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  Maputo, Mozambique
Friday, July 11, 2008

Three days after leaving New York I arrived in Maputo, Mozambique. I was ecstatic to be here and more happy then ever to step out of the Airport and into the warm African sun.  My layover in Joburg taught me one thing: Southern Africa in the winter can be really REALLY cold. I was in a t-shirt and when walking on the tarmac to board my flight I could see my own breath. The landscape was flat and brown, like a cold Midwestern winter day.  The sun in Mozambique peaked my spirits immediately.  Megan, an old friend volunteering with the Peace Corps, met me at the airport and we spent the afternoon exploring Maputo.
 
In spite of their low ranking on the UN development index, the capital of Mozambique appeared far more modern than I had anticipated.  The roads were wide and in excellent repair, public employees were pruning the trees that lined the streets, small restaurants and cafes lined the side-walks and the mix of old and new cars would not have been out of place in a place like Pittsburg. That being said there were many other reminders to le me know that I was in sub-Saharan Africa.  Namely the security presence.

The police were on most corners along Julius Nygere, the main boulevard through Maputo.  I should also mention that they were wielding AK47s.  This is in homage to the AK47 emblazoned on their flag.  They riot helmets were there just to add to the effect.  Although mildly unsettling to see that much fire power on the streets it is not uncommon in many parts of the world.  What made the situation significantly unsettling was when I was stopped by one of the policemen and asked to show my papers.  It felt like a film noir movie about the eastern block.  "Papers".  Megan and I had walked about 5 blocks from our hotel to have a beer while taking in the views of the Mozambican Channel.  We had both left our passports in our hotel...which it turns out was a big mistake. 
 
I do not speak any Portuguese (the official language in Mozambique) and would have been screwed if Megan were not with me.  Bits of their conversation were easy to understand with a Spanish background and the main things I could tease out were:
 
1. California (the state on my driver's license that I showed the officer)
2.  Dead person
3. Jail
4. Pay us money
 
What? As I later learned the story went something like this: a man that fit my description (white tourist chump?) was last seen with someone that showed up dead.  Since I couldn't produce any documents we were going to have to go down to the police station.  I had only been on the ground for 2 hours and I was being held by a man with a semi-automatic weapon being told I was going to be taken away to the station to be questioned about a homicide.  Welcome to Mozambique.
 
Thankfully we had left our passports in the hotel room of Lindsey, another volunteer.  Passports were provided, words were exchanged and we were told to go on our way.  Afterwards we talked about what had happened.  The cops were really just looking for a bribe.  Amnesty International recently published a big report on corruption in the Mozambican police force.  Needless to say, it was not a glowing report.  I can say tat I now have first hand experience that corroborates their story.  The interaction could have gone MUCH differently if Megan did not speak Portuguese.  It hammered home some of the challenges of independent travel in Africa and made me realize how incredibly easy Southeast Asia is to navigate.  Chalk it up to the first of what will surely be many adventures in Africa. 

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