Week 66, 29.May.10 - 4.June.10
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania to Maputo, Mozambique
29.05.2010 - 04.06.2010
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Week 66
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29.May.10
Mtwara, Tanzania
Well, this was not the best bus ride down from Dar es Salaam here to Mtwara. What was estimated to be a 9 hour ride turned into something around 21.5! Early this morning checked out of the YWCA, grabbed a cab out to the bus station and through the chaos and confusion, could not find my 6am bus. I wasn't sure if I bought a bogus ticket or what! Fortunately, someone at the office where I bought the ticket from yesterday directed me to a bus (but not the one I bought the ticket for), which took me to another station probably 30 km or so from Dar, to switch busses. Well, the 2nd bus ride started out like countless others I've been on - crammed in, modified 3rd row of broken-down seats on a bumpy road. Along the way, the old man sitting next to me started leaning forward - I thought something was odd with his movement, so I kept an eye on him (even though all I wanted to do was sleep). I then noticed he unzipped his pants and was reaching in with one hand, while the other was holding a plastic bag. "What are you doing??", I loudly asked. He said, "I'm going to relieve myself." Others on the bus were looking, and I just lost it - I finally had to draw the line of what I will not put up with on these damn busses. "The hell you are! I realized this is Africa and all, but you are NOT taking a piss while sitting next to me!" I told him to tell the driver to stop if he couldn't hold it, but instead, he wanted to switch seats with someone toward the rear of the bus - I assume so he could urinate amongst people who wouldn't be so bothered. But, the bus did stop, and most everyone - old man included - piled out to use the side of the road. Continuing on, there was a point we got stuck and a giant CAT truck with crane needed to drag us through the muck. Further along, another stretch of road was in such bad shape all vehicles were stopped in both directions. We wait and wait and wait, something around 9 or 10 hours. Turns out this stretch of "road" was so bad, that ever vehicle in both directions had to be pulled through by the CAT, one by one. So finally arriving here in Mtwara at 03:30, now just waiting here with a local Tanzanian guy for the 05:00 pickup truck ride to the border.
30.May.10
Mozimboa da Praia, Mozambique
Well I've easily just had the worst day of my traveling to date. This morning started at 05:00 back in Mtwara (with no sleep the night before), a bunch of locals and a few tourists piled into the back of a pickup truck taxi for a couple hour ride down to the Rovuma river border. During the ride, my day pack was thrown toward the front of the truck bed, someone's heavy suitcase thrown on top, and sunglass lens was now shattered. We piled onto a dugout canoe and crossed - somewhat nerve-racking due to the overfilled capacity - to the Mozambique side,
and greeted by two policemen who asked for our passports, and just held them. Not able to speak Portuguese, but guessing he was saying something along the lines of wanting money. Already familiar with the infamous reputation of punk Mozambican police whose favorite pastime is extortion, was kicking myself for handing over the passport in the first place. "I don't know how to say this in Portuguese, but there is no way I am giving you money." He didn't (or claimed not to) speak English, but knew full well what I was saying, as we proceeded in a stare down for a full minute. The local Tanzanian guy went up to the officer, said some things, slipped him some Meticais. Although the Tanzanian didn't really speak English either, I was telling him not to pay any money, this will just perpetuate the problem. I gathered up enough of his broken English to understand he comes here enough for work, that is just second nature to him. Well, I got back my passport so wasn't going to pursue the issue. We waited on the other side of the river for another boat to come so they could cram another 15 (30 total) passengers into the back of a regular size pickup truck bed.
Bouncing along for an hour or so ride south to the official immigration checkpoint, we pull in and jump out of the back - and as I am coming down the side the same time the driver swings open his door. My arm catches the corner of his door and instantly feel sharp pain, and see blood - lots. I take a look and see basically a punctured hole the size of a dime in my underarm - not good. I ask the office for a restroom, they direct me across the road to some local's home that has a barrel of water. The owner of the home helps pour a bucket of water on the wound and down my arm to wash it off. I am obviously attracting quite a bit of attention, but, no one was coming forward to offer help. I start digging into my pack for antibiotic ointment, bandages, and other stuff. Some immigration officer walks over and tells me to go get my passport handled first. I just show him the hole in my arm, "No, I'm dealing with THIS first." He didn't comment further. I bunch some toilet paper to the wound and wind clear Scotch tape around it, figuring there wasn't much else I could do at that point being in the middle of nowhere. I hand my passport to the officer who tells me to pay 150 Meticais, "entry tax". "No way" I said, pointing out the visa I've already obtained for $45USD. "Then you return back to Tanzania.", he says. "This is Africa, not America." "Yeah? Take a look at my passport. I bet I've been to more of Africa than you have, and never before have I heard of an 'entry tax.'" So he just ignores my comment and continues charging and stamping others while I stand there waiting. Eventually he tells everyone else to back up, calls me in front of him, and, more politely, explains that everyone has to pay this in addition to a visa. So I figured I needed to get to the hospital at some point here, so just paid it and got a receipt. So everyone piles back into the truck and we start heading on the bumpy road a couple hours ride south here to Mozimboa da Praia, the first real town south of the border. When we arrive, I hop out - carefully - and pull the driver aside, explaining that the injury he caused will require me to go to the hospital and get stitches, which will cost