Eva goes to Ibo
Still struggling with the internet although the situation has improved.
Last week was spent on Ibo, for our second large-scale community consultation exercise. Last time (2007) we invited members of coastal and island communities to come and draw a lot of pretty pictures and tell us what they thought of us (the park). This time it was people from all over the park, almost 200 of them, drawing pretty pictures etc. It's always interesting hearing what people have to say, and though it was hard work it was enjoyable. Plus points: much enthusiasm for park initiatives such as marine reserves (more fish and bigger), blocks of fields (much easier to keep the ellies out, more food) and scholarships for girls (girls staying on in school, fewer premature pregnancies and marriages). Minus points: women still feeling that they don't have a strong voice, falling stocks of octopus and other seafood which they particularly rely on, no-one ever mentions tourism as a benefit of being in the park (note to self: a little more promotion of how many jobs have been created in this sector).
Eva behaved beautifully and was much admired. We are considering several proposals of marriage. But - alas, alas, wail and gnash teeth - her wonderful sleeping habits (an unexpected blessing after the two boys) have been thrown into disarray. She was going to bed at 6, waking only at 1 and then 4 for two quick feeds. Now she goes to bed at 6 and wakes up all over the place, at not more than 2 and a half hour intervals last night. That, combined with a never before seen intensity of mosquito activity (heavy rains this year) has devastated my sleep. I'm hoping, praying, that she settles back down soon. I'm not sure I can do this again.
Labels: Eva, Ibo, working mum
Just and bit of an update
Hmm, not doing very well in keeping this blog up to date, am I? It's been a month since the last post, and what have the Phillips-Marques clan been up to? Much of the usual as it would turn out.
Joaquim's doing well at school; his report card for last term mentioned an exceptional ability in maths for his age. I think it's a bit early to be proclaiming him a maths genius, but it's certainly his favourite activity after drawing. His drawings are great: full of dinosaurs, boats, planes, aliens (not usually all together), very dynamic and detailed. Sebastian has also discovered that he can draw. It all started with planes - still an abiding obsession - which continue to be his favourite subject, but he's branched out into cars, dinosaurs and stick people. Our fridge is that stereotypical item of a young family's household: an exhibition of frequently changing, many-hued young people's artwork. I love it!
Paulo is as always busy on many fronts, but especially pouring lots of time and energy into the houses in Chuiba. They're really coming together, and we're hopeful that we may have two or three finished by the New Year. Many compliments have come our way, and we think they look pretty good. It occurs to me that I should post some photos...
I am fattening up nicely, a combination of slack tummy muscles and a desperate chocolate craving. Number three is a busy child, wriggling and kicking and generally making its presence felt on a regular basis. I'm in that happy window between the nausea and prodigious burping which characterised the first three months of this pregnancy (completely unlike either of the previous two), and the last three in which I will inevitably be huge, lumbering, and hot. Why do I always time my pregnancies so perfectly so as to coincide with the hottest time of the year here? Have I not learned my lesson? Oh well, bit late now.
Been spending time on Ibo. Last week I was there for a few days, discussing the community camp on neighbouring Matemo island with a possible investor. I hope it works out. The camp is in a beautiful spot, and has huge potential. As I flew back I saw breaching humpback whales from the air for the first time. They were tiny, little white tic-tacs leaping from the water and causing a huge splash. We've been lucky enough to see lots of whale activity from the shore this year, even Joaquim and Sebastian got a good view the other week-end and were suitably impressed. It's an astonishing sight, no matter how many times you see it: this huge creature rearing out of the water almost to its full 14 or 16 metres, 60 or so tons of whale flesh shooting up into the air then falling in apparent slow motion into a pure white explosion of foam. Definitely one of the highlights of the year.
Another of which is of course the season of the beloved mango, officially opened with the consumption of my first two yesterday.
Marvellous
Aromatic
Nectar-filled
Glorious
Orange-fleshed food of the gods. Sigh.
