2 assaults and countless welcoming gestures

After four wonderful days with my friend in Johannesburg, sort of interval between my two lives, I arrived in Maputo one month ago to start my new Mozambique adventure. This is the third time I came to live here (though the first time I hadn't planned to stay here, just to arrive, but that's the magic of Mozambique: once you arrive you don't want to leave).

Chico fetched me at the airport and brought me to the house where I'd stayed for some six weeks last year. It's well located between the luxury and the more run-down part of town, a nice house with a small but beautiful garden. My room has a little veranda towards this garden, with some chairs and a lot of plants and sculptures. Nice to sit there early morning or at the end of the day (discounting the mosquitoes), with a view of streetlife at the other side of the gate. At the beginning Nirvana was still living here, a sweet dog - but outsiders wouldn't know she was sweet so it was a good protection against intruders. Unfortunately she was making a lot of holes in the garden when she was alone, so the dona da casa decided to take her away to Bilene, a beautiful seaside town where she will probably have a nicer life. Since then we sometimes had a gardener to clean up the garden and plant new grass and take care of dozens of small palm trees in pots. There's also a big lemon tree, a mango tree and some grown-up palms. And other plants whose names I don't know, but quite beautiful.

One day after my arrival I got companion of a young Italian, Antonio, who's doing some project here in a southern district. He's sleeping in the living room, while the dona da casa is slowly moving into the second bedroom, with her beautiful baby of one year. From the beginning I got along well with Antonio, sharing life stories and food, sometimes going out to concerts or other nice places. He has a car and I know the places to show him, seems a good combination. Antonio had to get used to the fact that sometimes I'm just silent, but when I do tell him stories of my life he's always impressed, which makes me realize that in fact I did live quite an interesting life up to now, and continuing. In turn he tells me about Italian life under Berlusconi, lots of jokes as well and stories about him and his friends driving crazy rides through the mountains, all the accidents they made, and him always laughing out loud, he has a funny laugh. Sometimes he is away for days in his district and I see other friends, or just stay at home reading, studying or watching slideshows of my pictures to compensate the missing of my beloved ones. Lately I've been decorating my room with the pictures I brought with me, lots of Youri but also my mom and sis, Astrid, Mara, Carva, Kheto, Sergio, even Richard Bona and planning to print some more of other sweeties in my life. This is really nice waking up to, greeting everyone and wishing them a good day.

I walk a lot through the streets of Maputo. It's amazing how many people I meet this way and when I tell them I came here to stay they are all so nice, big hugs and saying things like: "Finally you've come home, girl". Heartwarming. A concert of Ghorwane, the band I've been sharing my life with when I lived here in the nineties with Youri. So nice to be acknowledged by them with big smiles from the stage, while I was dancing and taking pictures.

But there's also another side to Maputo life. On one of the first days walking in a deserted area with only cars racing by, just when I thought: "this is the first and the last time you walk here", suddenly from nowhere someone jumped on my back and put his hands over my mouth. Nevertheless I managed to scream out loud and kick him heavily with my elbows, so he let go off me. In the split second it took me to turn around and look at him, I'd seen that a car had stopped in front of me. So instead of following my instinct to go after him and beat him well (I'd noticed that he didn't have a knive or anything), while he was gesticulating with a finger over his mouth to be silent - as if we shared a secret - and with his other hand gesticulating that I should give him my bag, I ran the other way towards the car of a nice lady who had seen what was happening and rescued me from the situation. With all sorts of good advice, which wasn't really necessary anymore, I'd learnt my lesson.

And then last Monday. Antonio had to cross over the border to get a new visa, and Sunday night I'd been giving him explanations of how to go to Nelspruit, the first larger town in South Africa, but said I coudn't go with him because my passport was still at immigration for my residence permit. However, at 7.30 the next morning Kheto came by to give me my passport with a one-year residence permit in it (next year renewable for 5 years, it seems). I was elated, and when Antonio left I decided spontaneously to go with him. So we spent some hours in Nelspruit, unreckognizable from over ten years ago, I couldn't even find the good Italian restaurant Youri liked so much. We met a loud ANC election rally there (SA elections on 22 of April - will we get Zuma as the next leader of the leading state in southern Africa? - but that's for future blog entries), nice music, people dancing in the street.

Anyway, when we wanted to return to Moza we got somehow on the highway in the wrong direction, so we returned to Nelspruit looking for the N4 back to Moza but didn't find it rightaway. We went off into a quiet parking place, where we asked this guy for directions. He told Antonio to get ouf the car so he could show him the way, which he did (never again!). For some reason he took Antonio about 10 metres away from the car and gesticulated that I should come there too. But in the meantime I had detected the sign for the N4 Moza, so I tried to call A back, but he didn't understand. They returned to the car, and then a second guy showed up, repeating what the first one had already said, and just when I realised something was wrong, this second guy grabbed my bag, while I had it over my shoulder with my hand on it and even the security belt over it, with such force that the bag came loose and he ran away with it. Antonio immediately got in the car chasing him and meanwhile hooting and screaming and pointing his finger at the running guy, but nobody did anything. We came to a cement obstacle where the car couln't pass so A jumped out running and shouted to me to stay put. I moved over to the driver's seat to try and go after them with the car, but then saw it was just impossible, I'd go right into the opposite traffic. Some time later Antonio came back with my bag in his hands, which the other guy had thrown away, but only after having taking my purse (and my reading glasses had fallen out). Miracolously my passport (with my new residence permit!!!) was still in it and so was my cell phone. Anyway, in my purse were two credit cards, Dutch SIM card, money, my last passphotos of Youri and what not. So, still very shaky, we went to a police station to get a declaration of theft, and then finally on the way back home. Where the car presented serious steering problems, so in the end we had to drive at 30 km speed for hours. Once in Maputo (Antonio trying to get back to cheerful), he insisted going to this place where Isabel Novella would be singing, but of course much too late.

So I survived another assault without injuries and still alive, but I was seriously wondering if Africa wants me here or not. Since then I'm hardly sleeping, always when I try to I just see this whole film in my head, each time with different details of what happened, and too conscious that I have to learn this very shitty attitude of not trusting anybody.

As to work opportunities: still in the phase of making all possible contacts. Some very positive (but is this just Mozambican courtesy or for real?). I have to work harder on this.

So much more has happened in this first month, but there's an end to your pacience reading as there is to mine writing.

Will be continued.