Clowning around

I was asked to join a call at 10am, prime weekend wandering around Maputo time. So instead of putting my day on hold I decided to do the call from my phone on the street, as everyone else in the organisation always does (although they’re usually in cars with very patchy signal).

Then I wandered in old hunting grounds. The guards from my old building definitely think I’m called Ruben. There’s a Zimbabwean living in my old apartment who they’re trying to teach Portuguese, much the same as me when I arrived.

I continued with my programme of languorous strolling, including in Baixa, the downtown area. The guards wearily agreed that I could take a picture of the striking Instituto Nacional da Marinha (National Maritime Institute) which I have often admired but thought I’d get into trouble for snapping.

I passed two children’s clown parties through the afternoon. One was screeching such a racket that I bought fruits from the nearby vendors out of empathy for their damaged ear drums. And I learnt the word for grapefruit (toranja) whilst I was at it, so maybe I should be thanking the clown.