Labels: Ibo, Joaquim, mangoes, Paulo, Pemba life, Sebastian, waxing lyrical, working mum
Lake Kagavero
Yesterday I went to Lake Kagavero. It was my fourth visit. Kagavero is a scenic little lake, home to a nesting pair of Fish Eagles and many other water birds, and a stopping off point for many more - or so I hope - during migration, as well as visiting hippos and assorted small wildlife. I'm intending to set up a picnic spot cum bush campsite on a rise overlooking the lake, and a bird hide down on the lake shore. The community are on-side, as long as I organise a blessing involving large amounts of goat meat and rice. The picnic site is great: funky overhanging vegetation and a lovely view, and the birdhide should be easy enough, although we may have to consider building it on stilts (a first for me) as the water level of the lake varies considerably between rainy and dry seasons. It's even strategically en-route to the Park's most sought-after destination, Ibo Island. But here's the catch. It's a mere 100km from Pemba to Kagavero, which should be a bonus, but at the moment it's a three-hour drive from hell, through massive holes, over vicious corregations and around unhelpfully placed boulders, all accompanied by vast quantities of red dust. Although I wasn't driving, my back is telling me all about it today. That's not a great selling point. Some days, my job seems more challenging than others.
Labels: birds, Ibo
Home alone
I suppose it’s not all that surprising but after such a long break I seem to have got out of the habit of blogging regularly, and then I end up with too much to say and too little time to write it in, and also the worry that you’ll get bored and tune out before your each the…er, hello?
So before I launch into what I’ve been up to, I’ll just share a couple of pieces of news with you. My sister, no longer very struggling author Marie, has just sold her book ‘Gods Behaving Badly’ (as if you didn’t know) to Ben Stiller’s production company to be turned into a TV series. It will still have to get past the pilot stage, but nevertheless, exciting stuff! And my dear friend Lizzie, whose great blog Switzerlady has generated a cult following, has been reborn as Ganda Lady (she’s moved to Uganda) and I wish I could remember how to do links so I could send you all whizzing over to her new place. Anyway, you can always google it.
Meanwhile we’ve been having a fairly hectic time of it since I returned from SA. Paulo is involved in something called the Initiativa das Terras Comunitarias (Community Land Initiative), set up to help local communities register their land rights in order to be able to utilise them to better and more lucrative effect. At this stage, he’s implementing a series of meetings and film showings with community leaders, government bodies and the communities themselves. Not, as you may have guessed, in Pemba, and indeed not even close to Pemba. The furthest away he is working is on the border with Tanzania, quite literally as he’s been bathing in the waters of the great Rovuma river which is the border. That’s about 500km from here. So to cut a long story short, of the 17 working days since I’ve been back, he’s been away for 9, and this week he’ll be away all week. As for me, I’ve also been away on Ibo and Quirimba islands – it was my turn last week – for 4 days. So, we’ve had 4 working days and 3 week-ends together. This is quite emotionally stressful after a 6 week separation, then add in the fact that both being at home, i.e. working full time and caring for two under-4s, one of whom still needs special attention, and travelling for work are tiring and stressful in their own way (Paulo recently drove 1000km in 4 days) and you’ve got two rather worn-down adults looking forward to a week off at Christmas with no travelling and minimal stress. Enough whingeing. We’ll survive.
The week before last, when Paulo was only away for three days, I was able to make a flying visit to Meluco. The idea was to inspect the guesthouse that we’ve been putting some money into rehabilitating and consult with the owner on next steps. She wasn’t there, in fact she was in Pemba, but the house was looking much better, definitely meeting minimum standards for minimum-standard tourists. What saved the day (it’s a bit frustrating to drive 7 hours in order not to meet the person you wanted to meet) was the fact that Meluco was celebrating 35 years as a town. So, in typical fashion, everyone was drunk or on their way, and there was a lot of drumming and traditional dancing. The variety of drums is always astonishing: huge great bass drums made out of oil barrels cut in half with a tightly-stretched goat skin laid over the end, tiny little drums that have a wooden spike to fix them to the ground and which are vigorously beaten with thin sticks, round drums and hexagonal ones, deep, high, fast and slow. I’ve seen most of the dances before, but it’s always enjoyable and this time there was one where all the young men were dressed as women (“Why?” “Because they have to dress as women for this dance.”) and another where they were also playing little wooden flutes. But by far the highlight as far as I was concerned was a little group off to one side who appeared at first glance to be playing a tape of traditional music. Far from it! They were in fact playing home-made instruments through two clapped out old tape players that were serving as amplifiers, and a megaphone as a speaker. Three guitarists, including bass and lead, playing guitars made of shaped planks of wood with a few strings attached, accompanied a singer/rapper whose mic was made of an old torch with something rigged up inside, and kept time with the drummer, whose drum kit comprised of a bass drum (as above, but with pedal), two traditional drums, and two cymbals hammered out of sheet metal of some kind. It was FANTASTIC. I have lost the cable that downloads photos from my camera, but I’ll make a plan and post a photo here as soon as I can. Got to see it to believe it.
