Facilitação

Something has affected my sleep post-Brazil in that I am finding it hard to feel tired in the evenings. It can’t be simply the timezone change as it’s not that dramatic a difference. Mornings have been a drag but manageable, except for today as I had to take a very early bus to Nelspruit in South Africa. Even with a longer-term visa, I have to ensure my passport shows an exit stamp at least every thirty days, or face the wrath of immigration. I’ll be in the field for a few weeks later this month so this is my only chance for a mini weekend adventure across the border.

Street activity in Maputo starts early and a surprising number of people potter about before 6am. Despite virtually no sleep I managed to have that wholesome feeling of being active early as I strolled to the bus pickup point, in a great location next to the cathedral, which was serene and still.

There were long border queues to get into South Africa, possibly as it’s the weekend before elections in Mozambique and there is a lot of movement hither and thither. I was extremely uncomfortable with the suggestion from the shuttle bus driver that we pay money to the officials to ‘facilitate’ our position in the queue, and I pointed out that I see it as corruption. The only other passengers were a Spanish couple on a tight timeframe for a pickup to Kruger National Park and the female member of the duo said ‘I’d prefer to pay, sorry.’ I could have insisted on standing in the queue for two hours and ruin their safari or relent and hand over a note to the driver, which I did. Then the Spaniards had no small change so I had to pay their ‘facilitation’ anyway, which was irritating. It was embarrassing to be so clearly queue-jumping and using the ability to pay to do so; an option not available to the majority. I do believe these small acts do cumulative damage to a country’s transition to functioning systems, and more importantly to how groups of people view and interact with each other. 99% of people in that long queue were not white, and it was obvious that three foreigners were using their ill-gotten privileges to make life easier for themselves.

Nelspruit doesn’t set anyone’s world alight but it’s a decent place to do visa-related visits. I had a cheaper and more satisfying haircut than anything I’ve found in Mozambique. It’s always a mistake though to accept a hairdresser’s offer of coffee. In my case a bushy mop isn’t compatible with daintily sipping from a cup. I imbibed a lot of my own hair.

Paranoid, I then found a café for an overdue breakfast, and ate it without leaning over the plate. I must have looked like I had severe paralysis, but think I was successful in not shedding any hair onto the food.

I chose somewhere to stay in Nelspruit based on proximity to the Lowveld National Botanical Gardens. The waterfalls, gorges and potholes that cut through the middle of the Gardens remind me very much of parts of the Blyde River Canyon further north, which was a regular stop on the gap year tours I used to run. I spent a few hours strolling the boardwalks in the afternoon and learnt from the signage that one of the collective nouns for a group of hippos is a ‘bloat’. A din was coming from a private function for ‘Venessa and Ricardo’ that blocked access to the tea shop for refreshments, when I was in need of my fifth coffee of the day.

South Africa provokes a feeling like no other country. Such deep-rooted and palpable social issues and a reputation for safety that is always a factor when here. But a place of such incredible diversity of landscapes and rich wildlife.

Beautiful Africa.