Victoria Bay, South Africa, a Surfer's Paradise

                                                     Victoria Bay, South Africa

Strolling down the Vic Bay waterfront, I found myself humming / singing the Beach Boy’s 1960’s hit song, ‘Surfin’ USA’, but changing ‘USA’ for Vic Bay, complete with the falsetto ‘inside outside USA’ bit.

Vic Bay? Well, a surfer probably cannot tell you where South Africa’s Victoria Bay is, but they do know where Vic Bay is. It is a 15-minute drive from the city of George, in the Western Cape.

Vic Bay is tiny. It has less than 15 houses, some which are B&Bs. Add two restaurants, a curio shop, and a few places that rent out surf boards, and that is Vic Bay, South Africa.

Privately owned holiday houses have been there since the 1800s. The entire area from Ballots Bay to Wilderness was once owned by a Mr Edmeades, who left Victoria Bay to his eight children when he died in 1927. To purchase a property in the tiny hamlet today, is well-nigh impossible.

Victoria Bay was originally named Gunters Bay (who or what is a Gunter? Were there Germans settlers in that area??), in the mid 1880s it was renamed for Queen Victoria, after the bay was surveyed by the British Navy, and it was deemed to be suitable to ‘land goods at all times’. These goods would then be transported to George by wagon.

Now it is purely a place to vacation, and surfers, because of the reef like right hand 200m wave, are usually in the water. Surfing competitions are often held here too. Competitions such as the Victoria Bay Classic and the Vic Bay Quad are regularly hosted. Big names in surfing, such as South African Champion Nikita Robb, internationally rated Dylan Lightfoot, and Springbok surfers Bianca Buitendag and Rob Pollock have all surfed Vic Bay. Many of the famous surfers, have left their imprints of their hands on plaques, and these have been set into a low wall. These are a lovely reminder that small villages can attract the champions of the world.

Land’s End, at the end of the road along the shore, is a jumble of large boulders which at some stage tumbled down from the hillside. Fresh flowers and candles are regularly brought to this natural ‘temple’, keeping the memory of loved ones alive.

A South African version of a ‘chain and lock’ bridge is close by – it is not a huge padlock festooned bridge like those found in cities in Europe; this is a simple wall made of wire. Numerous padlocks have been attached, a symbol of promises made that cannot be unlocked or broken. I always wonder how many padlocks in those situations illustrate broken hearts and promises, and not kept promises.

On the other side of the bay, is the town of Wilderness. Wilderness is another popular tourist town, it lies between Victoria Bay and the famous town of Knysna. The Wilderness side of Vic Bay is popular for fishing, especially cob, also known as Cape Salmon, Kabeljou or Dagga (not be confused with the cannabis plant). I had an amusing conversation with the American tourist I was showing around: looking across the water, I said: ‘That must be Wilderness’, he looked at the buildings, and being polite, said: ‘yes, probably on the other side of the mountain’. Thinking he was looking in the wrong direction, I repeated what I had said. He repeated what he said about the wilderness, and then I realized that he did not know that there is a town called Wilderness, it was a funny and typical case of the meaning nearly get lost in translation, and we were both speaking English!

The Victoria Bay camping site is above the row of houses, so if the B&Bs are full, you do have another option for accommodation.

A tidal pool is next to the pier, which stretches out over the rocks into the bay. The pool and pier were built with funds won in a sweepstakes by a Mr Bramwell Butler in 1923. He won the large sum of 125000 British pounds, which would be approximately R93 000 000.00 in today’s money. He brought a property, built the pier and tidal pool, and tried to donate money to the Nederduitse Gereformede Kerk (NGK), but as it was deemed sinful gambling money, they couldn’t take it. The Methodist Church, of the opinion that life is a gamble, accepted the donation.

Today, the hamlet is strictly controlled by the property owners, making it extremely exclusive; properties seldom become available.

