Ibo Island Quirimbas Archipelago
Trip Start
Jan 20, 2005
1
43
58
Trip End
Dec 27, 2005
Ibo,
Mozambique
Tuesday, August 9, 2005
Feasting on the Sea - Crab curry is the best!
. Two hours after departing Nacala, after the 4th Pee break, the Bus decided not to start again. V blames all the people that are constantly having to relieve their bladders as loading and unloading a buss filled to capacity plus 50 people is an endeavor in an of itself. In addition to over filling it with people, the idea of checking your luggage below does not occur to a lot of people, whose luggage can include bags of rice, cassava root, chickens, bags of fruit and the occasional suitcase. I am sure some of this has to be against FTA standards (and it is, as when we go by police checks the driver often demands that those standing crouch down in a feeble attempt to hide the violation from the authorities - as if the cops didn't know each bus is packed to its gills.
Anyway, no amount of poking, prodding or pleading would get the bus going again, so our bus driver took off on the next passing minivan and left us to our own devices. He said he'd return, which he did after 2 hours. He had arranged a new bus to come from Nampula which would only take another 1.5 hours. Its funny, I kept thinking that in the US, every passenger on the bus would be yelling and screaming and demanding their money back at this point. The people here just roll with it and are used to periodic inconveniences knowing that they will get there when they get there. Everyone finds a nice place in the shade, buys some bananas and oranges from the youths nearby and relaxes.
When the next bus finally arrived, everyone on the bus was primed for the 2nd Seat Scramble of the day, despite sitting under the sun for a few hours, everyone knew what was at stake as the second bus approached with everyone getting antsy and jockeying for position
Friendly People in beautiful ARchitecture
. Fortunatly, V and I calculated that the new bus would park behind the old bus on the side of the road, and not in front of the old bus as 99% of people were anticipating and we were right. The bus pulled in behind the lame bus and V was the first person glued to the door, fighting with her elbows to maintain position. When the door opened, she was hurled inside due to the pressure mounting behind her and grabbed us a couple of prime seats again. She's truly a keeper, I tell you. She's beautiful, can cook, and has the tenacity of a bulldog when fighting for a seat on an African bus - Three qualities everyone has on their list when looking for a wife - right?We arrived in Pemba without further incident, though it was again after dark upon arrival and we had left before dark at :4:30am so it was a long day. We got a bunk at Russell's Place, a camping ground outside of the town of Pemba along a beach. Russell's a great guy and has a nice bar where it seems all the ex-pats in Pemba hang out for a beer. We spent two days there relaxing, seeing the town and preparing for the bus trip further north to Ibo Island, which promised to be another adventure.
We had been hoping to fly up to Ibo Island, but it didn't work out, so at 5am one morning, we got up and Russell took us to the bus stop, where we had missed the chapa (truck with 2 benches running along the sides of the bed, sometimes a roof and always packed to the gills with people, animals, produce and children) heading north to Quissanga, a small village across from Ibo, where we were to catch a dhow (sailboat) to the island
The kids loved me
. As we had apparently just missed the chapa, Russell sped off trying to catch it, which we did about 5 kilometers down the road. We chucked our packs onto the roof of the truck and squished in on one of the benches. The truck was already full with people, babies, bags of cassava root, crates, 2 goats and a couple of ducks. All was pretty well until we left the "highway" and got onto the dirt road that led up the coast. It was a bumpy, dusty road passing through lots of little villages of thatched huts. Again, we squeezed in and made friends, adjusted to the ever growing pile of produce that entered the bed of the truck at each village, and thought about how much we would enjoy this trip in 5 years (rather than now) when we are back in an office. We were making out ok until a heavy bounce sent everything in the truck bed up into the air and a crate came down on my big toe- ouch. It was apparently pretty funny for the locals to see the big "Muzungu" (white person) in pain, swearing under his breath so as not to teach the small, ever-staring children to swear eloquently in English. One of the guys even came over to show me his big toe where he evidently had suffered a similar fate a few days earlier and it now looked like a cross between a giant purple prune and an injured beetle. I was hoping my nail didn't reach those levels of colors. As a consolation though, someone did share some of the cassava root that had spilled out of one of the many bags with me and I was glad as V and I hadn't brought anything to eat for the trip
The Villages behind the old Colony
.The next highlight of the truck trip was when the skies opened up and a rain that I have only experienced in a rainforest fell down on us. V and I had apparently chosen the most optimal seat, if you are a duck as the tarp roof had some big holes in it directly over our heads. As the rain came down, the water on the roof ran directly down onto us and we found ourselves drenched to the bone in a matter of minutes. This again provided our riding companions with infinitely more material - I thought I was running a slapstick routine for the crowd. V just grinned and accepted her fate until the duck decided that we were hogging the choice spot on the truck and climbed up onto her lap. Her squeals of displeasure lead to another burst of laughter from our audience. We passed the time thinking about that ducks fate and whether we would do him up right in an orange or plum sauce.
