I grew up in Rhodesia/Zimbabwe and spent much of my childhood exploring our beautiful country with my parents. We enjoyed camping and exploring remote places of interest, caving and fishing in the many mountains, rivers and lakes.
My father was told that the Mozambique coastline north of Lorenzo Marques (LM, now Maputu) was wonderfully remote and that the fishing was amazing. We decided to go and explore Mozambique ourselves. Our special family friend, ‘Uncle’ George Jennison, came with us.

Packing our trailer with two tents and enough supplies for six weeks away

Rhodesia / Zimbabwe is a landlocked country and Mozambique is on the east coast of Africa.  For us to get to LM we traveled down through South Africa first.  

The trip down to the coast usually took two full days.  We would take two cars, our Morris Traveller and Uncle George’s Volvo sedan.  Dad had modified the engine of the Morris and so it went like the clappers, that is, until we got to high altitude.  The vehicle was so highly tuned it couldn’t cope at altitude and slowed us down to about 80km per hour.  The speed limit was 120km per hour and we usually travelled at 135km. Many complaints from us kids when we had to travel so slowly because we enjoyed the looks on people’s faces when our little Morris overtook their huge vehicles. 
Dad said he wouldn’t alter anything as we were only in ‘high country’ for a short time.  Groans all around.  George’s Volvo didn’t struggle in the high altitude but he didn’t overtake the Moris because we travelled in convoy and traditionally a convoy goes at the speed of the slowest car. Mum, Dad and George shared the driving of the two vehicles so that someone could be resting all the time. 

We stayed in a motel each night we were on the road.  This was an exciting event for us as we never usually had any reason to do so.  The adults reasoned that it gave them a break from driving, the evening meals were bought and they enjoyed relaxing with a few drinks after a long day driving. 

We kids thought it magical.  Our favourite place to stop overnight was at the Sabi Lodge. High in the mountains from where it seemed you could see forever. Once there was a helicopter parked close to the lodge. It was so exciting to see it take off. 
We would leave at ‘sparrow fart’ i.e. very early morning every day.
From the Sabie Lodge, we travelled down through the mountains and into Mozambique.  

When travelling in Rhodesia and South Africa we always looked out for wild animals on the road. In Mozambique, we also had to look out for domestic animals as they tended to roam freely due to there being very few fences along the roadsides.

Mozambique was a much poorer country than Rhodesia and South Africa.  LM was a huge city, with high-rise buildings everywhere, it had a real vibrant city buzz about it. Very exciting for us small-town kids.  The markets were full of things we hadn’t seen before.  Portuguese was the main language spoken in Mozambique and very few locals spoke English. We used to communicate using ‘fane-go-lo’ (a pidgin English used throughout southern Africa loosely translated to  mean ‘do it like this’)

We did not stop in LM and drove northwards for an hour or so before stopping at a resort on the edge of a beautiful lagoon.  

The resort was huge and modern compared to anything we had seen before. We were impressed with the ‘fuel station’ just like the sort for cars, but on the water for boats to fill up their fuel tanks.  

We always timed our visit to arrive during the resort’s ‘off-season’ to avoid being there when all the South African school holidaymakers were there.  

The resort had cabins, hotel rooms, caravan and camping sites, it was far larger than anything we had in Rhodesia.  We always camped just above the beach of the lagoon.

We loved exploring small villages

We had two canvas cottage tents, camp chairs, a table and a specially designed camp kitchen table.  Mum had designed it so that all the cooking pots and cooking utensils were packed inside it when folded.  Things had to be as light as possible because we had limited space and load-carrying capacity. Travelling in very remote areas meant that we needed to be self-sufficient for food.  We took tinned butter from New Zealand, tins of sweetened condensed milk, tea, coffee, sugar, flour, baking powder, cheese powder, powdered eggs, and tinned veggies because we only had a very small refrigerator.  Whilst we travelled Mum cooked in a Dutch oven either on a fire or with gas.  We bought fresh food whenever we could and ate heaps of fresh fish. 

