Thread: Employment Opportunities

Back now in Mogadishu and reflecting on the excellent 10 days I got to spend with my wife down in Mozambique.

In Portuguese they have a term for when you miss something, in the way you might be homesick, or be missing your family, …or even a beer! It is called ‘saudades’ and you have them…i.e. ’ha saudades’…well I am having saudades for my beautiful wife, family, and the warm experience that is Mozambique.

10 days is a difficult length of time for me to spend in Mozambique. There is so much to do, so many people to visit that even a month will not do justice. Anyway, the 10 days was well spent and already so memorable.
It was all about, her and I, family, dancing, eating, talking, friends, drinking excellent coffee at sidewalk pastelerias…and laying about on comfortable reed mats under mango trees….truly unwinding…..and I forgot….looking out for the remarkable numbers of Landies driving about.

My wife had arrived 2 weeks earlier and I’d told her I’d be only able to be with her for 1 week. Then I turned up 3 days early, and walked in the door as she was sitting down with her Mum and a friend and preparing to go out dancing. All hell broke loose and the three girls broke into the usual female Mozambican exclamation of a prolonged… LooLooLooLooLooL!!!!!

This was about 2200h at night. I barely had time to put my bags and then in revenge, for my unannounced arrival, my wife took me out dancing. She extracted a good measure out of it and we were never home earlier than 0300h for the next 3 nights….eeeeesh!!!

Then, after that, came all the visitation duties. Given the time, and the fact that my wife has 26 brothers and sisters and an innumerable number of aunties and uncles this was of course, an impossible task.
Nature though, took a lead and our week was shaped by the events of, the birth of one of her brother’s first child, a wedding of a cousin (to which so many family attended) and unfortunately, the death of a cousin. In the Mozambican way of extended family life, a cousin is as good as a brother/sister.

Visiting any family will always involve sitting down, much talking, and an obligatory meal. My Portuguese is fair, which means I can keep up with much of the context but then also, many of the older family members never had formal education and speak in the two main family languages of Chopi and Shangaan…neither of which I am able to do much in, other than the politeness of ‘Hello/how are you?/ Thank you/ yes/no/goodbye’. So, I get to listen and watch a lot.

Despite the heavy reality of life in Mozambique, people do spend much of their time together laughing and sharing…it is warming to experience….and, because the adults are all talking I get many of the kids to play with, once they have lost their trepidation of the ‘Mlungu’…white bloke.
Without apology, here are some photos of the time spent with family in Mozambique:

My wife and her parents





My favourite aunty, ‘Tia Fatimah’, she is 83 this year and still swings a hoe. It makes me laugh, if I need to put the fear of God into our daughters, we only have to mention going to spend some time with ‘Tia’….the elderly are venerated in Mozambique…and she is strict with kids.











My father-in-law and one his of the latest grandkids:







A nephew



A cheeky young’un





Being the Latino part of Africa dancing and going out is considered to be an important part of life in Mozambique…now…….some of the following photos may prove to be disturbing to some people…they are to me…..they involve me dancing!!!!





Dancing breaks out anywhere, besides night clubs…family functions,in the streets... anywhere. This is in a street in Maputo:



Friends together, beautiful ladies, each of them are now in their mid 40s...My goodness where did time go?



My wife and her Mum









Of the following, all is not what it seems…..only some of the individuals depicted are actually female…..







10 yrs ago I could not have imagined ‘trannies’ in Maputo!!!

The above gives a glimpse of some of the complexity and depth of life in Mozambique. My family there extends between people living close to the earth and subsisting on what they grow, all the way to people who work in the higher echelons of government. Family is family though and it is the basis by which most of Africa gets by on…yes, there is a lot of bad image with the corruption and nepotism that makes much of the west’s perception of what Africa is. At the same time, there is a magnitude of love, warmth, support, laughter, and care that many people in the west never get to feel. Family is family and we all love what we know. I am so glad to have been able to experience the context of family in a different culture.

Enjoy yours.

Glad you had a well earned break with your family BBC.

We are also thoroughly enjoying the experience of having family in a different culture....and like you, we have a large "extended" family.

Never a dull moment when we all get together!

My friends of the Ugandan People's Defence Force (UPDF) will never cease to amaze me. This happened yesterday, not an unusual day at work:









The hole is a collapse of the area drainage system that was well constructed by the Italians....a long time ago.

Managed to yank it out and have now made the damage assessment. Will need a new fuel tank.

Why do these sort of things always happen as it is getting dark?

Back to Mozambique.

First, who can name the song sung by Bob Dylan about my favourite country?

Answer at the end.

