Part 3: Nampula to Pemba (Bus), Overnight in Pemba
The adventure itself really picks back up at this point. Nampula
was a great break from PC life; pleasantly uneventful. We spent 3 days
sitting in an air-conditioned room listening to each other talk, as well as a
couple of presentations from the staff and partners. The first day was
great. We all talked about our sites, and our experiences thus far.
I got a bunch of great ideas and a boosted motivation to try and pursue some of
them. The second and third days we're more or less spent listening, then discussing,
then thinking, then discussing some more. Although I think I might be in
the minority in saying that it was kind of enjoyable, most of the others
thought the opposite. Still, there are more painful ways to
die.
Our nights and evenings were spent catching up on lost time and hugging
each other for as long as we could. Well, that didn't actually
happen. We talked, but we were too busy stuffing our faces and trying to
get the hotel's shoddy wireless internet to work to actually hug each other. It
was great getting to see some of my friends from training again though. I
hadn't seen most of them since leaving Nampula for Site four months beforehand,
and there was a lot of catching up to do.
Reconnect went by about as quickly as it came, and before I knew it, we
were checking out of our hotel and cabbing to the Pemba Bus at 3am.
The trip from Nampula to Pemba took about 8 hours or so, and our short
stay in Pemba was equally relaxing. After disembarking from that god
forsaken bus, I stuffed myself full of Mea Frango (Grilled Piri-Piri Chicken)
and coca-cola and then spent the rest of the afternoon napping on a
capulana with Mafe while the others walked to the beach. Maybe it's cause
I'm getting older, but I'm finally starting to discover how wonderful a three
hour nap in the middle of the day feels. I woke up for a few hours only
to head right back sleep (this time in an actual bed...soft of) as soon as the
sun went down. It had already been a long day of traveling, and we'd have
to do it over again at the same time the next day.
Part 4: Pemba to Quissanga (Open-Back Chapa), Quissanga to Ibo
Island (Skinny wooden boat with a worn out motor)
To say that Ibo Island is difficult to get to would be like someone
telling you that Heather Locklear circa 1993 (Sha-wing!) was only sort of
attractive: it's a drastic and substantial understatement. Heather
Locklear was jaw-droppingly hot (probably still is), and if they were still
talking to one another, I'm sure Mike Myers and Dana Carvey would agree.
But apparently they aren't, so you'll just have to take my word for it.
And you're gonna also have to trust me when I tell you that getting to Ibo if
you don't have the money to charter a flight is like battling Medusa when she
has home court advantage. It's freakin' tough, and your ass is gonna be
so numb that it’s gonna feel like stone by the end of your trip out there.
The journey starts around 4 o’clock in the morning, when you have to
get yourself out of Pemba’s main road and catch the only open-back chapa (200
Mets, and similar in style to the one we caught from Angoche to Nampula) going
to Quissanga, a small but gorgeous town on the edge of the sea, and the
departure point from the majority of boats going to Ibo Island. Just like every other chapa likes to do, the
Motorista will drive around town for a while in hopes of adding more fares to
his journey. In this case, we drove
around for 2 hours all over Pemba, only to pick up a handful of additional
people. Worth it? Probably not. I think he probably spent more on gas just
driving around the city in those two hours then earn from the people he picked
up. When the driver finally gave up, the
sun was already coming up and I was about the closet I’ve ever been to being an
actual zombie, unconscious and incoherent, yet still open-eyed and verbal.
We set off on our journey, which all in all wasn’t as long as I thought
it was going to be. The whole ride took about 6 hours, but only would have
taken four if we didn’t spend the first couple looking for more people. The initial part of the journey takes you on
a gorgeous paved road heading out of Pemba (the same road that takes you to
Montepuez). After about 20 minutes, you
turn off on a dirt road, and don’t touch pavement again until you hit the same
point on the chapa ride home. The road
from that point on is rough, real rough.
Rough like it was never actually designated to be a road and then
improved, but more so carved out of the land by the cars that have driven the
same path time and time again.
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| The Road to Quissanga... |
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| Coach class in the back of the Chapa. We got lucky cause it wasn't packed full of people. |
The road takes you through a number of Bush towns, and with each one
you pass, you feel like you are getting closer and closer to the sea. The scenery is nice, but because you don’t
have much elevation, you don’t have an opportunity to see too far off into the
distance. We focused on what was up
close though. Every so often, we’d pass
by a gang of baboons hanging out in a tree or crossing a field while waddling
their humongous asses. Finally, after
what seems like an eternity (it always does when you’re on a chapa), the
Mozambican woman whose sitting next to you and keeps saying that we’re only 15
klicks away is finally right, and as you pass over a short ridge, you’re
treated to a phenomenal view of Quissanga, a town infested by coconut trees, as
well as islands of mangrove forests outlined and engulfed by the pristine and
refreshing Indian Ocean. You’re there.
