“Cheers to you Miss Bonjiovanni,” I replied as I took it.
The cold beer tasted good and for the first time in ages I felt relaxed and upbeat. The horrors, of the past weeks were fading and I felt a certain exhilaration and excitement at the prospect of heading into parts unknown. Gabby, looking breezy and carefree, took her shoes off and put her bare feet up on the left-hand side of the dashboard near the air conditioning vent. She gazed out through her sunglasses at the landscape with a half -smile as she sipped her beer. I glanced at her and in that moment, I felt like I had known her for years. Life is good Green. Life is good. The conversation only stopped when Gabby decided to turn the radio on and find a station. She settled on L.M. Radio broadcasting out of Maputo. The tunes were upbeat old easy listening classics and at times we both sang along and laughed at each other's singing skills. The casual, laid back atmosphere continued for an hour and a half as we dropped altitude once again and bottomed out at a fairly large one-street town by the name of Muxungue. Along with the usual bancas and shops the road was lined with thousands upon thousands of pineapples. It was obvious there was a plantation nearby. I pulled the vehicle over to the left-hand side of the road and immediately it was surrounded by vendors vying for a sale. I bought a pineapple similar in size to a football along with four tubular bags of roasted cashew nuts. Gabby placed the huge fruit on the back seat as I edged through the sea of disappointed vendors and drove back on to the tarmac. It was when we were leaving the town that the soldier stepped into the road. He wore the grey camouflage of the Mozambican army and carried an AK47 assault rifle. He stood in the centre of the road and calmly waved me down as I approached.
“What now?” I said under my breath.
“I have no idea,” Gabby replied.
The young man saluted and smiled as I stopped and opened my window.
“Boa tarde senhor,” he said with a smile.
“Good afternoon,” I said.
“Oh, sorry sir,” he said in perfect English, “I am asking for a lift to the Save River please?”
“How far is that?” I asked.
“It is exactly one hundred kilometres sir,” he replied.
I glanced at Gabby who smiled and raised her eyebrows.
“Sure,” I said, “jump in the back.”
“Obrigado senhor,” he replied gratefully as he opened the door behind me and sat down.
I watched the young man in the rear-view mirror as he placed his rifle carefully against the seat and pulled out his cellphone. He sat in polite silence as we left the small town and entered the low-lying scrubby bush once again. Almost immediately the surface of the road deteriorated. Large pot holes began to appear here and there and then more frequently. Some of them were small and shallow but many were massive and deep with sharp edges that would rip a wheel from an axle if hit at any great speed. This slowed us down significantly as I wove the vehicle around them. At some points, the road completely disappeared and I was left to drive a stony undulating mess through the bush. I learned later that this particular section of road was until recently a hot bed of Renamo rebel activity. The militant political movement had attacked a number of vehicles in the previous years and this was soon evident when we passed a shot up and burned bus on the side of the road. Unlike the rest of the country there were few dwellings or huts there. The trees were taller and the bush thicker. Our progress was painfully slow and it was a good two hours later when we finally crested a hill and saw the massive concrete structure of the suspension bridge below.
“Ah, we have arrived sir,” said the soldier behind me, “if you could drop me just before the bridge please.”
“No problem,” I said as I approached.
We dropped him at a small building on the left with some other soldiers who were stationed there guarding the bridge. He thanked us, smiled and saluted in gratitude. The sun was setting and it cast a yellow glow over the expansive waters of the river below. The sand banks on either side cut random abstract shapes into the waters.
“It's beautiful,” said Gabby as she gazed out of the window.
“It certainly is,” I said, “and not too long from here.”
After a brief stop for fuel we set off again into the now fading light. The road was as bad as it had been before the bridge and it was a challenge to avoid the headlights of the heavy haulage trucks and buses that thundered in the opposite direction. Still it did nothing to dampen the mood and the conversation and laughter continued through the darkness. The road began to improve slightly and soon we came across the turn off to the tiny coastal fishing village of Inhassoro. In the headlights I saw the many signs for the various luxury lodges and small hotels that catered to the tourists.
