The Not So Easy Road to Rhodesia

The two-metacais coin landed on the side with a fish on it which naturally represented the coast and Vilanculos, so I got on the bus with the two girls and 8 hours later I was back in the small town with the dissapearing ocean. I spent a week here, getting into a daily routine which involved several visits to the market, several cups of coffee and several hours doing the usual nothing. I then felt guilty that I had spent in total almost two weeks in this place which is famed for it's optimal snorkeling conditions and I hadn't more than dipped my toes in the water. Boattrips out to the Bazaruto Archipelago are quite pricy and a daytrip sets you back roughly $100. Luckily I was travelling with an Israeli and though you may think it's a racist stereotype you would be surprised how often I have experienced the Jewish sixth sense for saving money and it has rubbed off on me as well. So Maayan and I managed to strike a deal with the captain saying if we could find two other passengers for his trip he would let us come along for free as long as we paid the $8 parkfee. We only managed to recruit one person but they let us come along without paying nonetheless and we spent a full day out in the waters which shift in all shades of blue, snorkelling amongst big colourful fish and corals and eating a fantastic meal on the island with giant sanddunes. This was a perfect farewell to Vilanculos and that night we all went out for a couple of drinks before I returned late at night with just enough time to get my stuff and catch my bus. However on my way back I heard my Korean friend Simba screaming for me to help him, I ran back to find him being held up by some very drunk police officers and when they saw me they came at me with raised batons. I put my arms up in surrender and tried to calm them down but they were not very happy and decided to throw me up on the back of the truck they were using as a policecar, when they started driving I realised noone was guarding me so I jumped off before it had gathered too much speed and ran as fast as I could back to the hostel where I could find help. Running fast in flipflops is however practically impossible so the lives of these two plastic slippers were shortlived in my possesion but perhaps one of the policemen who chased me saved them. Simba was arrested and we were never allowed to visit him, we could give him some food though and later next evening he was released after paying a total of $1200. This was less of a perfect farewell to Mozambique but quite symbolic as the police here have been nothing but trouble since trying to enter the country a month ago. The following morning I managed to get on a number of different chapas and trucks to get me to the border town of Manica, but when I arrived there I found out the border was closed despite being reassured by several people it would be open. A woman took pity on me though and offered me to stay in her house overnight until the border would reopen next morning. I gladly accepted her generous offer and drank a cup of tea with her family before getting some much needed sleep and then setting off for the frontier once again with a happy last memory of Mozambique. Crossing into Zimbabwe was smooth and I could get a bus which despite a flat tyre got me to the capital city of Harare in one piece.