How I Chapa’d in the New Year

I want to write about how exciting my New Years was this year.  How I ushered in 2013 with fireworks and bad dancing and singing cheesy pop-songs in Portuguese (…Sempre foi falso, sempre foi fraco…), eating food I didn’t have to cook and then at the stroke of midnight I laughed with my friends, raised a glass of water straight from the filter made a toast to Continued Awesomeness!, ducked my head and then rededicated myself to serious partying.  No.  The most exciting thing I can think to tell you about is the chapa ride there.  And so I’ve decided to rededicate Little Red X (You are Here) to all things Chapa for the new year.

My bucket

I woke up at 3:30 on New Year’s Eve.  I splashed around in my bucket,  emptied three cans of sardines into a dish for Puffin, drank a cup of coffee and then hit the road.  I was at the chapa stop by 4:45.  The first chapas leave at 5am out of Mboa-city but by the time I arrived there was already a line of people snaking out of the lot and across the street.  A line!  This is very unusual, like I’ve described before the typical procedure for finding a seat in a chapa when there are more people than seats (this is hard to imagine, given their capacity for ~1000 people) involves bodysurfing.  So I was super happy to see a line and not have to decide who I would punch in the face to get a seat (How far will I go?  Will I push a granny?  A woman with a baby?  FOR THE RECORD: I would never).  Kim met me a bit later and we caught the second chapa out of town.  I sat in the furthest back seat.  On my left was a man who wouldn’t open the window despite the quickly increasing morning heat and on my right was a woman who was determined that she should have absolutely no bodily contact with the boy sitting to her right who was equally as determined to take up AS MUCH SPACE as possible.  This boy was a professional.  He had one leg up and practically out the window, while his other hip was practically dislocated judging by the angle he was able to rotate it.  I kept subtly hip checking the lady next to me but she wouldn’t budge.  At least the ride from MboaCity to BigCity is only an hour. 

From Baixa (the nest of Chapas) in BigCity Kim and I walked up the hill, caught another Chapa in record time and arrived at Junta (the hive of long-distance Chapas) by 7am.  The second we got out of the chapa we were surrounded by overly enthusiastic and definitely shady chapa drivers “Vai para onde? Vai para onde?  Via para Inhabane?  Beira? (I admit, this one turned my head a bit but I stayed strong) Chimoio? Bilene? Tenho carro, vamos vamos vamos” To which we responded, each time “Nao” and pushed our way through the crowd and across the street.  Eventually the helpful chapa drivers gave up, “Vai para ‘Nao’?” and focused their energies elsewhere.  We found the legitimate buses—they had placards announcing their destinations and prices.  We climbed into a bus and, like a horse puffs up its chest in anticipation of the cinch—we took up as much room as possible while all manner of household goods were packed in around us.  I had bacias under my seat, three buckets to my left, one bucket at my feet a tv as a head rest and who-knows-whatelse behind me.  There was no getting out of this bus except through the window. 

Four hours later we were in Xai-Xai (pronounced as in Shi shi, hush hush, i do i…).  We wandered through the heat of the city and the bustle of street-markets and tried to find our next chapa.  We had to ask around for directions.  Mostly we would get to a point where we didn’t know where we were anymore and then play a game of chicken waiting for the other person to muster the courage to ask…Kim and I are such good sitemates though, that we took turns asking locals (“I did it last time! It’s YOUR turn!”).  My Portuguese is Not Very Good and it’s Scary to talk to people, but we were about to expire right there in the sand on the side of the road so, on one of my turns I bravely marched up to a woman cowering in a sliver of shade against a wall “Boa Tarde A Senhora, Pode me dizer…onde ficam as chapas?”  I asked.  She squinted at me and tilted her head.  I’m used to this response…so used to it.  I was filling my lungs and trying to ignore the embarrassment, gearing up for another repetition when she said “I’m sorry, I don’t understand your language” In English.  “Fala Portuguese?” I asked.  “I only speak English”   Right…so she also didn’t know where the chapas were. 

It was so hot.  It was so hot.  We were pretty close to heat stroke by the time we found the chapa stand.  Kim charged right into a baracca.  The proprietor greeted her in typical Mozambiquean fashion, all sorts of small talk and manners “Oh good afternoon! How are you? where are you headed today” and she responded very politely with “I want water”.  I walked up a bit later and was greeted with “’Queiro agua?’”  I was already holding a bottle of water in my hand so I was pretty confused, but that’s normal for me. 