I said that they take their dancing seriously and then, they take their food seriously and, I love their prices. I sat at the table and was doing calculations of the menu prices on my mobile phone…the seafood here in Mozambique is excellent, this is a pretty average fare prawns, crabs, fish, for $5.20/plate…beer…..$1.25AUD..I get to eat a lot in Mozambique!!



Did I tell you they like eating steaks, as well?



In the ten days that I was with SWMBO imagine what it takes to get around and visit her 24 surviving brothers and sisters? The peak was 26 brothers and sisters. Family, in the collective culture of Mozambique is all, and everything. Unfortunately, we are never able to spend sufficient time to visit all that needed to be visited. This causes my wife some small grief but, what can we do?

So, we had a full week in front of us, with a wedding on the coming Saturday. Then, there was a birth, followed two days later by a funeral…pretty much an average week in family life in sub-saharan Africa. About the only thing we needed to do, besides visiting family, was to get out to visit our recently procured piece of land, and get some paperwork submitted.

Here are some of the family visits. They consist of greeting every one with the embrace and two cheeked pressing action as people might have seen from parts of Latino Europe. Then there is the sit down, usually the guests are proffered (and particularly me, as a mulungu) are offered seats. The setting is always outside under some sort of fruit tree, hopefully not a coconut palm, and there are always ‘steiras’, reed mats, spread on the ground.


These people are my wife’s Mum & Dad:




My Mum-in-Law dressed up local style:








Possibly the cutest baby ever known:





You will see what people in Australia would probably regard, as very poor living conditions. Well, in Mozambique, if you live in something that is a structure composed of something more durable than reeds, mud, and stone….you are just about middle class.




This is what their harvest is stored in:

Could you imagine a 13yr old boy in Australia doing the family washing, by hand:


I go for the steira and relax as all the formalities of conversation are conducted in Shangaan and then it may move to Portuguese, which I can follow if the pace is not too brisk. Getting down on the steira brings me within range of the kids. Most of the kids will be young nephews and nieces and if it is the first time they have seen me, then it is probably the first time they have had any contact with a mlungu…takes a little time to get the curiousity to overcome the trepidation and then, they are all over you….they are beautiful.




This one was trying to wink at me:



Every time I get back to Maputo my favourite local dish is made for me. It is the topmost leaves of the mandioca (cassava in English) that are crushed in the local mortar and pestle, known as the ‘pilhau’, this forms a green paste to which is then added coconut milk, and usually crab and prawns…absolutely delish:

SWMBO’d reminiscing:


The embrigada cleaning up:


What gets made:


The family visits, if they went into the night, nearly always involved music and dancing. Like I said before, a side of life that Mozambicans take very seriously:

All ages and all sizes:





Then, there are the weddings. This was the marriage of a cousin. This was the day after ceremony, the day were the gifts are exchanged between the families. They blocked the whole street off, erected tarps, and it went well into the night. I must have been introduced to about 100 new relatives here:



Much eating, singing, and dancing



Then the girls get dressed up and deliver the presents with Shangaan tribal songs, beautiful to hear:






right up to the head table

Then, both the bride and groom are hoisted, while on their chairs, into the air, pretty interesting part of their ceremony…don’t know whether it’d catch on over in Oz?


Then, the dancing breaks out again. Don’t know whether many Australians would have seen many albino Africans. I hadn’t before I went to Mozambique and, for whatever reason, they seem to be more in number here than in other places on the continent. The orange hair is normal for negro albinos.



Family stuff done in town and then we had to motor north for nearly 2 hrs to go visit the latest born. This is the daughter of my wife’s youngest brother. She has been named Xiluva (Shiloova) which means ‘Rose’ in Shangaan. Presents had to be bought, clothes, basket etc. money had to be given, and she had to be blessed and held by her Grandma before all others:

Vova (Grandma) first:



Then well passed around:






On the way back we saw a heavy load of pork...not quite a full load though...no goat.





and a few other things:



LOL…my wife now understands, since living in Australia for 8 yrs, why I am always incredulous at what sort of stuff Africans in general can get up to.

Then, on another day, we went out to see our land, talk with the local people who are growing stuff on our land. It is important that they continue to use it while we are getting ready to build stuff on it. Land that is left without use, can be redirected to others. So, we pay a little bit to have people use our land…small price. Consider it to be ‘rates’.

We have 1 ha and there are quite a number of local fruit trees on it, including two of my favourites, the Marula…of which an alcohol called ‘Amarula’ is made…and a tree called a Masala…more on the fruits later:


My wife is chewing on fruit:


and so am I:



Here are some of the fruits that are quite unique to Mozambique and some bits of South Africa:

Sorry, that is SWMBO showing me how she used to climb trees as a kid:




This one is called Mafura.


is quite prolific;



What is eaten is the red/white flesh which around the outside of the black seed and, not so much eaten as, placed in each side of the cheek and then just allowed to dissolve. Very tasty, like nothing else I have eaten…and…if you eat enough of them, they can make you sleepy.



