House Shadows

 

Having an idea that a problem exists is totally different from facing it. I heard countless times people complaining about how difficult is to find a decent place in Maputo, but that was just an information until it became a close reality when my divers decided to find cribs of their own.

 

The first diver to show signs of independence was NB. Mostly, he has been sharing houses and moving from one roof to the other. Now he settled down in Catembe, on the other side of the bay, a spot so remote and depending on moody ferryboats that I cannot think of a worse place to live.

 

During the last seven months, Andy and JP divided their time between home and a place they used to call “House 2”, a sort of garage without the minimum requirements, but where they had the privacy they need.

 

They moved recently to a new place they call “The Beach House”, due to the fact of being situated at Bairro do Triunfo, a sea front neighbourhood. In reality they moved from hell to half-hell. Besides the four main roads composing that residential area, the rest is genuine chaos.

 

If we compare what they pay with what they get, there we have a notion of the big issue housing is. That house is a typical Mozambican construction, all about paying and no niceties. Before Andy and JP, it was rented by an Italian lady who recently left the country.

 

We worried because they live a very different reality, but at the same time we try to understand their need of space and the consequent process of slowly improving their living conditions.

 

They are lucky young ones because they can afford a house when the great majority cannot dream of a place at all. And some, like diver Jo, insisting in a proper house, work hard just to pay their rent.

Informally Speaking

 

Street commerce has always been important in Mozambique, a country with large Arab influence, but since the turn of this century towns became immense bazaars.

 

Some weeks ago, an international organization accused the informal sector of undermining the economy. That statement struck me as superficial because it doesn’t address issues like: 1) Unemployment in Mozambique grows and is believed to surpass 80%. 2) People sell and buy on the streets because their standard of living is not significantly improving. 3) Accusing the informal sector is ignoring that the majority of commerce is not informal and even so happens outside the control of any Western institution.

 

As it is now, informal commerce is the soul and character of this country and I would openly support it if it only were a little less chaotic. Wherever in the world would you find people selling whatever you can think and a lot more?

 

Unthinkable: I was told that during hard times, when even deodorants were a luxury, it was possible to deo spray just one armpit in the street. I even imagine the deal: “1 armpit: 20 Meticais – 2 armpits: 30 Meticais”.

 

Addiction: There was a time when cigarettes were expensive and difficult to find. It became frequent to see people selling cigarettes from an open pack, but soon the offer included the possibility of the same cigarette being shared by different passersby.

 

Vanity: Young boys not only sell nail lacquer on the streets, but also apply it on request. I suppose this is still happening today and prices are per nail. This is a commercial trick, because in that way they can advertize really low, attractive prices for a very poor clientele.

 

Fashion: Do you fancy big fashion names? Accessories? Sunglasses? Shoes? Bags? You say it and you have it on the streets of this town. Or even on the beaches. And you are welcomed to discuss prices down to much less than 50%.

 

Disgusting: Selling raw meat in a corner of one of the busiest streets, mid summer, flies furiously buzzing around a plastic container. Yuck!

 

Sad: There’s nothing sadder than finding someone on the road selling wildlife, usually monkeys and birds. If I could I would buy and release every single one I have ever seen, but a thought stops me again and again: if I give money, he will keep doing it even more fiercely. So my eyes just remain sad for as long as I remember the sad eyes of any trapped gazelle on the side of the road.

 

Piling: Street vendors solve the measurement question by piling goods or using open cans. If you buy tomatoes on the street, you buy 1 or 2 heaps of tomatoes. But the reality is that after a short discussion you can even pay just half tomato.

 

Mobility: These days street stalls are a bit more solid than they used to be. Before they were really light and precarious, allowing sudden retreats. I saw a couple of police raids against street sellers, because they didn’t want to pay taxes, be it lawful or unlawful ones. I guess those nuances of corruption ended or maybe they got used to pay a more reasonable amount.

 

Caricatural: In the middle of all this I discovered a guy who disguises himself as a walking stall. Merchandise cover his hat, his coat, his trousers, his arms, his hands… Little of him is visible under watches, necklaces and a lot more. I think he is a clever individual who understood that he could earn more from humour and tourists than from street commerce itself.

Eating Out

 

The first part of July was marked by three moments: 1) Upon diver JP’s arrival, after finally completing his platform firefighter basic training, we celebrated with feijoada and banana sponge cake. 2) We went to Nelspruit to get spare parts for JP’s car, swapping a game reserve for shopping and Japanese food, just to learn that one of the worst experiences in terms of eating out can be a bad day Japanese restaurant. 3) We closed the first tae bo semester with a very nice Costa do Sol lunch. It was blue and sunny, and it has been like this ever since.

 

Once again I ended up thinking how people like to celebrate around food and especially in restaurants. We also used to eat out once a week, but lately we changed to once a fortnight. We have two reasons: 1) We want to intercalate beaches. 2) There’s no place like home.

 

We know all the good restaurants and hotels, still we couldn’t find a single one offering consistent quality and challenging diversity. When we compare eating out and home, the last one wins with a large vantage. Millions have to trust in alien kitchens to celebrate or survive, but they do miss a good thing. Home cooking is far better and tastier than what most restaurants are able to offer.

 

Nevertheless, I have to say that there are some positive aspects. The number of restaurants available represents a good sign. Service has been improving sensibly. Someone who doesn’t live here commented: “Service improved notoriously since my last visit. Before it was impossible to find a waiter or waitress prepared for the job. Today, it’s a completely different situation. It’s more professional.” Despite all the negativity we have been finding, there’s no doubt that a large effort has been made by the sector.

 

Finally, I am glad to say that we are surviving quite well without chef Tieta. Ironing is a job gentle Elisa does with efficiency and cooking is shared. The other day I found Andy explaining why pasta should be cooked with lots of water to a listening audience. Tieta’s absence is always an opportunity for us to realize that there’s no such thing called indispensable people.

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.

Sounds Like I Am

 

The air is packed with sounds
I listen
I cannot cry
Car horns
Traffic humming
A whistler passing by
Your piano
African-night
City-jazz

 

Voices slipping from doors
To my head

 

I sing above them all
I’m alive
Alive

Sunglasses Urgently Needed

 

Men like to stare. It’s in their nature. I can’t find a better explanation. When a discreet look turns into staring, politeness goes on holidays and an awkward situation is created.

 

I think men have two staring processes: 1) The quick general check up. 2) The aimed look.

 

Days ago I was caught by surprise while walking my dogs. A man coming from the opposite direction frontally looked into my eyes. I think I never had the experience of having a completely strange looking deep into my eyes and that upset me.

 

At the same time, I was surprised to feel so exposed until I realized that I had forgotten my sunglasses. I never leave the house without them, mainly to protect me from dust. Wearing contact lenses turns eyes sensitive to dust and light.

 

I never thought about other kind of exterior aggressions. I never thought of wearing sunglasses to protect me from eye to eye contacts, but now I think I found another good reason for not forgetting them in the future.

Needle Project

 

Last time we traveled to South Africa I bought clothing to the soon to be born Albert’s first child. Maybe I should have bought a decent crib too, but I wanted: 1) Guard Albert to see that we can do things that do not imply money and shops. 2) Albert and wife to feel that part of the things represent their own effort too.

 

Yes, they had to complete the small tasks I kept giving to them. The idea and part of the work are mine, but there’s also their work in there, and that is the main aspect.

 

Firstly I got the base, secondly we worked on the mattress, the side protection, a duvet and finally other small details, until it was completed. People are positively surprised with the result and I am happy too. Nonetheless, the next time I’ll consider the shop option. Tenderly.