Mister Never Happy

 

It was our usual daily walk. I couldn’t resist pointing to Paul the soft pink and blue sunset substituting the orange and red summer tones. It has been such nice winter days, in Maputo!

 

The same moment I was talking, I noticed a curious look coming from the male half of a white couple walking on the same direction we were walking. As we were doing it a lot faster, minutes later we crossed with them again, but now on opposite directions.

 

As soon as I saw them coming towards us, I knew he was going to stare at me. I would say the man in question is middle age, though I am not sure what middle age is. (If one dies at sixty, then middle age is thirty. But if dying happens later, lets say at hundred and twenty, then middle age is sixty.) Anyway, there is a common sense that middle age is forty, maybe based in the ideal of living at least eighty years – an ideal Africans are still very far from reaching.

 

That man was holding the right hand of a girl surely half his age. It was impossible for me to ignore the opportunity of wondering about male behavior in terms of sexuality. It’s no use: men are always hunting! So, to the ladies dealing with similar problems, my words are: don’t try to stop that natural curiosity and be happy if it stays like that.

 

Now that sexuality is no longer a tabu (notwithstanding all the negative repression still existing and doing more harm than good), but a free form of expression, you must always remember that what counts are feelings. Sexual contents are so available and common! Sometimes, feelings are the only thing we can rely on. Does he stares at another women? Don’t bother if he has feelings for you that show in every single gesture he does!

 

We crossed a third time with the same couple. This round the one I could notice clearly staring was the female. She was evaluating competition… It all fitted the principles: 1) Men cannot avoid the “never happy with what they got” behavior. 2) Half of the women cannot avoid the insecurity born from that behavior. 3) The other half can never thank enough the boost to their egos.

 

That’s simply how things are. We cannot change them. We can only rely on feelings – when they exist.

The Week After

 

The week after a party is always quiet. Even my dog Thoth has to catch up on his sleep. I wonder why?!…

 

Just for the record, this is my own perspective of the main events of our last week of June: Saturday) Andy’s party started before lunch and went on up to midnight. Sunday) Was there a Sunday? Monday) We are barely raring to go and I also remember a certain degree of uneasiness due to political differences… Tuesday) I found a dying spider in a meaningful place. Consequently, I’ve been worried. Wednesday) I had the peaceful day I deserved, after all the kicking and punching of the previous day. Thursday) TD is leaving for France and Holland. Organizing, shopping and dancing… That should be enough to describe how it was. But no! Maybe because of the spider, I also had to cook and plan meals for the weekend. Our “chef” Tieta is very sick and I don’t know when she will be back. Friday) Isn’t it wonderful when we can fulfill a dream that we have – even if a simple, tangible dream?

 

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A semana depois de uma festa é sempre calma e silenciosa. Até o meu cão Thoth tem de pôr o seu sono em dia. Por que será?!…

 

Só como registo, esta é a minha perspectiva dos principais acontecimentos da última semana de Junho. Sábado) A festa do Andy começou antes do almoço e conttinuou até à meia-noite. Domingo) Qual domingo? Segunda) Ainda estamos com pouco entusiasmo para prosseguir e também me lembro de um certo mal-estar devido a diferenças políticas… Terça) Encontrei uma aranha quase morta, num sítio com muito significado. Consequentemente, fiquei preocupada. Quarta) Tive o dia de descanso que merecia, depois de todos os kicks e socos da véspera. Quinta) O TD partiu hoje para França e Holanda. Organizar, fazer compras e dançar… Isto devia ser suficiente para descrever como foi o dia. Mas não! Talvez por causa da aranha, também fui forçada a cozinhar e planear refeições para o fim-de-semana. A nossa “chefe” Tieta adoeceu gravemente e não sei quando regressará. Sexta) Não é maravilhoso quando podemos realizar um sonho – mesmo tratando-se de um sonho simples e realizável?

My Name Is Kim

 

It seems it’s becoming usual (?) for people to introduce themselves like this:

 

“My name is Kim. I am 29 and I like sex.”

