Global
Lay-Correspondent Report on South Africa
7: Mozambique
A good friend of a
family friend was friendly with a wealthy man who lived a few
miles from our plot. His house was the only house actually on
top of the ridge, straddling it, a huge two-story fortress of
brick and mortar painted white, of lovely clean Dutch
architecture symbolic of Boer heritage. You could see the house
from miles away, from either side of the ridge. I had walked
across the ridge to the house and beyond many times. I went
inside once with Dad. I recall an enormous main room downstairs
in the center of the house, very tall ceilings imprisoned by
massive wooden beams. Various sets of furniture were sprinkled
around the room. There was an amazing fireplace with a mantle of
solid Rhodesian (Zimbabwean) copper and the token wildlife busts
mounted around the room. On the second floor there was an
identical room but with different furniture, different décor.
How decadent the house was as it struck me (as opulent as any
palace in Europe) and then aghast, I saw the kitchen, an
enormous room tiled entirely floor to ceiling with Dutch Delft.
It didn’t escape me that he also had screens throughout, I
wondered whether the snakes came inside, really, why would they
not?
The friend of my
parent’s friend’s friend also owned two houses in Mozambique,
right next door to each other (we would learn) on a rise above
the beach. We were invited to stay there on vacation. It was
1975 (I believe). We were flown to Mozambique in our host’s
private plane, without him, and without Mom (who refused to fly
in the small plane). We arrived to find the houses, one old, one
new, and a private airstrip tucked out in the middle of nowhere.
Somehow I wasn’t surprised. This trip was entirely of Dad’s
design. The old house had a screened porch but I don’t remember
much else about it. It was overlooked by the new house, which I
thought particularly practical in design. Six bedrooms (or
perhaps it was only four) in a row, all of which opened out to a
large room with a vaulted ceiling that ran the length of the
house. The wall facing the ocean was entirely glass, a
magnificent view on the Indian Ocean. Both houses overlooked a
trailer campground out of sight below near the beach, very much
like a Zulu Kraal centered with a saloon that was closed during
the day but a lively hub bursting with energy after dark. People
filed out of the darkness into the saloon where we would mingle
with them. I tried to talk with them but no one spoke English
(only Portuguese), so I settled for just hanging around and
watching them party, sneaking a beer or two when no one was
looking, sneaking cigarettes. At closing time they would
disappear, not to be seen until the next night as if raised from
the dead.
Mozambique was a
Portuguese colony for over 450 years. By the time we arrived the
country had been embroiled in civil war for almost 10 years, due
largely (like South Africa) to their oppressive racial policies,
but we never saw any military presence what-so-ever. I think we
must have been so far off the beaten track, so far south where
the country is slender and dwindles to an end, there just wasn’t
any activity. We never saw anyone but the people from the
campground at night in the saloon. During the day I spent most
of my time walking for miles up the beach, always north,
stripped down and swimming. I never saw anyone else on the beach
no matter how far I walked, which was fine with me, people tend
to freak out when you’re naked, they don’t understand. Africa
does that to you, or at least it did it to me. One day we
decided to hit the neared town or village, how could we leave
this place without a feel for the local populace? We drove south
down the beach in the buggies. We drove for at least an hour,
perhaps two or even more, I don’t remember how long. I remember;
sitting high up on the back of the buggy (not in the seat) wind
blown under the baking sun, flying down the endless breathtaking
white sand, driving where the sand is still moist from the waves
rolling in, being sprayed with mist from the waves, looking for
Madagascar.
