Notes From Africa. Part 9. Guinjata Bay. Day 7.

Today has certainly been a day to remember. I fell in love with a town and got to visit a jail cell.

Steph and Tamlyn were spending the day down on the beach and Steve and I decided to drive into Inhambane to take a wander around the town. And very nice it was too.

Driving into Inhambane is an experience in itself. Before we get onto the blacktop part of the road we drive the 20k's or so of the dirt road leading out of Guinjata bay and we stop to pick up a local kid who is walking to school and a local adult who is off into Inhambane for some reason.

Shanty type stalls line the road next to derelict buildings and cargo containers being used as shelter. I spot one of the containers has something written on the door. "To dress like a king is to work like a slave." Someone in this town is ahead of his time.

We drop off our hitch hikers and continue into Inhambane itself.

As we drive around the town I am blown away at how beautiful it is. Palm trees line the roads and the buildings wouldn't look out of place in a Sergio Leone film. I keep expecting to see a Mexican guy in a large sombrero sitting on a porch sleeping away the heat of the day.




The first place we pay a visit to is the pier. There are Dhows sitting in the water and people are going about their daily commute using the water taxis that sit in the water.



The locals are fishing off the side of it with hand lines and are pulling up fish after fish from the slightly oil covered water at the side. There are three locals standing in the water at the side of the pier fishing. One of them hooks a cuttlefish and as he struggles to hit it hard enough to knock its brains in so he can put it into his catchbag it squirts water into his face. The two other guys who are waist deep in the water next to him break out in laughter at the sight of their friend being pissed on by a fish. As do Steve and I.



We watch in amazement as a dhow is unloaded. A fridge freezer is lifted onto the head of a local porter and he effortlessly walks into the side of the beach.



Then we head towards the bank so Steve can withdraw some of the local currency. I sit in the car with the air conditioning on to keep me cool as Steve pops to the ATM. When he returns to the car he laughs and makes the comment that he never thought he'd be able to walk to an ATM and withdraw a couple of million. He shows me the receipt from the ATM and I laugh at seeing that he has withdrawn two million Metacais.

Following a nice cool rum and Coke in the bar across the road from the bank we decide to walk to the market to get a better look than we did the previous day while driving around town.

We stroll around the market and take in the sights and smells of the place and buy some veg that Steph had asked us to get while we were in town. I try my best not to look too much like a tourist but fail miserably as I'm one of only two white people there.

"My friend. How are you? Look here, I give good prices." Is said by almost every stall-holder I pass and I smile and say in a strong Scots accent, "Nah man, Yer cool, Ah'm just huvin a deek." This seems to make them think I don't speak either English or Portuguese, a very good ploy in my opinion, and they leave me alone. For a while anyway.

Steve buys some veg from a stall and we wander back towards the car. We stop outside the local radio station and have a nice cold drink while sitting on a bench. Then we head back to the car. Only to find a policeman standing next to it.

Steve walks towards the car and gets his keys out his pocket and hit's the remote control for the locks and the policeman lifts his hand in the universal stop gesture and says to Steve "Your car?"
"Yes" Steve answers.
"Is parked in wrong place." Says the cop as I dig into my pocket for my pack of cigarettes.
I light up and inhale once only to have the cigarette pulled from my mouth by the cop. "What the Fu..." I say and Steve hushes me into silence. This may be wise so I keep my mouth shut. I watch as the cop takes a drag from my cigarette and crushes it under the sole of a well polished boot.

The cop tells Steve that we are parked in a dangerous area. Steve replies that as we're just leaving then everything is OK and he'll remember not to park here in the future.
"Is no good" Says the cop. "Is too late. You come now"
"Say again?" Steve inquires.
"You come now. We go. This way." Says the cop and turns around to point at a building behind us. We see that we are parked almost directly opposite the cop shop.

We walk across the road to the police station and walk into the cool building. The cop who accompanies us smiles to his compatriot and says something in Portuguese. Steve and I look at each other in puzzlement still unsure of what is happening. We were soon to find out.

The cop motions for us to follow him through a large wooden door. We do so, hoping that we are not in any kind of trouble and are merely about to get a lecture on how dangerous it is for two white guys to be walking around without knowing where we are. Not so.

