Before visiting these two Southern African countries, I couldn’t have named three facts about either one (at least Alexandra remembered the Mozambique floods of 2000). Having spent only a week in each country, we now know that between them you can dive with whale sharks and manta rays, speak to the locals in Portuguese and English, find a KFC in every mall, view the Big Five animals on safari and party all night in the nation’s capital.
MOZAMBIQUE
After 25 years of civil war, this peaceful former Portuguese colony is becoming one of the main stops in the Southern African backpacker circuit. Here are some facts about “Moz,” as the South Africans call it:
- Most of the country is completely undeveloped
- There are still thousands of landmines left over from the war making much of the country inaccessible
- Before the 25 year civil war, Mozambique was a more popular travel destination than South Africa
- The capital, Maputo, is one of the safest big cities in Africa (despite our friend's bag getting snatched twice in two days; he chased both thieves down)
Arriving in a new 3rd world city is always a daunting experience. Our flight from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania to Maputo landed at night, and when the taxi driver told us that it would be 200,000 meticais to take us to our budget hotel, we were sure we were getting fleeced. It turned out to be only $8, and before we knew
it, we were sitting outside our hotel at a restaurant drinking a beer, in the throes of culture shock. Having come from Islamic and zealously Christian Tanzania, the tank tops, loud rap music and liberal Latin culture was a nice change.
MARGARET’S STORY
Our waitress that first night was a 32 year old Mozambican woman named Margaret whose story was as heartbreaking as her smile was bright. She had spent 15 years living in Johannesburg, South Africa, (one of the most dangerous cities in the world) as there was more work for her there.
One day while she and her husband were away, thieves broke into the house. The daughter managed to escape, but the 10-year-old son went missing. It was several days before they found his body, dumped in the bushes a few hundred feet from their house. He was killed just because he was home.
One survey we read stated that as many as 75% of South Africans have been robbed IN THE LAST 12 MONTHS! Margaret’s story was unfortunately fairly typical for people living in a land where life is cheap and the majority of the population is crushingly poor.
DIVING WITH THE BIG BOYS (AND GIRLS)
After a day of exploring run-down but vibrant Maputo, we hopped on another all-day bus to Tofo Beach. We knew that we would find a chilled-out backpacker with hammocks, coconuts falling from the trees and warm clear water. What we didn’t know is that we would have two of the best diving experiences of our lives there.
The whale shark is a docile, plankton-eating behemoth that can grow to over 30 feet. Tofo is one of the only places in the world where they guarantee that you will be able to get in the water with these gentle beasts. On the maniacally fast and bumpy 30 minute boat ride out to the dive site (which they locate with GPS), we very nearly hit a whale shark swimming just beneath the surface.
We jumped in and snorkeled with two of them, but the real encounter came about 40 feet down toward the end of our dive. As I was looking for more eels, stonefish and crocodile fish and noticing that my air was heading into the red, Alexandra tugged urgently on my fin. Turning to my right, I saw a whale shark heading straight for me, six feet away. We had to remind ourselves that this creature, which could swallow both of us at the same time if it wanted, is harmless.
White on the belly and black with white spots on the back, the whale shark has a front profile more like a Lamborghini than a fish. The mouth is about three feet wide and only a couple of inches high with alien-looking eyes carelessly placed on either end. They are so big that Alexandra realized that she was only a
fraction of the size of the tail that was about to knock off her mask. Attracted to the bubbles from our SCUBA tanks (Alexandra was good enough to share her air with me once mine ran out, further strengthening our marriage), the whale sharks stayed with us for 25 minutes and escorted us to the surface where we continued to snorkel with them. A dive instructor from Egypt’s Sinai who was with us said that in the more than 2000 dives she has done, our swim with the whale sharks was the best.
Next day, we dropped down to 80 feet to view a manta ray cleaning station. Arriving there, at one of PADI’s top five dive spots in the world, all eight of us simultaneously flipped backwards off the boat Jacques Cousteau style and descended. The cleaning station is a place where the rays swim around in circles, allowing small fish to clean them. Passing an Alexandra-sized Potato Bass hiding in a small cave, we arrived at the station, knelt on the bottom and watched the show.
George Lucas must have gotten some of his inspiration from Manta Rays. Watching the graceful flat creatures, some of them up to 15 feet wide, fly gently by us under water was like a scene from another planet either millions of years in the past or in the future. Weighing up to 3000 lbs, they glided by us, unaffected by our presence. We could have stayed there for hours had we enough air, but all too soon
we were on our way up to decompress before surfacing.
While we were still 60 feet down, Alexandra’s weight belt decided to disengage and fell to the bottom. Fortunately, the bottom was only ten feet below her and she acted quickly. Swimming down, she grabbed the belt while four of us helped her secure it, lest she shoot to the surface and get in some real trouble.