Visitors are welcome, whether they are day trippers or are booking into a guesthouse, and you don’t have to be a surfer to enjoy the beauty and tranquility of this little bay.

How to get there: from George, follow the signboards.

 

The Tanganiyka Treks - Trekking away from the English to German East Africa

The Tanganiyka Treks - Trekking away from the English to German East Africa

A few years ago, I joined a good friend in her hunt for her East African family. We eventually dug up the family records, and family members, and in doing so we learnt that there were other Afrikaner treks other than the Great Trek by the famous Afrikaner Voortrekkers (pioneers) of 1835.

Having lived in Tanzania and Kenya as a child, we were aware that there had been an Afrikaner settlement near Moshi, under Mount Kilimanjaro; that the settlement had been insular; it had its own schools and churches. 

Few Afrikaners had remained in East Africa after the countries had gained independence, the descendants of the original settlers having moved back to ‘Die Suid’ ‘The South’, as South Africa had always been referred to by the pioneers.  Trying to find information on this settlement and the people who lived there proved difficult.

On a recent trip, the two of us were in Pretoria, to meet friends, and as we had a few hours to kill. I suggested that we visit the Voortrekker Monument,

Voortrekker Monument
Pretoria

which I had never visited, in all the years I had lived in South Africa. As we drove up to the colossal monument, which is in a reserve, we had to slow down, and let some zebras get off the road. Because of the zebras, and that our eyes got averted from the powerful symbol of the Afrikaner nation, we caught sight of a small signboard, pointing to ‘The Tanganyika Monument’. Simultaneously, we asked each other what that was. Because I’m involved in tourism in South Africa, she hoped I knew. Well, I hadn’t ever heard of it, but we said we would pop over there on our way back down the hill.

Of course, as time does, it flew; we spent a lot longer at the awesome Voortrekker Monument than what we thought we would, and almost scuppered our plans to ‘pop over’ in the direction of the Tanganiyka sign. We decided, that as we would probably not be in the area for ages, best we go. We went. The road ended in a parking lot. 

Schanskop Fort

We parked the car, got out and the only thing of interest we could find,  was the Schanskop Fort built in 1896 by President Kruger of the Zuid Afrikaanshe Republiek to protect Pretoria. As forts go, it is interesting, but its newness made it unremarkable to me. Not being able find anything that answered to the Tanganiyka Monument, we asked the security staff there, but seemed quite blank, just saying; ‘go up, go up’. Which we did, because that was where the parking lot was. And we found the monument – we had walked right past it, in our hurry to find it. 

The Tanganiyka Trek Monument, Pretoria

To describe us as awed, was an understatement. The monument itself is small and simple, it was the information carved into the stonework, and information boards next to it that floored us. Here was all the history of the Afrikaners in East Africa.

Tanganiyka Territories flag 1919 - 1961

I did a little jig in jubilation. The security guard thought I was crazy, and rightly so, so he was given a brief history lesson: did he know where  Tanganiyka was? No, he had no clue. Had he heard of Tanzania? Yes, of course, all freedom loving South Africans knew that that was where a lot of freedom fighters hid out in the 80s and early 90s. When I told him they were one and the same, he understood what it was he was paid to look after.

 The names of all the families who trekked away from the English after the Second Anglo Boer War, are

Names of the Tanagniyka Trek
 families

etched into the stone work, which also doubles as seating, if you wish to sit and wonder at the courage and tenacity of the brave people who left for the unknown.

The Great Trek of 1835, came about because the Dutch Speaking colonists in the Cape were unhappy being under British rule, and decided to migrate to the interior of what is now South Africa. Small republics were formed in different areas, some were recognized internationally, other existed only for a few years or less.

British Concentration Camp for Boers

The Boers of these republics all helped fight against the British in the Anglo Boer Wars, of which the first started in 1880 and raged for a year. At the end of the Second Anglo Boer (1899 – 1902), the Boers, having survived the British Concentration Camps, and having lost everything because of Britain's 'Scorched Earth Policy', were destitute, defeated, bitter and disgruntled. Some decided that they would not bend to British rule, and have their language, religion and culture dictated to by the victors of the war.   