The chapa drops you off at the departure point, and is the tide is
right, you can catch a boat right then and there over to Ibo Island. We got lucky.
It was high tide, and so we got off the chapa, and immediately got on a
boat. Like I said, very lucky, because most
of the time, the timing doesn’t work out so perfectly and you need to kill a
few hours waiting for the water to come back in and give the boat something to
float on.
Various website and guide books said that the boat ride itself (50
Mets, or about $1.66) can take anywhere from an hour to ten, depending on wind
(if you’re in a dhow, or sailboat), or if you’re in a motorboat and the motor
breaks (which happens more often that you’d think). Again, we got lucky. The ride was about an hour, and the weaving
in and out of mangrove forests on the way to Ibo proved to be quite
enjoyable. My friends and I took
pictures and gawked at just about everything we could before deciding that it
was necessary to remake a scene from Titanic. Then we caught our first glimpse
of the Island.
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| Leaving Quissanga and heading to Ibo. Some locals giving our boat a push to get us going . |
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| Traversing Mangrove Forests on the way to Ibo. That's it in the distance. |
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| Arriving on Ibo Island, this was our first view of the surrounding once we got off the beach (Casey's Picture!) |
A little back history on Ibo Island for you. Ibo was once a busy and bustling little
trading post that saw a pretty diverse crowd stroll in and out of it. Arab traders arrived first, and set up shop
nearly fourteen hundred years ago – well, there were already Mozambican’s
living there, but Arabs were the first outsiders who came with an
entrepreneurial intent. They established
trading posts and really got things moving.
Gold, Ivory and Slaves were the primary exports, and the Arabs brought
along Chinese and Indian traders to join in on the fun. When the Portuguese
arrived in the 1500’s, Ibo was already an established, though still sleepy,
port town. The Portuguese took the town,
and most of the surrounding island (also ruled by the Arabs) by storm,
literally, raiding it and then killing or forcefully evicting most of the Arabs
living there. I imagine they probably
established their presence by killing a few of the locals too. The Portuguese apparently had big plans for
the island, and didn’t waste any time in getting started. This marked the start of a very dark and
infamous, but also economically stimulating point in Ibo Island’s history. The slave trade was greatly expanded,
investments were made into infrastructure (Read: serious port development, significant
fortification of the Island, and the construction of governmental buildings and
large warehouses). By the late 18th
Century (right around when the US won their Independence…Horray America!), Ibo
was the Capital of the Cabo Delgado Province and the second most important city
in all of Mozambique; right behind Ilhe de Mozambique (which, was important for
pretty much the same reason: slaves).
But, as quickly as it rose to prominence, it fell from grace. In the early 19th Century, France,
who had been the primary buyer of Mozambican slaves and had been shipping most
of them to Mauritius and Reunion to work on Sugar Plantations, decided that
stealing people away from their families and then forcing them to work for
little to no pay in shitty conditions away from home was a pretty messed up
thing to do. And so they stopped buying
slaves off the Portuguese. With a
significant portion of their market cut, the Portuguese tried increasing
shipments of people to Brazil and the Middle East in hopes of making up for
what appeared to be crappy quarterly earnings.
To complicate things further, Warships from the Netherlands and
Madagascar began increasing the frequency in which they were bombarding Ibo,
thus disrupting trade even more as well as pissing off a ton of pretentious
slave-trading jerks.
As the salve trade died, Ibo died with it. Mozambican earned its independence in 1975,
and the once bustling town returned to its sleepy origins. Only this time is was even sleepier than
before. All the foreigner’s left and
took all of the money with them, leaving the Mozambicans the remained with an
island of crumbling buildings that mimicked the local economy. The locals, no longer forced into a life of
servitude, returned to a happy life subsistence fishing, freedom, and sun
bathing, all the while trying to forget the 400 years of calamity (arguably
more) that they and their ancestors had just endured.
