You'll find Mother Fuckers bar in Catembe |
My journey from Phuket
in Thailand to Maputo in Mozambique is hell. There is no business class blingy-blingy,
sweetie dahling this time, just two days of non-stop awfulness travel - on minibuses,
planes, trains and taxis and trains, planes and minibuses and somehow at the
end of it all I eventually wake up on the other side of the world at dusk,
listening to the sighing of the same Indian Ocean I just left in Thailand. I
have travelled some 8000km and lost five hours and large parts of my sanity.
Now I am in Maputo on
business, alongside Sawubona - official magazine
of our national carrier SAA - to find out about the building of the biggest
suspension bridge in Africa that will link Maputo mainland with Catembe spit, and link
Ponta d'Oura with Kozi Bay in northern KZN. It’s big news, big bucks, the figure of US$ 700 million is bandied about. The Chinese, the Germans, the South Africans, former Mozambican president Gubuezza - everyone is involved and the circus is in town.
The bridge building has already begun
with the dropping of 90m concrete shafts into the bay and Catembe is already pimping its ride. even though the country's economic miracle is somewhat less miraculous than last year due to coal price
drops, political violence and a complete bottom out in the leisure tourism
market.
Nonetheless the talk on the cocktail circuit is tough, the whiskeys are big, the wine is flowing. Construction okes, financiers, the banks, the developers, the key players, they're all there talking MICE market and global finance and positive outcomes. The Chinese-funded Golden Peacock is being built up the road with rooms for hundreds,
the Radisson is building twin towers for offices and top end rentals (the most expensive in Africa) next door to the Southern Sun where I am staying (always do, always will) and the deals are going down, the alcohol levels are going up, there are even rumours hat King Mswati of
Swaziland also wants a deep sea harbour....
Thank heavens for
Mother Fuckers Bar.
Phil and I escape –
he’s my Man in Maputo –jump on the passenger ferry and head out of Maputo
across the bay to Catembe, whose entire landscape is soon to be rearranged due
to The Bridge, which in some ways is a pity really, since it's quiet and charmingly dilapidated. We spill off the ferry and head to the eastern end of Catembe
and up a lone sand dune at the top of a sparse village, where it’s almost
impossible to reach even in the butchest 4x4 (naturally Phil pulls it off).
And here we are at Mother Fucker’s Bar where no one can find me and the beers
are ice cold and the views are fine. I can hear the sounds
of chicken and children, and Muddafak himself is there, giant bodybuilder that he is, holding
a baby of all things. It’s all so blissfully surreal and far away from airports and air-conditioning and the rich world’s portly and pompous. Phew.
Bring me a Laurentina por favore. Make
it a quart.
Mudda grew up on the
streets on Maputo and now has a wife, two children, a chapas (minibus) and his bar. I danced with him once in one of the Rua
Bagamoya clubs. All you could see was blonde fluff, my hair,sticking out of his arms. Through Phil, I have known Mudda for years, and he proved to be an invaluable connection when I was researching my guidebook on Maputo. Everyone on the streets knows Mudda. Mention his name in the right places and people treat you with much reverence, especially in the less salubrious places our research took us. He lost the mobility of his knee in a scooter accident years ago but
continues to pump iron and just recently appeared on local television talking
about the importance of gym. But he’s happiest up here at Mother Fuckers Bar and we chat about
his confidence in the future because of The Bridge and the prospects of expansion although God alone knows
how anyone will actually get here.
Right now that’s why I
love it so…
Maddafak and his fabulous bar |
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