We got into our third chapa for the day.  We were in the way back seat, a box of frozen fish poking us in the kidneys and some chickens pecking our ankles.  The pavement gave way to red dirt and a storm filled the road with water.  We travelled for two hours through a tunnel of water thrown up by the chapa.  So chapas, besides being able to hold more people than is physically possible are also amphibious.  What can a chapa NOT do?  The driver of this chapa was maybe not as scrupulous as other chapa drivers and kept stopping to pick up folks even after we’d reached maximum capacity (yes, it does happen).  At one point we were travelling at high speed, down a flooded dirt road in the rain and lightning (chickens pecking at my ankles) a couple of grannies standing hunched over the seated passengers, hanging on to shirt collars for stability and two little kids with their feet on the sideboard were leaning out of the chapa because the door wouldn’t even close anymore.  The cobrador (the cobrador is the person who opens and closes the door and plays human tetris and collects money for the motorist) had his arm around the boys and a leg hooked into the door frame. 

When we arrived in Manjacaze, the chapa was immediately rushed with folks trying to give rides like we experienced at Junta.  This was a bit different though.  A young man leaned in through the window (we hadn’t even been able to leave the chapa yet) and said “Conhecem Gabi?”  We looked at eachother, then realized that it’s probably pretty easy to find the only white people…Gabi had sent her friend the cobrador to collect us and put us on the only chapa that goes to her town. 

Each of our chapa rides during the day had been a little more interesting than the last and the Fourth was no exception.  The cobrador was a gentleman and let Kim sit in the front seat with like 4 other people.  I wasn’t so lucky.  I was shoved into the last front facing seat in the first row (the one nearest the door).  I had a little old lady sitting across from me.  I put my knees in between her knees and the cobrador stood up on the step to the chapa between us bent forward and grabbed onto the seat behind me.  There was a woman with a baby in her lap to my right.  He tried a few times to close the door, but it wouldn’t shut.  I leaned into the woman next to me, tried to take up as little space as possible.  The granny across from me had to take off her flip flops and then the door shut.  Did you get that?  We were so crammed in there that a flip flop was the deciding factor…Goodness.  So off we went.  I was sitting so close to the lady to my right that her baby was breast feeding AND resting its head in my lap. There were a few 20-something guys sitting behind me.  Friendly Friendly guys. They started talking to me “Where are you from, where are you going? Why are you on this chapa (to the middle of NOWHERE).  What’s that girl’s name? I she your wife?  Where are you from?  Rick Ross is from Miami, he bought a car for 52 million dollars”  At this point they started arguing with each other about whether Rick Ross really bought a car for 52 million dollars and yelling at Kim to give them her number.  At least they left me alone.  Then I noticed that the old lady was touching my knee.  Oh, ok she probably just brushed it and didn’t notice.  I mean, my knee is IN HER LAP.  Then, no, she’s caressing my knee.  Oh, now it’s my calf.  Oh lord.  At least the cobrador was between us so we didn’t have to make eye contact.  Luckily the chapa stopped to let someone out at that point and we got to rearrange seats. 

And then suddenly we were at Gabi’s house for New Years!

She lives in a brand new bairo of teacher housing—so new that her house is the only one that’s completed and they have actually named it Bairo Gabriella in her honor. She’s so integrated they named the town after her….  Her house is STUPID nice.  She has running water, a flushing toilet, beautiful tile floors, windows with screens and electricity.  We just hung out for a day and a half.  On New Year’s day we wandered around town for a little bit trying to find food but only came up with two cucumbers, four tomatoes and a squishy looking onion for 60 mets.  Besides that there’s NOTHING to do in Gabi’s town.

On the 2^nd Kim stayed on with the girls and I made the 400 Km trek back home by myself.  I was terrified and a bit cranky about it, but I managed just fine.  I caught a direct chapa from Manjacaze to BigCity and shared a seat with a really nice guy who was on his way to South Africa to work.  We dozed a bit and he rested his head on my shoulder and then fed me some cashews.  I had a cassava stabbing me in my right kidney for 7 hours but I deployed my capulana as a kidney-protection device and had a comfy ride despite.

I navigated Junta with a bit of help from some friendly teenagers.  “Are you seriously trying to catch a chapa here, bro? Not gonna work, you gotta go over there.”  Oooooh.  I hung out in the city for a little bit—checked the office for packages (there were none, sadly) and then headed back to Baixa to catch a chapa to Mboa-city.   After I wiggled my way into a space in the back row (this seems to be my favorite place in the chapa) a woman in front of me turned around, gave me a concerned look and said “Vai para onde?”  but I think what she meant to say was “Are you lost? You don’t belong here!”  “MboaCity” I said and she looked very relieved, sighed and turned around.

And that was my New Years.

Mimi found a Mopane Moth.  Gabi is not so sure about it.

Paz:  Mimi, Kim, Gabi, Sam, Tram

Yup.  Super exciting night.  We hung out on the porch and made....friendship bracelets.

Mimi found this giant snail and brought it in the house.  Gabi was not impressed.