Time and Transport

If there were two re-occurring themes to our 3 weeks in Mozambique they were Time: or rather nobody paying attention to time and transport: or rather the pain and hassle which seems to accompany all journeys by public transport. Most buses leave at 4:30am, well that's when they say they are going to leave, in reality it can be hours later and when I say bus what actually arrives is often a truck with far too many people squashed in the back between the sacks of rice, fire wood, live goats, chickens and even a bag of live crabs on one occasion!

The further we ventured north the more we realised that our ambition to travel the whole country overland including the notorious border crossing into Tanzania was just not physically possible in the 3 weeks we had and if we did attempt it our stress levels would sky rocket out of control, so we made a small compromise and flew from Beira to Pemba (the 1hr flight saving us 3 days of buses) and from Pemba to Dar es salaam (another 1 hour flight saving us the best part of 5 days worth of buses and boats). The experience we had on our last bus trip from Ibo island back to Pemba confirmed that this was indeed a very wise decision! About 10km out of Pemba the police patrol post stopped the truck we were in and insisted on seeing the passports of the two conspicuous white girls...they had soon found what they thought was a problem with our Visas and out of the truck we got following the policeman who had taken our passports. 20 minutes of argument later we were still without passports, very unclear what the problem was and the truck had to leave us...so there we were stuck in the middle of nowhere, no transport and 2 laughing policemen joking about us becoming their wives. With the last few seconds of battery I had left on my phone we called the only person we knew in Pemba, Peter the man who owned the accommodation we were about to go and stay at - hearing the panic in our voice he was with us in minutes along with a local staff member and they two tried to get the police to see that there really wasnt any problem. They insisted on taking us to the police station for the commander to resolve (although we had to drive said policeman as they don't have their own cars!) we waited and waited and then the police chief arrived, so totally drunk that he couldn't even cross the road, in fact he fell asleep on the pavement and so more waiting....Shelley and I were having visions of spending the night in a Mozambique jail (not an experience either of us wanted...especially as there was NOTHING WRONG!!) but Peter was our saviour and 2.5hrs later we left the station complete with passports.

There are so many other stories I could tell; of not being able to find food or drink on Ibo Island, the bar that had no drinks, the bus scam that nearly left us stranded, the crazy local Tipo Tinto rum fueled nights in Tofo and the constant waiting around in the early hours, but they can all wait so I have something to talk about when back in London.

The route for those interested:
Jo'burg - Maputo - Tofo - Vilankulos - Biera - Pemba - Ibo island - Pemba - Dar es salaam.....

Keep an eye out for:
The Times travel supplement featuring Mozambique and especially a photo of 2 slightly scruffy looking backpackers!