Bilene

There are two scary ass dogs guarding the grounds of the house in Bilene where we’re staying, which is owned by Lundula’s aunt from Maputo. The aunt’s strategy for protecting the property has been to make them hostile to outsiders so as we’re a group of visitors they’re now confined to their pens. Their whimpering woke me early so it wasn’t the dreamy coastal morning stirring I’d been hoping for.

We spent a relaxing enjoyable day in and around this laidback town. It’s the rainy season so it shouldn’t have been surprising that we were dumped on by a heavy shower as soon as we crossed the big lagoon that defines Bilene. On the beach that fronts the expanse of the Indian Ocean, during the gale a friendly fisherman let us use the modicum of shelter afforded by his fluttering bit of material stretched between four sticks.

The storm passed and we dried off quickly as we walked along towards some cliffs. There was a stunning view into the blue rocky shallows where many turtles were swimming and feeding. A young lad accompanying us (who sported a bleached star in his hair that reminded me of my anti-Brexit cut) confirmed the turtles are here year-round.

Later I read my book in the sun, we chilled on the beach and possibly in honour of all the South Africans who holiday in Bilene, cooked various slabs of meat. When I wasn’t doing any of that I was having debates about Shamima Begum on Facebook.