As Cornelia Joubert was quoted in the Pieterse Diary:

“Wij heben we vrede maar welk een bittere vrede is het niet. Het land Engelsch en de Engelsche vlag moet van nu af over onze hoofden waaien, onze dierbaar Vierkleur afgehaald en de Engelsche vlag gehesen. Gedenk!”

(‘We do in fact have peace, but what a bitter peace it is. The country is English, and the English flag must henceforth fly over us, our beloved ‘Four Colour’ removed and the British flag hoisted. Think of it!”)

The Vierkleur

Their solution was to trek (migrate). Three migrations took place, one went to Argentina, a second small one settled in Mexico, and one went north to what was then German East Africa. Three different treks to East Africa took place, namely two in 1904, the last in 1906. The first Saamtrekkers (Pioneer group) left from Delagoa Bay under the leadership of Pieter Frederick van Landsberg, and arrived at their destination, in the Mount Meru area, on 4 December 1904.

Raising the British Flag (Alamy stock)

Tanganiyka, which was part of 
German East Africa (now Rwanda, Burundi and mainland Tanzania), was under German rule from 1884 until after the First World War, when it became a British Territory. At independence in 1964, with Zanzibar, it became the Republic of Tanzania.

Settling primarily around Mt Meru, the Afrikaners did as all settlers the world over did, and displaced the local peoples, and inhibited their rights to pasture and water. They also resisted German policies, and in general contested German settler policy, convincing the Germans that the British opinion of Afrikaners as being a violent and backward population was correct (ref: du Toit – The Boers of German East Africa).

The flag of German East Africa

The English were up against forces that weren't going to back down, and slating the amazingly strong and resilient people, was only to be expected.

Afrikaner ethnicity was preserved by establishing Dutch Reformed Congregations in the settlements and sending ‘Dominees’ (Ministers) to them, to teach Christian National Education, which greatly helped the Afrikaner families, when they returned to South Africa many decades later. The Afrikaans language was taught in schools, very few settlers spoke English.

The German administration was very strict, which later resulted in many families moving across to Kenya, which was administered by the more lenient British authorities. Security requirements to settle in German East Africa were strict and harsh, and as the Afrikaners were completely impoverished by the guerilla warfare, the concentration camps and the scorched earth policy implemented by Britain in South Africa, the Afrikaners used very imaginative ploys to be accepted for settlement under the German authorities.

No sooner had they settled, when the WWl broke out in 1917. After armistice, many German East African settlers were relocated, and internment to camps took place. Some were even deported to Germany. Then the Great Depression hit them, and it was only towards the mid 1930s that any economic stability amongst the Afrikaner settlers took root.

Those who trekked to Kenya, eventually trekked past ‘Farm One”, and crossed the Sosiani River on the Uasin Gishu Plain.

Then they trekked past John de Waal’s farm, and they could then see their destination, Sergoit Rock (now Sergoit Hill) in the distance. The trip was made often by some, to collect farming implements and such.

The settlement of what became Eldoret was first called Sixty-Four (pronounced Si-si-for), because Willie van Aardt built a post office on Farm 64 in 1909 or 1910, and other structures which served traders were built around it in the following years.

Jan van Riebeeck School in 1957

The first Standard Bank was opened there by another South African, JC Shaw, next to the famous farmer’s meeting place, Eddie’s Bar. An Afrikaans school, the Van Riebeck School was also established there, and it served the Afrikaans community until 1962. It still exists and is now called Ndururumo High School.

