This last weekend has seen a rash of “Festas” – the Portuguese word for party. The reasons to party have been quite diverse and unconnected but we enjoyed what all the different occasions had to offer.
To give you a little idea of the range, at one end of the spectrum we ate charcoal grilled chicken and chips followed by crème caramel, all washed down with a can of genuine Sprite! The other end? You really want to know? The staple rice and beans accompanied by the intestines of an unfortunate goat and a splodge of guewy “shema” which is eaten without the aid of cutlery and is dipped in an oily sauce of dubious origin. This was accompanied by a traditional glass bottle of Fanta orange, opened with the aid of someone’s teeth.
The first event was a “Welcome to Angoche” celebration for the father of one of the American teachers based here with the Peace Corps in town. Some traditional singing from an all male group batting small pieces of wood together for rhythm opened the entertainment. They wore light blue shirts and dark blue trousers – maybe handed down by a failed chain of exhaust centres? The two lead “singers” would ascend to unreachable notes that were slightly different from each other and then the rest of the chorus would seek to repeat the attempt.
If one singer wasn’t playing his part properly then the leader would march up to him and tick him off! This was followed by an admittedly more endearing ladies choir dressed traditionally in bright capalanas and accompanied by a range of drums. They even got Annie out there dancing with them with a big smile on her face so they must have been good! This was followed by a small drama performed by students of the local secondary school. The young people started by disappearing into the undergrowth to locate suitable props and then performed a short history of Mozambique. This was a distillation of colonial rule, slavery, the fight for freedom and then a celebration of democracy. It was a challenging mix of amateur dramatics, self-conscious laughter and a poignant message, especially sitting there watching as a Brit from one of the big colonial “powers” in Africa. I felt a weird mixture of ashamed of the story and amused at the histrionics – all at the same time.
The next Festa to celebrate some of the young girls in Tarikhi Ya Haakhi coming of age coincided with the annual Angoche 50cc motorbike race. In traditional culture this “coming of age” event often includes what can only be described as some very unpleasant practices. So the parents of TYH wanted a celebration in a whole different vein which acts as a rite of passage for their daughters. The whole thing worked to Africa time as the motor bike race seemed to take precedent with what seemed all of Angoche gathering in the main street outside the TYH centre to watch the racers. Any vantage point was taken, including the rooftops of the flats which line the road. The main drag down into town was really quite suitable for the 50 racers as it’s as wide as a dual carriageway and is about 1 km long. At the bottom the route turned off past the Police Station and then down to the Naval Station to rejoin the main drag right next to the sea. Key changes in direction were marked by haphazard white spray paint.
Literally thousands of people gathered to enjoy the spectacle. First prize was a new motorbike accompanied by a large gold plastic cup with two silver plastic footballers positioned each side. It was soon clear that some of the bikes had seen better days, but their riders used the slower pace to demonstrate some creative riding positions to entertain the spectators. The leaders laid on their bikes in a horizontal prone position to minimise wind resistance looking like surf boards on wheels. The two local mechanics came first and second and we think only one serious accident occurred when “they thought it was all over” and the crowd started to cross the road. We know one lady was taken to hospital but we don’t know the outcome.
Crowd at the bike race
Bike crowd with Ali waving
So the delayed “coming of age” Festa kicked into gear and for me the high-light had to be a drama performed by some of the lads. Kabila and Jose took the part of somewhat errant young ladies, dressed in drag using coconut shells for the obvious components, covered by a couple of dresses we recognised as being second-hand apparel from the UK. Very fetching and worryingly realistic! Loi staggered in as an old man with a walking stick, trying to admonish his wayward children. His specialty seems to be drunks and old men with quivering limbs which he performs exceptionally well. Alito having donned my fake Ray Bans performed the role of the miscreant young man trying to lure the ladies into disaster. I’m not completely sure who was leading who and into what, but it was all very amusing until the tragic death of the leading lady, verified by a white clad “doctor” using a computer mouse as a stethoscope.
The regular beans and rice meal was provided on bendy plastic plates for maybe 100 people, all from a charcoal fire arranged at the back of the building.
The final Festa? A celebration of the celebration with the supporting cast and leading actors from last night at the proms. This was a thank-you laid on by Xavier to those who had helped make the previous days’ event happen. A 15 minute ride in the back of an old Nissan pick-up took us out to part of the sprawl of shacks that form what is known as Cellula 5. Some mats were laid out under mango trees between two huts, water was brought for hand washing and a Fanta lunch provided. As the meal finished the thespians started some singing and soon a crowd formed, following the rhythm, picking up the words and laughing at one anothers’ antics. A short drama followed, this time the leading light had everything a man could want (this comprised a number of mobile phones and two wallets) but did not help the poor man who came for assistance. Both characters suffered a demise but apparently went to different destinatios. However this wasn’t the most significant part of the day as far as I was concerned.
Alex drama
As we had sat down on our mats before lunch a mum in her mid-thirties brought out her daughter (about 8 years old) and arranged a mat for her to sit on, under one of the nearby mango trees. She then tied her daughters ankle to a rope made from dirty black cloth which was attached to one of the tree roots. She gave her some cassava (a root vegetable) to chew on and an aluminium cup of water. Nilsa subsequently took her a plate of beans and rice and Sergio a bottle of Fanta which evoked large smiles in our direction. This disconcerting arrangement prompted some questions and we ascertained that the girl had recently succumbed to cerebral malaria. This has left her disoriented so that she keeps wandering off and not returning. The door to her hut was a simple cloth and whilst Mum was going about the normal struggle for life, fetching water, lighting a fire or washing clothes then her daughter had to be restrained. The girl would fiddle with the cloth knot but only with one hand on not in any earnest attempt to free herself. I found myself asking the question “What does the future hold for her?” as it is unlikely a medical cure will be a possibility for this young girl. We gathered around and prayed for her in a way that was both forceful and peaceful. We expect that others will return to pray again and we hope for a God answer to her predicament.
We watched the movie “Forrest Gump” on our lap top on Sunday night and his mothers words “Forrest, all we have to do is to do the best with what God gives us” still ring in my ears. The little girl’s quiet smile and bright eyes will stay with me, hopefully as a beacon which demands that I “do the best” with what God has so generously given me. She doesn’t deserve or demand any less.
