Across Mozambique

I left Cobue, Mozambique Sunday morning at about 8:30, this after waking up for what the driver had told me would be a 7am departure. I was in the cab of his truck, and he was driving to Metangula, the biggest town on Mozambique's lake shore. The back of the truck was filled with some guys who had come from Likoma with plastic barrels to fill with gas to sell on the island. It was a pretty uneventful trip through beautiful scenery, especially as we climbed through the mountains leaving the lake.

From Metangula I quickly caught a mini-bus to Lichinga, my destination for the day, and the capital of Niassa province. Once again I was lucky to have the front seat. We had filled the mini-bus before leaving, but shortly after three guys flagged it down, and they had 3 huge boxes. I was wondering where they would fit when the driver and his helper started taking out the back seat. So, onto the roof it went, their boxes where it had been, and the 4 rows of passengers squeezed into 3 rows. I was starting to think that maybe in Mozambique the mini-bus drivers are aware of the extreme discomfort of their vehicles and give foreigners the front seat. With no trouble we reached Lichinga, and I checked into my room for the night, and had a wander around town and dinner.

The next morning I was up much earlier to catch another mini-bus to Cuamba, from where I'd later catch a train most of the rest of the way to the coast. I got on the mini-bus at about 4:45, and we spent the next 1.5 hours trying to fill it. This time I was not in the front seat. It was a really entertaining 1.5 hours. We were tearing around the mostly dirt side streets of the city in the dark, horn blaring, the helper yelling out our destination and I think also that we had passengers, a sure sign we'd be leaving soon. Whenever anyone expressed interest, while the mini-bus was still moving the helper slid the door open, ran at the potential passenger, grabbed their bag, and threw it in. It reminded me of the van scene in Old School. Occasionally there was a lot of discussion; over what, I'm not sure, it seems you'd either want to go where the bus was going or not. At one point two mini-buses converged on the same potential customer. Our helper grabbed her bag and threw it in the van, the other ran over to get it, and a fight ensued. The woman ended up choosing the other mini-bus. Why, I'm not sure, we had more passengers. A bit later we caught up to another mini-bus on a main road and tried to pass it to beat it to passengers. But the other driver was having none of that and sped up, so we were racing side by side down the street until our driver decided going full speed down the wrong side of the road wasn't a great idea. But when that other mini-bus stopped for some passengers, we did too, and one who was already in it saw that we were closer to full and made a break for it. Between him and some others we picked up then, we had enough to go. No one seemed to be counting to make sure everyone would fit, but somehow they did. It was pretty much the most uncomfortable 8 hours I've ever spent. The crowdedness I could handle, but the seat was just painful to sit on. So, I was actually kind of relieved when about 20 miles from Cuamba, there was a sudden crack and the driver brought us to a quick stop. We had blown a shock on the left front side. But it was a great excuse to get out. An 18-wheeler we had just passed stopped to see what was going on. Apparently he was going to send another van when he got to Cuamba, but I wasn't interested in that idea. Another mini-bus passenger and I hopped into the truck cab, and rode the rest of the way to Cuamba sitting on the bed in the back of the cab. I have no idea if that other van was ever sent out...

Cuamba was a dusty town

with kind of a frontier feel to it. Despite having a population close to 200,000, there wasn't a single paved road in it. It had a beautiful setting though with steep mountains rising up to the east.

I would have to stay 2 nights to catch the train to Nampula, near the coast.

The train runs every day, however the 2nd class carriage only runs every other day, and I had been warned about 3rd class. Despite the setting, 2 nights was more than anyone would need to spend in Cuamba. With just 2 restaurants and nothing in particular to do, I was at loose ends by lunch the 2nd day.

On my second morning in Cuamba, my alarm went off at 4 to catch train. 2nd class, while comfortable enough, was hardly glamorous rail travel. Maybe in colonial days the carriage had been luxurious, but it had gone downhill,

and the lights and ventilation system weren't working, door latches were missing, and it was a pretty bumpy ride. But it was ok, we rode with the window down and enjoyed the breeze. The carriage had compartments for 6 people each, but I don't think any were full; I was sharing mine with 2 Mozambicans.

The scenery was amazing.

We were going through the mountains next too Cuamba for about the first half of the ride, then the landscape became flatter, but with occasional rocks suddenly rising steeply out of the ground. All along were small villages and farms.

This was a very remote part of Mozambique, and the villages very undeveloped. At each stop, villagers would come to the train to sell their goods;

mostly it was vegetables and chickens,

but some were selling snacks or trinkets. See how many different fried chicken parts you can identify.

On arrival in Nampula, I knew pretty quickly I didn't want to stay there. It was full of trash, noisy, and seemed overcrowded (in other words, seemed like most of the cities we've been through so far). But it was late enough to be questionable that I'd make it to Ilha de Mocambique, my destination on the coast. The travel across Mozambique was wearing on me though and the last thing I wanted to do was spend another night in a fleabag hotel to wake up at 4 am for my next transport. At the mini-bus stop, there were none going to Ilha, but one going to Monapo which was on the way to Ilha. So, with assurances from people who weren't mini-bus drivers or helpers that it would be easy to catch an onward mini-bus, I got on it. It was another very uncomfortable 3 hours (1 waiting to fill up, 2 on the road). At its peak, I counted 28 people in the van. When we got to Monapo, the mini-bus stop was a ghost town. No mini-buses to Ilha until the morning. And once again, I found myself in a fleabag hotel for the night. For dinner, since the hotel's restaurant was out of food, the manager took me next door to another restaurant. He thought I needed help with everything, which was sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy as his explanation of every simple thing (such as that I should pay for dinner) confused me into thinking something more complicated was going on and thus convinced him I had no idea what was going on. I got a half chicked that was half cooked, so I picked at it for a while, but all I really wanted to do was go to bed.

In the morning, I got to sleep in a bit and was up and on a mini-bus (of sorts, it was a pickup with a roof and benches in the back) around 7:30. Four hours later, between the waiting to fill up and all the stops, we had made it the 30 miles to Ilha. Just before we got to the causeway from the mainland to the island, the Indian Ocean came into view. We had last seen the ocean, the Atlantic, in Swakopmund, Namibia, close to 2 months before. So, this marked the successful crossing of Africa on land! I had used just about every kind of land transport in existence (except any motorcycles), and the only time we were in the air (into the Okavango Delta and Victoria Falls) wasn't for onward travel. I now have just one week left, which I'll split between Ilha de Mocambique and Pemba, where I fly home from.