And just to make sure that this was the most memorable dive of our lives, on our approach to the beach, the boat driver told us to hook our feet in the straps and hold on tight. As we crashed through the surf, he floored the inflatable zodiac and charged straight onto the beach, our eyes sending messages to our brains that refused to register.
HOW MUCH DO YOU CHARGE FOR STORING OUR PACKS IN FISH SAUCE?
To help us come back down to earth after our other-worldly SCUBA adventures, we had another all-day public bus ride back to Maputo. When we arrived at the station, hot, tired and full of mosquito bites, I noticed a fishy smell coming out of the luggage compartment.
The luggage handler, the same guy who tried to extort money from us earlier that morning for putting our bags on the bus, handed me two backpacks dripping in fish sauce. One of the other passengers had stowed eight boxes of fresh fish from the coast, and the juice from them leaked onto the bottom rack where our bags had been lovingly placed, causing a toxic pool that had nine hours of air-tight heat to permeate our
packs.
My ensuing Spanish tirade, complete with yelling, cursing and holding the rank-smelling bags inches from the handler’s nose helped only slightly. Alexandra was pleased to see her normally mild-mannered husband flip, and the guilty baggage handler actually gave us some of our money back.
The packs still smell like fish.
SWAZILAND
We were in for another culture shock as our bus crossed from Mozambique into the Kingdom of Swaziland, a country not much bigger than Rhode Island. The bowls of condoms sitting next to the immigration forms at the border post let us know that we were descending into the worst-hit AIDS region in the world.
What surprised us the most was the quick transition from third to first world. Swaziland, a country loaded with shopping malls and whose first language is English, has well-maintained paved roads full of BMWs and Mercedes. Searching for a grounding position and some sustenance, we ducked into an air conditioned KFC
for the local fried chicken meal deal. We had entered a different Africa.
OSTRICHES, HIPPOS, GERMANS AND OTHER GUESTS AT OUR BACKPACKER
Along with the rising price of accommodations in Southern Africa come some very unique and agreeable places to stay (backpackers). We rendezvoused with our good friend Jeremy Cowan, of He’Brew Beer fame, and found ourselves staying at a place where ostriches came to drink from the pool each day (then roll around in the ashes of the fire pit), giraffes roamed freely only minutes away and, as always, dogs and armed guards patrolled the premises each night.
The sun was already down by the time we set off to walk to the next camp where we had dinner reservations. When the locals saw us walking off into the bush, they yelled after us. “You can’t walk down there at night; the hippos are out of the water!” Knowing that hippos kill more people in Africa each year than any other animal and that their teeth can grow to 15 inches of fury, we heeded their warnings and settled down to eat the food that they were serving (a ruse perhaps?).
YOU’RE GOING TO SCARE OFF AN ELEPHANT WITH A MOP HANDLE?
Having been told of the grisly crushing death a ranger in South Africa had just suffered at the hands (and trunk) of an elephant, we were a bit tentative about our morning walking safari in Hlane National Park. However our 5’4” guide, Sonny Boy, assured us that he was very experienced and "courageous", and we needn’t worry.
Five minutes into the hike, Sonny Boy heard a rustling in the trees and pointed out three elephants walking our way. Raising their trunks high in the air, they caught our scent and didn’t seem too pleased. Sonny Boy motioned for us to stand out of their sight. The bull elephant trumpeted, flapped his ears and charged, sending all but Sonny Boy scampering. To his immense credit, he stood his ground, beat the bushes (literally) with the mop handle and made a few loud noises. And with that, 25,000 pounds of elephant destruction retreated and allowed us to pass.
Before our hearts and imaginations had a chance to relax, Sonny Boy picked up on the scent (and dung) of rhinos. “They’re very near,” he promised us. “That dung is less than 30 minutes old.” Sure enough, we came around a bend to face two White Rhinos, a mother and her son.
The White Rhino has been clocked at over 30 mph and can grow to a hiker-impaling 4,000 lbs. Not knowing that these animals are fairly timid and almost never charge humans (except when with their young), we hesitated to come closer as Sonny Boy was suggesting. The mother would take a few menacing steps forward, then stop and look at us with her tiny, nearly-blind eyes. At one point, we were no more than
15 feet from these two gray tanks, cameras clicking and hearts pounding. After about 25 minutes of this, Sonny Boy made a kissing noise of all things, and the two animals charged off down the road covered in flies, and we were off to track a herd of seven giraffes…
LIONS AT THE GATE
That night, as we sat around the campfire, we heard the unmistakable roar of lions. We knew that there was a fence between us and them, but that fence sounded like it was just beyond the outhouse. As we listened to their haunting yet beautiful roars (sounded to us like they were getting romantic), we reveled
in the opportunity to be in the wild, so close to the animals that once roamed Africa freely.
Next up, the parks, beaches, mountains and ostriches of South Africa...
