Hitchhiking

02.01.2012

We were definitely in 2012. Time to move on.

I stayed up all night preparing my bags (night time's definitely not ideal for that) and missed my bus in the morning. To be honest, I was quite pissed off. In Mozambique there's only one bus per day (if there's one at all, and they all leave around 3.30/4.30). I spent all morning reading about new destinations, when I came across a blog (fallen from the sky!) that was pointing me to an alternative way to get there: I needed to get by chapa to Pambarra Junction, hitchhike to Inchope and get a chapa to Chimoio.

Hitchhike. I'd never done that. At least not for a distance such as the 470km that laid ahead.

It was about 12.30 when I'd finished reading.The choice of whether I'd stay in the hot sticky tropical weather. I payed my tab, picked up my things and left.

I jumped on a 4x4 cargo compartment (against the advice of the driver, who was much puzzled that I preferred to seat outside with the wind on my face than on a comfy seat) and got to Pambarra Junction. Once I'd put my bags down, it was a matter of patience.

The village built on both sides of the route was quiet. The sun stood high motionless in the vivid sky, making most of the people to seek shelter in the few smudges of shadow scattered around. 

I frantically waved my hand several times. Nothing, not even the slightest hint of slowing down. None at all. I started to get really anxious because I didn't want to travel after nightfall and time was of the essence. Out of nowhere, a truck halted some 300m before me on the road. Left my backpack behind and ran for it.

Shaked the driver's hand, gave him the usual 'prazer' with a broad smile and got his attention.

He asked me whether I had too many bags and with help, jumped on the …..

At first there were 12 people traveling together carrying enough baggages for at least 20 people.

We were crammed together but after some days in Africa, it was luxurious compared to a chapa.

The wind blew not so gently on my face (the truck was going at 90km/h, which is considered high speed in these countries) and it screwed with my hair in quite a playful and almost innocent way.

My eyes were almost dry and dusty (so was the rest of my body, but I came to learn that much later).

I spent all of my trip with the driver's family and shared some cashew nuts. The little girls were just so happy about it. Two curious comments of this family that can be easily extrapolated and applied to Mozambican families: 1) This family would stare, laugh, find adrenaline in throwing garbage to the road, see how it got twisted, bumped into another car, ….
In their gaze I could witness such candidness I'd never seen before.
2) Babies: the way they would reach out for their mom's breast, the instinctive relationship between mother and son. Their cries, long strolls on mum's back...

The sun bent slowly down to disappear behind the horizon. Twilight was coming. The faint hope of arriving to Inchope with daylight was exquisitely crushed. I had no idea how this would turn out. I only needed a chapa to get to Chimoio. Chimoio. That's the only thing that mattered.

At around 7.30 pm I was dropped in N1 & N3 intersection. Greeted the family that was already covered in woolen quilts, prepared for a looooong night. Shaked hands with the driver, told him that I wasn't sure when I'd be able to come back to Mozambique and went to look for a chapa.

Swerved some guys that were sort of insistent to help and headed straight to a chapa parked in the middle of the road. 

Finally, arrived in Chimoio. Took me about 30 minutes to get to The Pink Papaya Hostel. Just before that, I almost broke into a pink building which happened to be the Governor's residence. 

Read Lonely Planet Malawi and dozed off.