The Legend of Ali Baba, Part I
The next morning I went on a walk with Fawn and Meredith, a lovely mother-daughter duo from the States. We went back to the mangroves and beaches I had found yesterday and ventured a little further to a lighthouse on the other side of the island. We found a little community (one or two families) dwelling by the lighthouse, which was evidenced by their little huts and fish and octopus laying out in the sun to dry. It was a long walk but a pleasant morning.
Fawn and Meredith had recommended I walk out to the airstrip, just to take a look, so I took off by myself later that afternoon. We had made plans to share a boat out the next morning, so this was my last chance. I enjoyed my last stroll through the villages, saying hello to all the children and their families convening around their homes. I got a little lost, so stopped and asked one girl where the airstrip was. “I’ll go with you!” OK, I said. “25 meticais!” (She wanted me to pay her.) Uh, no, that’s ok. I’ll go by myself. They pointed me in the right direction and I continued on my way.
I found my way to a familiar road and passed a large gathering of Muslim men, saying hello to the group. Further down, I met more families with children running at me waving their hands frantically at me to say hello. “Hello! Hello! How are you?” I greeted their family as well, and continued along the empty road to the airstrip. I was really enjoying the day.
Ibo Island airport terminal – one small building…a shelter, really. Not much bigger than my old bedroom on Marshfield. Forget long lines and security checks. The runway? A big grass field that was currently occupied with a large herd of cattle. Perhaps the compromise to the lack of hassle at the check-in counter?
I saw a few women coming at me from across the field, walking on well-trodden paths, carrying large loads of firewood on their heads. And where do those paths go? I asked myself. Let’s just take a look… I walked into the bush, following the path, which went for a while, through the fields. I stopped, a little tired, and contemplated what I should do – continue? Go back? It was already a long day…
Just then a guy approached, walking the same path from where I had just come. “Good afternoon” I said. “Good afternoon” he replied, disinterested and continuing on his way. “Excuse me.” He turned around. “Where does this path go?” “To the coast.” “OK. Thank you.” “Would you like to come?” he asked. “We can go together.” “How long does it take?” “About 40 minutes.” I thought about it briefly…this was my last day on the island, my last chance to explore so, “OK.”
I remember two very specific discussions I had with myself during this walk. As I walked behind him, watching his barefeet glide over the sand, rocks, twigs – whatever was on the ground, I thought about how long this path had been here. The history on the island was amazing, with evidence of trade with Arabs, Indians, Chinese even. How long had people lived on this island, using this same exact path, walking in their bare feet exactly like this man did in front of me, to go out to the coast? And they say this is “off the beaten path”. Well, there are well-worn dirt tracks like this all throughout Africa…is there really a place that’s off the beaten path? Here I was, on a beaten path, off the beaten path.
As I looked at the man walking in front of me, the other thing that was striking was his shirt. It was covered in US dollars! Or, probably more accurately, US $100. What other currency in the world could you find as the motif for a short-sleeve button-down collared shirt? The Euro or the Pound come to mind, but I don’t think either currency has the same impact as the good ol’ Greenback – the epitomy of capitalism. And it made its way here (the shirt along with the implication behind it), to a beautiful little island called Ibo, off the coast of Mozambique in the Indian Ocean.
We approached a really wet field and the guy told me to take my shoes off so they wouldn’t get wet. “No problem. These sandals can go in the water.” We made it past the mucky, knee-deep water and got to the edge of the field, where the mangrove fields started, and he stopped. So I stopped. I could see the coast out yonder, beyond the mangroves.
It was a little awkward. “So, what did you come out here for?” I asked. “To get fish from the man who lives by the lighthouse.” “Oh yes! I was at the lighthouse this morning.” I made a little more small talk and decided it was time to head back. “OK. Well, thank you! Ciao ciao!” And I turned around and started to walk back.
No sooner did I start walking, but I heard two heavy footsteps run after me and felt him grab my bag, which, by natural reaction, I grabbed onto with everything I had. Next thing I knew I was on the ground, and he was still pulling at my bag – strong enough to break the strap. I still held on. Now he was on top of me, grabbing at my neck. “Wait! Wait!” I screamed, holding onto my bag underneath him.
Now, I don’t want to say that I had some sort of out-of-body experience, but I suddenly became very aware of my predicament. I saw, from above, myself struggling beneath this guy, on the edge of this beautiful island, very far away from any village such that screaming would be in vain and making a run for it would be impossible. I saw this precarious situation I was in with this man who obviously wanted something from me…hopefully the bag would suffice but, really, if he wanted to, he could probably rape or kill me right now. My only hope was to give him the bag…as much as it pained me – all the stuff that was in it – it was all I could do. That’s the protocol in this situation.
“OK! OK! I’ll give it to you!” I screamed, trying to untangle myself from the strap of the bag and release it, all while he was stilll struggling on top of me. I let go of the bag and watched him run away into the mangroves…it pained me to see my bag go. But, I had no time to waste – I had to get the hell out of there. What if he came back for me?!
Tags: Ibo Island, Mozambique, Mozambique, Tag Index
Tania
February 6th, 2007 at 1:07 am
Oh my gosh Tania! Stay safe!