17th of June, 2018.
Two nice British men pick me up. Unfortunately, they are going just to Pemba, because I would love spend the whole day travelling with them, until Beira if possible. I stay with them until around eleven o’clock and before they leave, they give me one of their lunch box.
I got another small lift until the next intersection. So small that I even get in the back of this small pick-up.
From there I just decide to walk until a better place with a good shadow, where I could sit appropriately and eat my mysterious and probably delicious lunch box.
After I pass by a guard and he asks me a few questions, I am wondering if would not be better if I ask him for a little help, like putting me in a express bus. But I just keep walking.
Suddenly a truck stops. When the guy come out of the window I honestly thought he is alone, or maximum with one passenger. It is when I realize that in Mozambique, they do a lot of illegal passenger transportation. There are some twelve people in the cabin and almost not space for me. The worst part is I could not even eat my lunch box in front of all those people. There are kids also.
The driver’s mobile phone disappear and he ask to check on everyone’s bags and stuff. But he does not want to check mine and I do not know why.
Just when a few of those people leave, including the kids, and it is already dark, I decide open my magical box and eat. I am so surprise how good it is: some nice egg toasts, a delicious ginger muffin and a yogurt. Yummy!
When we arrive in the destination, Nampula, the driver offer me stay with him for the night because next morning he would keep going on. But since I have no plans of keep travelling by trucks (otherwise it will take me forever to reach my goal), I say it would be better if I stay somewhere near town or something like that.
Walking and asking about where there is a nun’s house, I get help from a couple and another boy, very nice people who walk with me until the place. I highly appreciate the gesture.
The nuns let me stay and again give me some food: rice and vegetables and some juice. We talk for while and they are pretty nice. Sisters Delfina and Fatima put a mattress and some blankets in one bedroom and I sleep over there. In the morning, after eating an orange and my lovely yogurt, I a young lady, who is preparing to become a nun, walks with me until the road, with my small bag in her head to help me with the weight. So nice!
Again, I have to walk quite a lot until the end of the town. Once in there, I make two sandwiches while waiting for a lift which takes a long time to show up. After waiting for quite a while, I decide to walk a bit more.
Again, police fucking me off! And why I am still accepting help from those guys? Ahhh! It is because they just feel so offended when you lightly show that you do not agree, have better plans, and or know more than them. So some stupid police officers get me a lift to Beira in a truck. Shit, man!
Of course this truck is also full and I remain sit in the floor, in between the divers and passenger’s seats, for eight hours! A fucking hot floor! Having to getting up every time someone have to go down. The driver is extraordinary rude sometimes and but then he gives me two oranges and a banana. And I taste some delicious beans, called game beans, which look like peanuts, because you just have to open the skin and through it out, like playing. Delicious! But basically that’s all I eat the whole day.
A curious thing happen when one police officer come to the window and ask just for my passport. He starts to read it. Or at least trying to. First he says: “Lady, this passport is out of date”. I say that it is impossible because it is valid until 2026. When I get from his hands to see what is going on, I realize he is actually looking at my Mauritania Visa. Laugh. I explain to him he s equivocated and open in the right page. Then he says that my Visa it is written by hands so he could considered that a falsification. Laugh. I could not remember if it was written by hands or not but, even if it was, I couldn’t care less, I knew I was right. So I just take it from him again and again he is looking at the wrong place: to my East African Visa. Laugh. He finally let me go, probably very ashamed.
We arrive quite late in Nakudala. I walked across the road, in the darkness, looking for a cross of a church where I could ask for shelter. I see a bar and get inside. What? You started looking for a church and ended up in a bar? Yeah! Laugh. But, unfortunately, not for the obvious reasons but because I see some girls over there so I decide ask them information. First, they actually offer me to spend the night over there, with them. I thought that is an awesome idea but I am a little suspicious as well so I decide to stick with the plan. One of the girls walk with me until the place. Once in there, after talking with some people, talking with someone in the phone, they give me one of the teacher’s bedroom. And they actually explain to me why all the security stuff. Looks like they did the same thing in the past, trying to help some backpackers, and ended up not very well, so they are being precocious now.
I have a tuna sandwich and some biscuits before going to sleep. After a great night of sleep I wake up after seven to keep my journey.
Two guys from Bangladesh give me a ride until Caia. They buy me a Coke as well. The driver have already been in Brazil and show me some pictures. Nice people they are.
In Caia, taking a rest in the shadow of a police control, again I do the wrong thing on trusting on them (what a hell is wrong with me?) and they put me in a mini bus. This is about to be the worst travel until now.