of Chimoio’s “Barrio” really made my day. The sandy track running through this lively cluster of houses keeps cars away and leaves space for people wandering around, between homes, neighborhood bars and foods stalls. Extremely clean yards and little vegetable gardens surround the huts with thatched or tin roofs. The only sound came from the chatting and laughing. In the yards families sat around in groups, scrubbed their children clean in a bucket or gossiped with neighbors and friends. Walking through this peaceful oasis I felt like on cloud nine. If I still had these paradise-like vibes having to live there, I dare not judge.

 

Picture by Jason Risley.