The rain eventually stopped and we arrived at the beach where we were to catch a dhow. It had taken 6 hours and we were pretty tired of being on that truck. We negotiated passage on the dhow for 2 dollars each and went with the captain down to his boat which was sitting in the sand. We all loaded up on the boat and waited for the tide to come in to unbeach us. We were traveling across with a few French travelers and about 10 locals along with lots of baggage
Walking around Ibo - Part jungle
. It didn't' take more than an hour for the ship to be raised from the sand and we were off using poles to push us out. The Quirimbas Archipelagis quite shallow, especially at low tide where you can almost use bamboo poles to push yourself to the islands. I was hoping there would be enough wind as I didn't want it to come to that. The trip across can take 2 to 12 hours depending on the winds. We were in luck, the wind seemed to be pretty strong and all was going well. We were gliding through the watch on our own power, it is so much nicer to be on a sailboat and not hear the drone of a diesel engine. As we were sailing along, I noticed a lot of grey clouds on the horizon and V and I agreed it was best to get our jackets on. We had learned from the truck ride and despite the blue skies, had pulled our rain jackets out of our packs in anticipation of a change. The locals on the boat began to laugh as they saw us put on our jackets - crazy Muzungus, I heard them saying. 10 minutes later when the second tropical storm of the day hit our boat, they weren't laughing - or at least I couldn't hear their laughter over the sound of sheets of water falling onto the ocean. It was kind of spooky because it was so thick with rain, that visibility was drastically reduced, but because we were in the archipelago and not the open ocean, there were almost no waves, so I wasn't worried. After 15 minutes of enduring the rain, someone remembered there was a piece of plastic under one of the seats and we used it to create a tent over us, wasn't so bad. The trip only took 2 hours, and the rain had stopped by the time we made our way through the mangrove forest and first spotted the Jetty off of Ibo Island.
I found the following description of Ibo island that I found pretty good:
Lying to the north of Quirimba, Ibo Island was where Vasco da Gama rested in 1502. In later years, Ibo became a major trading centre for ivory and slaves. The island has a 200 year old ghost town and 16th centry forts from when the Portuguese built this up around the same time as they were building up Ilha de Mozambique.
Three forts, a cathedral, and numerous palatial homes once graced the town. The main fort overlooks the entrance to the harbor and was built to protect Portuguese Mozambique from the French Comores to the east. It is constructed in the form of a pentagon. Only three other pentagonal forts remain, one each in Mombasa, in Cape Town, and in Maputo. Ancient cannons still grace the ramparts, though the fort is now inhabited by silversmiths who make jewellery using ancient Arab techniques and tools - blowpipes, charcoal, lemon juice, and tiny metal files.