On to Ibo and Quirimba, last week, where I did lots of good work and spoke to lots of interesting people and also spent an hour reading in the shade of two huge, ancient mango trees. I believe I have mentioned my love of mangoes before, but I feel I should add that mango trees also give the best shade of any tree, and as such I was in a good place to enjoy my novel (a bizarre book called Wild Sheep Chase). My love of mangoes, however, pales into insignificance next to the enthusiasm of the local children. It’s an annual feast: free, bountiful, wonderfully sweet and juicy fruit literally falling from the heavens. A dozen or so dirty kids were hanging out under the trees where I was sitting. The rustle of leaves and thud of a dropping fruit triggered a scrambling flurry of bony elbows and knees culminating in a dusty dive into the sand to grab the prize. Then a triumphant grin and a sticky face. As the children are spread out under the tree and as the mangoes fall randomly, there is a pretty even distribution of fruit, although the bigger kids often get the better of the smaller in a one-on-one. Usually there is no squabble over the winner, although I did see one foul: a nasty tackle from the rear which drew a sharp reprimand from a watching adult. The fallen child lay in the dirt and wept rather over-dramatically, but she kept the mango. I also got lucky: a mango fell near me and the kids were too scared to come and claim it. It was delicious.
Labels: Ibo, mangoes, Paulo
3 weeks...
... is a long time not to post anything here and expect people to still be checking. I guess Iºm an optimist.
So, a quick run down of what Iºve been doing whilst not blogging.
We all went to Ibo for a long week end 23 to 25 June, as there was a public holiday for Independence Day. Lovely as ever, and doubly nice not to be working and staying in luxury at the wonderful Ibo Island Lodge. Joaquim, what a surprise, was more excited about the plane ride than anything else.
A couple of days later I went off to the bush, to Meluco and Ningaia to kick start some community tourism activities. Both are now moving a bit, which is progress. I also finally saw an elephant in the Park. He was a very long way away but he was a beautiful big old tusker. More importantly, I left Sebastian behind. Yes, cold turkey. He is now weaned. I paid for it with a week of agonisingly sore and swollen boobs, but I am free! Hooray! (Yes, OK, I do miss it a bit.) As if by magic, he started to sleep through the night, waking only at 4 to get into our bed and sleep on to the usual 5 or 5.30. Hooray! (No, I do not miss it.)
But, Joaquim got sick. Coughing, temperature, headache, vomiting. Not malaria, pneumonia. Just for a change. A bit scary, but heºs getting better thanks to large doses of antibiotics. Heºs not very keen on them, theyºre very yuk apparently (I believe him), but he takes them. Not long after his diagnosis, Sebastian started to cough and then he got a temperature too, although othewise heºs fine. We didnºt wait very long to take him to the doctor, for obvisou reasons, no pneumonia yet but definitely an infection, so heºs on antibiotics too, and guess what? We have to wake him up in the middle of the night to take them. Oh, the irony. When will I sleep again?
Labels: Ibo, illness, Joaquim, Sebastian
Rambling
I have been jolted into action by speaking to an old friend, who lives in the closest large town to here, Nampula (only 450km away, that’s close by Mozambican standards) who tells me she reads my blog. I am always surprised to hear that someone is reading my blog as I tend to assume that my readership is limited to about half a dozen friends and relations. So for all of you out there who read in total anonymity, hello! Good to have you on board.
It seems that almost nothing has been going on since I last posted, but as my life is hardly a whirlwind of excitement and action adventure at any time, there’s surely enough to ramble on about for a bit. (Doing quite well so far, after all.)
