Friday, May 21, 2004

The Moods of Mozambique

We were headed for Sussendenga to check on our paprika farmers. We were also hoping to tell them that our state of the art irrigation equipment which they had been waiting months for, was now finally in the country and hopefully would be assembled on their farms shortly. With us we had an irrigation specialist, an irrigation specialist's assistant, Denzia a buxom and very large agronomy scout, Pat, Noma and I. We were the dream team. Our irrigation specialist then proceeded to load up the Landrover. I gazed in awe as mountains of luggage was piled into the back followed by a theodolite, measuring sticks, monkey wrenches, clamps you name it we had it. We were just going for the day. I wondered where we were going to fit in. There was a lengthy delay as they tried to decide where to put Denzia. She was finally allocated a place in the back, she was eventually wrestled into position on top of a suitcase where she wobbled precariously, the door was then slammed vigorously and firmly locked unless she fell out. Her face was pressed at an odd angle against the window and she looked far from comfortable I gave her a reassuring wave but she couldn't wave back. Pat slapped his hands in satisfaction that everything was finally loaded. Noma and I squeezed in next to Pat and half the tools. 

Our first stop was the border Noma did passports promptly while the irrigation specialist spent hours laboriously writing out a temporary export permit listing everything in the back. Fortunately they did not ask us to take everything out of the vehicle I think even the customs official thought the removal of Denzia should be a task left well alone. Noma had just spent two entire days getting a single truck carrying irrigation pumps through the border. Just as she thought she had succeeded she was turned back because the driver at the last moment could not remember where he has put his police clearance. She emptied the truck in desperation, papers were strewn all over the tarmac, she tried sobbing hysterically peeping through a gap in her fingers to see if the customs official was moved but he remained stoically unsympathetic to her plight. So she had no alternative but to head back to Mutare. We never did find the clearance certificate but fortunately found a customs official who took pity on us and the truck was finally allowed through the next day. So you can imagine Noma's dismay and consternation when we arrived at Manica Customs on the Mozambique side to see the truck still there. The driver had now been in the truck for four days. Believe it or not he was still smiling he obviously didn't sweat the small stuff. As Noma performed a sort of demented war dance in front of the amazed officials I managed with some relief to dislodge a monkey wrench which was pressing uncomfortably into my buttocks. Noma finally climbed back in the vehicle breathless from her exertions and told us that customs had assured her the lorry would soon be on its way. We didn't look convinced. It appeared we might not have the pumps but we still had the irrigation specialist to show off. 

So we proceeded to Sussendenga. Pat was hunched over the steering wheel scowling as we zig zagged over the ruts just avoiding, chickens, turkeys picannins and bicycles. We left a thick cloud of dust in our wake which smothered the pedestrians passing so only the whites of their eyes showed. We were devastated that our first farmer was not in he had gone to look at proteas that left our second, he wasn't in either he had gone to a tobacco sale. We were feeling deflated but fortunately as we were leaving our farmer drove in. He looked bewildered to see our entourage. He stared suspiciously at the Landrover it looked as though we would all be staying for weeks. Over tea we introduced him to the irrigation specialist and told him the irrigation equipment would be definitely on its way as we had been assured by customs the truck would be cleared. Business was concluded and on our way out we admired neatly grown sugar beans which stretched for miles perfectly planted. We headed back for the border full of bonhomie and inspiration rushing to get there before it closed. Our good humour rapidly disappeared as we passed Manica Customs, there neatly parked in a line was the truck still piled high with irrigation equipment. It was now the driver's fifth night waiting for clearance. This time the driver wasn't smiling neither was Noma and Pat is having sleepless nights. 

Mandy Retzlaff
Bvumba
Zimbabwe