This is why journaling can be such a rewarding practice. In fact, just the other night I was wrestling with some emotions and opened my journals from the last several years to remind myself of the answered prayers, the victories in my journey thus far, and to find courage once again.
The next entry in my journal was from day 3 in Mozambique and involved what should have been a very simply task, buying t.p. Yes, getting toilet paper! As I read through the journal entry, my mind went right back to the moment I was sitting in a broken down truck in unknown territory in Pemba, wondering when we'd get home. So I'll share it with you.
Every Tuesday around 9:00 or 10:00 a.m., someone from the Iris base will take the visitors to "town" to get supplies. I needed very little by way of supplies, but I was not about to miss the one weekly trip to buy water and toilet paper. Upon my initial arrival to Iris, I was given a box of water, which contained probably 12 bottles at 24 oz each or so, and 1 role of toilet paper. After this, I was informed that I would be on my own for any essentials. I drink a LOT of water and wanted to be sure I had some on hand at all times.
I showed up at the designated area for the "town trip" with everything I thought I would need.
- Notarized copy of my US passport
- Notarized copy of my visa for Mozambique
- US currency in bills higher than $20s, crisp/not folded and later than 2005 to exchange for Mozambican currency (sounds picky but they are particular about what they'll circulate in the country)
- And finally, a brave face
Several visitors arrived and it was determined that one of the young men from Iris would drive us to the center of Pemba to the shopping area. We piled into a big army-looking truck with a green tarp covering the back. There were no seats so we balanced on the metal rails or sat on the floor. Two other Mozambican men jumped in at the last minute, so it appeared they would be joining us. As we pulled out of the base, someone yelled, "hang on!". We moved through huge potholes and dips in the dirt roads that caused us to go flying around in the back of that big vehicle. It was quite fun unless you land on your tailbone or hit your head on a metal rod overhead. Over the weeks I learned the "art" of riding in those trucks.
I was previously warned about taking photos outside the base because if a police officer sees you, he could take your camera. Well, that seemed very rude to me! However, it was enough to make me keep my camera hidden on the "outside" until I could learn more about the landscape. I was also told that the police could literally take my passport or visa at any time, which is why notarized copies are suggested. THIS is why I needed to bring number 4 on the list...a brave face. I wasn't exactly sure how this trip would go.
Here is my brave face:).
These stoic looking Mozambican men on either side of me are Nawali and Louie, and would turn out to become friends during my adventure.
These stoic looking Mozambican men on either side of me are Nawali and Louie, and would turn out to become friends during my adventure.
As we drove through the streets, I looked wide-eyed out through the open frame in the rear of that truck. I saw the Indian Ocean, one glamorous hotel, people walking along the dusty road and finally, a series of shops. Wherever we stopped, people would approach the back of the truck with arms full of things for sale including eggs, bananas, chickens, bread and other items. I remember one of the most unique displays on the side of the road was a web of strings tied together to display shoes, which would hang off. It was like a series of clothes lines making a grid. I wish I had gotten a picture of that, as it was very effective in showing the merchandise, but alas, I wanted to keep my camera so I did not.
We exchanged our money in a convenient store, found a grocery market and everyone bought what they needed. I was very happy with my toilet paper and case of water. Finally, I could relax and take a deep breath. On the way home, we noticed that the truck slowed down as we went up a hill. The engine began to chug and we couldn't get moving again. I stayed calm and prayed that we would get home safely. Several minutes went by and no one in the truck who spoke English was saying much, just sitting quietly and hoping that no one decided to steal our precious water and t.p. Well maybe no one else thought that, but that is what I was thinking! Traveling alone can be tough in situations like this. When you travel with a partner, friend or colleague, this would be the time when you say to each other "Oh, I am sure everything is just fine. We'll get moving in no time. We are safe, don't worry." (insert very calm and reassuring voice here).
Actually the group of visitors all knew each other very well so they all seemed fine. The other Mozambicans in the back of the truck who had come along for the ride didn't seem concerned. I watched them closely to read their expressions in order to gauge how I should be feeling. If they panicked, that would be my cue to panic also! I am not sure what I would have done, but I would just follow their lead (run, SCREAM, hit the deck- lol)
We waited in that truck for about 45 minutes until suddenly, someone showed up with a tool from somewhere. They fixed the broken part of the truck and we were off again. I still don't know exactly what the problem had been, but I was back at the base, safe and sound with H2O and t.p. Ahhhh...
A view from inside the truck on another day. Sabine from Austria, pictured here, would become a dear friend during my journey.
After that first trip, going to town weekly to get supplies was much less stressful since I knew what to expect. Running errands in Mozambique becomes very strategic, very quickly because it is not as easy as hopping in the Prius and driving to the local organic market for an avocado to add to my salad. Oh, sorry, I just had a Seattle flashback...
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