Just Weekly

 

I started writing this blog on a daily basis. In 2007 I changed to four a week posts and that’s how it has been until now. At this stage I feel like I can say whatever I feel like saying with just a weekly post, starting today.

 

Writing weekly brings a few advantages to me, namely time to organize or complete things I’ve been postponing. It also avoids stopping for good and losing what I learned in terms of writing.

 

Becoming more synthetic is going to be a challenge and I’ll have to select subjects with more care. Such challenges give me a sort of positive excitement and that feels good.

 

Besides this weekly posts, I intend to write when I have a genuine tale from the sea to tell, in an attempt to be truthful to my initial purposes.

Goodbye

 

June said goodbye with a front cold. Cold is not the first word to mention when we think Mozambique, but Maputo doesn’t follow the rule. Enclosed between Swaziland and South African highs, this region is a corridor open to all weather extremes.

 

Before the cold we had weeks and weeks of spring like days, followed by chilled nights, corresponding to amplitudes of more than 20C.

 

In terms of climate, we can say that Maputo is unique. I guess we usually have less than two months of real cold. The trouble is that cold here is generally associated with dryness and humidity, in both cases very unpleasant combinations.

 

One of those cold, dry days had to happen during one of the last Tuesdays or Thursdays of June, since we had a tae bo class on that same day. Everybody was complaining of shivers, cold sweats, sore and dry throat.

 

On the other hand, I don’t even know how to describe the unpleasantness of cold associated with extreme humidity. The truth is that we never are tuned to cold and when it happens it’s just aha, bah and aaaaargh. As if birds, some of us migrate up North constantly seeking summer. Some stay to enlarge the choir of ahas and bahs.

Married With a Chef

 

At least once a year I feel as if I was married with my chef Tieta. That only happens when she is leaving on holidays. Before that we argue for this and that, usually around the extent of her holidays. Her days account never matches mine.

 

I have an agreement with her: besides the usual 30 days, I give her quiet days during the whole year. Being quiet means the boys are not home. In exchange of this, I cut in her annual holidays the absences for most of the reasons, except for those the recently published law contemplates. It has to be like this because Tieta really has the tendency to be absent in the most unsuitable moments.

 

Because she seems to have a very short memory in what concerns her assiduity, last Saturday I organized a registration system where she signs each time she fails to show up. I explained that we should stop disagreeing in the future. She seemed to be glad with my initiative.

 

We argue like a good old couple, but the day we part both of us produce unmistakable declarations of mutual love, like: “I could pick another chef (or house), but I got so used that I don’t want to change…” “It’s so good as it is now.” These and other “love statements” are very quiet. It’s our goodbye ritual. It reminds me of a couple I saw saying goodbye at a train station. The separation seemed so hard that I suspected they were glued! She looked so lost afterwards… That’s more or less how Tieta and I looked on the afternoon of last Saturday 4, the same day pup Keket completed five months – four of them with us.

Gone Fishing Again

When the unexpected happens, I just feel like saying: gone fishing!!!

Mornings Without Sun

 

 

 

 

 

Mornings are instants
Forever lost, forever written

 

Mornings are words
Never asked, never told

 

 

                   Eyes diluted in the mist

Writing Pause

 

I’ve been writing a book. I am sure that I’ll finish it and maybe write some more, but I felt like stopping for a while. The reason making me stop is puzzlement. I don’t know if writer puzzlement exists, but I am sure simple human puzzlement is common.

 

I was writing under the impression that a polluted and smelly river was a bad thing from any possible point of view. I needed information, so I started to read a local blog and discovered a few disturbing aspects: 1) Local people don’t seem to bother that much. 2) They get offended if a stranger points at the river condition and the fetid stench, being stranger any person who doesn’t live there. It’s like they are saying: “If you don’t smell it, you are not allowed to touch the subject.”

 

As a person and as someone trying to write, I’ve just discovered that my truth never is absolute. I am sure this puzzlement is a learning process that will change the way I write and maybe the way I live. For now, I absolutely need this assessment pause.

Fragile Economy

 

We live under a very fragile economy. It just takes day-to-day small things to keep us remembering of that.

 

Since weeks ago we started to notice that a few basic stuff went missing from the shelves. It’s truth that we only shop in two or three places, but they are the main suppliers of Maputo consumers. For instance, I couldn’t find honey to bake a cake and we had to search in three different shops before finding our regular washing powder. 

 

It took us to be in South Africa to realize why: the Rand is getting stronger and Mozambican economy is complaining. Between other things, this is also a clear indicator of the deficient capitalization of this system. The fact is that nobody cares, government included.

 

They all forget (or never learned) the importance of a strong private sector for the economy. I know they all admit it and now and then loudly say it. They even write it on paper. In practical terms, there’s no single measure indicating that same importance.

TV Cooking

 

Saturday 6 was a happy day. A happy day, obviously, starts with a happy morning. And what defines a happy morning? Sometimes it’s just a slant of autumn light. Sometimes it’s just a gust of wind. And sometimes it’s a humming sound escaping from an open door.

 

Saturday mornings are faithfully devoted to cooking. On that particular one I tested a few TV recipes, both sweet and savoury. The last one was easy and consisted of a simplified lasagna recipe. The dessert turned out to be too sweet and gluey.

 

While I was cooking inside, Tieta mastered her matapa in our small backyard kitchen and puppy Keket, who is rediscovering the pleasures of past privileges and her fondness for Yellow Spiky, played not far from my feet. Sometimes I give, sometimes I take back. It seems to be a popular current motto and I am a good student. Anyway, sometime in the morning I remember for a moment thinking how television has been helping people to get better in the kitchen. Finally… a merit!

About Being Yellow and Red

 

 

 Round and round it goes

      Yellow that’s how it is

 

The centre explodes in red

The colour exists to please

 

       It gives, gently it gives

     Again, again and again

 

          Fragility in the wind

          Flower until the end

 

                                   It can seem pointlessly happy            But when closed for the night

                                         It can seem utterly boring            Tomorrow is a different story

 

 

June Craft Exhibition

 

Old, beautiful Fortaleza de Maputo staged an exhibition under the designation: Feira Junina-Artesanato. The name is just because it happened in June, period not only ideal for events of this nature but also when Mozambique celebrates 34 years as an independent country. An organization associated to the World Crafts Council was responsible for the event sponsored by a couple of local companies. The purpose was celebrating being Mozambican, through cultural tradition and craftsmanship.

 

All in all, the positive aspects supplanted the negative: 1) Picking Fortaleza de Maputo was a good move. 2) The visit was worthwhile, both in terms of quality and quantity. 3) A timid attempt to show Mozambican cuisine was highly appreciated.

 

Negative, only the fact that it was too short: a mere 4 days, 3 to 7 of June. We could hear people complaining everywhere. This is a small town. Most people go to a place because they hear someone talking about it. Publicizing works, but independent opinion works even better.

 

Presumably, the best crafts of all corners of Mozambique could be appreciated during Feira Junina. My favorite stand displayed silver and Ming porcelain work. The sea gives 500 years old nuggets of history and people transform them into the bread they eat. It has been like this since ever. History nature and the poor, a clever partnership.