Mapping Maputo And Bilene – Our Travels Into Mozambique

Bom dia, como está? One of my favourite countries to visit is Mozambique. Its flavour, vibe, and people are distinctive, with a rhythm you won't find anywhere else in South Africa. Under Serulian skies, my Mozambique is everything a weary traveller yearns for. Once again, we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn. This time, we won't be back for a while.

The journey through the Kruger National Park was relaxed yet exciting, and we enjoyed the nights we spent there before crossing the border at the Giriyondo border post. Diverting from the Komatipoort border post, where hundreds of coal delivery trucks were lined up waiting to enter Mozambique, was a relief. We would recommend avoiding the Ressano Garcia border post and taking alternate routes if possible—no matter your destination. (Our coal ships to China by the thousands of trucks a day.) The pictures below show the trucks lined up in one continuous line-up taken mid-morning.

Fortunately, the sullen customs official on the South African side lightened up after his faux pas with our exit stamp. He kept us waiting, claiming load-shedding had delayed him and that he couldn’t power up his computer to go online. He need not have bothered, as the SA police opened the gate an hour late. In the park, anything could’ve held them up. We’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. As it turned out, we'd encountered two cheetahs on the hunt earlier and stopped to watch them stalk their prey.

In contrast, the officials in Mozambique were friendly, efficient and quick. They were willing to check with their “boss” about an extended visit and the “duplo", which means multiple entries. Once we’d established, to everyone’s satisfaction, that Saffa’s only get a 30-day stamp, there were no delays and no further ado. Carl Person, we hope you met your distinguished guests from Maputo! We were on our way to Bilene, then to Maputo.

The landscape changed once again. Less lush than Kruger Park and less abundant in wildlife, we trundled on, navigating weathered dirt roads, potholes, and, later, community villages. We encountered the aftermath of recent storms here and there. The trip was laboriously slow, despite the 50 km/h speed limit in the reserves. I can't recall any vehicles approaching us from the Mozambican side. We were the only travellers.

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The road to Bilene had been slightly upgraded over the years, but we suspected the cyclone and summer rains had recently taken their toll. We made a point of supporting local businesses and stopped for a cold drink along the way. The shop was sparsely stocked, but the Cokes were ice-cold. That would do.

The azure sky and shimmering aquamarine waters of Bilene beckoned us forward. Pedestrians in colourful traditional skirts, and some ladies balancing baskets on their heads like models in training, herded children in school uniforms from school. Roadside stalls displayed sarongs, shells, wood carvings, and coconuts, enticing weary holidaymakers to support the local economy. 

Our destination was a highly-rated Laguna Lodge and campsite set on a dune just above the lake. We would watch the sunset along the shore on our evening walk.

Fishermen pushing their wooden boats out rewarded us with our first “boa noite”. We were back. In the quiet, as the sunset turned rose-gold, they twirled and lassoed their nets deftly out onto the still water, with only a soft plop and splash audible. As they drifted farther away, only their singsong voices faded into the dusk. Now only the occasional slip-slap plop as the nets hit the water. I filled my lungs with the gentle briny zephyr that crossed our path. That night our forty winks would be deep and peaceful. I was sure of that.

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 The owner's wife, Fatima, served grilled chicken piri-piri for supper, with that distinctive Mozambican lemony and slightly charred flavour. Served on the tray, we could smell the wood-smoke aroma and the spicy, crispy, golden skin. The fresh, hand-cut potato chips were perfect and served with All Gold Tomato sauce. Heaven on your tongue. The chicken met our expectations—spicy, slightly charred, crispy, tender, fall-off-the-bone traditional frango grelhado. Butch downed two 2M’s, and I had bubbles stinging my nose as I tipped a frosty Coke down my throat from an old-fashioned glass bottle. This was pleasure.

Our large campsite was cool under large umbrella trees. Our private ablutions and scullery area were spotless. In the subtropical heat, I forgave the guarda for not lighting the gas geyser and really enjoyed the tepid shower. He missed out on his quarter chicken and chips. When I returned from my shower, I realised the Vervet monkeys had got to his wrapped parcel, robbing him of his dinner. The morning after, after coffee, we packed up, said our fond farewells to the charming Fatima and her lovely daughter, and set off, negotiating sandy tracks around the lake and back onto the EN1 to Maputo. Our tyre system has proved itself time and again and is easy to use; Butch inflates or deflates our tyres regularly as road conditions change, giving me time to make coffee for the onward stretch without unnecessary delays. 

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Much of informal Maputo is built on low-lying swampy marshland, and seeing many properties flooded was disheartening. In true Mozambiquan fashion, residents of these areas soldiered on and went about their lives unabated. The people’s resilience is extraordinary, and there’s no time to wallow in grief.

Our first impressions were that Maputo had cleaned itself up. Sidewalks were litter-free. New buildings had replaced many abandoned structures, and the changes along the seafront Marginal were mind-boggling. Shopping malls, restaurants, office blocks and residential buildings had mushroomed. The USA’s consular buildings were new, under strict security, and in a prime location.

It is our tradition to have one meal at the iconic Costa do Sol restaurant; as children, we often dined there in the 1960s. In the early afternoon, we spotted our landmark and couldn’t resist stopping for lunch. Although Costa do Sol has been slightly upgraded with a new veranda and a splash of paint, the menu remains untouched, and the friendly serving staff never disappoint. We had our favourite Clams in white wine for a starter and grilled LM Prawns with lashings of piri piri for the mains. The beach was crowded, the sun was shining, and we were having prawns in Maputo. What more could I ask for?

Butch had explored every avenue to find a campsite. Maputo has no official campgrounds; our only option was to wild camp. Unfortunately, the amiable and gracious manager of Costa do Sol did not have the authority to allow us to stay overnight in their secure car park, but did recommend a lodge on Av. Da Marginal near the Radisson Blu Hotels, Kaya Kwango.

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Rumour had reached us that “the rooms could be hired by the hour.” We were willing to brave it and observe some of the shenanigans. Seeing another overlander was a comfort. Two nights would do the trick, letting us visit favourite haunts, walk along the Marginal to the old colourful market, have morning coffee at the Club Naval, and finally have a night out on the town.

The deal was that we had to reserve a garden room with an en-suite to stay over two nights. The cheapest option was expensive, and I couldn’t find a single redeeming feature, so I chose to sleep in the Honey Badger. With a flourish, Butch switched on the ancient air conditioner, I think, trying to persuade me to stay there too, then flopped onto the hard, institutional bed. I crept out to relax in my casita with the fan on—our first night apart in six months.

To date, he hasn’t shared his opinion of his experience. I slept like a baby. Unfortunately, Kaya Kwango was deeply uninspiring. The only photo I have is of the designer dress shop near the Honey Badger.

Our suspicions about the hourly rates were confirmed when a young lady, dressed to the nines and carrying scented essential oils in a tote bag, coolly approached Butch and asked whether he’d ordered a massage. She seemed unfazed by his brusque response. I was hot on his heels, though I couldn't help but giggle at his discomfort.

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Grilled LM prawns, served with extra-spicy piri-piri and garlic butter, are my staple in Maputo. After our vigorous walk to the Maputo Mercado, we hailed a tuk-tuk that took us safely to the Fish Market, where I enjoyed a platter of prawns and Butch succumbed to a whole grilled fish.

Maputo's impressive skyline was modern and in keeping with any large African city. New shopping malls have mushroomed along the Marginal, beyond the swamps: two Woolies Food stores, a flip-flop shop, a Vodacom store, and a Gelateria.