Standing naked without any possessions: Just a thought
Finally leaving Ibo, I packed my things in the morning and rushed to get on the boat before the tide went out, which would essentially leave us stranded in the ocean for a few hours. I was sharing a dhow (home made sail boat) with another traveler to go to Pangane. I read about Pangane in some travel book early after arriving in Mozambique (three months earlier), and it was a place I’d wanted to go ever since. There wasn’t much written – just a little blurb about it being a beautiful, long stretch of beach – but that’s probably why it was my most-anticipated place in the whole country.
I have to admit I wasn’t as excited as I expected to be, knowing I was heading to Pangane. This was probably due to the preceding events, although I was elated to get moving. We passed several beautiful islands on the way to Pangane…most of them are home to luxury resorts that unfortunately forbid the average backpacker on a budget to set up camp and enjoy the surroundings. But, I got a nice view of them from the boat – good enough for me this time around.
We were lucky in our trip because the winds were with us. The last group that made this boat ride were stuck in the boat for over 12 hours, slowly tagging their way to Pangane due to headwinds. We had a brief lapse in wind, but arrived in about 5 or 6 hours, which is pretty good time. The beach was beautiful, lined with boats just off shore. But, the best part I discovered while walking up the slight hill to our campsite – the ocean continued on the other side of the point on which the campsite sat. On that side, there was nothing – just beautiful beach, turquoise waters, and a few islands in the distance.
I set up my tent, strategically placing it in the shade of the palm trees, making sure not to put it directly under the palm trees. (Note: Never sit under a palm tree in the morning…apparently that’s when coconuts are most likely to fall and they can kill you if it lands on your head…) I went for a swim, sat around, lay in my hammock, read a book, ate fresh fruits and fish…that pretty much describes the whole time I was there, which turned out to be a week!
The locals were relentless in asking for everything I own. They are used to white people giving them things (pens to the children, food, etc.), so now they just ask for things, as if they feel entitled to it. I sat one afternoon watching (and photographing) some ladies fishing with nets just off shore. They waved their fingers at me in the “naughty-naughty girl” way (which in Africa means “you can’t do that” or “you can’t go there”), and I stopped immediately. After they worked thier way down the shore, they came over and talked to me in their local language which is not Portuguese and is more like a dialect of Swahili, which I didn’t know a word of. They pointed at eveything I had asking for it – my watch, my sarong, my camera, my toe ring, a bracelet, my book. At one point I considered giving them everything they asked for, and standing there naked to prove to them how ridiculous it would be if I gave them everything. Then I realized they wouldn’t think it was ridiculous at all, and I would just be standing naked without any possessions, so I decided against it.
Over the week I was there, I watched tourists come and go, going for walks with them on occasion. I was sure not to walk by myself anywhere…Ali Baba had left his mark. The most obvious sign of this new fear inside me reared its head when I went to the market with a Dutch tourist. As we were walking through the village, I heard two heavy footsteps behind me, as if someone was running after me. It was reminiscent of the same two footsteps I heard behind me when Ali Baba grabbed my bag. Immediately I grabbed my bag and turned around to see what was coming at me, my face undoubtedly full of fear. Looking at me was a little old lady, just standing there, not coming at me, not threatening me, just looking. As I glared at her, clenching my bag for dear life, my heart pounding, I felt ashamed at the mental accusation I made against this mugger-come-frail old woman; it was evident now that Ali Baba had really affected me.
A few more days relaxing, and I decided it was time to leave…with a goal – Zanzibar. The past month had been Ramadan, the Muslim fasting holiday, which ends with a big celebration – Eid al-Fitr. The man running the campsite assured me that the Eid al-Fitr celebration in Zanzibar was top-notch, so I decided to rush there, with little time for delay. This meant skipping a few things I wanted to see in northern Mozambique, but after spending over 3 1/2 months in the country, I have no complaints.
As the Dutch tourist and I woke before sunrise and packed up our respective tents, I realized it was the perfect day to leave Pangane – perhaps due to a change in weather, mosquitos had infested the entire village, and they were ruthless. The vehicle out of town was a pick-up, and I almost insisted on sitting in the back, as sitting in the front cab costs more money. However, on this occasion, the extra $2 spent was well worth it: the cargo we were transporting was a large amount of freshly-dried fish with a putrid smell that I am pretty sure would have made for one of the worst trips yet. I opted for the inside seat, sitting (and baking) right on top of the car motor with the driver jamming the gear shift into my leg on a regular basis.
Tags: Mozambique, Mozambique, Tag Index
Tania
March 28th, 2007 at 5:02 pm
Welcome back! I’m always so glad when you show up again. Great descriptions of Pangane. And next: Zanzibar! Can’t wait to hear how that is going. You’re moving on north, so I guess you decided against Lesotho. I love your story of thinking about standing naked. I decided after two years in Lesotho that the job of every person there who was not-me was to ask for my stuff, and my job, thing by thing, was to decide whether I really wanted it or could let it go. No matter how much I let go of, there would be people hoping for whatever was left. It’s their job. I think the thought goes, “Maybe this visitor will GIVE me that toe-ring. I’ll never know if I don’t ask, and the way I live, there are no toe-rings in my future any other way.” So they are just doing their job, and you’re just doing your job. It’s a game, really. Might as well laugh it off, as you so wisely do. Sorry you’re having PTSD after Ali Baba, but that was a scary incident and it’s only to be expected. Give yourself time to recover. You won’t always panic at the sound of heavy footfalls. But if you do, give yourself a good hug. You deserve it.