Illha de Mocambique (Mozambique Island)

This island is so steeped in history that it’s falling off the walls. Literally. And that’s the wonderful thing about this place – the walls, the streets, the buildings are so old that you can feel the history around you.

It was an important island for traders and the Portuguese back in the day, but has since fallen on hard economic times as it’s become mostly irrelevant in trading. I think it will be easier to describe the island by posting pictures, so I’ll have an entry dedicated to pictures in about a week (when I have good internet).

The best evening I had was the first. I was sitting in the lovely hostel, reading a book (The Road by Cormac McCarthy… but in French. Hm.) when the power went out. All over town. I shouldn’t have been surprised. But I got up and went for a bit of a wander around the island’s narrow streets. It was pitch black, save for a few stars, and everyone, it seemed, was out and about. It was such an interesting feeling to be walking around in the dark like that – part of a community, but anonymous; hidden, but observing. At the first corner I turned, I bumped into two children, the youngest of whom gave me a big hug (around my knees) and smiled, before we both continued on our separate ways. People came out into the streets and were chatting with each other, calling for their friends, playing games by phone-light. I sat on a step and watched the world work in the dark – it was peaceful and beautiful. When the lights came back, I went and sat in one of the big plazas. Nearby, there were about a dozen children playing together (there are SO many children on this island, many of whom don’t go to school. I discovered that a favorite game of theirs was ‘push the old tire with the stick’… a classic). I watched them for a bit and after a couple minutes they all came over and were asking me questions. Then they started singing and dancing, the boy trying to impress me with their capoeira, break-dancing and feats of strength (I was actually pretty impressed). They LOVE Michael Jackson and were especially fond of doing the grab-the-crotch move over and over and over. Even the girls. For a moment, there were 10 children around me doing the grab-the-crotch move whilst yelling ‘Heehee!’, which made me feel a little self-conscious and I wondered if Save the Children would object to such an interaction. It was hilarious though. They were so happy and energetic, though none of them had shoes nor shirts without holes in them. It was quite an experience.

The rest of my time on the island was good. Relaxed. And, oh yeah, I SAW THE PRESIDENT OF MOZAMBIQUE! Boom. Ten bucks to whoever can name him right now. That’s what I thought. I got some pictures of him too. I was standing with this Dutch girl who was staying in my hostel and she remarked ‘wow, there’s very little security’, to which I said ‘oh yeah, I guess there isn’t much’. She paused, then said – ‘it’d be very easy to kill him if we wanted’.  I don’t quite know what to make of that.

Thanks for reading!