The following italic text was written by one of our visitors earlier this year of his experience in Mabalane. I.didn't change any of it I only cut out some of the original email that wasn't about Mabalane. Why is it so dramatic? Well if you knew the author or Mabalane, you'd understand. I present you with
True Peace Corps Stories: Mabalane by Drew
"The first line of this email is dedicated to the greatest act of brohesion that has occurred in my Moz peacecorps experience. There I was trekking with Forrest and James along a path that led from their crocodile/schisto infested river back to their town, a path that was roughly 7k long, and my flip flop popped… What did Forrest offer, he asked me if I was missing “Vilankulos” yet. It was roughly the 82nd Vilankulos related comment he had made since I had arrived in Mabalane roughly 19 hours before. What did James offer, the greatest gift a bro can give… but well I’m getting a little ahead of myself, let’s dial back the story about one and a half days and roughly 400 miles.
Traveling to the matu-est site in Southern Mozambique requires a five day weekend. I found out school wouldn’t be starting for another 9 days until February 15th, so now would be the perfect time to travel down to Gaza, past the KFC in Xai Xai (the best part of Gaza) to my friend Forrest and James’s site in Mabalane. Mabalane has become the stuff of legend in our 15er group, it seemed every time we got together for a conference or a get together James or Forrest had another story about their uber matu site. “Yeah, we live next to a prison, sometimes the prisoners leave and wander around the town.” “Yeah, it takes us four and a half hours to catch rides out 40k.” “Yeah, this one time I fell asleep in this carvao (charcoal) truck and fell asleep in the back and then we broke down and I slept on the side of the road.” It seemed that Mabalane itself was the wacky third roommate in Forrest and James’s peacecorps “Three’s Company” experience. But if I was ever going to get down south I would have to take another five day travel weekend to get down there so I could spend more than 19 hours at their site before turning around and heading back up north. On Wednesday morning/Thursday I was off, I took the overnight express Maputo bus (Don’t tell Peacecorps, this phrase will occur in multiple places) to Macia so that I could make good time and spend a day in Guija before I hopped a truck with Forrest on Friday.
However after my brief respite in Guija was over it was time to do what I came to Gaza to do, find the mystical city of Mabalane! I rendezvoused with Forrest in the burgeoning metropolis of Chokwe, he had to buy several items, 27 baggias, 3 cheeseburgers, a basilla, a new fan, a new broom, and 40 breads. Forrest was easy to spot, James had just shaved his head so spotting a six foot five shaved headed white guy was the easiest part of my day. After acquiring the necessary grocery items we headed out to James and Forrest’s home. We caught a reasonably fast ride, the 4-6 hour journey was completed in a mere 3 hours, very cool if you think about how much time I’d be able to spend there, not as cool if you look at the pictures of the road we took in or look at the bloodblisters on my hands from hanging desperately onto the bed of a cargo truck.
As I entered James and Forrests house I was faced with how not unlike hell on earth it was. Sure it was not the ritz carlton but my co-pcvs were also not squatting in a ditch shading themselves from the sun with banana leaves. The most striking feature was how hot it was inside, easily 40 degrees centigrade or more than 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Three fans were running at once, and the breeze they created was pleasant but if you were not immediately adjacent to the fan they really just pushed the hot air around, weak. Apparently the fans were also a relatively new addition to the house, only having been around since after last thanksgiving. The first night we deep fried vegetables and smothered them in smuggled in ranch dressing. We needed the fuel for our epic hike the following morning.
After really comfortable night of sleep (3 nestera mats stacked on each other plus two fuzzy peace corps blankets equals one halfway decent bed) we set out around 11 AM, right before the hottest part of the day, we are geniuses in southern Mozambique. The plan was to hike the 7 or 7 and a half K down to the river and initially this is what we do. Things are going well, its hot but we are moving at a nice clip. James points out the prison that is within 2k of their school. I hear about the time they, and some expat Eastern European tourists accidently wandered into the prison and were detained for questioning… we took the wide way around the prison. But soon after the prison we found that the path next to the canal had merged with the canal. Not the canal had not dried up, it had actually spilled over and about three quarters of a k had become a marshy highway. With no alternative we trudged on, and it was actually kind of nice because suddenly our feet, ankles, kneecaps and in some instances our upper thighs suddenly became cooler. After crossing the LOTR-esque marsh lands we finally came to the river. It was…flowing at least. Several Mozambicans had warned us that Crocs were all over the place so Forrest and I started hucking rocks into the water hoping that if there were crocs on the bottom this would force them to surface. James pointed out that perhaps the rocks would attract crocs but at that point the rocks had been thrown, they couldn’t be unthrown. Forrest and I gingerly waded up to our mid ankles then immediately flopped into the water enough to wash the sweat and crud off ourselves. However we only replaced said crud with stagnant river crud, so all in all it was kind of a draw. After quickly scampering back onto shore James, the boldest of the three, waded out to his hips and then flopped around a little, then got out of the water quickly.