After Tanzania and Kenya gained independence in the 1960s, many Afrikaners feared for their future and their lives, especially because of the earlier Mau Mau uprising,

The Tanganiyka Flag 1961 - 1964

and a return trek to South Africa began. With many Afrikaners having left, financial support of many missions stopped, and these missions collapsed. Later, the denominational restrictions were removed, and the missions started flourishing again under the name Reformed Church in Africa.

A decade later, barely a dozen families of the 3500 odd Afrikaners remained in East Africa. Amongst these were the Steyns, the du Toits, the Retief family, the van Dyk brothers, Piet and Dawid, and the widower, Meneer Odendaal, who married a Polish woman (their only common language was Swahili). Mr Ernst Kruger, whose children were sent to die Suid to school also stayed. In Nairobi, the Venters and Viljoens stayed, and under Mount Elgon, the Steenkamps opted to stay. Many of these families took out Kenyan citizenship.

In 1996, the van Tonders, Mullers, and Pretoriuses were still resident in Arusha, Tanzania.

These were the original families:

.1. The von Landsberg trek (1904) to German East Africa (GEA)

	Bekker, Jurie J.
	Bekker, Piet J.

Mozambique

                                                                   Mozambique     (November 2018)

The children are grown up, and they live scattered around the world, but they do like getting together for family trips. My daughter, Slaine wanted to dive with whale sharks; the chosen destination was the Tofo Bay area in Mozambique.

Plans were put together. ‘Us girls will fly to Vilanculos, the boys can drive, and pick us up.’ Were her words. Driving would be over 1000km from home. Yes, the boys could drive, her dad and brothers would meet in Durban.

My older son wasn’t able to get to Durban in time, so he decided that he’d hire a car in Johannesburg and drive through on his own. Us girls didn’t think that fair, so we decided that we’d only fly to Johannesburg, and join him there. That almost went to plan. A car had been booked, with instructions that it needed all the papers and extras for Mozambique. Instructions hadn’t been followed, and the only car available with the necessary documentation was a mini bus. The car hire company, after rousting out their management, came to the party, and ensured that we would have a car waiting for us at the Kruger Mpumalanga Airport at Mbombela (formerly Nelspruit). As it was now much later than planned to go through the border post, and not knowing anything about Mozambique, we decided to spend the night on the SA side, and cross into Mozambique in the morning.

We booked into a delightful little cottage in Marloth Park, which is about 30 minutes from the border. We had bush babies come investigate who we were, and in the morning, we had impala munching our lawn. The whole area is so well geared tourism; everything runs smoothly, and there is so much to see.

We were on the road at 6.15am, to be at the border post at 7.00am when it opened.

The border crossing at Garcia de Ressanes near Komatipoort is exactly the reason why I will never recommend anyone driving through to Mozambique through that border post. Unless you have someone with you who is an old hand at it, or you have lots of patience, and want to throw your money at rogues.

Fly to Vilanculos, if you’re headed to Tofo and Guinjata Bay from Johannesburg. Hire a car there, don’t put yourself through the stress of crossing the border at

Roy and his cronies.

Garcia de Ressanes.

This was my post on Face Book about the border crossing:

"Mozambique Travel Warning:
Mozambique is a great country and is a wonderful holiday destination, but their Lebombo / Garcia de Ressanes border post near Komatipoort is going to hurt Mozambique and Mpumalanga Tourism badly if not gotten under some form of control.
My recommendation: if you don't absolutely have to use that border post: don't.
It was everything bad one has ever heard about Mozambique.
The South African side, is fast and friendly. There is a huge presence of SAPS there, who are all relaxed and helpful.
Then you cross over to Mozambique. You're immediately accosted by what seems a real border control officer, wearing an ID card with a photo. He is a lying, fraudulent impostor.

Garcia de Ressanes border post

We were accosted by Roy. May he be infested with the fleas of a thousand camels, and not be able to scratch himself.

He orders: come this way, do this, do that. I need R100 for this permit, R100 for that permit. Money flies out like a groupier's cards. There may be no visa costs: you just pay to the bandits. R800 was the final tally.
Not knowing the drill, and not wanting to attract the ire of border control if he was genuine, we complied. More money flew out.