money. Therefore, I wasn't paying for the pickup truck ride unless he is paying for the hospital bill. Well, he tells the conductor who threatens to take me to the police. "Let's go", I said. On the ride over, I reach into my pocket for my passport, but it isn't there. I check my day pack where I normally keep it, even though I knew I placed it, carelessly - perhaps distracted from the injury -in my pocket, after clearing immigration/customs. I thought back on the ride and remembered hearing something fall to the road, but at the time thought it was just my makeshift dressing (which did fall off), but had no idea where along the 2 hour ride it happened. So now I'm thinking this is not a good situation heading to the police for the purpose of arguing about the injury sustained in the truck, without my passport. But I didn't have much of a choice as we pulled in to the lot. I have to rely on the driver to translate the dispute - who knows what he actually told the officer, but I was told to pay the full fare. "And my injury? Will the driver be paying for this?" The policeman wrote a letter (in Portuguese), notarized it and handed to me, while instructing the driver to take me to the hospital and for me to visit immigration tomorrow in Pemba and sort out my passport issue. The "hospital" - which was a set of UNICEF tents in a large dirt lot - looked like something out of M*A*S*H. Inside the main tent, my first image was of a cot with 2 women laying head to toe with IVs flowing - not sure if they were suffering from malaria, HIV or what, but clearly this clinic had limited resources, so was a bit worried about the conditions for my treatment - like new/sterile equipment. I showed the doctor my wound, he brought me to another tent and got some gauze, needle, thread and a sewing needle out. I asked the driver to ask the doctor if the items were new/sterile, they both laughed at my concern, but I wasn't letting him get near me with those things without confirming, which he did. After cleaning the wound, he took the needle and started drawing fluid from a vial. I told the driver to tell him I am allergic to penicillin, which prompted another round of laughs - "anesthesia", then jabbed twice with the needle. All of maybe 30 seconds lapsed before he starts threading the stitches. I'm grimacing with pain and grabbing on the arm rest with my left hand, explaining to him that the anesthesia hasn't started working! He wasn't too concerned, and kept right on suturing me up. He taped some gauze in place and wrote some instructions - in Portuguese - for treatment. At least I wasn't charged for the treatment, after the doctor looked at the police letter. I was dropped off here to a dumpy hotel, and of course no running water for a shower to end the day. So very glad the day is now over...
31.May.10
Pemba, Mozambique
Well today wasn't quite as bad as yesterday, but not without more problems. Woke up at 04:30 to catch a bus, which broke down several times along the way to Silva, then waited for a shared taxi to Pemba. Along the way to Pemba, our car was stopped at a police checkpoint - not surprisingly, when all I could show was a beat up copy of my passport, a bribe was soon requested - this time, I had to pay as technically I was an illegal immigrant. Arriving here in Pemba, got checked into a hotel (also problematic without a passport), went to a bank where the ATM - despite being labelled with the MasterCard logo - promptly ate my bank card. I went inside the bank to ask the manager to retrieve the card, he wanted to see my passport before returning the card. Ah, great. Well, I went over to the immigration office which told me to go to the police station, but as it was already 15:00, I'd have to return tomorrow morning... "The police station closes at 3?" I asked. Meanwhile, I've not been able to get ahold of the US Embassy today - the number listed in my guidebook isn't connecting. To top off the day, the hotel here is also without running water - I'm not sure if there is a drought happening here, but suffice it to say Mozambique isn't my favorite place so far.
1.June.10
This morning I was at the police station at 07:00, waited 2 hours to be seen by the officer who didn't speak English, and spent another hour trying my best with broken Spanish to communicate my problem. Finally got a notarized letter explaining I lost my passport, which allowed me to return to the bank and get my card, then over to the airline office to book an expensive flight down to Maputo tomorrow. I still can't get through to the Embassy, but got to an internet cafe and emailed them so at least there is record of it. The good news today (glad I can say that) is I checked out of the dump I stayed in last night and into a hotel with running water - shower tonight!
2.June.10
Maputo, Mozambique
I am staying at an expensive hotel here in Maputo - the hostel across the street is full, the other one north of here ran out of blankets for their guests for the night - an a**hole worker there was trying to tell me "As a backpacker, you should be bringing your own sleeping bag to sleep in." Whatever. This morning back in Pemba I was able to sleep in a bit, have a nice breakfast at the Patisserie, and then headed to the airport. I arrived early there anticipating problems with the notarized police letter, but was handed the boarding pass with no questions.
3.June.10
This morning I checked out of the pricey hotel and back to the first choice hostel - now with a blanket available. Went to the Embassy in the afternoon, paid my $100 and filled out an application for a new passport and separate form declaring my old passport was lost - although now officially invalid, I'd still really like to recover it someday for my 15 months + of stamps - but not holding out hope it'll happen.
4.June.10
Well, I've got some time to kill - the Embassy said the new passport should be ready by Tuesday or Wednesday next week. So today I wandered around Maputo to visit some sites like Praza da Indepencia where the Cathedral of Nossa Senhora de Conceizao,
bizarre Iron House - which, when I rapped on the walls, sure enough is iron,
and City Hall are located.
I headed over to the National Art Museum where nice modern art paintings and sculptures were on display.
Now heading out with some folks to a street party downtown - should be a good finish to a VERY difficult week.
Posted by rd wrld1yr 02:09 Comments (0)