Both little and a lot has changed since the Slave Trade died off and
the Portuguese were ousted. The town has
remained just that, a town; not really growing much, but not really fading away
either. On the other hand, a brand new
industry has emerged, essentially the opposite of what slavery was. Instead of sending people away from the
island to live a miserable life elsewhere, they’re trying to bring them in to
be pampered. Just like the Europeans did
500 years before, Tourism has been taking the island by storm (but this time
I’m using the word figuratively and not literally). Well, maybe that’s not so true. Maybe it’s developing a little slower than
I’m making it seem. Still, it’s
developing none the less, and a range of hotels, owned by both ex-pat imports
and locals are beginning to pop up across the island’s only settlement.
It’s been called Africa’s Best Kept Secret, and I’d be more inclined to
agree if I’d seen more of Africa. But
alas, I’ve only been on this continent for seven or eight months and have spent
all of that time – apart from a couple of hours – in the same country. For now, I guess I’ll just have to take their
word for it, whoever that may be.
Still, Ibo is like unlike anything you could ever imagine. It’s a desertion enthusiast’s wildest fantasy,
the most magnificent state of abandonment and desolation you’ve ever seen. Everywhere you look, colonial-style buildings
are collapsing under their own weight in a perfect harmony of beauty, neglect
and painful memories. Red tiles from the
roofs and plaster from partitions cover the floors while trees growing out the
top of walls slowly devour the once immaculate buildings from the top down. Oddly enough, at least to me, the scene is
probably more beautiful now with its integrated natural elements and structural
deterioration that is ever was in the past.
Certainly it’s more unique.
Now onto the actual visit. We
had three nights and two and a half days to spend on Ibo Island and for a group
of people flying by the seat of their pants, we spent them pretty well. Upon disembarking from what turned out to be
a private boat across the water and out to the island, we were met on the
“beach” (more on that later) by Mandinho, a kid probably 15 or 16 years old,
who essentially ended up being our tour guide and personal assistant for our
short visit. We had done a little
internet research prior to arriving, but there wasn’t much out there. Aside from a few hotel suggestions, the web
pages were sparse at best. We had
planned to stay at more of an upper-class hotel due to the fact that we
couldn’t find any mention of other options online. Fortunately, the kid knew better. He asked us where we were staying, and then
asked if we wanted to swing by another place on the way just to compare prices
and facilities. Little did we know, but
right at that moment, this kid made the trip for us. A few hundred feet from the dock/beach where
we disembarked, located right next to the fancy-shmancy $400 per night Ibo
Island Lodge is a little locally-owned backpackers joint called Karibune. It’s run by a woman who I think I’d like to
take home with me and have her compete with my sisters and mom for the title of
best cook I know.
“Donna,” as we called her, a term that more or less (or exactly) means
owner, showed just about zero emotion when we arrived. With a relaxed and confident attitude, she
immediately gained my respect. After
taking a look inside the bungalows she was offering and then hearing the
jaw-droppingly low price-per-night (700 mets, or a little more than $20 per
night), we quickly forgot about the other option and asked her for the
keys.
What Donna has done with the place is really impressive. I believe that she essentially turned the
property her and her family were living on, slowly developing it from a quaint
African domicile and machamba into a backpacker’s haven. First came the dorms, an extension to already
existing cement walled, capin-roofed building.
Then, when she saved enough money, she bought a pump and built a small
water tower (which ended up falling down during our stay, but that’s beside the
point, it had been in use for a while) to supply her property with running
water. She then built her family a new
house in the front, and began renting out the rooms where her and her family
has been living. Then came the
bungalows, two gorgeous and well-craft cement walled, capin-roofed single room
hut’s that look like a traditional (though pimped-out) African home. Each bungalow had a lockable door, electricity,
a queen-sized bed, a pristine mosquito net and a bathroom behind a small wall
that has a flushable toilet and shower with running water (when the water tower
was still up).
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| This is where we stayed! Karibune, a little backpackers haven where you can stay for cheap, but sleep and eat like a posh tourist. |
But the housing isn’t even the best part. For 150 mets each (about $5), Donna will cook
you a freakin’ feast. When we got there,
we asked her if it was possible to cook for us, to which she kind of shrugged
and said, “Yeah, I guess I can do that…”
I kind of got the impression, which she later confirmed, that she
doesn’t like cooking for foreigner due to their picky appetites. Her visible displeasure changed though after
hearing out reply when she asked what we wanted to eat. We told her that whatever she wanted to cook
would be fine, and that we all really liked Mozambican food. I’ve never seen such a quick turn around, and
for the first time thus far, I saw her smile.