Being had by a conman is one thing, that I will take responsibility for, but that the border control officers allow this, are complicit (they were happily accepting passed on R100 notes), and do nothing to stop it, is not going to do Mozambique any good. This does not happen at the southern border post, therefore it is mismanagement of the Garcia de Ressanes officers.
Mozambique: do something please, your police are great, why is your border so lousy?

The toll road has been built and is managed by Trans African Concession. It is a lovely road, and I imagine that they make good money from it. Why do they not do anything to curb the sheer criminality that goes on? Or is the tourism traffic negligible to them, after all, the huge trucks that move between Mpumalanga and Maputo makes them lots of money.

Sadly, Mpumalanga tourism will also suffer if people do not take this route. Coming and going, we spent the night at Komatipoort accommodation establishments. We had lovely dinners, breakfasts, bought petrol, snacks etc. A good few thousand rands were spent in the Komatipoort area. 

Sadly, Komatipoort, you won't benefit from me crossing that border post again, at least not until the conmen at the border are stopped and removed.

I recommend flying to your destination from Johannesburg. I reiterate: Mozambique is wonderful, just avoid the above mentioned areas.”

Having made it through the border control with less money in our wallets, as I had handed out R100 notes in the same fashion that a casino groupier hands out cards in a game, we drove on towards

Moamba Club

Maputo. Mrs Google Maps said that the road through the town of Moamba, was the best route. My printed map clearly indicated that the road was awful.

 A mini argument ensued, “Mom your map was printed a few years ago, the road will have been fixed by now.” I decided to shush and to enjoy the site seeing. The road to Moamba was everything my map had indicated; in places it was little more than a strip road, but the kids were adamant that it would get better. We arrived in Moamba, a little town that must have been delightful in its day. I bet not many people can proudly list Moamba as a ‘been to’ destination, as we can; but it isn’t on the ‘should visit again’ list, and I doubt we’ll go through there again.

We brought Mozambican SIM cards for our phones from very helpful street vendors, and then discovered that the road on the other side of town sort of peters out. A 4 x 4 and lots of time is what that road needs. We back tracked to the main road, politely pulling off in to the bush to allow oncoming cars to pass us. The country side in that area is pretty humdrum, but what made it special, was the lack of litter, and that people walking along the road, stopped to pick up litter if they saw any.

Glimpses of the turquoise sea are
seen from the road.

Mozambique’s history is a checkered one. The nomadic indigenous people were displaced by the migration of tribes from the north west of Africa, when they moved south east. Arab traders have been calling on the area for over 1500 years. They created the ancient port of Sofala, which together with Ilha de Mocambique was invaded by the Portuguese in the early 1500s, after having been sighted by Vasco Da Gama and his fleet on a sail past on Christmas Day in 1497, and naming it Natal (Yes, another one). He anchored at Inhambane in early 1498, and is regarded as the ‘discoverer’ of Mozambique – of course, the inhabitants’ ‘discovery’ of their homeland centuries earlier, wasn’t regarded as important to the Portuguese. 

The name, Mozambique, is thought to possibly be a corruption of the name Moussa Ben Mbiki, the Sultan of the island, Ilha de Mocambique, who founded the Muslim community there. Mozambique Island was the capital of the territory until 1886, when the southern port of Lourenco Marques (now Maputo) was made the capital, because of all the trade it did with South Africa.

The Portuguese were the masters of the territory until independence was gained in 1975. They traded, they plundered, they fought for what they considered theirs. Like most other nations at that time in history, they also traded in slaves, bought from African chiefs in the interior.

Madagascan pirates on slaving expeditions were responsible for the depopulation of the area between Kilwa (now in Tanzania), and Ilha de Mozambique. The French bought plenty of slaves from the territory too – in one year, they transported 30 000 slaves to their sugar cane plantations on their Indian Ocean islands.