 

If they say it, it’s because people out there think it’s quite normal and maybe that’s even what they want to hear. I have to tell that I am a little puzzled with stating something like that publicly.

 

In contrast, the other day, while I was waiting for something to happen, I was entertained by one of those gossip columns where a certain man described how a certain ex-girlfriend was good in terms of performance. At the end of this “brilliant” text, I felt a deep sympathy for her and asked myself who would pick such man, even if he were the last one on earth.

 

What I have to remark to those girls: 1) Isn’t it common to like sex? 2) Shouldn’t people describe themselves for the things that best individualize them? 3) Wouldn’t it be more interesting to let a particular person discover how good you are, instead of advertising it to any?

 

If you want to know, if I read or hear someone talking in that manner I could easily feel like replying with one of the below:

 

“Do you need to say it to convince yourself?”
“Do you fake it that well?”
“Are you that needy?”
“You do? Curious, because I don’t.”
“Glad to meet you. My name is Kim. I am 92 and I like sex too.”

Stir-Fry

 

Saturday 14th of June I had a stir-fry for dinner. As I wasn’t at home, better tell you about it from the start.

 

Last year I discovered a B&B owned by a European ambassador based in Mozambique. It is small, it is quiet, it’s very clean and it’s very handy for shopping or safari expeditions, mostly in a place where only road hotels are available.

 

I was looking forward to meet Cara, the plain but efficient and friendly German manager. To tell the truth, she was one of the reasons for my insistence in returning. As soon as we asked for her, we were informed that she was no longer there. In her place, another lady received us with a nice, polite manner. As we soon understood, a couple slightly older than Cara is now running the business.

 

We had booked and also ordered dinner, expecting a nice pasta à la Cara. Instead, the new lady manager, Laura’s her name, informed us that she had a sir-fry planned and asked if it was all right. We agreed with the menu.

 

At the set time, we showed up at the dining. Despite the B&B being full, we were supposedly the only ones caring about a homemade meal. Dinner was: green salad, stir-fry, homemade chocolate cake and wine on the house.

 

I asked if the couple managing the house had already dinned, and when he said no, I suggested that they sat and ate with us, what they gladly accepted. It turned out to be a pleasant meal, enlightened by: 1) Social and political situation in SA and Zimbabwe: here conversation grew positively heated! 2) Story of the hosting couple. 3) Discovery that we had already met through common friends. 4) Realization that my spoken English has also improved, though I suspect a glass of wine helped a lot – giving me loquaciousness and also a migraine.

 

It’s impossible to report here all the subjects we talked about, but I cannot ignore their love story. He is an European, with all the manners of the place where he was born and raised, though he doesn’t seem very proud of his roots. During years he worked in the tea business. She was an air stewardess. He traveled a lot and that’s how they met. Later they came to Mozambique, where he also worked in the tea for quite sometime. It was interesting to follow how they ended up managing a B&B not far from the Kruger. In Mozambique, they were neighbors of our good friends, and that’s how we met them a couple of times. The recognition came at the end of the meal, like a surprise dessert.

 

But the night was meant to be full of surprises. When I asked about Cara’s destiny, Laura, the ex-stewardess turned B&B manager, decided that now I deserved a complete explanation.

 

“She met someone…” she confided with a shy smile, and after that second realizing that I deserved to know, she detailed: “Cara met someone man through the internet, left everything and is now living with him in Europe.”

 

My reaction? I felt like laughing. I think two days after I was still laughing. Even when I was told that the gates to the Kruger were closed, I was laughing. Even when I found fires burning so close to the park, and couldn’t avoid the thought of the risk for people and wild life, I was laughing and laughing. Do you know why was I laughing? I found hilarious the way some people dare to live what others only dare to dream. Those who dare to live end up living the dreams of those who only dare to dream.

 

It was subsequent to all this that I had to face the truth about myself, about my priorities. They certainly aren’t the same as Cara’s! No doubt that love can be important in someone’s life, but because of a stir-fry I definitively learned that my priorities are: 1) My own self quest. 2) My treasure quest.

