Maputo at last...

My excitement at finally reaching my destination was quickly turned into sadness. Being a student of international relations I have always believed I had a sense of what the world was like. However, little can prepare you with such a drastic encounter with poverty, especially as I lacked the normal comfort of knowing that it was only images on a screen or pictures in a book, and that when I walked outside the world around me would be completely different, familiar and affluent.

Maputo is surrounded by ‘Bairros’ (type of shantytowns) all around, approximately 65 in total. They vary in population density and types of infrastructure. But those on the very outskirts of Maputo, between it and Matola (another large city across the bay), are the most destitute in the region. These are the first you see on your way into the city. The majority are made up of straw houses or material long ago disregarded as garbage by more affluent neighbourhoods. Those lucky enough to use remnants of former houses have only to fashion a makeshift roof to complete their homes. Open sewers (nothing more than small dykes dug out to road) often divide where one bairro ends and the next begins, though normally the distinction is impossible to an outsider like me. Garbage is the common element that draws together the landscape. And everywhere children play among their sad surroundings. All along the highway we passed bairro after bairro with the odd industrial yard until we reached Maputo proper. But even into Maputo the bairros continue extending into old parking lots and abandoned lots. It is truly a contrast as you enter the ‘Baixa’ (the lower part of town as Maputo is on slight hill, it is also the older part of the city), with businesses and renovated car dealerships inter-dispersed with abandoned buildings, the overflow from existing bairros, and lots used as local land fills.

As we ventured into the city further the bairros eventually disappeared and you are left with old decrepit buildings (some falling apart from disrepair), uneven and pot whole filled side walks with a mass of people and traffic to navigate. The scenery began to look much more promising the closer to the centre of town the bus trotted along to. As we made our way to upper town we passed renovated villas and new buildings under construction. As the bus turned down a narrow street lined with exotic trees (mostly palms) I began to see where Maputo got its reputation for being beautiful African city with a European flavour. The architecture reminded me a bit of what you see in Portugal the further south you travel (large multi-complex villas).

Somehow through what seemed to be impassable traffic our bus lumbered through to its destination. The scenery had distracted me from the fact that we were over 2 hours late and the thought that the ride which the UNDP had arranged for me may have given up and left began dawn upon me. Luckily as the bus came to a stop I noticed an older gentleman holding a sign up with my name. I quickly disembarked and greeted him. The first thing I learned is that on a whole Mozambicans are one of the friendliest people you will meet. Within a few brief moments he could tell that I was a continental Portuguese from the North (my accent had betrayed me). Unexpectedly his next question was my favourite soccer team (even in Mozambique you cannot escape the rivalry between Benfica fans and Porto fans and me being from the north he pegged me as a Porto fan from the start – let the razzing begin – which is ironic since Porto has dominated the league and won the UEFA Cup and Champions League in the last 5 years, I think its envy, but I digress).

We loaded my things into a large UN 4X4 and back into traffic we ventured. He told me about his family, his job, his country, why he hated communism but distrusted capitalism, how cheap the beer was, and beautiful the women were. Within minutes I had received a very brief and dirty Mozambican education. If any of you come and visit Maputo something that will strike you early are the names of the streets. They are all, and I mean all, named after former communist dictators, great African leaders that support the war of liberation, or important dates in that war. And I am not kidding. The US information service centre has the unfortunate circumstance of being on the corner of Kim Il Sung Ave. and Mao Tse Tung Ave.

As we turned from Julius Neyere onto Kenneth Kuanda we began to approach the UNDP headquarters. This stretch of Maputo is very affluent and houses the majority of the embassies and the headquarters of most International organizations. UNDP is a moderately sized compound along Kenneth Kuanda (the the renovated remnants I am sure of an old colonial villa like all compounds in around that area). I was introduced to Haldan, the Danish JPO that was kind enough to let me stay with him for a while (more on him to come, what a great guy). Halfdan drove me to his place, took my bags, showed me my room, let me settle in and then took me to dinner at Mundo’s (a popular expatriate bar). His apartment, while in a run down building, is a fabulous large place with air conditioning, huge kitchen, Internet access, and as I was soon to learn a maid that insists on doing everything for you.

More on that and my first days at the UNDP to come ( I have to start making these short hehehehe)