“I have seen pictures of that place” said Gabby as we passed. “It looks good too.”
“It's a pity we're arriving so late,” I said. “But I guess all will be revealed tomorrow morning.”
“Hmm,” she said, “I can't wait. But I'm enjoying the drive anyway.”
I turned and looked at her with a smile.
“Me too Gabby,” I said.
It was forty minutes later when we came across the turn off to Vilanculos on the left-hand side. There was a fair amount of human traffic milling around the buildings and shacks on either side of the road in the darkness. I took the corner and soon we left the settlement and entered the darkness once again. The road surface was better and I was able to get some speed as we drove.
“It's not far from here Jason,” said Gabby as she looked at a map on her phone. “I'll tell you when we're approaching the turn off.”
Lights and buildings began to appear out of the darkness as we approached the outskirts of Vilanculos.
There were a few concrete speed humps in the road which I had to slow down to pass. Soon enough we came across a blue sign on the right that read 'Sand Dollar Lodge 8 KM' with an arrow.
“This is it....” said Gabby “We're almost there.”
I took the corner on to a sandy dirt road and drove in third gear through the darkness. Hundreds of palm trees lined the road in the headlights as we travelled. I opened the window and smelt the ocean on the warm air. The road turned and undulated through the groves of palm trees until we came to another sign for the lodge. I took a left turn and drove until I reached a guard house with a large sliding gate. On it was a sign with the name of the lodge. A guard came forward with a clipboard. He was clearly expecting us and we were signed in instantly. He told us the reception was closed but the manager was at the restaurant and was expecting us. We drove through manicured gardens of palms and cashew nut trees until we saw what we assumed was the restaurant. The building was thatched with heavy reeds in true Mozambique style and was situated behind a white wall with an arched entrance. We heard soft music playing from the bar as we walked through. To our left was a large expanse of dark wooden decking that surrounded a sparkling blue swimming pool cleverly lit with underwater lights. Although we could not see it, there was a steady breeze from the ocean below and the mature cashew nut trees that the decking surrounded were decorated with fairy lights.
“Wow,” said Gabby as she took it all in.
We walked into the bar area and were greeted by a smartly dressed elderly barman with a name tag on his shirt that read 'Alphonse'.
“Welcome to Sand Dollar Lodge,” he said. “We usually prepare a welcoming cocktail for our guests. Shall I prepare two?”
I glanced at Gabby who nodded enthusiastically.
“Why not?” I said as we took our barstools. “Thanks Alphonse.”
Soon after we were given our colourful drinks, we were approached by a cheerful young Zimbabwean woman with short blonde hair. She introduced herself as the manager and welcomed us as well. She told us one of the guards would direct us to our 'Casa' when we were ready and to walk back to the restaurant which was situated behind the bar for dinner. She handed me a key and said goodnight.
By the time we had finished our drinks a few other guests had made their way into
the bar and pool area. The atmosphere was tranquil and serene with the mellow lighting, the soft music and the smell of salt on the breeze. We found the guard waiting for us beyond the arch in the car park and he walked in front of the vehicle carrying a truncheon as we drove slowly to our lodgings. The 'Casa' turned out to be a massive Indonesian style thatched building with raised wooden floors and an open plan kitchen / lounge. We entered through the back door and Gabby walked around happily opening wooden window shutters and doors as I unpacked the vehicle.
“This is amazing!” she said from the verandah as I walked in with her bags. “Look at this, Jason!”
Far away from the smog and smoke of the city, the moon had risen over the Bazaruto Archipelago. I walked on to the veranda to see a short stretch of manicured lawn that led to the drop off to the beach. Below were clumps of rustling palm trees and beyond the pale silver sand I could see the ocean stretch away towards the islands.
“It certainly beats Beira.” I said as I ran my hand lightly up her back.