With the river trip under our belts we turned and took a different trail back to town that was about 8k away. Everything was going absolutely fine until the thong on my flip flop popped… If there was a worse place I’ve been in Moz to pop a flip flop I can’t think of it. We were on an incredibly hot road, it was roughly 1 pm and there was no one else around for kilometers. I won’t reproduce what I yelled word for word, let’s just say that I flexed and exercised my vocabulary that day. At this moment Forrest chose to point out once again the difference between Mabalane and Vilankulos. Forrest had frequently pointed out the differences between our sites during my visit to his site. I decided that was the ideal time to tell Forrest about all the different things I was going to do the following week and how I was going to text him about every single little detail. I did this in a perfectly calm and normal voice, and by normal and calm I mean I was screaming with veins bulging in both my neck and forehead. James meanwhile kept his cool and reluctantly agreed to let me use the drawstring bag he was using as a backpack to fashion a temporary shoe. By tying the drawstrings tight around my ankle we were able to create protection for my feet from the hot hot sand. James gave me the shirt (technically backpack) off his back so that my foot wouldn’t be subjected to an ungodly blistering. Forrest decided that time was the ideal time to point out the ways our peacecorps experiences were different. Eventually we followed the path and arrived back in town. We promptly went to their towns only restaurant and got 3 big bottles of water as well as a huge grape Fanta to split four ways. We also ordered three meia frangos that eventually arrived.
What could top a tortuous afternoon of hiking? A violent thunderstorm you say, well that is exactly what we got that night. Luckily Forrest had fully charged his laptop so we were not without entertainment. We tried to watch the incoming storm but the winds were pushing us off of their porch. Sometime between when the storm started and when we looked out the window the tin roof that was the only covering for their latrine/shower (one and the same room, thanks peacecorps) had blown away. Forrest also took this opportunity to mention that with the weather there was no way I was going to escape Mabalane in less than 7 hours. Thanks again Forrest. But the next day I caught a medium full truck that got me back to Chokwe in only four and a half hours. By the time I rolled into Chicumbana to pick up Vivienne it was decided that KFC was needed immediately. The last time I had eaten was the meio frango in Mabalane so I proceeded to order- two twisters, two popcorn chickens, two fries and two coke zeroes. Vivienne bet me I couldn’t finish it, a foolish bet if I ever heard one and while I was finishing the last fries I texted Forrest about what I had just eaten and that I was about to buy a soft serve cone too. I thought as long as I was known as the soft coastal volunteer I might as well embrace that roll and all the fringe benefits it entails. The following day was another blur of travel but at some point I did arrive back in Northern Inhambane, and there is no place like home, oh Dorothy you said it alright. This week will be a nice relaxing week, I just found out that even though the students have arrived we won’t start classes until next Monday. Swell, spare time, that’s exactly what I need at this point."
True Peace Corps Stories: Mabalane by Drew
"The first line of this email is dedicated to the greatest act of brohesion that has occurred in my Moz peacecorps experience. There I was trekking with Forrest and James along a path that led from their crocodile/schisto infested river back to their town, a path that was roughly 7k long, and my flip flop popped… What did Forrest offer, he asked me if I was missing “Vilankulos” yet. It was roughly the 82nd Vilankulos related comment he had made since I had arrived in Mabalane roughly 19 hours before. What did James offer, the greatest gift a bro can give… but well I’m getting a little ahead of myself, let’s dial back the story about one and a half days and roughly 400 miles.
Traveling to the matu-est site in Southern Mozambique requires a five day weekend. I found out school wouldn’t be starting for another 9 days until February 15th, so now would be the perfect time to travel down to Gaza, past the KFC in Xai Xai (the best part of Gaza) to my friend Forrest and James’s site in Mabalane. Mabalane has become the stuff of legend in our 15er group, it seemed every time we got together for a conference or a get together James or Forrest had another story about their uber matu site. “Yeah, we live next to a prison, sometimes the prisoners leave and wander around the town.” “Yeah, it takes us four and a half hours to catch rides out 40k.” “Yeah, this one time I fell asleep in this carvao (charcoal) truck and fell asleep in the back and then we broke down and I slept on the side of the road.” It seemed that Mabalane itself was the wacky third roommate in Forrest and James’s peacecorps “Three’s Company” experience. But if I was ever going to get down south I would have to take another five day travel weekend to get down there so I could spend more than 19 hours at their site before turning around and heading back up north. On Wednesday morning/Thursday I was off, I took the overnight express Maputo bus (Don’t tell Peacecorps, this phrase will occur in multiple places) to Macia so that I could make good time and spend a day in Guija before I hopped a truck with Forrest on Friday.
However after my brief respite in Guija was over it was time to do what I came to Gaza to do, find the mystical city of Mabalane! I rendezvoused with Forrest in the burgeoning metropolis of Chokwe, he had to buy several items, 27 baggias, 3 cheeseburgers, a basilla, a new fan, a new broom, and 40 breads. Forrest was easy to spot, James had just shaved his head so spotting a six foot five shaved headed white guy was the easiest part of my day. After acquiring the necessary grocery items we headed out to James and Forrest’s home. We caught a reasonably fast ride, the 4-6 hour journey was completed in a mere 3 hours, very cool if you think about how much time I’d be able to spend there, not as cool if you look at the pictures of the road we took in or look at the bloodblisters on my hands from hanging desperately onto the bed of a cargo truck.