As soon as the door opens we see a small corridor running along the side of the building. Directly opposite the wall that faces out onto the street outside there are bars. And cells. I say to Steve "Holy Fuck... It's a jail."
"Don't worry we're probably just walking through here to get to somewhere else." Steve says as he points to a door at the far end of the corridor. I hope he's right.

He isn't.

We arrive at the last cell and the cop opens the door in the bars and points inside with his thumb. "You go." he says. We do as we are told.

We walk into the cell and see that we have an old blind woman and a cast iron piss pot for company. Steve and I begin to talk about why we're in jail and Steve puts forward the suggestion that we are here while they check on who we are. "There's a lot of tension in the African states at the moment what with the thing in Guinea with Maggie Thatcher's son. They'll no doubt be checking that we aren't wanted on any charges by Interpol."
"Fuck me." I say. "Do you think they'll find out I'm wanted in London?"
"You're what!" Steve asks with panic in his voice.
"There's an arrest warrant out on me in London." I reply.
"What the hell for?" Steve enquires.
"I parked illegally and never paid the fine." I say.
"I doubt Interpol will waste their time and money on chasing that up. Jesus Christ, I thought you were about to tell me you were on the UK most wanted list."
"Not yet." I say, and take a look around at where we are. "But the day aint over yet."

We sit on the concrete bench that is against one wall and wait. About fifteen minutes later the door at the far end of the corridor opens and we hear the sounds of footsteps approaching.

I pull my sunglasses from my pocket and slip them on. Thinking as I was that fear is only easily seen in the eyes I don't want the cops to see the fear in mine. The cop pulls level with the cell door, opens it, and tells us to come with him.

We are lead back along the corridor and are taken into a room where a large bellied man sits behind a desk. He doesn't look very friendly. He looks at me with my sunglasses on and tells the other cop to take them from me. The cop duly does as he is told and hands them to his, I assume, superior. The cop behind the desk takes them from his subordinate and slips them on. "Thank you for the gift my friend." He says to me and I think about telling him to give me my sunglasses back. But I decide not to push the limit of this guy's patience. He looks the type to burst faces first and blame a fall down the stairs later.

Steve asks why we have been placed in jail. The guy behind the desk says in broken English that it is because they do not know who we are. Steve tells them that we are on holiday and are staying at Guinjata Bay and only came into town to see the town and to do some shopping. The desk cop smiles and says "You lie." Steve tells him that we are tourists and that our passports are in the car if they want to check them. They refuse.

The desk cop begins to rant and rave that he thinks we are mercenaries who are here to help overthrow the government and kill the president. He smashes his fist into his desk and begins to shout that Tony Blair is evil and he and George W Bush want to control the worlds oil supplies and keep the Black, Asian and Middle East people in chains and bondage for the rest of time. Normally I would have agreed but I keep my mouth shut.

After a few more minutes of listening to the desk cop rant about every coup attempt in every part of the world he stops as Steve asks him if we get to make a phone call. I used to think that was a cliche but the cop caves in and asks who Steve intends on calling,
"You are going to call your commander and tell them that you have been captured by the Police?" He says sarcastically.
"Actually I was about to call the South African Embassy to get the diplomatic liaison down here to chew you a new arsehole for illegally holding a South African citizen." Steve says, "And he's going to call the British Embassy and get them to come down on you like a ton of bricks."

The desk cop looks at his partner and says something in Portuguese. We look at each other and wonder what the hell is about to happen. Are we going back to the cells or are we being taken to a small soundproof room to be beaten with rubber hoses and electrocuted while we are strapped to the frame of an old bed? God only knows.

We are lead out of the room by the fist cop and are lead out into the street. He tells us to park better next time and walks back into the Police station and leaves us standing outside in the blazing sun with extremely puzzled looks on our faces.

As we walk across the road towards the car I ask Steve what in Gods name just happened. "Don't talk, just walk." He says. "Lets get the fuck out of this place." In the car on the way back to Guinjata Bay we sit in silence and wonder to ourselves what happened and how did it all end so abruptly.

We arrive back at Guinjata Bay to find Steph and Tamlyn back at the hut. They can't believe what happened to us and pour us a nice big drink. Steve and I look at each other and laugh out loud at the strangeness of it all. It all seems like some kind of hidden camera gag but without the reveal being presented to us.

Even after the day I've had I still say I'd live in Inhambane. Easily. As long as I don't have to visit the cop shop again. It's nice on the outside but inside.... Trust me, you don't want to see that.