“Hmm,” she said softly before turning to look at me, “I'm starving, let's go have some dinner.”
We walked slowly through the trees and past the lawns on the flat sandy road back to the restaurant. Not wanting to be confined indoors we opted for an outside table on the decking near the pool. That night we dined on baked crab followed by prawns in a cream sauce with a a bottle of white wine to wash it down. Gabby's voracious appetite was matched only by her fervour in the bedroom when we returned to our Casa. It was when she was finally asleep and I could only hear the whirring of the fan above the bed and her soft breathing on my neck that I got up and opened the wooden shutter doors that led from the bedroom to the verandah. With a towel around my waist I sat on the banister,lit a cigarette and stared out on to the calm moonlit ocean. In the swathe of moonlight that cut across the water I saw the distant shape of a dhow that had been anchored for the night on a sand bank. I felt content and peaceful for the first time in ages. Life is good Green. In fact right now it couldn't be better. Relax and enjoy yourself. At that moment I had absolutely no idea how dreadfully wrong I actually was.
Chapter 18: The Bazaruto Archipelago
I AWOKE TO THE SOUND of the birds in the trees nearby. It took a while to remember where I actually was and when I glanced to my right, I saw that Gabby had gone. With the overhead fan still whirring above me I got up on to one elbow and looked around. Her bag was open where I had left it near the dressing table. Maybe in the shower?
“Gabby?” I said feeling a little confused.
I heard footsteps on the wooden floor coming from the lounge followed by the squeak of the door being pushed open. Gabby wore a dark blue sarong over her naked body. Her curly hair was still tussled from sleep but the brilliant white of her smile was in stark contrast to her tanned skin. In her hands she held two steaming mugs of coffee.
“Good morning Mr Green,” she said as she handed me a mug. “You are not going to believe this. Come and see...”
I watched as she walked to the bedroom doors, unlocked them and swung them open. The sudden influx of daylight caused me to blink a few times. She walked to the edge of the verandah and placed her mug on the banister. She turned back to face me and raised both arms in the air in a gesture of delight.
“Well....Come on!” she said impatiently.
I got up, wrapped a towel around my waist and followed her out carrying my mug. It was only when I reached the doors that I saw the truly staggering beauty that was spread out before me. Thick green grass surrounded the Casa and stretched out for twenty metres to the drop off which was steep and covered with red and yellow Bougainvillea bushes. On either side of the building were mature cashew trees with grey lichen growing on the bark of their thick trunks. Beyond the drop off, at the sea level, was a wide grassy glade on which stood a long stretch of mature palm trees heavy with fronds and coconuts. Beyond that the perfectly yellow sand undulated and stretched out to calm channels of crystal-clear water with colours that changed from sparkling jade to deep turquoise according to the varying depths of the water. With the tide out the channels extended away into the distance until their colour became a solid dark blue as the ocean became deeper towards the distant islands. The cloudless azure sky was perfectly clear and a gentle constant breeze blew inland. To the left a group of tourists rode down the beach on an early morning horse safari while to the right a group of three brightly painted dhows lay on the sand being readied for a day of fishing.
“My, my,” I said sipping my coffee. “Will you take a look at that.”
Gabby stood at my side, put her right arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. We stood drinking coffee and admiring the view for five minutes until I felt the nipple of her naked breast harden under her sarong on my side.
“It's beautiful Jason,” she whispered as she slowly pulled me back towards the bedroom.
An hour later and after a shower I sat under the thatched shade of the veranda and checked my emails on my laptop while Gabby busied herself inside. Thankfully there was nothing of much importance and I closed it to watch the view instead. Gabby appeared through the front doors carrying a heaped plate of freshly cut pineapple. Her hair was wet and she wore the same blue sarong with what looked like a bikini underneath. On her slender, tanned feet she wore light leather thong sandals and I realised this was the first time I had seen her without her veldskoens and socks. The fruit was crisp, juicy and cold as I had put it in the fridge when we had arrived.