Vasco da Gama

The Dutch tried, but failed to overthrow the Portuguese in 1607 and again in 1608. They gave up and went to the Cape of Good Hope instead, ultimately giving birth to the Afrikaaner Nation and South Africa. Which just goes to show, that when assorted people want to blame South Africa’s woes on the arrival of Jan van Riebeeck in the Cape in 1652, it just isn’t justified – it was all the fault of the Portuguese chasing the Dutch southwards.

Many Portuguese married Africans, and this gave rise to the so called Muzungos of ‘prazos’, which were leased crown lands. These Afro Portuguese areas and villages, with their own warlords, were a law onto themselves, and were a major problem to Portugal. Eventually, agreements were made, that if the prazo holder took care of their area, land claims would be recognized by the government. Vast tracts of land became privately owned through this initiative. Prazo concessions were often given to female orphans and widows, in an attempt to increase the number of European women in the territory.

Portugal increased autonomy to Mozambique from the 1920s. The military coup in Portugal in 1926, and the changes there, caused Mozambique to become a province of Portugal in 1933.

The road to an independent Mozambique started after WWll, with the rise of African nationalism. In turn, MANU and Frelimo, both liberation parties, fought for independence, and eventually, in 1975,

A memorial to the Women of the Revolution

independence was gained. Samora Machel was the first president. His widow, Graca Machel, eventually married Nelson Mandela.

Samora Machel

Many name changes were made, and Lourenco Marques, the capital, named for a Portuguese trader in 1544, became Maputo, which is where we now were.

The outskirts and ring road of Maputo was busy. There were lots of huge trucks on their way to off load South African goods at the harbour, bakkies (pick-ups) and ordinary cars, bicycles and pedestrians were everywhere. All driving politely, and adhering to the speed limit.

The traffic laws in Mozambique are strict. We’ve all heard horror stories of people having run ins with the police, and every time we were stopped by police, we expected trouble. We only had polite, efficient staff to deal with. No asking for bribes were tried by them either. The trick to having a pleasant drive through Mozambique: stick to the speed limits, and make sure that you have what you need to comply with the laws, like reflector vests. Hang them over the seats so that they are visible when you are stopped, and you will have no problems.

Later when we got to Guinjata, and shared our travel stories, John told us of how he had been caught exceeding the speed limit. The police had told him the fine was 1500. As John had done his homework, and had spoken to friends who had driven through Mozambique, he was well prepared, and only had R400.00 in his wallet. He told the officers this, and showed them his wallet. After a lot of discussion, with John pleading that they should take what he had, they took it somewhat reluctantly. As they drove away, John turned to Colum to ask what he had wanted to say at the police check. “Dad – it was 1500 Meticals that they wanted, not rands. You gave much much more than you should have.” John was not impressed that we thought his generosity was very funny.

The road is good, but it is a long drive up the coast. Again, if you are limited for time, rather fly. 

The road up the coast is good.

Everyone (mostly) adheres to the speed limit, and the scenery is pleasant. Along the road, there are stalls which sell cashew nuts, peri peri sauce, coconuts and crafts. Toilets at petrol stations are clean and well looked after. The road is mostly away from the immediate coast, and the only clue one has of getting near the sea, is that the red sand on the side of the road changes to white sand. The glimpses of the sea are those of travel brochures: turquoise and gorgeous.

At Xai Xai (pronounced Shy Shy: - X in Portuguese is pronounced ‘sh’), we crossed the grey, greasy Limpopo, Dearly Beloved. There were no elephant children getting their trunks from crocodiles in sight, only a lone fisherman in a boat. It was quite idyllic.

Dearly Beloved, this is the greasy grey
Limpopo River.