 

Now stir-fry all this, if you can!

Famba

 

I knew I would have the opportunity to speak a little of Shangana in Marracuene or Macaneta. The occasion came when I had to check the presence of the ferryboat, as soon as we stopped near the jetty.

 

When I returned to the car I saw a group of eight or ten women, sitting against a nearby wall for protection from the harsh darts of the sun. I decided at once to make them laugh a bit by showing my tottering Shangana.

 

“Famba, Paul!” I said.

 

Their reaction was so strong that I kept my right foot in the same position, without entering the vehicle. For seconds I tried to find a way of surprising them.

 

“Fambani, Paul!” I corrected, peeking at the same time their reaction. A couple still laughed, but the majority showed the surprise-effect I was looking for.

 

So then, when I returned I explained to Tieta what had happened and she confirmed that I had used the words in the right context. Besides, as always happens, I even learned a few more words: 1) Buia alene, meaning come here. 2) Buiani, plural for buia.

 

I am progressing. Like hard tyres through sandy roads, still progressing.

Living Signs

 

Ragged banners spread along Mozambican beaches are sometimes the only sign of the existence of other human beings in the area. They are usually made of strong wood and a thorn piece of cloth.

 

It is evident that all those signs had to represent something. But the reality is that I never gave it a thought until recently, when at sunset I run a few kilometers on Macaneta beach. For each weather-battered sign, there it was: a fishing boat or a couple of them.

 

The reason of those signs became evident: they are the only way to guide fishermen to the right place when approaching the endless beach. That’s the only reason for those humble, trembly beach signs.

 

And at the same time I was running, I could picture, in my imagination, the relief those helmsmen must feel when in rotten weather they can clearly perceive those familiar signs. I also wondered if we shouldn’t do the same: erect signs to mark past mistakes, happy moments, goals that we seek… It would make it much easier paddling throughout our lives.

Party People

 

Zambezians are party people. I still remember how the party culture was important when we lived in Quelimane. Neither time nor socialism could change that way. I was left with that weekend party bug and somehow I passed it to my divers.

 

Andy’s party started around 10am with a small group of friends in front of the house, a good system to let passing friends know about the party, without having to formally invite them.

 

I spare you from my verbal tendency by being systematic: 1) Around noon the first group of eight gathered for Brazilian feijoada and barbecue ribs. Yum! 2) It went on and on, always with new people coming and going. Gosh! 3) Party people started to arrive around 6pm. By then our feijoada was still alive. Yipeee! 4) A group of Mozambican girls started to dance at 7pm. A local DJ, Lara, Isis and Seabell danced for a good while. Lara is KT’s girlfriend and Isis is someone else’s girlfriend, besides being JP’s friend. She said: “I miss JP! He always pays for everything!” Ouch! Paul’s comment to this: “Yeh! JP is our magaíça!” Heeheehee! (Magaíça is a Mozambican making money down the mines,)

 

5) By 9pm the feijoada was barely surviving, complemented with cooked veggies and mixed grills. Scrunch! Slip! Slop! Yum! 6) By the same time, the bottle JP offered has been multiplied by ten, not to speak of the 4 starting boxes of beer, inexistent at 5pm. Aha! 7) Silly observation here: couldn’t people party without drinking and smoking the way they do? Hmmm? Nevertheless, by then I still could dance a second time. Lalalala!

 

After 10pm, shortly after Russia surprised the Netherlands (Oooouuuuch!), I returned to my backyard to find a faceless crowd: maybe 40 people. The football enthusiasts had arrived, a group mainly composed by European friends. I simply couldn’t move. 9) Some time later, I found the girls disperse due to alcohol and the boys half naked. No more dance for me. Aaaaargh! I couldn’t avoid comparing with two years ago, when Andy had to put extra clothes on due to the extreme cold. Talk about global warming! 10) Around 11pm, Andy finally shaves and dresses up to start the usual Saturday party night, as if nothing had happened until then. Heh! Heh! Heh!

