In Africa…
We were raised to care and be happy, not surround ourselves with materialism and perfectionism.
The point of the following story follows at the end.
We’ve all heard (I think we all have), that famous African proverb, which says: “It takes a village to raise a child”, true story, and where people in Africa come from, it’s a place of recognizing ones’ soul to another and acknowledging that we are here to face the hardships together. The daily life consisting of finding food and water, looking after the crops, raising the children, feeding the livestock.. is central to village life in rural areas, and when you look at who they truly are as a people — such as my experience in Mozambique many years ago — 20 to be exact, back then, they were the most beautiful people who just didn’t care about materialism and what you looked like, they cared about how good your heart is.
I took a trip in 2004 to Mozambique, a beautiful country with 3 other work colleagues from Johannesburg, who were building a fishing lodge in the Southern parts there, it was the most incredible journey — to-date, that I have ever taken.
We drove from Johannesburg to the border which took us a full day instead of half, as we missed a turn, and ended up staying in a Hotel laundry room because it was fully booked, yet we laughed our way through the experience and were grateful we could rest a few hours before hitting the roads again.
After arriving at the jam-packed border post the next morning, (which took around 4 hours just to get through, as they were at the time very strict about malaria vaccinations and had to check everything with a fine-tooth-comb), we proceeded to our first destination, Xai-Xai (pronounced Chai-Chai), where we had booked a Hotel some months before.
We were now into our second day of driving, few hours of sleep, and really hungry! It was around 23:00pm to top it all off! We then dragged our tired behinds into the reception area which was obviously quiet at this time, no one was around and we had to call and ring the little bell on the desk for around 20 mins before a little old man of at least 90 years old came hobbling through a back entrance. We’d clearly woken him up, but the minute he saw us put on one of the most beautiful smiles’ I had ever seen..!
He then proceeded to check our booking details which took another half hour or so as he didn’t speak any English, and then gestured for us to follow him to our rooms.
I was sharing a twin with my boss, and we followed him into our room, where the sight of 2 beds was awe-inspiring due to our exhaustion levels! I sat down on my bed, and found myself on the ground with my knees well over the frame… to the great amusement of my boss and the other 2 who cried their hearts out laughing…! It was hilarious.. but I was so tired that I really didn’t care and told them I’d be happy with the mattress on the floor.
After this event, and while the others had put their bags in their room, our ‘dear friend’ then came back to us carrying — incredibly — 2 large buckets of water — he had superhuman strength! Which we weren’t sure what they were for at the time. He then — again gestured for us to follow him, and we ended up in a bathroom down the passageway, with a shower and a bath tub, which was where I was confused and thought ‘maybe there’s no water’.. but actually, upon closer inspection — there were no taps, just holes in the wall. He then put the buckets into the bathtub for us and that — is how we bathed.
So far, this journey had exceeded my expectations! Dirt roads with pot-holes the size of cars.. bath-by-buckets.. holy beds… Now for food!
We were ready to break into any stores — whether it was midnight or not, that was our starvation levels! However, through hand-gestures and broken Portuguese talks, our dear friend made us follow him next door to a neat little house, woke up the owners who then proceeded to welcome us into their home which had been converted into a café, and to where the wife proceeded to go to the back yard and kill a chicken! (There were plenty around in their backyard so this was clearly normal). They cooked us the most amazing chicken with some bread - that I had ever eaten… starving or not!!! It was by now closing in on 2:30am, and we needed some real sleep. So, mattress on floor, we crashed and slept a heavy dreamless sleep until around 10:00am that morning when we needed to hit the roads again.
In Africa, long-distance travel — especially back in those days, did not have the common filling stations that you find now, especially in the rural parts, so you had to be prepared for anything — fuel containers packed on the roof and trunks included. What is common is knowing to go and do your ablutions in the bush. Experience number 4 at this stage, was one that I will certainly never forget, and I do believe the universe was playing tricks with me specifically on this trip!
Day 3: Well into our journey, early afternoon, we pulled over for a toilet stop, stretch-legs break, smoke-break, in the middle of nowhere with trees and bush everywhere. I wondered off into the bush as the bladder was calling, so did the others, and the other female manager — Sarah, wasn’t far from me, when I heard some shouting coming from the car. I’d finished up, and was pulling up my pants, when the one manager Greg came rushing through with his camera in hand — as always, shouting for us to come back and to see if we were ok! He then found me, and with a shocked expression told me to turn around and look behind me, to which I then saw almost hidden behind a bush and — unbeknownst to me at the time - a red sign with a white skull in Portuguese - meaning there were landmines around…!
