Three weeks spent in a Mozambican beach
village brought the realisation sharply home – we’ve lost the plot. Completely.
And we’re too full of our own supposed magnificence to even realise it!
South Africans are so lucky to have
marvellous Moz on our doorstep – we can drive to places every bit as exotic and
wonderful as the indulgent, exotic beach brochures from the Caribbean or the
Philippines that we’ve ever sighed over.
Sand as soft and fine as icing sugar; blood warm, translucent water in
endless shades of cool blues, turquoise and pale green. Sun that greets you every morning without
fail, and the heat. Oh, the heat – it
sucks the breath out of your body in an involuntary gasp.
Happy and Gentle Mozambicans
The gifts graciously provided by
Mother Nature are perfectly balanced by the happy and gentle Mozambicans
themselves. Yes, we run in with the
execrable officials, from the minute we arrive at the border, the dreaded dash
through Maputo and the long journey up coast on the EN1. Not to mention the beach police on their
dinky quad bikes or lounging about in the sad little offices that seems to be
the lot of port officials.
It’s rather amusing the way that South
Africans, ruled in a supremely controlled manner for 40 years, bang heads and
shriek in rage at the communist style of Mozambique officialdom. You’d think we’d be used to it, but clearly
not. And yes, frustration barely begins
to describe the red mist that boils up when a neatly uniformed and hatted
figure steps into your path. Admit it,
who HASN’T briefly thought of pushing the accelerator to the floor...
Putting the bad eggs and self important
government employees aside for another day, the Mozambicans we meet and
interact with during our holidays are the friendliest, warmest people
imaginable. Always ready to chat to
tourists, proudly sharing the treasures of their villages and simply enjoying a
cheerful moment with visitors.
Their serene and dignified manner,
evident pride in their country and supreme comfort in just being – whatever
their financial and living circumstances - totally at ease with themselves, is
in stark contrast to the rather manic manner of the average visitor.
Natural Rhythm and Flow
We recently survived our second matric
‘experience’ and an icy 2M or several, slurped down while we watched the
to-ings and fro-ings of the villagers on the beach at Inhassoro brought into
sharp focus the idiocy of the urbanised world rat race. The villagers have a
natural rhythm and pattern of daily life that just flows along at its own pace.
It’s patently obvious that we can’t all
pack a rucksack, sell the earthly possessions, head off for the wilderness and
home school our kids, whilst living off nature’s bounty.
But we can take note of and learn
from the stability of the simple community life unfolding around us. The feeling of reassurance radiating from the
villagers, of a place for everyone, and everyone in their place. The human conveyor belt, hauling in the
fishing nets every day, utilizing at least three generations of men and boys,
has the dependability of a daily chore performed across the ages.
Each team member has a role, and the
assurance that over time, their role within the team would change, but they know
how and when.
The grandparents know what their
descendents will be doing far into the future and how. The children know what their lives will look
like. Secure in the familiar, the
community lives and thrives contentedly.
What about Our Future?
Meanwhile, we developed city dwellers
frantically search for our children’s place in the future. What, where, when, how – we can’t keep up
with rapid fire technology, and the new jobs and lifestyles the changes
bring. We can’t visualise how our
children will live, let alone our grandchildren. We stress about distinctions and tertiary
education, and heaven forbid our children should want to become bus drivers or
deliver pizza!
When climate change threatens food
supplies, fossil fuels run out, financial systems collapse - how will we
live? These things have moved beyond
science fiction horror movies and into our daily lives NOW.
Despite
spending a not-so-small fortune on a range of fishing rods and accessories to
suit every possible type of fishing, Him Outdoors has yet to catch a single
fish, meaning that when the supermarket shelves are empty, my family will be
starving! (I’m not supposed to tell you
about his legendary casting abilities, snaring first a duck in Dullstroom, and
more recently a Fish Eagle at Cahorra Bassa!)
And yet for some odd reason, we feel
superior to the self sufficient, confident and assured communities living so
simply. It’s true they don’t have wall
sized plasma screens, huge vehicles with long range fuel tanks, enormous houses
in which only about 25% of the floor space is really used – neither do they
have the anxiety about getting, securing and keeping this stuff!
Remote or Helicopter?
We don’t have the time to
share knowledge, experience or stories with our sprogs – and even if we get home
before they’ve gone to bed, who wants to untangle each family member from
iPads, satellite television, internet and social media to exchange token grunts
of interest?
The flip side to that scenario is, of
course, helicopter parenting. Guilt
driven, we micromanage every moment of junior’s life, preventing self discovery
and exploration and not teaching him that it’s ok to briefly stand still,
entranced by a small moment.
That’s not to say cellular
communication and road transport haven’t been eagerly embraced by little
villages across the globe – these innovations and advances have made life
immeasurably easier for millions.
You want more?
But what they’ve understood, and we’ve
missed totally, is that innovations and advances are there to add a small
amount of comfort and convenience, not to take over and colonise our lives! Our obsession with being number one, and
having it all, is removing spontaneity and joy from life.
Doing our best is good enough, no
matter where that leaves us on the list. Fulfilment lies in living in the now
and being aware of what and who is around you.
Having sufficient is plenty, anymore than that is just a waste, and
bearing in mind that we currently require SEVEN planets to sustain us now, why would you
keep holding your hand out for more?
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