 

11) Shortly before midnight, guard Albert, a genuine Zambezian, turned very bossy after drinking a box of 5 liters of rosé wine, as Andy discovered the next day, and decided to close the doors of the house for “safety reasons”. 12) In reality, I can see now that Albert knew he wasn’t in shape to do his job. It turned out to be a wise (drunken) decision because, to Paul’s desperation (Nooooo!) and my relief (Yessss!), the next morning we missed a huge black statue front the front garden. 13) Due to the city rule “no noise after midnight”, the group moved to some bar or club. Sssssssh!

 

14) I was up the next morning a little surprised for surviving work (Ouff!), moderated wine (Gloup!), dancing (Tralala!), SA very hot sausages (Slurp!), chocolate cake and bubbling cherries (Yummy!). I looked well and rested. Yeh! 15) You would be amazed with what you can learn with party people, especially party girls. They live in a world of their own. They have little more than parties on their agendas, but what the heck! They are nothing else but the answer to the party boys of this world.

 

I took note of the following aspects to take in consideration in the future: a) Organizing a different food corner to avoid the distance from the kitchen. b) Introducing party plastic earlier to avoid shattered glasses all over the place. c) Use the food corner as music corner. d) Introduce a fruit corner, once I discovered how apples and oranges are popular among local party people. d) Conceiving another outside toilette to avoid the use of our own. e) Making sure that nothing valuable is left outside. An almost open door party brings all kind of people.

 

From this experience I learned that my dog Thoth is also a party dog. Grrrrr! Besides assuming a party behavior, he doesn’t drink but suffers from a bad hangover for the next two days. Zzzzzzzz!

 

The last thing I remember from that night was Paul’s outrage at boozy guard Albert. “Don’t bother!” I said. “They gave him to drink all night. Besides, he is Zambezian and Zambezians are party people.

 

It was a heck of a birthday party!

 

(Note: As it is evident, this text evokes Andy’s party and it’s also a pretext to be familiar with a few onomatopoeias.)

Not Just Another Week

 

This wasn’t just another week for me. For a start, I was admitted by nice energetic teacher in a level 3 tae bo class. I am not sure of what that means, but it has to be better than levels 1 and 2.

 

In terms of fun, this was a surprising and disappointing week. In order to spare you of a long fastidious account, I am resuming my third week of June as usual: Saturday) Traveling and sleeping in a place not far from the Kruger, in order to enter the park early morning, the best time for wild encounters. Sunday) Getting up at the first lights only to find a queue in front of a closed gate reading “crowded-closed”. Though I understand and sympathize with the measure, I cannot forget the sad faces of the children. I hope the Kruger management finds a way to advertise the excess of visitors, sparing us of such disappointment. As if it wasn’t enough, the Portuguese football team had to display its inability to deliver! Monday) A little bit of work + a little bit of fun – just to keep things leveled. Tuesday) Feed the brain with an exhibition + feed the body (muscles) with my first level 3 tae class. Wednesday) There are times when even Seabells have to be architects (literally), changing Andy’s boring  project into something. Thursday) Juggling with dance, football and tae bo. Friday) Checking muscles and bones for bruises. So far it seems that I can take it, and there is a party yet to come!

 

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Para mim, esta não foi uma semana qualquer. Para começar, fui admitida pela minha simpática e energética professora numa classe de tae bo do nível 3. Não estou muito certa do que isso significa, mas tem de ser melhor do que os níveis 1 e 2.