On one occasion we came across a ‘butcher’ alongside the track. Mum made us kids stay in the car whilst she went to investigate things. She parked the car about 200m in front of the sign next to a small shed with a lean-to cover plus a ‘Butcher’ sign. We learned afterwards that the animal was taken ‘out the back’ and slaughtered whilst you waited.  It was the freshest meat we had ever eaten…

Sometimes we made use of vacant buildings like these on remote beaches

We would spend two days at the resort so that we could get used to being at sea level and recover from the journey.  Dad and George used to hire a boat to take them across the lagoon so that they could fish in the sea.  The beach was very dangerous for swimming so we stayed in the lagoon with its beautiful white sand and swam and played all day.

After our acclimatisation stop we would pack up camp at the resort and our REAL exploration would begin.  

All along the coastline of Mozambique, there are land-locked lagoons, a bit like a string of pearls.  We would get to a high vantage point and, using binoculars, would find a track in between two lagoons that we could use to get us onto the beach.  A reminder that there were no detailed maps or GPS available in the 1960’s!

Our vehicles were not 4×4 so we let some of the air out of the car tyres and drove through villages until we found the way onto the beach.  We were able to pump up the car tyres again by using a contraption that plugged into one of the spark plug spaces.  We carried shovels and sacks and often had to dig the cars out of sand.  We got very good at knowing how to avoid the very soft stuff.

Wherever we set up camp on a beach we stayed only as long as it took to explore the area thoroughly.

Our toilet was a small shovel and a toilet roll and we bathed in a bucket with water Mum heated up on the fire or gas camp stove.  

Whenever we came across a well, we would fill up all our water containers and Mum insisted on boiling all drinking water for 10 minutes before she considered it ‘safe to drink’.  We often saw young women walking with huge containers of water on their heads.  The only drinking water available was at wells or rivers which usually were quite a distance from where they lived. Some women used to walk dragging a huge barrel filled with water behind them.  We began to appreciate first-hand how lucky we were to live in a place with water running out of a tap and power by flicking a switch.  

We thought it was fun to cook on an open fire, however, I am not so sure how much fun it must be if that is the only way you can provide a meal for your family.  We often saw women walking with huge bundles of branches on top of their heads – fuel for their fires.  We kids had huge fun at the watering places. The local kids were fascinated by the blonde hair my younger brother and I had.

We used to spend ten days at a place called Zavora which was on the beach.  The Inharrime Reef was just off-shore and an absolute diving mecca.  There were a few cottages along the beach owned by the government but we stayed high up on the dune in a cottage owned by ‘Uncle Sam Zammit’, the character who owned the pub.  Sam also owned a pet vulture who was so ugly he was beautiful.  We enjoyed feeding him scraps from the fish we had caught.

On our first trip, we had camped behind the dunes but was way too hot so we moved into one of Sam’s cottages.

Inharime Bay had 7 separate reefs and attracted many divers. Our favourite reef was one you could walk out to along the top at low tide.  During the low tide, we used to snorkel in a huge pool protected by the reef.  The sea life was so colourful and amazing, it was difficult to get us off the reef.  Many times we had to swim back to shore because our usual reef ‘walkway’ was being crashed on by waves as the tide came in.  

A typical restaurant with outdoor seating in LM

Once we made friends with three young blokes from South Africa who were diving the reef.  They were staying in one of the cottages on the beach.  They asked me if I wanted to join them for lunch.  I asked what they were having – they laughed and said ‘baked beans’. I took them home to our cottage, Mum had managed to get some meat and we were having roast beef, with vegetables.  They were very impressed because they had been living on baked beans for two weeks

Every night we drank Cervesa (Portuguese beer) in Uncle Sam’s pub.  One night George played the squash box/piano accordion and we sang songs. Music travels well in remote areas and within a short space of time the pub was full of people.  Sam complained that they only bought one drink each all night!  He much preferred us Rhodesians who enjoyed a great session each evening.

Each year we would travel up as far north as Inhambane. We would have breakfast at the same hotel, sitting on a huge verandah overlooking the Inharrime River and across to the town of Maxixe on the other side.  Breakfast was amazingly delicious as well as being inexpensive. With a serving of steak, egg, chips, salad, olives and prego (Portuguese bread rolls)  our plates overflowed and we kids gobbled up the lot.

Calling into the local hardware shop to replenish our supplies of things like gas and batteries was essential.  We always chatted to the owner who was nice and friendly. 

Mum and Dad used to tumble semi-precious stones and often in Rhodesia would travel to different areas, depending upon the sort of rocks they wanted.