This was common at the time as the country hadn’t been cleared of all the landmines yet from the civil war which had ended in 1992 (attached link above describes the war) and we saw many people without legs and arms around.
I, however, was fascinated, because in general I had seen people over the years who had missing limbs, and who much of the time weren’t the happiest, but that couldn’t be further from the truth in the case of Mozambican’s, who many - had missing limbs and yet were still the happiest people I believe I’ve ever met! Anyway, “the joke” was I nearly ‘peed’ on a landmine — which I know in it’s context just wasn’t funny, but I tend to be that female that gets these kinds of things thrown my way. Greg got his pic of me in front of the sign — with my pants back up (I since lost that box of pics over the years sadly), and I pelted out of there faster than I’ve ever run before, and did not wonder too far from the car again in future stops!
Moving on, we were about a day from our destination, and had grown accustomed to pot holes the size of cars at this stage, but we hit one so badly that it wrecked the suspension under the Prado we were driving. Hats off to Toyota because that was one strong car which we managed to keep going with till we reached our destination!
Another thing we’d become weary of were kids running out into the road — from nowhere! These tiny little people would sometimes fly to the other side of the road! What made this gut-wrenchingly scary was that they had no clue on the speed we drove which we was around 60km’s per hour — it was due to the people crossing the roads, so it became pretty nerve wracking having to watch out for them. What was so interesting is that we just couldn’t see villages from the roads so we had no idea where they came from and where they were going to.
We had the same experience with traffic police! They would pop out of nowhere and check our speed limit with the old hand-held cameras back then, and seeing we were under or on 60km per hour, would then step back into the bush… It was surreal! We got caught twice however going just over 60, and had to pay a hefty bribe (Yes, bribes. Not fines). These police — the most neatly dressed, clean uniforms, amazing smiles — were actually quite intimidating because we just didn’t know what else was hiding behind those bushes so we paid, and we actually never really knew if they were the real deal or not, but back then we didn’t stop to query this.
Beautiful Mozambique… These long distance drives I’ve experienced through Southern Africa, are where you lose yourself in your surroundings and go into these quiet trance-like states of observing Baobabs, wildlife — giraffe's, elephants, buck.. the incredible ant-hills and sociable weaver nests that grow up alongside the telephone poles! Those beautiful Baobab trees… that grow to the size of buildings!
We somehow managed to keep going for the rest of the day without further incidents, till we arrived in Inhassoro, and what a relief it was to finally get there!
At that time, like many rural places in Africa, many villagers were not accustomed to seeing white people, especially not blondes — like me. Arriving in small villages meant there were about 50 kids waiting to pounce on the cars and ask for sweeties (which we came prepared with), but seeing me — many had a big shock and wouldn’t come near me, until they were told that I was just like them, except slightly lighter with white hair… This enabled me a kind of ‘celebrity’ status, as from then on everywhere I went I’d be followed and would look down to see at least 3–4 kids wanting me to sit down so they could touch my hair…
Precious moments I am honored to have had and will never forget.
Obviously, life has changed there and the rest of the world in 20 years, but I chose to write about this story because of our ever-increasing demand on ‘perfection’ in the form of plastic.
What most notice when they travel to these kinds of countries is that there is absolutely no interest in what you look like and how smooth your face is.. and not just in Africa — other countries and continents too. It may seem like a random topic to bring in to all of this, but I wanted to first go back to my roots of what I grew up accustomed to, in that we were raised to be genuine, be ourselves and to not hide behind something we’re not.
I see — we all see, how we’re becoming not just a plastic consumed planet, but our people too.
I was once asked why I don’t fill my lines or have my lips done, and for those who don’t know me — well let’s just say that I had to take a large step back and reply very kindly that where I come from - it is not normal. There was no response to that from the other party, but she had so much botox and fillers done that I genuinely felt sorry for her.
I was raised to be who I am and never hide the paths of my life. I’m told that I’m too blunt, so be it, I’d rather be honest about it.
So I ask this; has this really become the ‘norm’ in society that we’re feeling pressured to always look like a smooth face in the crowd?
I would love for people to stop and think about what they’re actually doing to themselves covering up who they really are. I am a big believer in plastic surgery to help birth defects or other issues that have been caused by accidents etc. but this choice we make because of what many others see as normal..?
My generation and those before me were not raised to set the example of living a “plastic existence” like this — none of us were! So why are we just accepting it?
Thank you for reading my story if you made it to the end, no offense is intended to any of you out there who choose to make these aesthetic choices.
