Quelimane

At 3.30am I was present and correct at the patch of bare ground that qualifies as Gurué’s chapa (minibus) station. The driver and some passengers were slumbering having camped in the bus overnight. Elsewhere the town was only just stirring into life, with road sweepers clearing rubbish, spare tyres being wheeled around, and at 4am the first of the day’s calls to prayer reverberating out. It was around 5am when we set off, which is relatively acceptable, given I was instructed in no uncertain terms to be ready at 3.30am.

I had wanted to visit the slightly obscure capital of Zambézia Province, Quelimane, back on the coast. Around 6 hours after departure and after only one skirmish with police wanting me to exit the vehicle with my documentation, I arrived in Quelimane. The heat and humidity of this river port town were immediately oppressive, which I would normally welcome, if not stumbling around in an exhausted daze. I checked into a hotel and chilled out for a few hours whilst Quelimane sat through heavy downpours.

I then went exploring, and I soon started to like Quelimane. It feels like I got the least hassle and attention here of any place I’ve visited on this trip, which as a poor coastal city that doesn’t receive many visitors, surprised me.

As so often happens in moments like this, I gravitated towards a bakery, on this occasion Sabores da Fátima. This satiated me for more wandering, and I looked forward to a full day to get to know this city tomorrow.