Dhow Safari in Mozambique
Part 1: Food parcels for Mozambique
By Evan Haussmann
Getting there
Jen phoned her folks and joyously told them we were going on holiday to Mozambique. Holiday? She had the wrong idea, I tried to tell her I was working and "pack something to keep you dry. And book an appointment at the tropical diseases clinic." She scoffed.
The Querimba archipelago in northern Mozambique is one of the least visited places in Southern Africa, some say, in the world. That's why as I pushed 83 kilos of black boxes at the Cape Town baggage check-in counter lady, she said we'd have to pay almost the domestic ticket price in excess baggage charges.
"But I'm taking these crates of food into Northern Mozambique, we're on a mission." Well, the words Mozambique and mission set her off. Next thing we knew, we were missionaries on a mercy run with supplies for those poor people grovelling in third world degradation. Not quite, but the assumption discount helped. Right, one down, three flights left to BS through.
What was in the crates?
One had food, the heavy one, and the other spare cameras, film, first-aid, tent, MSR multi-fuel cooker, pot set, machete and if you're thinking kitchen sink, you're not far short.
The "hand luggage" had clothes-like stuff, not much, though too much. The food box had tinned and freeze-dried and sun-dried and Soya: dried, and pasta-like stuffs in its contents. We wouldn't be sad.
The plan was to arrive in Pemba, find out which way the wind was blowing and sail a dhow through the Querimba archipelago. I wanted to see what life is like in Northern Mozambique. An area populated by fishermen and tribes people in the mainland rural areas, both largely untouched by the desires and the "necessities" of the first world. But not for long. Development is preparing for touchdown.
The Querimba Archipelago
Was inaugurated a WWF reserve in August or September of 2002. It is home to marine life and big game all symbiotically existing with the humans. There are about seven Red listed species still present in the area, Dugongs among these. "The sport fishing is incredible," I was told by almost every white male I encountered there. There aren't many islands left for sale and the ones that are are not affordable to you or I anymore.
There are lodges springing up on most islands and architectural plans dot the mainland coast. Because of the difficulty involved in getting to these places and the impact tourism has on communities currently treading the delicate balance of survival, the developers hope to attract the rich. The thinking is: with fewer people visiting but paying more to be there, they have low impact on the environment while bringing in a maximum dollars per head. These dollars are to be used in protecting the pristine reefs and creating jobs for the local communities.
Dhow?
These are sailing boats that sailors have been using to ply the east African coast from Persia for some 2000 years. Sailing the southerly blowing Kaskazi wind between November and April, early Arab traders would bring chests, trinkets, carpets and spices from India and Arabia. The trade wind switches and blows north during the rest of the year, dhows rode the Kusi wind back home with cereals, wood, ivory and in later days, slaves.
The crafts' basic design and construction has hardly changed although there are variations on the theme. Originally they were all tapered at both stern and bow. With the arrival of the Portuguese explorers some dhow builders changed their design to the flattened sterns we see in most boats today. Think speedboat shape. Dhows have always been manufactured from planks cut from forests along the coast. In the early days these planks were strapped together with twine or leather and caulked with cotton, not a nail in sight.
Sails were woven from natural materials and resembled a grass mat. Ours, thank progress, was stitched from white canvas fabric. The sail is triangular, well, not quite as the bottom edge is extended and is called a lateen (I don't know what a five sided triangular shape would be called.) The biggest draw back of these boats is they suck to sail upwind. They really suck.
That's why these days you find quite a few fitted with long-shaft outboard engines, the bigger ones are diesel motor driven.
We're not sure where we're going, how do we get there?
Two days and four flights later, we stepped onto the sticky tar at Pemba airport, northern Mozambique. Gathering our gear mountain and pressing through the sweaty crowd, I broke eye contact with the last customs official, drooling at the sight of a tourist with unusual baggage. Head down, I slipped out of the terminal building, "Taxi!" My B.S. had mutated successfully at every turnstile, saving a substantial amount of beer money every time so far. I wasn't going to get the infamous African customs shakedown at the finishing line. Not me, I've been here before, I know how it works, if a government official asks, "Nao Compreende".