The hours and miles kept on piling up. Coconut palms, mango trees laden with fruit, cashew trees, the odd hare, and red villages were what we saw. Vodacom is very well represented in Mozambique. Airtime and data are much cheaper than what they are in South Africa, so everyone can afford a cell phone. Vodacom’s advertising agents have literally painted the villages red, and the walls all advertise either Vodacom or the local beer.

A typical village.

Eventually, we got to our turn off to Guinjata bay. The road is loose sand, and without a 4x4 vehicle, you may get bogged down.

Guinjata Bay is lovely. There are a fair number of holiday homes, a few restaurants, a well-stocked little supermarket, and of course – dive centers. The house we had booked: Sentimos Dos Mar, was about half a kilometer from the Guinjata Dive Centre, which we had chosen to take care of all our diving.

Sentimos Dos Mar, is an extremely well-equipped self-catering holiday home. It can comfortably sleep 10 guests, and has a large lounge, dining room

White sand and turquoise water.

and open plan kitchen. The staff are delightful, and ever so helpful. For more info, see their Face Book page.

The beach was wide and white. Vehicles were allowed to drive on the beach in certain demarcated areas, which made getting to the restaurants at night very easy. A turtle had laid her eggs on the beach in front of a restaurant, and the area had been fenced off to protect the eggs.

Mangoes and coconuts

Local fishermen would bring you their catch to buy, and would happily agree to meet you at the house to complete the sale. Crafters would ask you to buy their art and capulanas, as sarongs are called there, but they would never harass you.

Diving was an everyday affair, for the others. I dived once; it was the first time in about 10 years, and I was so nervous. I had to smile – not so long ago, I held the kids’ hands in all sorts of situations. Now they held mine, and nodded when I told them not to let me out of their sight underwater.

Theft just doesn’t happen up at Guinjata, our house did not have keys. Anything could be left outside. The staff of the various houses helped each other, and everybody was so polite and pleasant.

A day trip to Inhambane was organised. The ancient town must have been beautiful in its day. Today, it is still pretty, just a bit tired looking. It is clean; the buildings of beautiful architecture are mostly well taken care of, and are newly painted. The harbour area is a pleasure to walk along; I imagined the colonials of yesteryear strolling along at sunset, on their way to the club for a gin and tonic or two. We had coffee in a lovely little café, and then we decided to find the museum. I’m a museum groupie – I have to see them all. This museum, when we eventually found it, was rather sad. An enthusiastic official showed us around the various displays, proudly showing us ancient diagrams of what Inhambane had been like in its heyday.

Inhambane foreshore, the harbour is on the left.

We then took a drive to Tofo, which is really geared up for tourism. Restaurants, souvenir and craft stalls are everywhere, as are dive operators and deep-sea fishing charter boats. Sadly, sea shells were also on sale; tourists need to be educated that buying these deep-sea beauties, keeps the trade alive. Buying shells is the marine equivalent of rhino poaching. It’s like the plastic straw story: just say ‘no’.

Shells for sale at Tofo

Tofo has a giant turtle; a wire frame filled with a few thousand plastic bottles; this effigy reminds everyone of reducing, re-using and recycling their plastic. It seems to work, as the town is clean.

Hopefully the Mozambique government implements a ‘no shells to be brought or traded law’ one of these days. Conservation efforts along the coast are visible, one was only allowed to drive / launch boats on demarcated beach areas, everyone was picking up rubbish on the beach, restaurants displayed “NO straws available here” signs, but unseen, there are horror stories of what is happening to Mozambique’s natural resources. Forests are being felled and shark fishing is rife. It is actually shark torture and murder. The sharks, including the gentle giants, whale sharks, are caught, their fins are hacked off, and the animal is then thrown overboard, alive, only to die a slow and agonizing death.

I saw first hand why so many marine animals eat plastic. At the high-water mark, were thousands of tiny little balls, which looked exactly as if they were made of plastic.

Tiny Pteropods.