In no particular order:
I went to Ibo. I tried out the eco-loo. It is a dual-vaulted dry-composting latrine. Google that and you’ll get all the info you need (and more). I’m glad to report that it seems to work perfectly, especially the tricky urine-diverting pedestal which I had my doubts about. (Google it, I tell you, if you really want to understand.) Underwhelming as this may sound to most of you, it’s actually quite exciting for me as a) it is the first of its kind in the Park and b) if it really works it could be an excellent solution to a serious public health problem on Ibo and elsewhere and c) I found out about it and I had it made. If you want to experience it for yourself, you must request Marta’s house in the Ibo homestay programme.
Joaquim drew a picture of a crocodile. It was actually recognisable. This is noteworthy because his drawings have not been representative until now. Except for one excellent self portrait: we are talking a circle, legs of sort, some kind of features and tufts of hair over his ears which we had pointed out to him after he went to have his hair cut but refused to let the barber clip around his ears (he HATES having his hair cut, shivers and cries, poor thing, but then recovers immediately).
Continuing the theme, I cut Sebastian’s fringe because it was getting into his eyes. He fidgeted, I snipped carefully but decisively, we got an entirely deliberate (ahem) trendy asymmetrical look. Fortunately at this age it doesn’t matter as he is absolutely gorgeous anyway, but I have made a mental note not to cut his hair beyond his second birthday if I don’t want him to hate me for life.
Paulo has started exercising regularly. This shames me (I can’t, I won’t, if I don’t have time to sleep when am I supposed to go running?!), so I tease him that it’s a knock-on from his 38th birthday. None the less it’s entirely admirable. Joaquim likes to copy some of the exercises. Which is entirely hilarious.
Our house grows. Door and window frames going in, roof beams being raised, walls soon to be plastered. Still a huge way to go, though. I am travelling to Nampula to buy pipes, bathroom fittings, light switches, tiles and the kitchen sink (those paying attention will now know how far you need to go to buy decent construction material in Pemba) this evening. I am flying down and driving back up tomorrow. I am not taking Sebastian as it will be much easier to do all this without him. This momentous decision may have several unfortunate consequences. If he has a bad night and does not find a ready boob to comfort him, Paulo will have a truly horrendous time of it. I foresee wailing and screaming and possibly waking up Joaquim. I may suffer from distressingly engorged breasts, from missing a night-time and a morning feed. It may sound funny but anyone who has ever breastfed will be able to tell you how painful it is. And not a Savoy cabbage in sight. And then I may suffer from guilt, for having made Sebastian wail and scream and for having made Paulo spend half the night trying to soothe him and for having disturbed Joaquim’s sleep and for, what else? Guilt is an intrinsic part of parenthood, and as I do quite well in smothering it most of the time this is a perfect opportunity for it to get its own back.
Labels: Ibo, Joaquim, new house, Sebastian
Participating and evaluating
So I know you’re all sitting on the edge of your seats waiting to hear about the participative evaluation on Ibo. It was actually a very interesting exercise and went very well. We brought in representatives of 8 different coastal and island communities to discuss the park’s work and how the communities are experienceing its results, their level of satisfaction and what still needs to be done. We used a number of PRA techniques, which generally involve using simple diagrams to show trends and changes over time, to look at these issues. In general, the communities gave us a big thumbs up, especially due to the success of a number of fishing sanctuaries, which are areas that have been totally protected in order to act as nursery grounds. Initial scepticism has given way to general enthusiasm and demands for more sanctuaries as the fishermen catch more and larger fish in the surrounding waters. Also very popular have been support for schools and some health programmes, less successful actions to protect fields against elephant attacks. They’d really like to get rid of the elehants altogether if at all possible. Most interesting of all, however, was watchingthe dynamics and seeing people exchange experiences and compare results from different areas in the park. They told us that they particularly valued this, and it was also clear that they felt that the park was really listening to them.
So a very satisfying, if rather tiring, few days. We worked with the community from 7am to 1pm, then worked on the reults from 4 til 6pm. Also it was HOT. Sebastian, who still travels with me as he is not yet weaned, broke out in a terrible heat rash all over. Looked awful, but it’s now much better thanks to cooler weather here in Pemba and large amounts of calamine lotion.