On a previous visit, we had given the man at the hardware store a lapidary bracelet and necklace for his wife. Mum and Dad enjoyed their hobby so much they made copious amounts of jewellery, more than a person could reasonably use in a lifetime so giving it away helped keep the collection under control. 

We used to tease them about travelling with ‘beads for the natives’.  However, our gifts always helped break the ice whenever we met people, especially in the remote areas we travelled to.  

One year as we were tucking into our amazing breakfasts the hardware store owner pulled up with a Willie’s Jeep and a young teenage boy.  He had been looking out for us as he knew would be visiting soon and brought us the vehicle with a driver who would take us to a special bend in the river where, over time the motion of the river flow had naturally tumbled beautiful stones.  Amazing generosity from a man we had spoken to for less than a few hours over the matter of two or three years.

We all piled into the jeep and were driven ‘bundu-bashing’, through the bush for a few hours until we arrived at a particular bend in the river. (‘Bundu bashing’ was the term used when driving through the countryside where there were no tracks) 

This ‘S’ bend in the river was amazing, for about 20 meters on either side of where we had got out of the car, through the beautiful clear water we could see hundreds of beautiful naturally polished stones.  Agate of every description, quartz, amethyst, rose quartz. It was as I imagined Allladin’s cave might be.  Dad was like a kid in the candy store!  

After about twenty minutes we had amassed a collection of ‘extra special’ stones when Dad called a halt.  He had just realised that we couldn’t possibly take them all.  Then became the most difficult part – we had to choose ‘only the very very special ones’ to take with us.  

Mum was a professional photographer and took many colour slide pictures of the amazing beautiful river.  The tumbled stones lay enticingly on the river bed for about 8 – 10 meters, it was an incredible sight.  When we looked at our slides after our holiday Dad used to see a special one and asked why we had missed that particular stone.

In some areas we went to I don’t think they often saw white people, and Brian and I had the blondest of blonde hair which fascinated them. On one occasion when we had to drive over a very narrow, rickety bridge, people got off the bridge so that the first car could pass and then immediately got back on again. I was following in the second car, Mum tooted the horn and people jumped off the bridge in fright!  Seeing one car was bad enough, but two was just too much.  Luckily the water was not too deep or rocky under the bridge.

Occasionally the two cars got separated because of animals etc on the tracks.  Whoever was in the front would just pull over and wait till the car behind caught up and then off we would go again.  One time Mum, Brian and I were in the Morris when we came across a small village, and a baby goat ran into the car.  Mum was devastated. We got out of the car and went to see if he was ok. A tall man bent down picked the lifeless form and cradled him in his arms like a baby. We were surrounded by everyone who lived in the whole village. Everyone was crying, the distress was awful. Because of our stress, we couldn’t remember any language to express our apology. Just when the situation was most dire, the little animal shook his head and recovered with a loud bleat.  Everyone laughed, sang and did a ‘happy dance’. Mum was shaking as we drove away.

Each year in Zavora we met up with a family from Lorenzo Marques who hired a cottage on the beach. The Cordeira family had 4 children. Their daughter, Manuela, was my age and we became great friends.  One year they agreed for us to collect Manuela in LM and bring her on holiday with us.  The folks pointed out what a huge honour we had been given, to be trusted with someone’s child and a female at that.  

The next year we had an amazing holiday.  We taught Manuela how to speak English and she taught us how to speak Portuguese.  

Maxixe is a town across the river from Inhambane that can only be accessed by boat.  We decided it would be fun to go and visit it.  Our transport was like an Arab Dhow.  Manuela and I thought this was so romantic and we rushed to be first on board. The romance faded rather quickly as more and more people came on board, plus chickens and, of all things, a goat.  We were jam-packed like sardines in a tin.  We forgot our discomfort (& the goat standing on my foot) once we began our journey as our boat began to race another one. Much shouting and gesticulation from the people on each boat. Absolute hilarity when the leading boat got stuck on a sand bar and everyone had to get out and push it off.  We won.

When we returned to Inhambane we were unable to get the boats onto the shore because of the shallow tidal water. We could either swim or wade 200m to shore or be carried (like everyone else) by a few young teenage boys.