I picked them up, and squished some between my fingers. They crumbled; OK, I thought, so they weren’t plastic, what were they? I inquired from local divers as to what they were. They were all clueless. I then asked a marine biologist friend, who was delighted that I had asked, and asked that I bring him some of the little balls. Those tiny little balls were an organism called pteropods, which are eaten by other marine life. As pteropods look just like plastic, and some plastic looks just like pteropods, it is no wonder that marine life eats plastic.

Guinjata’s crafters are talented. On a walk, I discovered a shop with walls made of the odd piece of wood or branch, 

The walls of the craft shop.

which was scant security for the beautiful items inside the shop. Carvings and woven items were displayed for tourists to fall in love with, buy and take home with them.  A bit further down the sand road, was a ‘bakery’, not a real bakery, but the lady who lived there, made a living from baking bread and selling it. All one had to do was order what you wanted a few hours in advance, and you had the most delicious bread for your lunch.

I didn’t have time to do much of bird watching; I saw the common, ‘already ticked’ birds, but as there is a number of different habitats in the area, there are probably some interesting species around.

Much of the area around Guinjata is cultivated. Cashew trees are everywhere, as are coconut palms and mango trees. Vegetables are cultivated with extreme patience in the sandy soil. The spinach like leaves of the cassava plant are crushed and cooked as a vegetable, and served in a variety of ways.
 
My favorite is the Matapa soup made with cassava leaves, coconut milk and spices, it  is delicious. Cassava, being a tuberous root, does quite well in the sandy soil, and it has become a staple food; it is prepared in a number of ways, including frying and roasting.

Mozambique, is of course famous for its seafood. Lobster, prawns, crabs and many species of fish end up as gourmet meals. Local restaurants prepare these to perfection.

Peri Peri sauce at a
roadside stall.

Another of Mozambique’s famous culinary items is Peri Peri or Chilli Sauce. It can be super-hot, so do be careful, and test a little bit before happily pouring it over your prawns.

Mozambique has a number of locally produced drinks, ranging from non-alcoholic baobab juice, to potent rums. The country produces several varieties of beer. An order of ‘Doshem’ refers to two bottles the popular brand called 2M. Cashew nuts are distilled into a brandy by the name of Ekhaja. A must drink / have to drink Mozambican specialty for holiday makers is an R&R, ‘rum and raspberry’. This local concoction is best made from the local Tipo Tinto Rum, and Sparletta Sparberry. Be warned, the mix is potent, and may lead to unusual behavior.

Cashew nuts for sale

Our week of diving, Mozambican food, and chilling came to an end, and we got up early to do the long drive back, and run the border post gauntlet again. The trip southwards was fine; we used our last Meticals on cashew nuts at roadside stalls, and all went well, until half a kilometer from the border post. Talking too much, Liam didn’t concentrate, and we were pulled over for speeding, not badly, but we had exceeded the speed limit. We were guilty as charged, and needed to pay the fine, but we were Metical-less, having bought cashews and crafts on the road side to get rid of the Mozambique currency, as it is difficult to change it in South Africa.

Roadside crafts for sale.

Remembering how John had paid too much because he thought he was being charged in Rands, Liam, did some very careful negotiating, and converting from Meticals to Rands; he was not about to be ripped off. It was the same kind of story: ‘I don’t have Rands on me, but I do have some Euros’. The police weren’t sure about accepting Euros, and they discussed it amongst themselves.

One eventually declared that it was ‘ mucho grande pesos’, and they accepted the proffered Euros, and waved us on our way. Liam had not done a good conversion of Euros to Meticals – he had paid about twice of what the fine was. Yes, overpaying speeding fines runs in the family.

The border was ok going out – we now knew when to say ‘No’. A lodge on the banks of the Crocodile River, looking into the Kruger Park, was where we spent night, and a fair bit of money. My next trip to Mpumalanga will not be because I’m driving through to Mozambique – my next trip to Mozambique will be by plane, or through the southern border post in Kwa Zulu Natal.