What else? House continues to grow, looking great, but we’re now waiting for more bricks to come out of the oven (ordered and paid for ages ago, but that’s Pemba for you). I really must post a pic or two here. Paulo is being kept very busy supervising the build at the same time as dealing with a sudden surge in demand for his services as a sort of para-legal, plus holding the fort at Kaskazini while Gen (our business partner, friend and next-door neighbour, it’s a small town) is in South Africa on holiday. Joaquim is happy because his great friend Milan has come back from Germany and not only goes to the same school but also lives just down the road, and Sebastian is happy because it’s in his nature to be.Labels: Ibo, new house
out of office reply
“bex in moz” will be “bex in ibo” for the rest of the week. We are carrying out our first annual participatory evaluation, involving about 90 members of different communities from within the coastal area of the park, and a series of PRA (Participatory Rural Appraisal) activities. Bet you can’t wait to hear about it when I get back.
Labels: Ibo
Ibo Island
Raining again, dramatically dark skies and heavy rolling thunder, but I don’t think you want to read about that again. Instead, let me tell you about my trip to Ibo last week. What have I told you about Ibo so far? It’s an extraordinary place, difficult to describe because it’s so atmospheric. Ibo is a small island, one of the Quirimbas Archipelago. Almost entirely surrounded by large mangrove forests, if you approach by sea the first hint of what it’s all about is a row of large whitewashed mansions lining the waterfront, with red tiled roofs and shady, pillared verandas. If you fly in, you get a good view of the small formal town centre, where the few restored red roofs contrast with the exposed wooden skeletons and crumbling walls of the far more numerous ruins, and the more expansive surrounding neighbourhoods of traditional thatched houses built of stone and lime.
Ibo’s history stretches further back into time than the formal records can tell us. Fragments of ancient Chinese porcelain suggest millennia of trade across the Indian Ocean, mostly in dhows identical to those that daily sail in and out of the port, and indeed there is a group of graves of Chinese sailors whose ship sank off Ibo sometime in the 17th century. Written and architectural records begin with the Portuguese invasion and settlement of the island in the 18th century, when, as part of their strategy to control trade along the East African coast and all the way to the Spice islands of Asia, the Portuguese recognised the strategic importance of Ibo Island. It’s right in the middle of the main trade route, with its deep water port, abundant fresh water for drinking, and close proximity to the mainland. First things first: a small but very secure star-shaped fortress was built, within which and over many years have been incarcerated slaves and political prisoners, the last of which were members of the Frelimo resistance movement captured during the war of independence in the 1970s.
Ibo became the headquarters of the Companhia do Niassa, which – very much like the British East India Company – ruled northern Mozambique for the Portuguese state in return for exploiting its valuable resources, agricultural, mineral, and human. No-one knows how many slaves passed through Ibo on their way to the sugar fields of the French Indian Ocean Islands, nor the quantities of gold, ivory, spices and precious fabrics which accompanied them, but it certainly made Ibo wealthy. Today, many of the once smart and luxurious houses of the Portuguese ruling classes and their mixed race descendants are little more than ruins. Climber figs pull apart the huge stone walls, wooden doors, shutters and beams slowly splinter and crumble under the combined effects of heat and humidity, tiles fall and smash, hinges rust, whitewash flakes off in uneven patches, revealing layers of different pastel colours: pink, yellow, blue, green. It’s extremely scenic, and equally surreal.
Ibo was all but abandoned in the 1920s when the Companhia do Niassa moved its headquarters, and the capital of the Northern Region, to Pemba (then Porto Amelia after the last, French-born, queen of Portugal), which is why it is so dilapidated, but now tourism is breathing new life into the ruins. Realistically, there are few other options for the island’s economy, currently dominated by small-scale (read small income) fishing. If well managed, and that’s where the Quirimbas National Park comes in, it can be a truly world-class destination. If not, the architecture, culture and atmosphere of the place will go to waste. I like to feel I’m doing my bit with my homestays: promoting local culture, partly restoring a few houses, and facilitating the formation of a brand-new community tourism association, which has just elected its board. Only time will tell, but in the meantime, I can personally recommend the homestay houses: modest but comfy and clean, you get a taste of local life and also a taste of local foods, including the deliciously aromatic and unique Ibo coffee, home-roasted and served at breakfast. Well worth £5 a night!
Labels: Ibo, rain, waxing lyrical