Manuela and I reverted to twitty teenagers – we weren’t having any of those ‘boys’ touching us.  So funny, from memory they were bronzed gods, but we were too young to appreciate them.
We persuaded Uncle George to carry us, however, we had to agree to wash the dishes for a week first. We agreed because there was no way we were going to be carried by boys. Ah, the things one remembers so well…

We were so obviously not Portuguese that whenever we bought anything people would automatically write the amount down on a piece of paper and pass it to us to read how much we owed.  Manuela, a beautiful brunette with colouring to match was delighted to be given a piece of paper with the price she owed at the post office, we giggled about it for ages.  She was deemed to be ‘one of us’.

The previous year we had each worn one-piece bathers and made rude comments about people on the beach who wore bikinis. The next year when she came on holiday with us we had a fun moment when we discovered that we had both grown boobs and now wore bikinis.  We were turning into young women. However, we continued to giggle like school girls and collapse into a heap laughing at the antics of the boys as they tried to impress us.

One year Robin and I went and stayed with the Cordera family in their high-rise apartment in Lorenzo Marques.  We travelled down from Rhodesia by train and took my 75cc Raleigh Roma Scooter down with us.  We had an absolute ball.  Mr Cordera and his eldest daughter Annabella worked at the hospital. Mrs Cordera stayed at home to look after everyone.  Oh and how she could cook.  We love Portuguese cooking. On the Saturday we arrived we all went to a Ball at the Yacht Club.  It was not a tourist event, we were the only non-Portuguese people there.  I still had my head of long blond wavy hair which must have stood out like a beacon amongst all the dark-haired girls at the ball.  They had a charity dance where boys had to buy tickets and then the boys gave the girls tickets to dance with them.  I think every fellow there wanted to have a dance with the blonde in the room.   During the ticket dance I met a boy called Joe, it was so funny, I was trying so hard to remember the little Portuguese language I knew from a year ago but we had only been there a few hours and so my ‘ear’ was not attuned.  I must have been talking gibberish – because he said to me at one stage ‘Can’t you speak English either?!’  Joe had been educated in South Africa so spoke fluent English.  He worked for the government somewhere and part of his job was to read all the English newspapers and magazines and translate articles.  Joe took the tickets from all the boys and stopped me from dancing with any of them I feel sure he must have told them to give all their tickets to me because the boys were handing piles of tickets to him.  I ended up with more tickets than anyone else and was crowned ‘Queen of the Ball’ (definitely an unfair advantage)  The Cordera family thought it was wonderful, I just felt embarrassed and a bit like a fraud.

My friendship with Joe and his family lasted for years.  We used to write regularly and each year he would come up and stay with us when we were at the resort each year.

Consequences of News Free Zone Area

Each year when we crossed the border leaving Rhodesia to go on holiday – Dad declared it a ‘News Free Zone’.  For 6 weeks of the year, we did not listen to any news bulletins on the radio, nor read any newspapers. Dad said that when he was on holiday the world could do what it liked, he didn’t care. 

We often had the radio on to listen to music, however,  whenever the theme tune for a news bulletin came on there was a rush to switch it off.  

There were a few hiccups because of this.  One year there was a cholera outbreak in Mozambique and we couldn’t leave the country without first getting inoculated.  The poor Cordera family were frantic when we arrived. By then we had settled into a pattern of staying the last few days with them before the drive home.  We had to line up for hours to get the needles.  A couple of the people in front made their arms bleed and walked down the line showing people how ‘awful’ it was. Dad just laughed at them and called them babies.  It wasn’t that bad getting done, but the adults had stiff sore arms to drive with which couldn’t have been very pleasant for them.

On another holiday someone had assassinated the Prime Minister of South Africa and all the shops were closed while we travelled through South Africa to get home.   We used to stop in South Africa on the way home to buy things that you couldn’t easily get at home. It was the only year we returned home without spending all our money.

One year after Robin and I had left home and were living and working in Cape Town, South Africa, we travelled up to Mozambique to go on the annual family holiday.

Unfortunately, civil wars brought a stop to things after that and we never returned to Mozambique.

We stopped receiving letters from both the Corderas and Joe and once the war impacted their country.

Beautiful people who helped shape our lives with their generosity and friendship. We have often wondered what happened to them all and wonder where they all are now.

A reminder that travelling is not only about the places you visit but, often, more about the people you meet.