COASTAL PARADISE- in a post-war Mozambique

“South Africa is not real Africa,” they tell me.

I went to Lesotho a couple months ago where I saw rural mountainous regions and its people and I agree with the statement. Last week, I went to real Africa again, this time to Mozambique -- the true coastal African experience. The long queue to get my visa at the Mozambican Consulate was well worthwhile as was the R12 I paid at the border.

The seaside always had a special place in my heart, and the country formerly known as Portuguese East Africa with its scrumptious seafood, magnificent beaches and vibrant culture blew me away. I can talk for hours about brilliant blue skies, sparkling sun-kissed waters and warm relaxing boat-rides on dhows as boatmen pull their full weight into oars to push through quiet seas. Or perhaps you want to read about the dusty copper streets of Maxixe with wild spotted guinea fowls the size of turkeys walking aimlessly like bare-footed pedestrians. The markets are colourful and alive, buzzing with people, noises and smells of pineapples, cilantro, savoury Portuguese breads, fresh seafood sometimes swarming with flies, and the sight of intricate bright colours of traditional cloth called capulanas.

Erica, Noah and I sit at a café in Inhambane after a 7-hour bus ride under the scorching winter sun drinking the local brew 2M when suddenly three kids come along with their school bags and lesson books smiling curiously at us. The next minute we exchange names on a scrap of notebook paper, guess each of our ages, and flaunt our mutual interest at each other. Erica offers them the few Portuguese phrases she learned from Brazilian tapes from an American library. Then they proceed to give us Portuguese lessons, commanding us to read lessons from their school text, so eager to share. Noah, the Ultimate Frisbee thrower, takes out his handy disc and they all gather. Older kids in their early teens join in the group activity and we all laugh over dropped discs until the backpackers shuttle comes to collect us.

We went to the Franco-Mozambican Cultural Centre in Maputo to attend a Mozambican hip-hop show and listen to Portuguese rap. There, I saw three art pieces displayed outside. They are chairs that you'd want to stay away from -- they are made from bronzed handguns. When I was working at CUSO, the Canadian NGO working towards international social justice, I learned about this project called Tools for Arms. After 19 years of civil war, Mozambique is still covered with landmines in various areas. Weapons and arms are still available and many Mozambicans are unskilled because they have only been trained as child soldiers. In exchange for arms from the war, people are given tools such as bicycles, sewing machines and farm equipment. In turn, artists transform these weapons into art sculptures, a gesture of peace. There was an exhibit that made it across the world including Halifax, Canada.

When I rode along the southern part of the country, past dirt-caked African cities, rows of palm trees and tropical vegetation, I wonder where the landmines are lurking. In an African coastal country where tourists encounter developing communities, where many individuals are still unskilled and unemployed, it is not hard to see why Africa is creating a name for itself as a place full of crime and violence. We have so much and most of them have nothing.