“This is like pure sugar,” I said after finishing a thick piece.
“Mm, delicious,” she replied with a mouth full of fruit before covering her mouth and laughing with embarrassment.
That morning we took a drive into the small town of Vilanculos. The sandy road took us past the tiny airport and through a charming suburb of thatched huts and palm trees until we reached the actual town itself. The main street ran parallel to the coast and we drove in the baking heat until we reached the harbour. With the tide still out, we drove around the entire curved length of it and made mental notes of the many fancy hotels and restaurants. Unlike Beira, this was a tourist destination and many of them came from all over the world for the renowned fishing, diving and beaches.
After a good bit of sightseeing we ended up at a small shopping mall opposite a supermarket. Gabby went shopping in the mall while I went to pick up some supplies in the supermarket. We met twenty minutes later at a trendy cafe at the edge of the mall and sat down for some iced tea. Gabby had purchased a white cotton beach frock which she eagerly pulled out to show me. The owner of the cafe approached us and introduced himself. He was a rakishly thin old English hippy by the name of Sebastian. His long, white, wispy hair and beard clashed with his shrivelled skin which was tanned to the colour of polished mahogany. The man was friendly and at the end of our conversation he handed us a few brochures for restaurants and activities in and around the town.
I was immediately interested in a brochure advertising a place near the harbour by the name of Baobab Grill and Pub. The glossy flyer showed it was open seven days a week and the pictures of the food were enough to convince Gabby immediately.
“Let's go now,” she said decisively.
The restaurant was situated on the beach within the harbour. The drive down to the car park was steep and sandy but we made it without any problems. Being a popular venue there were a number of vendors who had set up small stalls and displays on the beach nearby. Gabby stopped and picked up an ankle bracelet made from tiny white shells and bark string which she tied on her right ankle immediately. We walked through the thick sand to the restaurant which was set under a wavy concrete roof with tables and umbrellas at the front. We took a table in the shade near the bar and ordered ice cold beers to cool us down. For lunch we shared a crab salad followed by catch of the day with chips and garlic sauce. We sat in the breeze drinking beer and watched as the tide came in and the far-reaching sands of the harbour began to fill with crystal clear blue water. To our
left a group of young tourists were kite surfing in the shallow channels nearby. They shouted with glee as the brightly coloured kites sped across the perfectly blue sky. I pulled the brochures from my pocket and spread them on the table in front of me. Gabby's attention was drawn to one by the name of 'Dugong Dhow Safaris' The picture on the front showed a perfectly white and completely deserted beach fringed with leaning palm trees. On offer were either day trips or two-night stays on the nearby Benguerra Island.
“Look at this Jason,” she said with a look of awe. “Can we go?”
I picked up the brochure which included directions to the location of the company offices. According to the map they were situated not far from where we sat.
“Sure,” I said, “no harm in taking a look. Let's finish our beers and go visit them.”
For the first time ever, Gabby held my hand as we walked across the sand back to the vehicle. I looked at her briefly and she smiled back from behind her sunglasses. This was a very different side to Gabriella Bonjiovanni the hard-nosed and fearless journalist. This was the feminine, carefree and joyous side I had always suspected was hidden beneath her hard exterior. The drive to the offices of the dhow safari company took us around the harbour to a turn off near the port authority. The road was rough and sandy but eventually we arrived and parked under a rusted sign that read 'Dugong Dhow Safaris' We were greeted by the manager, a young South African man with short ginger hair by the name of Dave. Obviously surprised by our sudden arrival he immediately showed us into his air-conditioned office and opened a file of pictures for us to browse while he told us what was on offer. Gabby was particularly taken by the idea of a two night stay at their remote camp on Benguera island. The entire trip was catered for apart from alcohol which was the responsibility of the clients.
The pictures in the file, of both the location and the accommodation were nothing short of spectacular and when we had finished looking at them, I sat back and looked at Gabby.
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 60
