Mozambique

Mozambique

Leaving Zimbabwe was fairly straightforward, other than a farewell bag search by the local CID - our first in Africa - as we rode out of Mutare.

Entering Mozambique the first thing to strike us was the Mediterranean architecture - one of the few positive leftovers of the Portuguese colonial era. Having suffered centuries of Arab/European abuse, capped by a South African fueled 'civil' war, the Mozambicans could be forgiven for a level of xenophobia. Much to our surprise (and pleasure) however, we encountered only the customary African politeness.

Another thing that was particularly evident was the number of limb-less people, on crutches and in wheelchairs, a stark indication of the violence Mozambicans have endured. Apparently it costs only $5 to lay a landmine, but a hefty $1000 to remove EACH ONE of these terrifying weapons. As a result, the war-mongers have, needless to say, left their discovery to unwitting civilians.

We reached Chimoio, the first big town on our route, with US$4 and less fuel than we like to 'venture' with. Unfortunately Mozambique's ATMs are not yet internationally linked and traveller's cheques, even in High Street banks and forex bureaus, only attracted inquisitive scrutinisation. Subsequently, we set off for Beira, approximately 250kms away, at a fuel efficient 100kmh. We arrived at Campsite Biques, situated on the beach just north of Beira, with the Beemer running on vapours.

Beira

The stress of fuel conservation was soon replaced by the aggro of pitching the tent, on sand, in a gale force easterly blasting in from the ocean. Even with ten guy ropes, each pegged 5cm under the sand's surface, we were still unsure whether we owned a tent or a would-be kite. But, we weren't exactly spoilt for choice on the accommodation front so we shrugged and took ourselves off to Biques well stocked bar.

We pushed the outside squall to the back of our minds and were soon tucking into a veritable stockpile of Mozambique's 'legendary' prawns (small lobsters by Brit standards); all paid for by way of a 'got you by the balls' exchange rate for our traveller's cheques - 20% below the standard - still, we were liquid again.

We spent the next three days lazing around, exploring the numerous shipwrecks along the coast and playing pool and backgammon as the rain tipped it down outside the open sided bar.

All good things come to an end though. Sods law dictated that the wind, which hadn't let up for a moment since our arrival, had diminished to little more than a refreshing breeze the morning we had to pack the tent away - now a little warped and out of shape. We set off for Malawi and another journey of random emergency stops and pedestrian slalom as the locals continued to demonstrate a goats regard for the green cross code.

Customs had the final surprise for us on our exit. After a prolonged perusal of the bikes Carnet de Passage the officer in charge peered over the document and pointed out that it didn't cover Mozambique. We nervously double-checked to find he was indeed correct. Now, the scope in a scenario such as this for 'baksheesh' demands on behalf of the official is quite considerable, you could even say expected. But, with a smile, we were simply told "my colleagues let you in, so I'll have to let you out". Africa, once again, takes us by surprise!

Photographs

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