Solomon's Throne (19 page)

Next they walked along Nyerere Street and picked up supplies that they thought they might need. Canvas “safari” hats. Extra sunglasses. Supplies for a simple first aid kit: adhesive bandages, alcohol, pain relievers, a native remedy for itches and stings. Work gloves. A roll of very bad quality toilet paper. Two rough blankets. A five-kilo bottle of water. They carried this back to the Prado and put it in the back, covering it all with the blankets. They had been warned that cars were frequently broken into for possible valuables, so they hoped their small ruse would encourage thieves to look elsewhere.

“Can you think of anything else?” Gideon asked.

“No. But I’m sure we’ll think of something obvious once we can’t get it! At least we have food, water and medicine. And I speak enough Portuguese to get by.”

“Swahili?”

Rei laughed. “Nope, no Swahili. Practice your sign language!”

They left the hotel early in the morning with their bag of food and directions from the manager, who was again on duty and saw them off. They maneuvered out of the Maputo, amazed at how many people were out and about. People of all ages were walking along the roads. Children were going to school, outfitted in their uniforms of bright colored shirts or dresses, each school represented by a different color, all shod with black, ill fitting shoes. Women carried babies wrapped on their backs with kikoi, baskets of items for the market on their heads. Men rode or pushed bicycles laden with charcoal or firewood, dozens of crates of eggs, a multitude of paint cans or cleaning brushes, or even large pieces of furniture. Others walked more slowly, shuffling on bare feet, with a hoe over their shoulder.

Rei looked at her watch. “Holy cow, it’s seven in the morning! I’ve never seen so many people out at seven in the morning in my life!”

“I guess if you have to walk everywhere, you have to get started early. Look at all those kids going to school… Can you imagine American kids walking however many miles to go to school?”

Rei shook her head. Most of the kids’ uniforms were dirty and threadbare. But they chatted and joked as they walked along, breaking out in little chases and giggles. There were very small children, six and seven years old, walking alone. As they passed houses, toddlers were wandering around naked and unsupervised, waving to cars and standing right on the verge of the road.

Most of the motorized vehicles were either motorcycles or dirt bikes, which appeared to provide a sort of taxi service. It was quickly apparent that these drivers didn’t know, or chose to ignore, any rules of the road. They weaved in and out between cars, buses and sports utility vehicles; they carried two and three passengers at a time, many of the women riding side saddle in their traditional dresses. No one wore a helmet. None of the vehicles used directional signals, so it was a complete free for all until they got out of Maputo and its surrounding small villages.

“Well!” Rei said, sitting back. She didn’t realize how tense she’d been until they got out of the crush of people, traffic, chickens, cattle and goats. She looked over and realized that Gideon was still gripping the wheel with white knuckles. “You can release your death grip now, honey.”

Gideon laughed. He, too, hadn’t realized how stressed and tense he had been. “At least we didn’t mow anyone down. That’s a plus.” He relaxed back against the seat. “That was… intense.”

Not long after they had left the city, the road, which had been old and studded with potholes before, became an obstacle course. Large pieces of macadam were gone, and the red dirt had washed out, leaving deep gaps that had to be carefully driven around. There was virtually no shoulder, so they found themselves sloshing through filthy puddles where trash had been dumped and goats were scavenging. The couple of times they met a large bus, they had to move over off the road so far that the Prado was leaning at a thirty degree angle and Gideon had to hold onto the ceiling handle to keep from landing in Rei’s lap. They began to think that two days was an overly optimistic estimate.

After five hours they had traveled about one hundred and fifty kilometers. The posted speed limit was fifty kilometers per hour, but there was almost nowhere that they had been able to move above thirty. Both of them were frazzled and frustrated. They arrived at a tiny village which had a petrol station with a small outdoor seating area, and decided to stop. Rei looked forlornly at the small building.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said sadly. She got out of the car and Gideon saw her ask a uniformed attendant a question. The attendant pointed several buildings down, to a low rectangular structure open on both ends. Rei nodded, and returned to the car. She opened the back, took the roll of toilet paper, and headed to the latrine. She looked like she was walking the plank.

While she was gone, Gideon got out their basket of food and two of the Cokes and took them to the table and chairs. The attendant came over and said something in Portuguese. Gideon shook his head and spread his hands.

“English?” He said.

“You buy?” She asked.

“Um, buy what?”

“Petrol. You buy petrol.” She pointed to the pump. “You sit, you buy.”

Sighing, he nodded. Of course, there was no one else sitting at the tables. In fact, there was no one around at all, except for an emaciated dog sleeping under one table and a couple of scrawny chickens pecking in the dirt. He withdrew 500,000 in 500 metical notes.
The attendant took the wad of currency, smiled, and went to fuel the vehicle.

“Receipt, please!” He yelled after her.