As I entered James and Forrests house I was faced with how not unlike hell on earth it was. Sure it was not the ritz carlton but my co-pcvs were also not squatting in a ditch shading themselves from the sun with banana leaves. The most striking feature was how hot it was inside, easily 40 degrees centigrade or more than 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Three fans were running at once, and the breeze they created was pleasant but if you were not immediately adjacent to the fan they really just pushed the hot air around, weak. Apparently the fans were also a relatively new addition to the house, only having been around since after last thanksgiving. The first night we deep fried vegetables and smothered them in smuggled in ranch dressing. We needed the fuel for our epic hike the following morning.
After really comfortable night of sleep (3 nestera mats stacked on each other plus two fuzzy peace corps blankets equals one halfway decent bed) we set out around 11 AM, right before the hottest part of the day, we are geniuses in southern Mozambique. The plan was to hike the 7 or 7 and a half K down to the river and initially this is what we do. Things are going well, its hot but we are moving at a nice clip. James points out the prison that is within 2k of their school. I hear about the time they, and some expat Eastern European tourists accidently wandered into the prison and were detained for questioning… we took the wide way around the prison. But soon after the prison we found that the path next to the canal had merged with the canal. Not the canal had not dried up, it had actually spilled over and about three quarters of a k had become a marshy highway. With no alternative we trudged on, and it was actually kind of nice because suddenly our feet, ankles, kneecaps and in some instances our upper thighs suddenly became cooler. After crossing the LOTR-esque marsh lands we finally came to the river. It was…flowing at least. Several Mozambicans had warned us that Crocs were all over the place so Forrest and I started hucking rocks into the water hoping that if there were crocs on the bottom this would force them to surface. James pointed out that perhaps the rocks would attract crocs but at that point the rocks had been thrown, they couldn’t be unthrown. Forrest and I gingerly waded up to our mid ankles then immediately flopped into the water enough to wash the sweat and crud off ourselves. However we only replaced said crud with stagnant river crud, so all in all it was kind of a draw. After quickly scampering back onto shore James, the boldest of the three, waded out to his hips and then flopped around a little, then got out of the water quickly.
With the river trip under our belts we turned and took a different trail back to town that was about 8k away. Everything was going absolutely fine until the thong on my flip flop popped… If there was a worse place I’ve been in Moz to pop a flip flop I can’t think of it. We were on an incredibly hot road, it was roughly 1 pm and there was no one else around for kilometers. I won’t reproduce what I yelled word for word, let’s just say that I flexed and exercised my vocabulary that day. At this moment Forrest chose to point out once again the difference between Mabalane and Vilankulos. Forrest had frequently pointed out the differences between our sites during my visit to his site. I decided that was the ideal time to tell Forrest about all the different things I was going to do the following week and how I was going to text him about every single little detail. I did this in a perfectly calm and normal voice, and by normal and calm I mean I was screaming with veins bulging in both my neck and forehead. James meanwhile kept his cool and reluctantly agreed to let me use the drawstring bag he was using as a backpack to fashion a temporary shoe. By tying the drawstrings tight around my ankle we were able to create protection for my feet from the hot hot sand. James gave me the shirt (technically backpack) off his back so that my foot wouldn’t be subjected to an ungodly blistering. Forrest decided that time was the ideal time to point out the ways our peacecorps experiences were different. Eventually we followed the path and arrived back in town. We promptly went to their towns only restaurant and got 3 big bottles of water as well as a huge grape Fanta to split four ways. We also ordered three meia frangos that eventually arrived.
What could top a tortuous afternoon of hiking? A violent thunderstorm you say, well that is exactly what we got that night. Luckily Forrest had fully charged his laptop so we were not without entertainment. We tried to watch the incoming storm but the winds were pushing us off of their porch. Sometime between when the storm started and when we looked out the window the tin roof that was the only covering for their latrine/shower (one and the same room, thanks peacecorps) had blown away. Forrest also took this opportunity to mention that with the weather there was no way I was going to escape Mabalane in less than 7 hours. Thanks again Forrest. But the next day I caught a medium full truck that got me back to Chokwe in only four and a half hours. By the time I rolled into Chicumbana to pick up Vivienne it was decided that KFC was needed immediately. The last time I had eaten was the meio frango in Mabalane so I proceeded to order- two twisters, two popcorn chickens, two fries and two coke zeroes. Vivienne bet me I couldn’t finish it, a foolish bet if I ever heard one and while I was finishing the last fries I texted Forrest about what I had just eaten and that I was about to buy a soft serve cone too. I thought as long as I was known as the soft coastal volunteer I might as well embrace that roll and all the fringe benefits it entails. The following day was another blur of travel but at some point I did arrive back in Northern Inhambane, and there is no place like home, oh Dorothy you said it alright. This week will be a nice relaxing week, I just found out that even though the students have arrived we won’t start classes until next Monday. Swell, spare time, that’s exactly what I need at this point."
1 comment:
hahaha love it! guess you guys gave him a realy taste of the good life eh? ;) stay safe!
ashley
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