Sharing of Citrus by the Sea

Wednesday was my first day since I have been in Mozambique that I had more than several hours to myself. I ate lunch by myself. I ordered a double espresso, for myself.

The government office building where we have temporarily scrounged up some work space has a seven-flight walk to the DPCAA offices. Sometimes, I bound up the stairs. Other times, I plod. I am still thoroughly confused about the flow of people and car traffic here. People seem to climb stairs on the right, drive on the left. Walk down the middle of the sidewalk.

Something about everyone else’s speed always makes me feel like I am the fool that is in a hurry, and like I am constantly apologizing for moving at a culturally unacceptable speed or bumping into people when going against the flow. Fortunately, I look both ways at least twice. So, despite the fact that I automatically look left first (rather than right), with some cross-checking, I have so far managed to not be smashed by a car.

The government office building closes right at 3:30. I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to walk back to Rob’s house, but I have been missing my walks and my runs, and so I decided that it was my goal to find it on foot. Frank drew me one of his quick maps yesterday before he took off into the field with our field supervisor of sorts, Camilo. Landmarks on said map were the street with the mango trees. Golf course (flat area with grass that floods in the rainy season). Mosque. Hospital.

So, I set off on foot. I found the street with the mango trees. Some teenagers on their way home from school say hello…I say hello back (in Portuguese). They ask me why I am walking—I tell them that I like to walk. They say: “it saves money!” Somehow, this struck me as completely illustrative of something very profound. Me, walking like I am in a hurry to get somewhere, carrying a backpack laden with laptop and assorted electronics. Because I like to walk and worry about my figure and otherwise am stuck in office buildings and vehicles. Them, walking because they want to save 10 Mets. Walking slowly and talking to each other.

Another guy with long legs who works for the water company catches up with me a little ways along at the roundabout. He offers to show me Beira on the weekends. I politely refuse his offer with some excuse about traveling with my boss and working on weekends, and we part ways not too much further along.

I am carrying a bag of oranges and nectarines that I bought from a woman on the street. Electronics, and oranges. I had found the road that runs along the beachfront (far enough up from the Hotel Grand—a shell of a luxury hotel from back in the day that is filled with squatter communities—that I missed the sketchy part of town). Not too far up the road, some girls crossing the street stop me, saying (in English): “Hello! How are you?” I turn to them saying: “fine, and you?” They smile and laugh. One girl pipes up: “I just wanted to ask for a tangerine…” They all giggle. I open my bag with a grin. “Alguem mais? (Anyone else?)” One more sticks her hand in. “We can share,” they say.

I continue my walk up the waterfront. I pass by the little waypoint for the chapas, where they sell water and more fruit. Men are walking down the other side of the road by another market. Must be a fish market. Some of the fish take two men to lug them around…one with the head, the other with the tail. Women and men on the beach have some sort of small fish (sardines?) laid out, drying on the sand.

After a bit, I hear two men on my right yell to me the equivalent of (in Portuguese): “hook me up with a tangerine, sister.” I’m sure they half expected me to ignore them. Maybe by this point in my walk I was looking tired and over-laden with fruit. ;) I walked over and asked the guy whether he wanted an orange or a tangerine; he took the orange. I offered his companion one, but he politely refused.

I don’t know what all of this means, but it made me smile, the citrus sharing. Perhaps the next time I want a delicious Mozambican orange and find myself without, I will scan the street for someone carrying a bag. And then, I will march up and ask them for one.