 

Em termos de divertimento, a semana trouxe surpresas e desapontamentos. Para vos poupar de um longo e fastidioso relato, passo a resumir a minha terceira semana de Junho como é habitual: Sábado) Viajar e passar a noite num lugar perto do Kruger, de forma a entrar no parque de manhã cedo, a melhor altura para encontros com a vida selvagem. Domingo) Acordar com as primeiras luzes só para encontrar uma bicha em frente de um portão cerrado onde se podia ler: “cheio-fechado”. Ainda que eu compreenda e simpatize com a medida, não posso esquecer a tristeza na cara das crianças. Espero que a gestão do Kruger encontre uma forma de publicitar o excesso de visitantes, poupando-nos a um desapontamento como este. Como se isso não chegasse, a equipa portuguesa de futebol mostrou a sua usual incapacidade de mostrar resultados! Segunda) Um pouco de trabalho + um pouco de diversão – só para manter as coisas niveladas. Terça) Alimentar o cérebro com a visita a uma exposição de arte + alimentar o corpo (músculos) com a minha primeira aula de tae do nível 3. Quarta) Por vezes até as Seabells têm de se tornar arquitectas (literalmente). Quinta) Malabarismo com dança, futebol e tae bo. Sexta) Verificar o estado dos músculos e dos ossos. Até agora parece que estou a aguentar, e ainda vem aí uma festa!

Being an Eco-Tourist

 

Let me tell you, civilized people, that being an eco-tourist is not easy. The first shock is electricity. How many of you have already experienced to live without it? When in the middle of the night you pick through the window, it is so dark that you feel afraid. Most of you have already forgot, if ever knew, how darkness can be so deep.

 

For the first minutes, hours or days, depending on the person you are, it is pretty difficult. It is like living a new life, learning how to do things differently.

 

The moment I saw the system used to give us the luxury of a warm bath, I just couldn’t believe it would work. Nonetheless, a few sticks of wood burning below the metal cylinder not only allow us to enjoy that bath after a short while, but to have hot water for more than fifteen consecutive hours.

 

Then, when you get used to the new conditions and to different gadgets helping you through the same daily routines, you start to see things that at first you could not see: space, silence, unmistakable purity of the air, kilometers and kilometers of beach without a single plastic container… The next step is appreciating the effort of the people who conceived and build a very basic lodge, mainly from available local construction material.

 

I could understand the difference and the meaning when the next day I visited the busiest part of Macaneta. I couldn’t avoid a cleaning crusade of my own. Someone should see the difference and appreciate the efforts of conservationism. Instead, the naked truth is that eco-tourism (or even simple tourism) doesn’t have the support it should have. Most of the operators sit and wait for better times, or worst. In the case of the lodge I am talking about, the owners wait for the result of negotiations to sell more than 5km of beach to a big hotel chain. Next time, instead of an eco-lodge we will have sophisticated bungalows, electricity and 5km of beach for any Seabell to confirm how people can be so careless and insensitive.

Paul, The Humorist

 

Lets say that Paul hates the idea of leaving home, but at the same time he loves when he does it. That is the truth! A contradiction, he is. When we were on the road to a lodge located in an isolated area of Macaneta, he was all smiles and excitement.

 

Suddenly, the road turned into three kilometers of desert-like sand and the car started to swing and complain. He panicked.

 

“Something must be wrong. I can smell burning!” I said right before he had to stop just a few meters from the lodge sign.

 

“Do you know what is wrong? I am wrong here! I am not a *** Indiana Jones!” Paul said while he tried to guess what the problem was. Being a 4×4, it was supposed to cope with all types of road.

 

I walked to the lodge seeking for help. As it was soon to be proved, Andy and Paul had neglected the simple rule of preparing the tyres for that kind of road. Help arrived in the form of two men and a woman from the lodge. They took charge of getting rid of the excessive air. From that moment on, Paul humor only improved.

 

He was particularly critical with the simplicity of the place and its ecological conception. He said he found the owners like coming from a Lost episode. He almost fainted when he saw that we had no electricity.

 

At the end of our stay, which he clearly enjoyed more than he let me know, he told me:

 

“Seabell, from now on I want the following information about the places we visit, by this order of importance: road access, electricity, modality and costs involved.”

 

As far as I can foresee, if I take Paul’s demand seriously I can only stay in the same type of accommodation! Anyway, it was thanks to his remark that I remembered to write a post about things to expect when on a Mozambican beach. It’s fun just to idealize it: Seabell’s Guide To Mozambican Beaches!