With the help of a contact locally, we found ourselves booked into Pete's beautiful glass bungalow nestled in the crook of a massive baobab all surrounded by that lush, cool tropical greenery signalling paradise - brochure style. We'd long for this place soon.
Refreshed we loped out of bed the next morning, got dressed, walked outside and melted in the heat. The humidity is incredibly high, clothes stick to your back and walking anywhere is best done around dawn and dusk when it's at its coolest. In Pemba the sun rises high and fast, shops close through the midday heat, everyone hides.
It's not what you know
Who. That's what. I'm lucky to have met and worked with key people in Mozambique. These guys were instrumental in helping me organise the whole trip in a very short amount of time. Kevin Record from the overland truck travel company; Wildlife Adventures has spent years navigating the channels and excuses for roads along this stretch of the country. His advice and information was priceless. Echoing what Mike Slater from www.mozguide.com had to say it looked promising. Once on the ground we established the winds had switched already, we'd have to drive north and enter the Archipelago from the top. We're sailing the Kaskazi. Southward ho!
Genevieve from the Pemba tourism information office; Kaskazi was forthcoming and generous with both advice and help, ferrying us around the town in her private car, negotiating prices, money exchange at market and setting up meetings with potential expedition crew. Contact her at kaskazini@kaskazini.com.
It was through Genevieve I met Nick Van Rensburg. He's been working in the forests and mines of the area for over five years. He wants to set up infrastructure to assist expeditions on the ground in Northern Mozambique. We're his guinea pigs.
It was in Nicks road assaulted Land Rover Defender pick-up that we found ourselves heading north overland through palm groves and subsistence farmlands a few days later. His assistant, a local guy, Daouda perched in the back on top of the gear mountain, 100 litres of fresh drinking water, two spare tyres and more last minute crap to carry. Being a single cab pick-up, Jen had to sit between us on a storage compartment, not exactly legal even in Mozambique.
Just before the crest of a hill Nick stopped, ushered me onto the back, Jen assumed the "luxury" shotgun seat. We breezed into the policemen's view all perfectly legal and waving. As soon as we were out of sight, Jen was back on the box. Hey, she's shorter than me! What do you mean chauvinist? Let's not digress, she's tough. My point is the small things that locals know can make your passage in a strange land smoother. This is why we arrived in the area around Mueda town within a day despite having two punctures within twenty minutes of each other. With this bit of extra time we'd made, I took the opportunity to visit a few tribal villages.
Makonde tribe
A tribe living around the town of Mueda in Cabo Delgado province with a reputation for being fearsome and socially insular. They're famous for their woodcarving. Their carvings were sold to raise funds used by Frelimo in the civil war, and are much sought after by collectors today. Makondes stand out in any market due to their facial scarification.
The practice of tattooing the face and body is said to have originated as a defence against capture by slavers. Slavers didn't want damaged goods. Tattooing became a rite of passage for teenagers. The angular designs were cut into the flesh and coal or ash rubbed into the wound. This was repeated until the desired effect was achieved. The women also pierce their upper lips and insert plugs often with a steel spike protruding about two centimetres. The pain involved was a preparation for the hardships of adult life, they say. Pessimists, ouch!
This rite of passage has been deemed unnecessary and all the tribal leaders agreed to do away with the practice. Slavery is dead after all. I haven't seen any young people with the markings save for a young model featured in a cellphone company billboard. (Advertisers pandering to the culturally diverse population with cultural icons and Photoshop, if you ask me.) Everyone I photographed in and around the village of N'tamba was over seventy years old. These old people represent the remnants of a cultural practice soon to disappear.
I was eager to stay but the land crew was costing beer money and with no spare tyres left, I thought it wise to head for repairs and get on with the main mission. Dhow Safari, Mozambique.
-ends.
All text and photographs © Evan Haussmann / www.autopia.co.za
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