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On another work related assignment, my young son, Ashley, and I were driving from Zimbabwe to Malawi and needed to make a detour through the Tete corridor in Mozambique as there was little chance that I would reach the Malawi border post before they shut that night. I was therefore forced to ‘camp’ under the Tete Bridge till day break.

Mozambique, In The Nude

Cindy Dale
2006-04-02 22:05:56

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On another work related assignment, my young son, Ashley, and I were driving from Zimbabwe to Malawi and needed to make a detour through the Tete corridor in Mozambique as there was little chance that I would reach the Malawi border post before they shut that night. I was therefore forced to ‘camp’ under the Tete Bridge till day break.

Several fellow campers found my pathetic attempts at rigging our tent rather amusing. Eventually they took pity on me and came to my assistance, allowing me to direct the affair from a camping chair.

At this juncture, allow me to explain about me and camping -- I don’t ‘do’ camping, in fact I loath any form of “outdoorsing” and camping must at the very top of my hate list. To me “roughing it” is staying in a hotel that doesn’t have room service or missing my weekly manicure.

But here I was, directing the affair of rigging my never before used two-man tent amongst village goats and cattle -- from the comforts of a camping chair. Ashley brought me a luminous yellow slug he found near the car. It was at this point I seriously began contemplating spending the night in the 4x4 instead.

Dinner that evening, so my local tent-riggers advised, was at Moo’s Shebeen -- a Shebeen in the true sense of the word; hot, dark, filled with African gewgaws. Local residents flocked there and ‘kicked back’ with a potent home brew called “Moo’s Cane for da pain” – a fruity rum punch garnished with a stick of sugar cane (that made my eyes water) served in worn enamel mugs. Live music was provided by the locals, using an assortment of utensils which, together with their voices, produced some of the most profound African music I’ve heard. I decided to ignore the tortoise-slow service and instead enjoyed the experience.

Philemon and Moo worked in a kitchen the size of a small sailing galley. Sweating like diamond miners, they put ...