Once again, little did we know it, but our already awesome trip had just
gotten all the better. For the next
three nights, we ate like Mozambican Royalty.
Night 1:
Fish, coconut rice, beans and salad.
Donna outdid herself on night one with a pretty diverse selection. In addition to huge chunks of fish stewed in
a succulent sauce, we Mozambican style Fejoada (stewed beans in a thick veggie
sauce), a fresh salad, and a giant pan of coconut rice.
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| Dinner: Night 1 - Fish, Mozambican Beans, Salad, and Coconut. |
Night 2:
Lula, coconut rice and salad. Words
cannot do this meal justice. Observe the
picture for an illustration of what I got to fill my stomach with on night two.
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| Dinner: Night 2 - Lula (Calimari) with coconut rice and salad. |
Night 3:
Fish, coconut rice and salad. By
far my favorite. I’m still not sure what
this was, and this picture doesn’t exactly help. It was probably some sort of strange creature
from the depths of the sea, but the mystery aspect to this meat didn’t matter
to me. I dumped a hearty portion on top
of a mountain of coconut rice and devoured it like there was no tomorrow.
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| I wanted to take a picture of the Dinner from Night 3, but I couldn't pull myself away from my full plate of food to go get my camera. Instead, you'll just have to settle for a picture of the aftermath. Use you imagination to put a big pile of coconut rice, stewed fish (maybe octopus?), and salad on the plate. |
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| Posing with the Donna of Karibune. This woman can cook. |
When we weren’t eating, we did a lot of exploring. While walking around on the first day, we
casually mentioned to Mandinho that we were interested in trying to go out on
the water in a dhow (a wooden sailboat infamous to the East African coast). When we got back later that day, Mandinho was
waiting at the entrance to our hostel with a Captain. After hearing his plans, we signed on to go
on a 7 hour excursion two different sites for only $50; total. Unbelievable. The
next day we headed out. Here’s a few pictures
and a video or two from the journey.
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| Walking out the Dhow through the low tide. (Thanks Casey!) |
And here's a video of us walking through the water...
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| Playing Pirates. Kinda tasteless because there really are pirates in these water. |
Here's a video of the Sand Bank we visited...
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| This is the Island we visited after the Sand Bank. You can't see it, but there is a humongous, but dead, puffer fish in that canoe. (Stole this one from Casey too) |
The rest of the trip and the time in between our excursions was spent doing a whole lot of exploring. Here are some random shots and videos from around the Island.
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| Stole this from Casey...he takes really good pictures. |
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| We went up to this kid to see what he was doing. We asked him, to which he replied by silently dumping out the contents of that little plastic sugar bag. He was collecting crabs from the tide pools after the tide had gone out. |
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| Sunset. In Ibo. Thanks again Casey. |
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| Low Tide |
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| I call this one, "Boy with Basket. And also there is water behind him." |
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| Local criacas. |
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| Don't let the picture fool you, that "beach" is actually just sharp rocks and broken glass bottles topped with a little sand. |
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| Ibo, a haven for abandoned buildings. |
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| Anna, playing Biologist and getting close with the local island Fauna. |
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| This picture epitomizes Ibo. A tree going out of a building that hasn't been used in 50 years (maybe more). There is TONS of this here. (Casey's Picture!) |
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| Colonial fort! |
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| It wouldn't be Mozambique unless someone had taken a shit in on of the bunkers of the 200 year-old colonial fort. |
I went for a walk down the rocky beach one day and ended up in this Old Arab Graveyard that was right behind the beach. Arabs haven't inhabited Ibo since before the Portuguese decided to use the Island as a slave shipping headquarters, so it was kind crazy to think that all of the graves were probably a couple hundred year old. Here's a video of the Graveyard and Beach...
During my walk out there, I came across some kids that were catching eels. I hung out and watched them for a bit hoping to see how they did it. Unfortunately I think by the time I got there and started filming them, they had stopped and were just playing around. Anyways, here's a video of some of the eels they caught and where they were catching them...
So that's all I got. We did a nother over night in Pemba on the way home, said our goodbyes to Casey and Mafe, then headed back to Montepuez to go to sleep for a while. Just in case you're interested, here's the return trip details:
Part 5: Ibo to Quissanga (Even Shittier and Slower Boat than Before), Quissanga to Pemba (Cramped Bed of a Pick-Up Truck, still had to pay)
Part 6: Pemba to Montepuez (Boleia and then Millennium BIM Bus)
Sorry for the long post. Hope it was worth the pictures!
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