It is an amazing little island, pretty far off the tourist trail and thus remains unexploited and relaxing. There are only a couple of places to stay on the island and we stayed at Casa De Janine - run by a French Expat who has lived here for years. We stayed in a little room at her place right on the beach. The food here is a highlight, every night we'd have shrimp, grilled fish, or some amazingly tasty coconut curry crab (these crabs from the local mangroves are HUGE and so big I couldn't even finish a half of one).
We spent 4 days exploring the town and relaxing. The old town is pretty empty as most villagers live in huts and thatched houses outside of the old town. The old wide streets of town, art nouveau architecture, columned verandas, old iron work, cathedral, organized squares, promenades, forts and beautiful harbor make this place ideal for just wandering around. The people are so friendly and welcoming that you just don't want to leave. We could have stayed a long time. The sunrises and sunsets over the island are spectacular and we enjoyed them daily. This is also a great place for photography and lots of willing participants - especially the children.
We met a Frenchman, Dimitri, who has lived here on and off for 5 years and occasionally takes people out to the local reefs for some diving. He's a great guy and a wealth of information on the island - he also imports his coffee in from Kenya so we got the best cup I've had in a month - served in Starbucks cups - what a civilized guy. We dove on a reef off of an old Portuguese Lighthouse on the northeast end of the island. The reef was probably the most beautiful V and I have ever seen. It is pristine, and covered in the most varied hard and soft corals I have ever seen. So many different shaped, colored, and types of coral are just blooming everywhere. The purples and blues of the reef are particularly amazing. There is also an abundance of fish due to the locals not over-fishing as they only fish for their own use rather than selling it to other areas. We saw huge schools of yellow and blue sweetlips, trigger fish, a sea turtle, herring, and tons of others. I saw the biggest Moray I have ever seen in my life. The body was about 14 inches thick and I am sure that it probably could have taken a diver's hand off if provoked. This has to be one of the best dive sites waiting for divers to come.
One night on the island we decided to go for a walk and visit one of the towns 2 discotheques. There is no power on the island aside from a couple of generators so walking at night is an experience. There is no light anywhere and the stars light up the sky, walking past the old cathedral and down the towns main street is pretty cool.
When we got to the discotheque, the music was blaring and there were throngs of people waiting around outside so we figured that it must be hopping inside. We paid our 20 cent entry fee and went behind the bamboo fence that functioned as the wall around the little restaurant on the ocean. Inside we found it empty aside from half a dozen people. Apparently with the music being very loud, and 20 cents being a lot of money for the locals, most had chosen to keep the party going outside! After an hour or so, it got busier and the dance area filled up with people with some serious moves. I wonder where they pick up some of these moves given that there is no MTV on the island. There were some great break dancers. I was tempted to show them a few of my new moves, but then was reminded that I don't really have any moves (aside from when a crate lands on my toe - then I have serious moves). I tried to get a beer at the bar, but apparently, they had run out of beer earlier that night and the bartender had gone to bed. One of the French folks we came with found us some warm cans of beer at a vender outside and we enjoyed the dancing with a nice warm South African beer. What a night on the town!
After 4 nights on the Island, we decided it was time to move on. We had talked to Russell on someone's cell phone and he arranged for us to get a lift with a small plane serving one of the hotels on another island. We hiked down to the landing field at the other end of the island the next morning and a 10 seater prop plane landed to pick us up. It was a bumpy 25 minute flight back to Pemba, but the views over the archipelago were amazing. We could see the huge mangrove flood planes, small villages and blue waters from 1500 feet. There was a lot of turbulence and V almost took my arm off she was squeezing it so hard, but considering that the return trip took 25 minutes vs. 10 hours before, it was well worth it!
In Pemba, we decided that though we had stayed way longer than anticipated in Mozambique because we really loved it here, it was time to move on to Malawi. We really hope to be back one day, and hope that the places we loved a lot don't change too much in the coming years. I'm sure we'll be back some day though. This is a wonderful destination if you have patience and time.