This one is called Masala:



It grows bigger than the one I am holding. The outer case is amazingly hard and you have to fracture it to open and expose the fruit mass inside:



The inside is made up of the brown fruit mass which is around a number of seeds. It is only the mass that is eaten off the seeds, the seeds are almost plastic like in texture and, the taste of the fruit mass….well…the closest thing I can put it down to is….caramel. Not pretty to look at but a beautiful taste.



There are many more different and distinctive fruits in Mozambique, and indeed, on the continent of Africa…love to try and get some of them into Australia…LOL…keep an eye out for me on ‘Borders’.

.....and the song sung by Bob Dylan....? Mozambique.

BBC, thank you once again for you continuing wonderful posts...really so very enjoyable!

Your photographs of the wedding brought back very fond memories of our daughter's wedding to a wonderful Yolngu man a few years back. The wedding was held here at our property in Horsley Park, and we had over 50 Yolngu 'relatives' travel all the way from Arnhem Land to celebrate with us. There was much singing, dancing and very special ceremonial dancing performed. The dancers had practiced this for months to get it just right for the wedding. Our guests who had never had any past association with Aboriginal people were absolutely blown away with the dancing and playing of traditional instruments.

We had a great time and our guests stayed with us for several days and were taken to see all the highlights of Sydney ...as well as shopping trips for the ladies !!

We can really relate to many of your comments.

Thank you again!

Erich

Erich,

Thanks for sharing. That would've been so very special.

It is a sad indictment of Australia's lack of regard for our Aboriginals that I can know more about Mozambican culture than I do about the culture of our own people. Then again, most of us only become engaged when the interest becomes personal.

Cheers,

BBC

Originally Posted by BBC

Looks like a rare RHD factory V8 Defender.

Rob W

Please indulge with me here.

I don’t know whether people have ever come across anything like Hash House Harrier’ing (H3) before. H3 is an activity commonly referred to as ‘drinkers with a running problem, and it tends to be a social association and activity often related to people who are living ‘expat’ lifestyles wherever they maybe, around the world.

This better explains the origins and culture of Hashing:

[ame=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hash_House_Harriers]Hash]Error[/ame] House Harriers - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

In 2000 when I was deployed by the ADF to Mozambique to clear landmines I was spending most of my HQ work time living in Maputo and via my NZ colleagues I was invited to come and attend the local Maputo Hash, MH3. I became hooked, it was an irreverent crowd of expats and locals, and it took over so much of my available social life.
It was a well run club and with my weekends and the numerous public holidays in Mozambique free they used to do a number of trips away that used to consume all the weekend, up the coast, over to Swaziland, South Africa etc. My wife to be was involved also, and I made firm friendships which continue to this day.

Since then too, I have Hashed in Melb, Dili, and Kabul. H3 has a world wide following and I have found that you can go almost anywhere, make a connection, and have a good ready made network. A bit like owning a Landy.

The following photos were taken on a Hash which is run every year in Maputo, called the ‘Red Dress’ run. It is run as a charity event and the money raised goes to a local charity. The runs are organized on the basis of, actually running or, for the more physically challenged, they just walk. The runs tend to be in the city suburbs, which will include, runs through the ‘Canico’ (many houses in the poorer suburbs are constructed from cane/reeds), along the beaches, or out in the bush.

These shots were taken before we left the house for the run. It was my wife’s idea to buy me an embrigada’s outfit. My wife and I, and me and our embrigada, Emilia. I think you might be able to understand the consternation and questions that poor Emilia had!




The weird geeky looks are me trying to be subserviently ‘maid-like’ to my wife:



As you can see, I probably was not the weirdest:



I had to keep my subservient distance in relation to SWMBO:





As you can see the Red Dress Run this year went through the Canico, in part. It started at the Eduardo Mondlane University, where we all parked our cars before setting off. The locals are always high amused at the ‘goings on’ of the Louco Mulungus (Crazy Whites).

The kids out wondering why:







We even detoured through a supermarket:





This is Landy is owned by a mate of mine:





Then, after the ‘run’ there is what is called the ‘circle’ where all the Hashers gather and are subjected to a fair measure of slander. accusations, allegations, and abuse for any number of sins both committed and imagined. The penalty always involves having to scull a beer….....beer….a penalty?

Anyway, the weird whacky world of H3.



Individual punishment:



Collective punishment:





By the way, when you become a Hasher, after a measure of time, when you have been accepted into the H3 community, they name you. You are effectively baptized…with beer…and then named. Maputo Hash, my ‘Mother Hash,’ named me………BBC.