After a few minutes, Rei walked back, looking ill.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” She sat down in the chair next to Gideon and grabbed her Coke. “That was the most positively disgusting thing I have ever seen. Really.” She drained half the bottle.

“Do I want to know?” Gideon asked.

“No. But I’m gonna tell you. You walk over there,” she flapped her hand, “and you can smell it long before you get there. One side is guys and one side is ladies, although I can’t see it makes much difference. It’s a couple of brick stalls, with a tin roof and no doors. And a hole. Just a hole, and apparently people have bad aim around here. And you squat.” She finished the Coke. “I had to stand there for good while before I could even do it, and I thought about going out in that bush over there, but what if some local guy was wandering along, or some creature or something.” She looked at the Coke in disgust. “I just swore to myself I wasn’t drinking anything anymore, too. Next time, you’re gonna stand guard over me while I find a tree!”

“With what, my trowel?”

“Find a big stick! I don’t care! You’ll see…” Then she glared at him. “Or maybe you won’t. This guy thing isn’t fair.”

They arrived in Xai-Xai in the late afternoon. The roads hadn’t improved, and they were most thankful that it wasn’t rainy season. Rei had refused to stop at any other facilities, and Gideon had further annoyed her by stopping on the side of the road several times.

The Zongoene Lodge was about eight kilometers from the Indian Ocean, and on the mouth of the Limpopo River. It was quite beautiful, with mahogany furniture, thatched roofs, a swimming pool, and two bars. The Limpopo was wide and the beaches lovely. Unfortunately, the Quinns were too exhausted from the drive from Maputo to appreciate it.

They checked into their small cottage and were thankful for running water fed by a cistern on the roof. They showered and changed into clean clothes, enjoying another Coke while sitting on the small patio overlooking the coastal forest. The feeling of life began to return, and they toasted their success in arriving at their first destination. They had a wonderful meal with a bottle of South African wine, and felt much better as they walked to their cottage. The power was provided by a generator, and when the generator turned off for the night, the couple fell asleep immediately and slept soundly until the first light of the morning.

After a simple breakfast, which that was supposed to be quick—and perhaps was, by African standards—they checked out. The African woman at the front desk told them how to get back to the main road, and assured them that the road, at least for the next thirty kilometers or so, was maintained rather well to support the large semi trucks that transported fuel and other goods from the port. Armed with this good news and another box lunch from the kitchen, they alighted the Prado once again, and set off.

The second day was much like the first, but they were prepared for it. Gideon did, in fact, stand guard for Rei at an isolated section of scrub, and they ate an unexpectedly delicious fresh cooked lunch at a village near Quissico. They were making better time today, which Gideon attributed to both the better road condition and a better mental condition on his part, so they took the time for hot meal. They had fresh fried fish and chips, and a pineapple and papaya salad that was absolutely wonderful. Feeling much better, they finished out their drive in good spirits, and arrived in Inhambane in good spirits, in time to cruise around town before settling on a hotel.

They decided to stay at the Barra Lodge, which was an unpretentious grouping of cottages on the beach. They didn’t know if they had been traced yet. Having to use their real names and passports presented a problem, but they hoped that the brothers of the
Congratio a Achalichus
weren’t so tech savvy as to have instant access to passenger or immigration control lists. There wasn’t much they could do about it, anyway… In real life it was not exactly easy to get false identification or cross borders illegally.

They followed the bellhop to the beachfront cottage and stood for a long moment outside the door, appreciating the view. The African pointed down the beach to a larger open air cottage, “This is the bar, and food also. You can watch the fishermen come to the beach with their catch. If you buy, we cook.” He entered the cottage and put their bags on the dresser. He showed them the en suite bathroom, and pointed to the bottles of water on the small desk. “This water good. No drink,” and he pointed to the bathroom.

Gideon tipped him, and they flopped on the large bed. After several minutes, Rei sat up.

“You suppose they have wifi?”

Gideon laughed.

They did not have wifi in their cottage, but they did find a place to connect to a very slow dial up internet connection in the main lobby. After ten minutes, Rei was scrunching her hair on the sides of her head in frustration.

“I’d forgotten how slow the internet used to be! Oh my Lord, we’ll be here all night!”

“I thought you said you couldn’t find out anything online about Inhambane anyway?” Gideon asked.

“I can’t. We’ll have to start asking some questions tomorrow. I thought I could find out a little more about the country though… It’s mostly Muslim around here, and I don’t want to get in any trouble. I saw a few women with head coverings, but I didn’t see anyone wearing a burka or anything, so we’re probably ok. We’ll have to use Xavier International as our cover, I think… Archeology and all.”

“Xavier
is
our cover.” Gideon laughed. “We really are doing research for the company… Well, for Mr. Xavier, so it’s the same thing.”

“True. It feels really cloak and dagger, though, doesn’t it? I mean, who gets chased around by monks in real life, anyway?”